Seen around the homestead.

THIS little creature is the Eastern American toad.  They show up around my home fairly regularly. 

About the size of my palm we usually spot him/her near the house, looking for insects and other small fry to feed on.  This particular one would come every night for about a week and forage in the short grass next to the garage.  They do have some venom so I desisted from picking him up.  I did however suggest to Brenda that she give him a kiss, in case the story of Prince is true.  She declined and said she already kisses her prince... which made me think, "who could that be?"

 

 POSING for some close ups, he was actually quite fast and I found it difficult to get a real still.

THESE toads have venomous pores on their backs and be unpleasant but not fatal if a dog or fox for example, where to pick one up in their mouths.

 

THEN we have this juvenile raccoon that must have taken a fright to have it climbing our deck posts in lieu of having a tree near by. 

He hung around for awhile and eventually descended and took off for the wooded hill side across from our home.


Raccoons are very common here, if roadside kills are taken as evidence.  I see them killed by the dozens each year on highways.

TYPICAL ground/tree squirrel, this particular one is part of a 'family' that has made themselves at home under my shed.

 

HERE we have a wasp's nest.  Finding them around every year is certainly not unusual but as you can see, these guys have taken up residence in one of my RV's storage compartments.

As a rule I don't kill wild life and I have been in and out of the trailer all year.  Rule of thumb is don't bug them and they won't bug you.




THEN there is this little guy.  A juvenile red fox I spotted riding my T Bird in the National Park, lazing about on a hot summer day on the pedestrian/bike path. 

ALTHOUGH he looks pencil thin, he seemed to be in very good shape, his fur was shiny and he was quite alert if some what tame.  I'm sure people feed them, however that's not being smart as a fox.

They are however common, we have had fox living on our property since moving here.  With the Coyote pair and their pups this year, our fox has been scarce.  Smart as they are, two or three coyotes can be a bit much even for a fox.

 PRETTY nonchalant at my standing just off the path taking his photos, must be used to this by now.

Days gone by.

Trail continues up that hill.

MY Motocross/ice racing/ WFO days are long gone.  Don't get me wrong, I still enjoy spinning the revs to redline, doing the occasional 'ton' on some quiet back road or riding a patch of dirt at elevated speeds.  I'm also in reasonably good health, enjoy the sensation of riding off road on my little MX track or some trail in the Arizona desert or up until a few years back, the Baja peninsula.

Most of my off road exploits since coming to the Island have been casual trail rides with the occasional faux pa thrown in just to keep me on my toes.  Part of my more sedate speeds stem from riding alone.  Although I don't like riding in groups as a rule, unless I know the skill levels of each rider, I like to keep it small and intimate, no college orgies of motorcycling here!

I'm closer to 63 than 62, and with age comes wisdom or so I and my older friends like to think!

Even though I have slowed down velocity wise, I am still drawn to the adventure/exploration side of motorcycling... 

On the Crown King Trail

It doesn't matter to me a whole lot if this is riding back roads looking for covered bridges, or trying to connect what appears to be a series of trails in the Bradshaw mountains.

I try and prepare myself and my bike both physically and mentally for whatever the day entails.

Ma kinda sign!

OF course the very nature of the kind of explorer riding I do, there is still the element of danger involved, and I'm not just talking about trail riding here.  Anyone that has ever swung a leg over a motorcycle, knows what I am talking about.  In the 50 years I have been traveling on public roads I have learned never to let my guard down, practice my skills continually and always, always... keep you eyes on the road, trail and never forget that Mr. Murphy, our community nemesis is there lurking about!

Take a ride in the Sierra's of Baja a number of years back.  It was going to be a two day, across the mountains, traveling on local trails and no roads.  After a steep rutted climb, standing on the pegs for a lower center of gravity and better view ahead, somehow at a very low speed and in 2nd gear, the front end washed out. XT 225 and I smacked into the uphill face of the trail!  First thing was to do a mental check and inventory of my parts, which included peeling off much of my gear in the 110F heat and getting my water bottle out.  I righted the bike with difficulty and a pain in my right ankle. 

I was more than 1/2 way to my halfway point about 40 km in and tried to move ahead.  I got about 1/2 mile when I was faced with a steep loose rocky hillside with baseball sized gravel.  Standing up provided an instant pain in the sore ankle and I stopped for a couple of minutes to think.  I knew I couldn't hang about, there was absolutely no shade and as I say, over a hundred degrees!

I was 40.5 km in with another 25 on pavement back to camp.  I didn't know this route I had not traveled it previously and as such had no fn' clue what was over the next hill! 

I decided to ride back retracing my steps.  The devil you know vs the devil you don't right.

Turned out I had a fractured ankle and I wasn't even doing 15 mph!

RIDING the Arizona desert is much the same as Baja.

My "almost" CB cover shot!

Of course there are 4.5 million people nearby, but riding the Cow Creek road or the Superstitions or the Senator highway mean that I am always having to be ultra cautious as typically help is a long hike away.  Only once has my XT 350 let me down and that was a flat tire that I experienced on a weekend and with the help of a fellow rider nearby and Bob, I made it home.

Even though everyone I know tells me repeatedly that I am "NUTS" or some equivalent there-of, I have come to the conclusion that I have nothing whatsoever to prove to myself or anyone else for that matter and I decided a couple of years back that I would tone down my off road adventures. I don't want to die of thirst or get scavenged by coyotes in some dry wash, deep in a desert valley!

Serow in Baja CA

So moving forward, I plan on being more cautious and less adventurous than I was just a few years back. 

That doesn't mean I won't be caught out occasionally doing something stupid or dumb or foolish. 

After all... I am human right :)

JUST a few weeks ago, I had my trusty old Serow out for a short afternoon ride.  This was one of those impromptu moments/decisions that we all do regularly.  For me that day, it was...

"Do I cut the grass." or "Do I fire up the 225 and take an hour off for a neighborhood spin."

The 'spin' won out. 

I have several loop rides that can take anywhere from 30 minutes to 6 hours and 30 minutes.  This was of the shorter variety and there was nothing new today.

I turned North to climb our hill, which is 2.5 km of sandy, hard pack clay track one vehicle wide that offers several trail excursions if you know your way about.  The area is often visited by ATV's and Side by's and various dirt bikes by the local 'kids'.  I never go fast because a dirt bike or quad can appear from a side trail at any moment, and yes it has happened to me.  Traffic on this ride is slight and in the winter it's closed except for sleds.

I planned on a short back road ride and then returning the way I had departed.  On the way, there is an area that has been clear but provides access to some trails that run through the woods or border the farm fields.  These are not maintained trails and by mid summer are grown thick with vegetation. This time was no exception.  It has some short steep valleys to cross including a small year round stream which on this day was dry.  Indicative of the unusually hot summer Canada has had.  Local kids on quads and dirt bikes use it and from the deep ruts it appeared as though ATV's had been through earlier in the year.

Short steep PEI trails.

I rode through without problem on the left tire track and continued on playing on back sandy roads and provincial clay roads.

I came back on another trail that connected with the one I had been on earlier. This time I was going to stay on the opposite side from earlier in the afternoon.  I had a narrow lip to ride on but plenty wide for my tires.   

Unfortunately a gust of breeze blew a low lying branch into my face and as I ducked, I in the briefest of moments, veered onto the deep ruts.  As I was going over the edge I thought, "no problem"  a little throttle and lean back and presto, I'd be through it.

WRONG!

Well sure enough I had almost enough momentum and the front wheel stopped on hard pack but the rear 18 incher dual sport rubber disappeared almost completely in mud up to, well truthfully... I didn't know how deep. 

I tried paddling out.

It just sank deeper.

I tried lifting out.

I only succeeded in breaking the mount for my rear rack. 

By this time, the top of the wheel had pretty much been devoured in the mud-hole and it was obvious, I wasn't going to get out of here on my own without help.  Run the checklist; it's hot but I'm only about 2 km from home.  I have shade and I have water and walk-able boots.  It was Sunday and Brenda was likely home, Anna I knew could ride the Big Bear 4X4 but the ride on mower was last in the shed so the BB was not coming out unless I got to it.

Big Bear to the rescue!

Okay... I can walk out and bring the quad but how do I keep the bike upright as it comes out of the bog, neither Anna nor Brenda knew anything about supporting it.

The day before, Trevor was at my place and we changed tires on his KLR.  I would call Trev!  Guess what... no cell coverage!

Current seat height, about 24 inches!

I decided to start walking, there was no way I would extract the bike that now had a seat height lower that a full blown chopper.

I set off on foot and tried the cell at intervals.  Just before getting out of the woods so to speak, I had enough bars to call Brenda and have her jump in the car and come get me.  My second call was to Stretch and he was able to come and give me a hand. 

Yup... one doesn't need the AZ desert to get in over their back wheel!

EVENTUALLY things did get sorted, the only mishap was with Trev straddling the XT and me towing the bike with a heavy tow strap attached to the lower frame and after it finally gave way, we realized that the bike was still in gear!  Honestly, you should see two grown men laugh at themselves!

Pretty much a mud pie there gang!

So, you see... you might break an ankle in the wilds of Baja CA, or maybe fall in some sand wash on the Crown King Trail being one of the hundred that have to be rescued from the Trail annually... or you could get bunted off the track and end up in bottomless muck, 2 km from home and a cold shower.

"I LOVE IT"

 It was a wonderfully sunny day... my partner exclaimed loudly with gusto... "I LOVE IT"

The start of the Sunrise Trail

I don't often get a chance to ride with Brenda, what with her political interests and commitments, trying to keep a teen age daughter interested in school etc or some other time consuming requirement.  Too bad because she is actually a pretty good passenger.

Tidnish and route 366

There are people that make good passengers and then again there are those that don't.

Not every pilot likes to fly two-up so getting a good combination can be a challenge especially if you are married to them.  Back in the years I was single, I had many a woman riding pillion (not bragging but women are attracted to men that ride and I am certainly attracted to women that ride!)

A bald eagle high above the water

There were a few that did not like the sensation of being so vulnerable and hey... maybe some of us riders get some sort of unconscious thrill of being so open, after all... we don't have embedded steel barriers, seat belts and air bags surrounding us.

Fish and chips at McMahon's in Wallace, one of my fave places.  Good food service view and not to costly

When an opportunity presents itself I do like to take it.  Even though we are essentially retired, there is precious little time available with all the chores and outside interests we have.  Recently I planned out a unique outing that can be done in the Eastern provinces but would be a major hurdle if we were still living out west.

The Citicom 300 turned out to be a very good Maritime touring bike, lots of storage and 90 mpg!

 
Much as I like riding around on the Island, it is after all an Island and a pretty small one at that, barely two hundred road miles from North Cape in the west to East point, well... in the east!

I can't say I've ridden every road and trail on PEI but certainly a lot of them.  The mainland which is in view from our southern shores beckon constantly, over there I find history fabulous riding opportunities and given 10 lifetimes, couldn't do it all.

Nice old Silver Wing

 
Given the limited time frame to work within I planned out an over across day ride with the potential of an overnight if we could find respite for Anna.  Ultimately we were successful and I put "PLAN A" into motion. This would be a bridge departure to the rotary at Port Elgin and instead of the usual Trans Canada highway we'd sneak through the little village of Baie Verte and cross into Nova Scotia via the little traveled route 970 to 366 at Tidnish.

McMahon's on the waterfront in Wallace NS

This is the humble beginning of the Sun Rise Trail that traverses the north side of NS along the coast through very cute and historic villages. During the sunny day, we would ride the Trail through Northport, Pugwash, Wallace and Tatamagouche!  At that point we'd decide to return via the Strait ferry at Cariboo or head inland and see where that leads us.

Tons of bikes of every type on the Sunrise Trail rte 6

There is a great little waterside eatery in Wallace. McMahon's is one of those little gems you find in the rough and I keep coming back here bringing riding buddies. Today was no exception.  Brenda and I took a table overlooking a magnificent Bald Eagle perched high up on a pole above the harbor.  It was a bit breezy but hey... we're next to an ocean right!

Joining us a couple of tables over was what I would have imagined a typical Harley couple.  Certainly in their late 60's he with graying longish hair, her the same.  The T shirts, like the one I myself was wearing, some type of MC logo of a ride or something similar.

Museum at Bass River, worth a stop!

Upon our departure, I found an early 80's HONDA Silver Wing 500! Interesting contrast between my scooter and its unique storage system and the old Honda.

After a leisurely lunch of, what else... fish and chips (this ride was all about leisure) we mounted up and continued east to Tatamagouche. We weren't in a hurry and although the Citi 300 is easily capable of getting several points on my license and a hefty contribution to the Province, our road speed were often 5km below the limit. 

Lots of history here

I've always liked riding these back roads of the Maritime provinces, traffic is generally following the Trans Canada highway which paralleled the Sunrise Trail about 30 minutes away.Me... I was happy tooling along on these secondary roads where the scenery was not only much more enjoyable but also could actually be viewed at length unlike in a blur at 140 kph.  Things were going good, the weather was excellent, Brenda doing okay and after a brief confab I decided to head south and cross the peninsula catching highway 4 just above Folly Lake.

It had been decades since I was through here and looks much different in summer.  During the winter months skiers flock here where there are significant rises in the Wentworth valley, enough to have road signs warnings of steep climbs, me... I'd rather be riding my bike, or on this day, my scooter, than a pair of skis.

Bass River

I had a bit of a deja vu moment at the crossroads leading to Debert, where in 2007, visiting with internet gal friend, Gail... we were T Boned by a senior driving a car and having gotten confused or something, she pulled out right into us, sending the Dodge van into a spin and nearly over a substantial embankment.  Only the thick vegetation and soft soil prevented us from rolling over and likely killed.

I mentioned 'likely killed' seriously, as I found out that a decade before, at this very intersection where there is a slow country road intersecting a major route, she had done the exact same thing!

Both people in the car she plowed into died.

Found on display in Parrsboro at a little town park.

We caught up with provincial highway number 2 at Glenholme and began our trek to Parrsboro pretty much convinced by this time having not received any emergency text message that we were home free on the road for the night!

This is the north shore of the Bay of Fundy on Cobequid Bay and having been here before, we knew the ride following the bay to Parrsboro was on a well maintained, two lane highway passing Five Islands and Bass River.  Very scenic.  I stopped for fuel at Great Village and met two couples from New England riding Harley dressers.  They weren't interested in my "Trump" jokes; Lord knows why not, they were funny, but were interested in the Citicom 300i.  Both couple would have been in at least their late 60's and more likely half way through the 70's and clearly the 900lb beasts were maybe getting to be a handful.

Pretty

At Bass River, a lovely historic crossroads, we spent some time exploring the nooks and crannies of the General store (I love those places where you can actually find widgets in abundance!) and at the local museum across the river.. 

C'mon... it really doesn't get better than this and biking is the way to experience it.

Following a detour on the outskirts entering Parrsboro and a stop to view a few old cars and rail equipment (there is something very visceral about mechanical things isn't there?) with the sun beginning to head into the west we figured we could make it to Oxford (blueberry capital of the universe)

As the sun was setting and we were traveling north in shade much of the way, I had another unexpected detour following the advice of Brandy my GPS "guide" which of course saw us onto the TCH fully 15 south of town.  I had wanted to pick up rte 321, the back way into Oxford but instead ended up joining the traffic stream at 125 kph. 

The most boring part of our day!

They don't make them like this anymore!

Once off highway 104 we traveled the entire length of Oxford passing right by the two massive processing plants and as it turned out, the only Motel in town!  Realizing that was it, I did a 180 and hightailed it back knowing full well that we were pressing our luck at 7 pm in finding a room.

As it turned out it wasn't a problem and we checked into the Parkview Family restaurant and Inn. 

The Motel was tidy, upgraded some and the blueberry cheese cake was really, 'to die for'.  Hmmm, that could be a new James Bond movie shot right here in the maritimes.

"Cheese cake to die for!"

After our exceptional desert, I asked the waitress about a walk through town?

She said, 'sure I get off in 15 minutes...'  

A bit of confusion no doubt.

She did come back and offer the 6km of the local ATV trail that, if we didn't get lost... would give us a square route from one end of town and back again. 

No attempt to streamline these babies.

We actually managed the walk, found a porty potty when needed (trust the Universe eh:) and dropped off to sleep after along and very hot shower together, saving water of course, right!

Something appealing to me about things mechanical!

What a lovely day it had been! 

We'd covered a fair bit of ground (over 700kms) along both the Northumberland Strait shore and the Bay of Fundy, the weather was gorgeous, exceptional history, the Citicom did very well and I wouldn't hesitate to take her on longer tours, had a great meal in the morning but as these things often happens, we rode pretty much the entire following day... in the rain!

By the time we'd recrossed the bridge and hit the Island, it was torrential.

Even that however, couldn't 'dampen' our spirits from our rare overnight east coast adventure.

All things must pass

     THAT includes my week long multi route adventure V Strom ride(s) It was time to go home to the Island.

Leaving my little ferry's behind a last time.

Rick arrived early in the morning and Lisa and prince William were heading further west to Seattle for a week with sis Holly and her husband Kevin.  I already had my gear packed the previous night and the DL was pointed towards the garage door one last time.

To say I had an amazing time would not do my week justice!

By the time I'd get home, I would have covered over 2500 km.

Water, twisty road and a DL 650

I got up in the morning, had a chat with the pilot (Rick) and pulled out early.  It's about 3 hours to the Island and I was pretty certain I could get there in 10.

Yes, you read that right, this was going to be my longest day, ultimately I would cover close to 700 km and spend nearly 12 hours on the road.

Stone Quarry on the way towards Gagetown

I don't do anything the easy way... :) 

I bypassed Fredericton one more time, headed for lake country.  After crossing an amazing iron bridge high above the St John river onto the north shore and the old Trans Canada highway which I recall flooded here regularly back in the day, I pulled off and headed north from the 105 at McGowan's Corner.

     I'D often wanted to check out Grand Lake, I had heard so much about it from people over the years and during my dealer days

For sale, garage with house attached!!

was always in a hurry to get here or there for some dealer show or other.  Chipmunk, err... I mean Chipman, is well off the beaten path and certainly a ways from St John and I was determined to check it out this time around.

Not wood.  Not covered! Is this a bridge?

I turned right at Lakeville Corner on a wee little triple digit country road ( the 680) through Princess Park, Newcastle Creek, Minto, and Hardwood Ridge, before pulling into Chipman on fumes.  Well okay maybe that's a little poetic license, but I was down to the last bar on the dash panel trip-meter. 

You see the Doc was sure I was smarter then 'Candy' my GPS gal, and refused to listen to her telling me to "Turn around when possible" My map showed tiny little narrow gray lines that presumably carried me into the community of Chipmunk, I mean 'man' Chip-man!

I took a right.

Okay, I was wrong but really... if the road dead-ends after 20 km, why the frig wouldn't they put a sign that tells you such!?

The ride along the lake shore reminded me of the Okanagan Valley in southern BC during the 70's when things were sparsely populated, transplanted Hungarians grew peppers instead of grapes and life was slower paced.

Like the Okanagan in the '70's

     ANYWAY, I made it to Chipmu-an, pulled into the first fuel stop I saw and with nearly 550 km on this tank, she took almost a full load!  It was already 4 pm and I had a rendezvous planned with my pal Vinnie from Moncton area whom I met several years ago when we both rode small DP bikes on a very wet and cold August day for the Dawn to Dusk rally.  Vince on his Super Sherpa 250 and I on my trusty 225 Serow. 

If it wasn't for the new cars and trucks around, I'd swear I'd been transported back in time.

To top it off I was getting pretty road shocked, I was hungry and thirsty, plus I had to pee reeeal bad!

I'd rode back to a little town park with yet another old rail car on site, giving me a good view of the bridge, downed a sub and drank nearly a canteen of water.  I also messaged Vinnie that I would be nearer to 6 pm before I felt I could make to Moncton.

Lakeville Corner

Highway 10 was freshly paved, hmmm, interesting that I found new pavement at Utopia and now here in Chipman, both places being the site of huge Irving Paper mills.  I cranked the throttle on that awesome blacktop and leaning well into the luscious curves, rode straight (is that an oxymoron?)  to  Magnetic Hill McDonald's.

Okay I did it at a rather higher pace, (140 for nearly 90 km's) but that's because I was on the Trans Canada.

     AFTER an hours visit with Vince, we parted ways, he on his shiny FZ-09 and me on my bug splattered V Strom!  I still had nearly 2 hours to ride, and it was already getting dusk and cooling off.

Nearly out of gas in Chipman after having to backtrack 40km

After the Port Elgin rotary, I pulled over at the Petro Can at Melrose, not for fuel but to change to clear safety glasses (the sun had already set) and hauled on some extra clothes, it was getting chilly!  Dark, cold and tired on this low lying stretch of NB can be hazardous to one's health.  Signs warning me of "Moose Crossing" or at least my interpretation of a moose crossing, made me sit up straighter and cranked up my personal radar.

A very long time ago, while driving from Penticton to McMurray for my (first) wedding, my Dad  
T boned a moose on highway 63.  It was March, winter and they were about 90 miles from town.

This was 1976 and there were no cell phones, there were no ambulances, and there were no people on that desolate stretch of gravel road.  Dad drove into town and right to the hospital, Mom's face was badly lacerated (she missed my wedding), a sorry sight of blood, and to top it off, they were near frozen!  The Buick Riviera had it's roof peeled back, like a sardine can.  They were fortunate to be alive.

I did not relish the thought of doing the same on my bike.  I didn't have two tons of steel, nor a big massive V-8 in front of me. This is the time to be extra careful.

Long ass day, nearly 700 km, I gorged down a sub after filling the tank while flashing on the last bar.

 
 I shivered crossing the Confederation bridge.




WHEN I pulled into County Line Road, I finally let out my breath after 13 hours...
I was home... sweet home!

Just doin' ma thing...

THE week was winding down quickly. I'd covered a great deal of very pretty countryside on my Suzuki in southern New Brunswick.  From thick forest, to rugged Fundy cliffs.  From placid and gentile lakes, to rushing trout filled streams.  From 4 lane divided highway, to unnamed or numbered country lanes.

Pretty little cove north of Utopia

THERE were old farms and modern ranches, rusty cars and derelict boats. I'd had sunny days and a little rain.  I rode the flat country and the hills/mountains of the Appalachian range.  As on other trips I'd put under my kidney belt, I carried memories in my brain like a silicon chip.  Well, maybe not quite as reliable!

I finally made it to Utopia

ONE of the favorite things I enjoy riding is soaking up the history or the ambience of every trip. This was no different.  I learned just a little more about the amazing Bay of Fundy tides, the highest in the world and certainly the most powerful.  I learned a little more about the  Loyalists that were vilified for their beliefs and loyalties.  Much like the Acadian community that proudly flies the Acadian flag on their flagpoles and garages

 

Most of Pennfield was CLOSED for business, yet the TCH is only a few miles from here.

FROM my earliest traveling by bike I have met people.  In the old days people that weren't so friendly to motorcyclists in fact often down right hostile!  Today when you travel by bike it has become so commonplace and (almost) accepted. 

I can be sitting on a picnic bench and someone will approach and ask where I'm from, do I like my bike, where did I get those (fill in blank here)  What kind of fuel mileage I get, how fast does it go, what's it cost, how long have I been doing this.

Ahh, the proverbial 'Fork in the road'  Of course there is NO road sign.

PEOPLE are usually shocked when I tell them with all sincerity, this is my 49th continuous year riding.  The years have been pretty good to me with only relatively minor mishaps like getting rear ended in 2002 in Calgary.  Breaking an ankle on the top of the Sierra Giganta mountains and having to ride out very gingerly.  I am looking forward with a great deal of anticipation to my fiftieth year on motorcycles.  I've already been asked "what I am planning?  Are you going to do that round the World thing, am I going to Alaska..." and so forth.

Just another pretty little NB river full of hungry trout!

THE look I usually get is one bordering on shock or perhaps confusion when I reply  

"Haven't a clue..." 

Of course I have in the past and will again in the future as long as I'm able, load the bags and head out on some excursion that requires forethought and planning but truthfully, this is what I have always loved best about riding.  Throwing a leg over a saddle, clicking into gear (or just opening the throttle on a scooter) and going.

LORD Beaverbrook in plaster.

"TIME waits for no man" the saying goes, and to that you can add this one, "We ain't gettin'  any younger!"  This is true for us all.

One of my favorite things to do on this trip was finding covered bridges.

SOMEHOW the Doc lucked out on this week in NB.  The weather, which so often can ruin an otherwise good ride, was very kind to me this time round.  The cloud (!) that hung over our last attempt to ride here back in early 2016 were thankfully absent and when they weren't they didn't hold any moisture like we'd experienced back then.  I rarely ride without my full compliment of riding gear, but of course there are times when the jacket ends up stuffed in the saddlebag, like when it's 110 F in Phx or Baja. 

C' Mon... you've got to love this

Generally I wear appropriate gloves, off road or leather gear, my street jackets have built in armor and I choose a helmet that I feel comfortable in and in keeping with the type of riding I do.

I admit I like twisting the throttle and occasionally give into the whim of twisting it farther.  Most of the time I just like to kick back and explore this amazing country and this beautiful planet.  I sure hope we don't pollute it and ourselves to death, or wipe it all out in a nuclear war!

And this.

THE Wee Strom is made for this particular type of touring. It's likely the most versatile bike I have when I need to cover long distances with luggage and on less than perfect road surfaces.  I feel no need whatsoever for the thousand cc version, and even the 650 has speed potential to get your license shredded on the spot!

 

Here to the Suzuki elicited conversation.

FUEL mileage and distance are remarkable.  The 22L tank will get me close to 600 km averaging about 70 mp (Imperial) g.  That's near 5 gallons here in Canada and almost 6 south of the border.  The six speed transmission coupled with the aftermarket 1 tooth over counter-shaft sprocket, makes for very leisurely touring, while the ton is only a quick twist away.

The suspension is not particularly long travel and I have mine set pretty soft for a cushy ride over roads that are subject to freezing temperatures throughout much of the year. Not to mention the weeks of plus 30 we've had this year.

Viewed from the Summerville ferry, just a few miles east lies the city of St. John

IT'S no "dirt bike" and I've had amazing adventures on bikes as small as 50cc... so the ADV genre to me is nothing more than a marketing ploy. 

After all, the 80's were the era of Paris Dakar and a flat twin 3 foot wide BMW 800, that weighed in at a quarter ton is anything but a dirt bike, notwithstanding that a select few supermen rode them highly modified for 5000 miles across the deserts of North Africa.

That... is a real smile!

I often say to people in this blog and my various published articles, or when somebody walks over for a little friendly conversation, that riding is much better than reading about riding.

Never mind the glossy ads that fill the moto mags... you don't need a thirty thousand dollar bike and $5000 worth of specialty riding gear to enjoy yourselves.  Looking like a Hell's angel is different than actually being one.  I've ridden the Crown King Trail on a 1998 Yamaha XT 350, that doesn't have a desert tank, nor a foot of suspension or even an electric starter. 

Hell you don't even need a riding partner. 

And as for ADV's... just make certain it's in good order, has good rubber, and get out there.  And oh yes, bring a camera!