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The Desert Expedition 2007
- Thread starter Trail Boss
- Start date
- Joined
- Feb 28, 2003
- Messages
- 51,657
- Reaction score
- 9,255
- Location
- Huntsville
- First Name
- Scott
- Last Name
- Friday
And now we get down to the meat of the trip...
Thursday morning comes along dull and entirely too early. Will takes off for work as I get the last bits packed and ready to roll. Here is what it looks like outside...
Moments after taking this picture the rain starts coming down 
I had hoped to avoid needing the rain gear today as it is a bit warm with it in the suit. No dice. I head inside for a few minutes to put in the liners. It's about 8:20am and I was hoping to get away by 8:00. I am headed to Leakey to meet up with Bill "wasabi" and Chris "dirtbomb". I told them I'd be there at noon, but with this weather that is looking to be a challenge.
I head West out of town on FM 1431 towards Marble Falls. The traffic is pretty heavy. As I lean in and out of the nice curves, I silently mourn the certain and inevitable loss of a great riding road. The sprawl of urbanization is steadily marching West consuming more and more of the fun parts of the road. Even when I get out of the sprawl, there is still so much traffic that I am stuck behind several cars and trucks, putting along at a snails pace. Worse yet, in many places they are now widening and straightening the road to accommodate the heavy load of traffic. At least I had the chance to really enjoy the road in years past before all this got really bad!
I had planned a route to Leakey with some fun DS roads in the mix. Given the iffy weather, the fact that I am riding alone, and my dumb luck, I opt for sticking to the highways. A quick stop for gas in Fredericksburg gives me the chance to touch base with Wasabi. It looks like I am on track to hit Leakey right at noon. The bad news is that because of fighting this unreal headwind I am only getting about 32 mpg!! This is the first chance I have had to really check the mpg on the bike since putting the stock jetting back in the carb. So I am hoping it is just the wind causing the bad mpg numbers. Otherwise, things could get interesting out in the middle of the Mexican desert...
I head West out of Fredericksburg on FM 2093, hang a left on White Oak Rd., which is a great narrow and mostly paved little road. I am trying to skirt North of the serious twisties like 337 and just drop down into Leakey from Hwy 41. I've got the GPS making up routes on the fly. Never trust the GPS 100%... I find a few roads that go nowhere or dead end into locked gates and have to so some minor backtracking. Eventually, I find FM 783 and Klein Rd., that cuts over to FM 479 and I drop down to I-10 for a mile or so and then the start of Hwy 41. I run out to US 83 with the throttle pinned. I'd like you to think I was flying down the road... Well... For a packed KLR I was flying 
I head South on 83 and make the last run for town. The rain has let up and the road is mostly dry. This turns out to be a good thing because they are doing a lot of construction on 83 North of Leakey and there is a LOT of dirt on the road that would have been slick mud!
I roll into Leakey right at noon. We are planning to meet at the Frio Canyon Motorcycle Stop right there at the intersection of FM 337 and US 83. When I get there I find big signs saying, "We've Moved!" Hmmm... Well, Bill and Chris can read so I just head to the new location about a 1/4 mile West of town on 337.
Looking at the clouds, it seems obvious the rain is not yet done with me for the day...
No sign of Bill and Chris and I can't raise them on their cell phones. So I hang out and take a few pics, scoping out the new location.
The great view off the back porch
The new place is about 6000 square feet. The front section is a very nice store. The back section is for the parties. They have an area for a stage for the live music. There are three LARGE doors that raise up to open the back side to the great views. They are not finished with it yet, but it is looking great!
Here's the owner having lunch. For some reason I can never remember his name 
Real nice guy though.
While hanging out, I run into a few GS riders. Seems there is some kind of BMW event being held nearby. The paint job on this one really caught my eye! It belongs to a nice couple from San Antonio. I think his name was Rico and I totally forgot hers... Have I mentioned how bad I am with names? I'll remember your bike no problem though 
While waiting, the rain kicks up again, HARD. Man I hope this is not what we are in for all weekend! I like adventure, but miles and miles of mud is not exactly my idea of a good time... My phone finally rings and it is Bill wanting to know where I am. I inform him that I have been sitting here at the bike stop for the last thirty minutes. Seems they did not even get my messages on their cell phones. They have just been sitting around waiting for me to call them They are packed and ready to roll so they head straight over. A few minutes later they show up and we get this show on the road. It starts raining again...
It is still early in the day and they are up for some exploring. Richard had told us about the route that cuts over from Hwy 55 outside of Campwood to FM 674. While poking around on the GPS, Google Maps, and some of my other maps, I spot a few other potential routes that might cut across. Bill and Chris are up for an attempt, so after getting gas in Campwood, we head West out of town on River Rd.
It does not take long to figure out the maps were wrong and we backtrack to town. Okay... so we'll try part of the route Richard told us about 
So we head up Hwy 55 to the start of Cedar Creek Rd., also called White Mountain Rd., on some maps. This road gets fun in short order!
Chris contemplating his route across...
Making it look easy...
I would have died laughing if he had dropped it right here
Cedar Creek is a fantastic DS road. It is very scenic. There is only one real downside...
Getting swatted off your bike by a bump gate!
This trip is all about rules and guidelines. Some are hard and fast, others are flexible. It is a good guideline that you might want to wait and bump the gate yourself instead of trying to get through on the bump from the bike in front of you. Sometimes it works... sometimes it doesn't! The good news is that the bike is mostly okay and still rideable, and more importantly, Bill is fine.
Chris's "lightly" loaded down KLR
The results of attending BumpGate University, better known as the School of Hard Knocks!
With Bill back on two wheels, we deviate from Richard's route. At this intersection, he cut North, we are going to cut to the Southwest. The problem with the GPS is you never know if the road is really there, or if it is there, if it is private or open to the public. We do about 8 miles of great road, cross through someones yard and a few more gates, and eventually reach a BIG locked gate 
The aggravating thing is that according to the GPS, we are really close to connecting to the next "major" road that would complete the route. So close and yet denied We turn around and backtrack to the Bump Gate U campus and resume Richard's route. Annoying that we could not find another way, but now we know 
We head off to the North. The ground around the road is incredibly rocky, with baby head boulders laying everywhere. There are also a mess load of bump gates, but fortunately a lot of them are tied open! On my maps, this section of road shows as being both Cedar Creek Rd., and White Mountain Rd. Then White Mountain turns back to the Northeast and Cedar Creek breaks off directly to the West. The road is so much fun I forget to look at the GPS. The next time I look down, I realize we missed the turn for Cedar Creek, but I don't recall seeing a road anywhere 
So we turn around and I carefully watch the GPS... We pass the road on the screen but I still didn't see a road! So we turn around and I look reeeeeal carefully... and find a road 
See it?
"Dude... are you SURE this is the road!?
"
Chris is clearly digging this "road", which you can see behind him
"This HAS to be it, it's on the GPS!!" And so on we press... At times, I am not sure if we are still on the road or not, but we are dead on the GPS route that shows where we should be going. In a few places the road branches and I pick the "road less traveled"... by the sheep running around everywhere We cross some pretty good creek beds with steep rocky banks. I'm loving this road! But alas... all good things must come to an end... within sight of the goal!! We come to yet another locked gate. As I slow to a stop, I just lose my balance and over I go I've had enough experience with this to recognize that feeling you get when you realize the ship is going down and I just get out of the way instead of trying to fight it. I haven't seen anyone post a picture yet, so it is entirely possible this never really happened and I was just hallucinating 
It is getting late in the afternoon and we are still no closer to Del Rio, our destination for the night. We decide to call it quits on the exploring and just head back to Campwood and slab it to make time before it starts getting too late. No problem. The riding out here has been superb 
And so, once again, we start to backtrack.
I spotted this cool creek/cliff section on the way out and stop for a shot or two
It is a good thing I stopped. While getting back on the bike I notice that the bar end bolt holding my hand guards in place on the right grip is sticking out about an inch and a half!! Time to dig out the tools. Which brings me to another of those guidelines, pack tools where they are easily accessible! I finally get mine out and get the bolt tightened up. While stopped a local guy in a truck pulls up to make sure everything is okay. Turns out he is new to the area and is out exploring and enjoying the natural beauty as well. Kindred spirits We get moving again and head back for the highway. I've got the bump gate routine nailed by now and all three of us can get through on my bump. It is all about making a good first bump and then powering into the gate as it swings open to get it moving fast enough to swing wide open. If you try to just hit it and then steer away from it, it will just slap right back into you. They are heavy so this can be bad... Just ask Bill Soon we are back on Hwy 55 heading into Campwood. We stop for gas and then head South to FM 334 and the run towards Brackettville.
We get into Del Rio in the early evening. While stopped at the Ramada, we see Richard and Jeff "Sprocket" go by with their truck and trailer. Great timing!! I leave Chris and Bill to get checked in and go find the other guys. Roger "Uncle" is already at the Days Inn where Richard is staying. Jeff and I are staying across the street at the Regency Inn, half the price of the Ramada! It ain't purdy, but it works! After we gather everyone together, we head for dinner.
Chris "Dirtbomb", Richard "Richard_" and Jeff "Sprocket"
Richard tries out his Spanish on the waitress. It leaves everyone but him totally confused
Roger "Uncle" and Bill "Wasabi"
After dinner, we load everyone into Jeff's truck and head for the border. The place to get the paperwork taken care of is open 24 hours a day. So we plan to take care of all that mess tonite so we can get an early start in the morning. Once on the Mexican side of the toll bridge we take a wrong turn and immediately get the attention of the armed guards, who start yelling and waiving their arms at us. We play the clueless gringo card and all is well Richard directs us to the office where we get our Tourista Visas. The place is dead, which is a good thing, because it is painfully slow even though it is just us trying to get our paperwork in order. I cannot imagine the nightmare it would be on a busy Friday morning! Passports stamped and visas in hand, we head over to another building to get our vehicle permits.
The lobby area where you wait in line for your turn at the window is tiny. With just the six of us, it feels crowded. I can't imagine what a mad house it will be tomorrow morning!? The young lady behind the window is very friendly, but she claims not to speak a lick of English even though she laughs at some of our Tom foolery 
Fortunately, she can somewhat make sense of Richard's Spanish so all is not lost! After several minutes of confusion, we finally get her to tell us that we need to have a photocopy of our drivers license, our vehicle registration, and our passport. Of course she has no photocopier but the nice guy across the street in the visa office does So back across the street we go. Again I am grateful we don't have to wait in line. The guy behind the window informs us it will be $5 American for the copies!! Nothing to do but pay! When he returns, after the first two guys pay, he says, "No more, is enough" and sticks the $10 in his pocket... Okay... So the guy is just working on his Pension Fund Back across the street we go with fresh copies in hand...
Back in the vehicle permit office, we start the routine over with the nice lady behind the window. Richard translates and everyone gets everything ready in hopes of speeding up the process. I guess we should just realize that where to governments come together, mindless slow bureaucracy abounds. It does not have to make sense. It does not have to be efficient or convenient. It simply is for its own sake. As each of us comes to the window, she acts as if everything is totally new. "Riding motorcycle?" "Destination?" "How long?" I'd have thought that by the 6th person she might have seen a trend... We all eventually get what we need to be legitimate and load up in the truck to head back across the border to Del Rio. It is pushing midnight.
The only bad thing is that we are not able to change any of our greenbacks into Pesos. All the money exchangers are closed. We find out that they don't open real early either. So it looks like we won't be getting that early start anyway Oh well, it is still good to have the paperwork stuff out of the way.
In the truck I reflect on the initial experience of having crossed the border. It is strange. Nothing changed in a physical sense. The air is the same. The dirt is the same. The border is a fictional entity with no physical reality. It is just an artificially imposed line of division. One would think with two cities being effectively one geographically, that the differences would be slight. Yet, the artificiality of the border has lead to stark contrast. There may have been no change in the physical reality, but there is a major change in the mental and economic reality. The feel changes instantly when we reach the Mexican side of the border. We are out of the familiar and have left our little bowl of water behind. Who knows what monsters lurk beyond the safety of our glass? Truly, I have felt the beginnings of being the stranger in a strange land.
We cross back to the American side without incident and head to our respective hotels. Jeff and I spend a little time just making small talk and getting to know each other a little bit, in the NON-Biblical sense We finally drift off to hold a snoring competition. The dreams are strange and morning comes with the sound of rain...
Thursday morning comes along dull and entirely too early. Will takes off for work as I get the last bits packed and ready to roll. Here is what it looks like outside... Moments after taking this picture the rain starts coming down I had hoped to avoid needing the rain gear today as it is a bit warm with it in the suit. No dice. I head inside for a few minutes to put in the liners. It's about 8:20am and I was hoping to get away by 8:00. I am headed to Leakey to meet up with Bill "wasabi" and Chris "dirtbomb". I told them I'd be there at noon, but with this weather that is looking to be a challenge. I head West out of town on FM 1431 towards Marble Falls. The traffic is pretty heavy. As I lean in and out of the nice curves, I silently mourn the certain and inevitable loss of a great riding road. The sprawl of urbanization is steadily marching West consuming more and more of the fun parts of the road. Even when I get out of the sprawl, there is still so much traffic that I am stuck behind several cars and trucks, putting along at a snails pace. Worse yet, in many places they are now widening and straightening the road to accommodate the heavy load of traffic. At least I had the chance to really enjoy the road in years past before all this got really bad! I had planned a route to Leakey with some fun DS roads in the mix. Given the iffy weather, the fact that I am riding alone, and my dumb luck, I opt for sticking to the highways. A quick stop for gas in Fredericksburg gives me the chance to touch base with Wasabi. It looks like I am on track to hit Leakey right at noon. The bad news is that because of fighting this unreal headwind I am only getting about 32 mpg!! This is the first chance I have had to really check the mpg on the bike since putting the stock jetting back in the carb. So I am hoping it is just the wind causing the bad mpg numbers. Otherwise, things could get interesting out in the middle of the Mexican desert... I head West out of Fredericksburg on FM 2093, hang a left on White Oak Rd., which is a great narrow and mostly paved little road. I am trying to skirt North of the serious twisties like 337 and just drop down into Leakey from Hwy 41. I've got the GPS making up routes on the fly. Never trust the GPS 100%... I find a few roads that go nowhere or dead end into locked gates and have to so some minor backtracking. Eventually, I find FM 783 and Klein Rd., that cuts over to FM 479 and I drop down to I-10 for a mile or so and then the start of Hwy 41. I run out to US 83 with the throttle pinned. I'd like you to think I was flying down the road... Well... For a packed KLR I was flying I head South on 83 and make the last run for town. The rain has let up and the road is mostly dry. This turns out to be a good thing because they are doing a lot of construction on 83 North of Leakey and there is a LOT of dirt on the road that would have been slick mud! I roll into Leakey right at noon. We are planning to meet at the Frio Canyon Motorcycle Stop right there at the intersection of FM 337 and US 83. When I get there I find big signs saying, "We've Moved!" Hmmm... Well, Bill and Chris can read so I just head to the new location about a 1/4 mile West of town on 337.Looking at the clouds, it seems obvious the rain is not yet done with me for the day...
No sign of Bill and Chris and I can't raise them on their cell phones. So I hang out and take a few pics, scoping out the new location.
The great view off the back porch
The new place is about 6000 square feet. The front section is a very nice store. The back section is for the parties. They have an area for a stage for the live music. There are three LARGE doors that raise up to open the back side to the great views. They are not finished with it yet, but it is looking great!
Here's the owner having lunch. For some reason I can never remember his name
Real nice guy though. While hanging out, I run into a few GS riders. Seems there is some kind of BMW event being held nearby. The paint job on this one really caught my eye! It belongs to a nice couple from San Antonio. I think his name was Rico and I totally forgot hers... Have I mentioned how bad I am with names? I'll remember your bike no problem though While waiting, the rain kicks up again, HARD. Man I hope this is not what we are in for all weekend! I like adventure, but miles and miles of mud is not exactly my idea of a good time... My phone finally rings and it is Bill wanting to know where I am. I inform him that I have been sitting here at the bike stop for the last thirty minutes. Seems they did not even get my messages on their cell phones. They have just been sitting around waiting for me to call them They are packed and ready to roll so they head straight over. A few minutes later they show up and we get this show on the road. It starts raining again... It is still early in the day and they are up for some exploring. Richard had told us about the route that cuts over from Hwy 55 outside of Campwood to FM 674. While poking around on the GPS, Google Maps, and some of my other maps, I spot a few other potential routes that might cut across. Bill and Chris are up for an attempt, so after getting gas in Campwood, we head West out of town on River Rd. It does not take long to figure out the maps were wrong and we backtrack to town. Okay... so we'll try part of the route Richard told us about So we head up Hwy 55 to the start of Cedar Creek Rd., also called White Mountain Rd., on some maps. This road gets fun in short order!Chris contemplating his route across...
Making it look easy...
I would have died laughing if he had dropped it right here
Cedar Creek is a fantastic DS road. It is very scenic. There is only one real downside...Getting swatted off your bike by a bump gate!
This trip is all about rules and guidelines. Some are hard and fast, others are flexible. It is a good guideline that you might want to wait and bump the gate yourself instead of trying to get through on the bump from the bike in front of you. Sometimes it works... sometimes it doesn't! The good news is that the bike is mostly okay and still rideable, and more importantly, Bill is fine.Chris's "lightly" loaded down KLR
The results of attending BumpGate University, better known as the School of Hard Knocks!
With Bill back on two wheels, we deviate from Richard's route. At this intersection, he cut North, we are going to cut to the Southwest. The problem with the GPS is you never know if the road is really there, or if it is there, if it is private or open to the public. We do about 8 miles of great road, cross through someones yard and a few more gates, and eventually reach a BIG locked gate The aggravating thing is that according to the GPS, we are really close to connecting to the next "major" road that would complete the route. So close and yet denied We turn around and backtrack to the Bump Gate U campus and resume Richard's route. Annoying that we could not find another way, but now we know We head off to the North. The ground around the road is incredibly rocky, with baby head boulders laying everywhere. There are also a mess load of bump gates, but fortunately a lot of them are tied open! On my maps, this section of road shows as being both Cedar Creek Rd., and White Mountain Rd. Then White Mountain turns back to the Northeast and Cedar Creek breaks off directly to the West. The road is so much fun I forget to look at the GPS. The next time I look down, I realize we missed the turn for Cedar Creek, but I don't recall seeing a road anywhere So we turn around and I carefully watch the GPS... We pass the road on the screen but I still didn't see a road! So we turn around and I look reeeeeal carefully... and find a road See it?
"Dude... are you SURE this is the road!?
"Chris is clearly digging this "road", which you can see behind him
"This HAS to be it, it's on the GPS!!" And so on we press... At times, I am not sure if we are still on the road or not, but we are dead on the GPS route that shows where we should be going. In a few places the road branches and I pick the "road less traveled"... by the sheep running around everywhere We cross some pretty good creek beds with steep rocky banks. I'm loving this road! But alas... all good things must come to an end... within sight of the goal!! We come to yet another locked gate. As I slow to a stop, I just lose my balance and over I go I've had enough experience with this to recognize that feeling you get when you realize the ship is going down and I just get out of the way instead of trying to fight it. I haven't seen anyone post a picture yet, so it is entirely possible this never really happened and I was just hallucinating It is getting late in the afternoon and we are still no closer to Del Rio, our destination for the night. We decide to call it quits on the exploring and just head back to Campwood and slab it to make time before it starts getting too late. No problem. The riding out here has been superb And so, once again, we start to backtrack.I spotted this cool creek/cliff section on the way out and stop for a shot or two
It is a good thing I stopped. While getting back on the bike I notice that the bar end bolt holding my hand guards in place on the right grip is sticking out about an inch and a half!! Time to dig out the tools. Which brings me to another of those guidelines, pack tools where they are easily accessible! I finally get mine out and get the bolt tightened up. While stopped a local guy in a truck pulls up to make sure everything is okay. Turns out he is new to the area and is out exploring and enjoying the natural beauty as well. Kindred spirits We get moving again and head back for the highway. I've got the bump gate routine nailed by now and all three of us can get through on my bump. It is all about making a good first bump and then powering into the gate as it swings open to get it moving fast enough to swing wide open. If you try to just hit it and then steer away from it, it will just slap right back into you. They are heavy so this can be bad... Just ask Bill Soon we are back on Hwy 55 heading into Campwood. We stop for gas and then head South to FM 334 and the run towards Brackettville. We get into Del Rio in the early evening. While stopped at the Ramada, we see Richard and Jeff "Sprocket" go by with their truck and trailer. Great timing!! I leave Chris and Bill to get checked in and go find the other guys. Roger "Uncle" is already at the Days Inn where Richard is staying. Jeff and I are staying across the street at the Regency Inn, half the price of the Ramada! It ain't purdy, but it works! After we gather everyone together, we head for dinner.Chris "Dirtbomb", Richard "Richard_" and Jeff "Sprocket"
Richard tries out his Spanish on the waitress. It leaves everyone but him totally confused Roger "Uncle" and Bill "Wasabi"
After dinner, we load everyone into Jeff's truck and head for the border. The place to get the paperwork taken care of is open 24 hours a day. So we plan to take care of all that mess tonite so we can get an early start in the morning. Once on the Mexican side of the toll bridge we take a wrong turn and immediately get the attention of the armed guards, who start yelling and waiving their arms at us. We play the clueless gringo card and all is well Richard directs us to the office where we get our Tourista Visas. The place is dead, which is a good thing, because it is painfully slow even though it is just us trying to get our paperwork in order. I cannot imagine the nightmare it would be on a busy Friday morning! Passports stamped and visas in hand, we head over to another building to get our vehicle permits. The lobby area where you wait in line for your turn at the window is tiny. With just the six of us, it feels crowded. I can't imagine what a mad house it will be tomorrow morning!? The young lady behind the window is very friendly, but she claims not to speak a lick of English even though she laughs at some of our Tom foolery Fortunately, she can somewhat make sense of Richard's Spanish so all is not lost! After several minutes of confusion, we finally get her to tell us that we need to have a photocopy of our drivers license, our vehicle registration, and our passport. Of course she has no photocopier but the nice guy across the street in the visa office does So back across the street we go. Again I am grateful we don't have to wait in line. The guy behind the window informs us it will be $5 American for the copies!! Nothing to do but pay! When he returns, after the first two guys pay, he says, "No more, is enough" and sticks the $10 in his pocket... Okay... So the guy is just working on his Pension Fund Back across the street we go with fresh copies in hand... Back in the vehicle permit office, we start the routine over with the nice lady behind the window. Richard translates and everyone gets everything ready in hopes of speeding up the process. I guess we should just realize that where to governments come together, mindless slow bureaucracy abounds. It does not have to make sense. It does not have to be efficient or convenient. It simply is for its own sake. As each of us comes to the window, she acts as if everything is totally new. "Riding motorcycle?" "Destination?" "How long?" I'd have thought that by the 6th person she might have seen a trend... We all eventually get what we need to be legitimate and load up in the truck to head back across the border to Del Rio. It is pushing midnight. The only bad thing is that we are not able to change any of our greenbacks into Pesos. All the money exchangers are closed. We find out that they don't open real early either. So it looks like we won't be getting that early start anyway Oh well, it is still good to have the paperwork stuff out of the way. In the truck I reflect on the initial experience of having crossed the border. It is strange. Nothing changed in a physical sense. The air is the same. The dirt is the same. The border is a fictional entity with no physical reality. It is just an artificially imposed line of division. One would think with two cities being effectively one geographically, that the differences would be slight. Yet, the artificiality of the border has lead to stark contrast. There may have been no change in the physical reality, but there is a major change in the mental and economic reality. The feel changes instantly when we reach the Mexican side of the border. We are out of the familiar and have left our little bowl of water behind. Who knows what monsters lurk beyond the safety of our glass? Truly, I have felt the beginnings of being the stranger in a strange land. We cross back to the American side without incident and head to our respective hotels. Jeff and I spend a little time just making small talk and getting to know each other a little bit, in the NON-Biblical sense We finally drift off to hold a snoring competition. The dreams are strange and morning comes with the sound of rain...
- Joined
- Dec 7, 2005
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- Bryan
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- Dolan
Good stuff, excellent reports guy's I almost feel like I was riding along with y'all. That look on Bill's face is priceless, he had the same look in Arkansas when we were stuck down in that valley all day. And dirtbomb (Chris) you look like you are loving life in Mexico.
and on the back roads of Texas.
And dirtbomb (Chris) you look like you are loving life in Mexico. and on the back roads of Texas.
- Joined
- Jan 1, 2005
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- Buda, TX
- First Name
- Rich
- Last Name
- Gibbens
Saturday
Saturday
Our plan was to start at the crack of Noon on Saturday. We had discussed it over last night’s dinner and no one really wanted to get an early start after Friday’s epic ride. Around 10 a.m. Uncle and I stumbled from the dungeon we were sharing, in search of breakfast. Paul had recommended a restaurant right around the corner from the motel so that’s where we went. It turned out to be a excellent.
Breakfast with Jeff, Chris, Bill, & Uncle
After breakfast it was time to work on the bikes and then pack for the day’s ride. I had originally planned a 200 mile loop running northwest through canyon Alameda and then looping south and east back around to Muzquiz. That idea was quickly nixed in lieu of a short ride. Instead we were going to ride out to canyon Alameda and then make a u-turn and head back to town. I figured it would take only 3-4 hours at most. Even though we had said we wouldn’t leave till Noon, by 11 a.m. everyone was finished working on their bikes so we left early.
Working on the bikes Saturday morning
We rode 17 kilometers north on Hwy 93, seeing sights in the daylight what we had missed the night before. Unfortunately, just as we exited to the dirt road leading to the canyon Bill pulled up short with a flat rear tire on his KLR. He had picked up a nail. Thus began 7 hours of anguish and dismay.
The Bible has two kinds of stories – examples and warnings. The first type of story, the example, is meant to illustrate what you should do, how you should behave. The stories of Jesus, Moses, and John the Baptist are example stories. The other type of story, the warning, is designed to teach you what NOT to do. “Hey, don’t be one of these clods and do what they did” the story teaches you. Well, the next part of my ride report falls into the category of warning story. Don’t do what we did; learn from our problems and challenges.
A nail flats the rear tire of Bill’s KLR. No problem, right? Unfortunately, wrong. It was a huge problem. The problem stemmed from the combination of a couple of things; first was that Bill was running heavy duty tubes and second is that no one had a spare rear tube. We had several spare front tubes but no rear tubes. We even had 2 patch kits; just no spare rear tubes. The combination of these 2 issues resulted in an unsolvable problem.
People use heavy duty tubes because they think they help prevent flats. Well, a heavy duty tube helps prevent a pinch flat in rocky terrain, but it isn’t any more puncture resistance to thorns, nails, screws, etc. than a regular tube. The downside of a heavy duty tube, and this is very important, is that it is very resistant to patching. Unfortunately, no one in our group except me knew this and since I wasn’t riding a KLR I completely forgot to tell anyone beforehand.
Maybe some of you guys can patch one, but I have yet to get a patch to stick to a heavy duty tube and I’ve tried on 3 separate occasions. I have always been able to get a patch to stick to a regular tube but never a heavy duty tube. I’ve been told that the amount of silicon used to make a heavy duty tube is such that patches just don’t bind to it. For whatever reason, patches don’t stick well to a heavy duty tube.
But, since we didn’t have a spare rear tube, we patched the heavy duty tube anyway. We pulled the tire for the first of 3 times that day and patched it. After the glue dried we re-assembled everything, aired up the tire and off we went. For 500 yards. The patch didn’t hold and the tire was flat again.
So, we slimed it. No go. The slime wouldn’t seal it.
We pulled the tire a second time. Jeff had another brand of patch in his tool kit so we tried them. This patch actually held for a about a mile before it too fell off. The tire went flat again except this time it not only went flat but the valve stem ripped off ending any other patch attempts on this tube.
Hours passed during all that patching, airing, sliming, airing, re-patching, etc.
Finally, in desperation we put in the spare front tube. I know, I know, everyone says you can run a front tube in the rear tire as an emergency. Well, it doesn’t work, at least not on a KLR. A 21 inch tube in a 17 inch tire is a no go. Sure, you can ride a little ways – maybe a few miles or less – but you are going to ruin that 21 inch tube and it’s going to go flat and, most likely, going to be unpatchable. It has happened to me before. It happened to us today. Again, I was the only one who knew you couldn’t run a 21 inch tube in a 17 inch wheel but I forgot to mention it to anyone prior to leaving Texas.
Bill rode a short distance on the 21 inch tube and it popped. All this time we had been on the unpaved road to the canyon so Bill limped his bike back to the highway on the flat tire, arriving back at the pavement 5 hours after the start of this ordeal.
The only solution was to go to town and try to find someone with a truck who could haul Bill’s bike to Muzquiz. Scott and I took off for Muzquiz while Jeff and Chris stayed with Bill.
First tube change of the day
Chris, Jeff, and Scott seeking shade during the 2nd tube change of the day
End of the ride, defeated by a tube
As luck would have it right as we reached the hotel a fellow pulled in delivering 2 new mattresses to the hotel with his truck. His name was Gustavo and he owned a furniture store in town. And he spoke excellent English. I explained the situation and he agreed to rescue Bill and bike.
While the immediate problem of getting Bill’s bike back to the hotel was now solved, a bigger issue still remained. How do we get Bill’s bike back to Texas? None of us had a rear tube for the KLR. There were no bike shops in Muzquiz. The closest bike shop was back at the border. Gustavo and I discussed it and he got on his cell phone and called a local hardware store. As luck would have it they had an 18 inch tube for a front tire. Maybe that would work, so he drove me over there and I purchased it for Bill. Once that was done, Gustavo drove us out to where Bill was located and we loaded his bike in the back of the truck. In short order, Gustavo had us back and the hotel. It was a little after 6 p.m.
Please take today’s lessons to heart. Heavy duty tubes are not more resistant to punctures than regular tubes but they are more resistant to being patched. A front tube for a 21 inch tire won’t work in a 17 inch tire. If you are going on an adventure, carry both a spare front and rear tube and a patch kit.
We missed canyon Alameda today. When I come back here to ride the trail we missed on Friday I’m gonna ride the road over to the canyon too.
Canyon Alameda beckoning us from a short distance
The road leading to the canyon was wonderful
We passed Rancho La Vibora enroute to the canyon
Saturday
Our plan was to start at the crack of Noon on Saturday. We had discussed it over last night’s dinner and no one really wanted to get an early start after Friday’s epic ride. Around 10 a.m. Uncle and I stumbled from the dungeon we were sharing, in search of breakfast. Paul had recommended a restaurant right around the corner from the motel so that’s where we went. It turned out to be a excellent.
Breakfast with Jeff, Chris, Bill, & Uncle
After breakfast it was time to work on the bikes and then pack for the day’s ride. I had originally planned a 200 mile loop running northwest through canyon Alameda and then looping south and east back around to Muzquiz. That idea was quickly nixed in lieu of a short ride. Instead we were going to ride out to canyon Alameda and then make a u-turn and head back to town. I figured it would take only 3-4 hours at most. Even though we had said we wouldn’t leave till Noon, by 11 a.m. everyone was finished working on their bikes so we left early.
Working on the bikes Saturday morning
We rode 17 kilometers north on Hwy 93, seeing sights in the daylight what we had missed the night before. Unfortunately, just as we exited to the dirt road leading to the canyon Bill pulled up short with a flat rear tire on his KLR. He had picked up a nail. Thus began 7 hours of anguish and dismay.
The Bible has two kinds of stories – examples and warnings. The first type of story, the example, is meant to illustrate what you should do, how you should behave. The stories of Jesus, Moses, and John the Baptist are example stories. The other type of story, the warning, is designed to teach you what NOT to do. “Hey, don’t be one of these clods and do what they did” the story teaches you. Well, the next part of my ride report falls into the category of warning story. Don’t do what we did; learn from our problems and challenges.
A nail flats the rear tire of Bill’s KLR. No problem, right? Unfortunately, wrong. It was a huge problem. The problem stemmed from the combination of a couple of things; first was that Bill was running heavy duty tubes and second is that no one had a spare rear tube. We had several spare front tubes but no rear tubes. We even had 2 patch kits; just no spare rear tubes. The combination of these 2 issues resulted in an unsolvable problem.
People use heavy duty tubes because they think they help prevent flats. Well, a heavy duty tube helps prevent a pinch flat in rocky terrain, but it isn’t any more puncture resistance to thorns, nails, screws, etc. than a regular tube. The downside of a heavy duty tube, and this is very important, is that it is very resistant to patching. Unfortunately, no one in our group except me knew this and since I wasn’t riding a KLR I completely forgot to tell anyone beforehand.
Maybe some of you guys can patch one, but I have yet to get a patch to stick to a heavy duty tube and I’ve tried on 3 separate occasions. I have always been able to get a patch to stick to a regular tube but never a heavy duty tube. I’ve been told that the amount of silicon used to make a heavy duty tube is such that patches just don’t bind to it. For whatever reason, patches don’t stick well to a heavy duty tube.
But, since we didn’t have a spare rear tube, we patched the heavy duty tube anyway. We pulled the tire for the first of 3 times that day and patched it. After the glue dried we re-assembled everything, aired up the tire and off we went. For 500 yards. The patch didn’t hold and the tire was flat again.
So, we slimed it. No go. The slime wouldn’t seal it.
We pulled the tire a second time. Jeff had another brand of patch in his tool kit so we tried them. This patch actually held for a about a mile before it too fell off. The tire went flat again except this time it not only went flat but the valve stem ripped off ending any other patch attempts on this tube.
Hours passed during all that patching, airing, sliming, airing, re-patching, etc.
Finally, in desperation we put in the spare front tube. I know, I know, everyone says you can run a front tube in the rear tire as an emergency. Well, it doesn’t work, at least not on a KLR. A 21 inch tube in a 17 inch tire is a no go. Sure, you can ride a little ways – maybe a few miles or less – but you are going to ruin that 21 inch tube and it’s going to go flat and, most likely, going to be unpatchable. It has happened to me before. It happened to us today. Again, I was the only one who knew you couldn’t run a 21 inch tube in a 17 inch wheel but I forgot to mention it to anyone prior to leaving Texas.
Bill rode a short distance on the 21 inch tube and it popped. All this time we had been on the unpaved road to the canyon so Bill limped his bike back to the highway on the flat tire, arriving back at the pavement 5 hours after the start of this ordeal.
The only solution was to go to town and try to find someone with a truck who could haul Bill’s bike to Muzquiz. Scott and I took off for Muzquiz while Jeff and Chris stayed with Bill.
First tube change of the day
Chris, Jeff, and Scott seeking shade during the 2nd tube change of the day
End of the ride, defeated by a tube
As luck would have it right as we reached the hotel a fellow pulled in delivering 2 new mattresses to the hotel with his truck. His name was Gustavo and he owned a furniture store in town. And he spoke excellent English. I explained the situation and he agreed to rescue Bill and bike.
While the immediate problem of getting Bill’s bike back to the hotel was now solved, a bigger issue still remained. How do we get Bill’s bike back to Texas? None of us had a rear tube for the KLR. There were no bike shops in Muzquiz. The closest bike shop was back at the border. Gustavo and I discussed it and he got on his cell phone and called a local hardware store. As luck would have it they had an 18 inch tube for a front tire. Maybe that would work, so he drove me over there and I purchased it for Bill. Once that was done, Gustavo drove us out to where Bill was located and we loaded his bike in the back of the truck. In short order, Gustavo had us back and the hotel. It was a little after 6 p.m.
Please take today’s lessons to heart. Heavy duty tubes are not more resistant to punctures than regular tubes but they are more resistant to being patched. A front tube for a 21 inch tire won’t work in a 17 inch tire. If you are going on an adventure, carry both a spare front and rear tube and a patch kit.
We missed canyon Alameda today. When I come back here to ride the trail we missed on Friday I’m gonna ride the road over to the canyon too.
Canyon Alameda beckoning us from a short distance
The road leading to the canyon was wonderful
We passed Rancho La Vibora enroute to the canyon
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Ahhh man I had no idea, guess I need to take Richard's advice. I have been running around with just a front tube as a spare, I guess I better change that plan..... glad y'all made it back.
You echo the same sentiments I've had regarding human-imposed boundaries. Its a very human trait to categorize things, put them into boxes and sometimes isolate them from each other. The division of places, inhabitants, things animate and inanimate has caused much grief and even lives everywhere.Tourmeister said:
In some places, and for some people no matter where they are, those boundaries often blur, becoming even more imaginary. Sometimes almost disappearing except for the reminder of a posted sign.
The landscape doesn't care about human-imposed boundaries and borders. It 'is' and will be. As you commented, the reality changes only superficially: human culture and it's impact. Yet, as I noticed in Europe and even down along the Rio Grande, each side diffuses and becomes a hybrid of both sides, always under a dynamic flux. A corridor of mixed cultures and realities
Sometimes that in itself is an entirely different reality, a melting pot of imposed and personal rules, disregard, beliefs, clashes, respect, etc.
I found this fascinating while I was in the BB area two weeks ago.
I envy all of you of your trip. Thanks for the excellent write up, guys.
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Always good to hear lessons learned and problems to be avoided. I've got heavy duty tubes in my XL so I'll start carrying a set of spare tubes. Thanks
Sprocket
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FWIW, I'm still perplexed on the whole tube/patch/size issue and started up a new thread on the matter at http://www.twtex.com/forums/showthread.php?p=226625#post226625.
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Saturday Night - aka Mr. Toad's Wild Ride
Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride
That was all the bike work we could stand for the day, so we decided to go eat. Everyone got cleaned up and then we walked over to the restaurant Paul had recommended. No sooner had we arrived when Paul and his 2 bodyguards showed up. He accepted our invitation to dinner while his 2 companions remained in the truck.
Oh My Gosh, that was the best steak I’ve ever eaten! And only $10! The restaurant was absolutely superb, easily the best I’ve eaten at in Mexico.
The Best Steak Dinner in Mexico? I don’t know if it is the best but it sure is the best I’ve eaten. L to R: Paul, Jeff, Uncle, Scott, Chris, Bill
After dinner the next phase of our adventure began. The night was young and the madness was just starting. We piled into Paul truck with his 2 bodyguards and set off on our first priority – cold cerveza. To the beer store!
It’s nighttime, we’ve got a full tank of gas, we’re in Mexico, and the beer store isn’t too far away. Hit It!
Jeff and Chris in the back of the truck
The Beer Store
Why so glum, chum? The beer is cold.
Seis cervezas por favor
After securing sufficient quantities of the Nectar-of-the-Gods Paul took us to his home to meet Paulino, his father. Paulino spoke English quite well and was very hospitable. He welcomed us to his home and then for the next few hours joined us in conversation, cigar smoking and beer drinking. Paulino kept the conversation lively all evening as Paul and bodyguards watched and listened. Anytime we emptied a beer the bodyguards were quick to get us another. The stories Paulino told were fascinating. It wasn’t long before we nicknamed him the Godfather. Beyond that, I’ve been sworn to secrecy and can tell no more.
Hanging out in front of Paulino’s house early on. Note just 1 beer bottle on the table. By nights end the table was overflowing.
Paulino, the Godfather, seated. Paul Jr standing in the pink shirt
The 2 bodyguards. They were very attentive and anytime we emptied a beer they were quick to get us another.
Good company, cold cerveza, and a nice cigar. Ahh, life’s good in Mexico.
After several hours of visiting with Paulino, we were ready to return to the hotel. But Paul wasn’t finished with us just yet. Instead of taking the truck, Paul insisted on taking Paulino’s Suburban. All 9 of us loaded up and off we went on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride for the next few hours. Despite repeated requests to go to the hotel Paul took us on various errands around town including a visit to boystown. I had heard stories as a teenager about “boystown” in various Mexican cities such as Juarez or Tiajuana, stories that usually included some pretty wild, exotic stuff. I never knew if any of those stories were true and had never attempted to find out.
Paul navigated to the edges of town somewhere, into a small cluster of music with loud music spilling out of the door. He said he needed to go check something out and would be back in a minute. I couldn’t pass this opportunity up to investigate those rumours I'd heard as a teenager about boystown so Uncle and I wandered inside. Nothing freaky was going on as it was essentially a nightclub - a very, very loud nightclub - but a nightclub all the same. A few couples were dancing and a number few women were hanging out near the bar looking bored. Okay, I got it, this is where the customers get warmed-up, kick back a little alcohol, and then make their connections. Uncle and stayed about a minute and then went back outside to wait on Paul. He re-appeared shortly and off we went.
After some more errands and driving around, we finally, after much insistence, convinced Paul to take us to the hotel. He badly wanted us to go back to boystown and hang out for several hours but none of us, except Uncle, wanted to do so. He dropped 5 of us off at the hotel and he, Uncle, and the 1 remaining bodyguard took off for boystown. It was 1:30 a.m. I don’t know what they did and don’t have any pictures but you can be assured it wasn’t anything illegal or inappropriate. On the other hand, what happens in Mexico stays in Mexico and we did take a vow of silence.
Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride
That was all the bike work we could stand for the day, so we decided to go eat. Everyone got cleaned up and then we walked over to the restaurant Paul had recommended. No sooner had we arrived when Paul and his 2 bodyguards showed up. He accepted our invitation to dinner while his 2 companions remained in the truck.
Oh My Gosh, that was the best steak I’ve ever eaten! And only $10! The restaurant was absolutely superb, easily the best I’ve eaten at in Mexico.
The Best Steak Dinner in Mexico? I don’t know if it is the best but it sure is the best I’ve eaten. L to R: Paul, Jeff, Uncle, Scott, Chris, Bill
After dinner the next phase of our adventure began. The night was young and the madness was just starting. We piled into Paul truck with his 2 bodyguards and set off on our first priority – cold cerveza. To the beer store!
It’s nighttime, we’ve got a full tank of gas, we’re in Mexico, and the beer store isn’t too far away. Hit It!
Jeff and Chris in the back of the truck
The Beer Store
Why so glum, chum? The beer is cold.
Seis cervezas por favor
After securing sufficient quantities of the Nectar-of-the-Gods Paul took us to his home to meet Paulino, his father. Paulino spoke English quite well and was very hospitable. He welcomed us to his home and then for the next few hours joined us in conversation, cigar smoking and beer drinking. Paulino kept the conversation lively all evening as Paul and bodyguards watched and listened. Anytime we emptied a beer the bodyguards were quick to get us another. The stories Paulino told were fascinating. It wasn’t long before we nicknamed him the Godfather. Beyond that, I’ve been sworn to secrecy and can tell no more.
Hanging out in front of Paulino’s house early on. Note just 1 beer bottle on the table. By nights end the table was overflowing.
Paulino, the Godfather, seated. Paul Jr standing in the pink shirt
The 2 bodyguards. They were very attentive and anytime we emptied a beer they were quick to get us another.
Good company, cold cerveza, and a nice cigar. Ahh, life’s good in Mexico.
After several hours of visiting with Paulino, we were ready to return to the hotel. But Paul wasn’t finished with us just yet. Instead of taking the truck, Paul insisted on taking Paulino’s Suburban. All 9 of us loaded up and off we went on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride for the next few hours. Despite repeated requests to go to the hotel Paul took us on various errands around town including a visit to boystown. I had heard stories as a teenager about “boystown” in various Mexican cities such as Juarez or Tiajuana, stories that usually included some pretty wild, exotic stuff. I never knew if any of those stories were true and had never attempted to find out.
Paul navigated to the edges of town somewhere, into a small cluster of music with loud music spilling out of the door. He said he needed to go check something out and would be back in a minute. I couldn’t pass this opportunity up to investigate those rumours I'd heard as a teenager about boystown so Uncle and I wandered inside. Nothing freaky was going on as it was essentially a nightclub - a very, very loud nightclub - but a nightclub all the same. A few couples were dancing and a number few women were hanging out near the bar looking bored. Okay, I got it, this is where the customers get warmed-up, kick back a little alcohol, and then make their connections. Uncle and stayed about a minute and then went back outside to wait on Paul. He re-appeared shortly and off we went.
After some more errands and driving around, we finally, after much insistence, convinced Paul to take us to the hotel. He badly wanted us to go back to boystown and hang out for several hours but none of us, except Uncle, wanted to do so. He dropped 5 of us off at the hotel and he, Uncle, and the 1 remaining bodyguard took off for boystown. It was 1:30 a.m. I don’t know what they did and don’t have any pictures but you can be assured it wasn’t anything illegal or inappropriate. On the other hand, what happens in Mexico stays in Mexico and we did take a vow of silence.
Wasabi
0
This was the locked gateTourmeister said:But alas... all good things must come to an end... within sight of the goal!!
...
and here was the goal
Wasabi
0
Re: Saturday
The flat tire problem could have been a real catastrophe had I not had the backing from my fellow riders. I was so impressed with Richard for sharing his knowledge and support during that full day of changing one flat after another. Had I been by myself I surely would have been stuck in that desert for many days walking back to the main road begging for help from strangers.
Gustavo and Richard were my heroes. If they had not found that tire tube I was going to have to arrange for some kind of transport for my bike back to the border. It would have been such a hassle, I dreaded the thought. It was a humbling experience feeling so helpless. I cant thank Richard enough for his assistance and support.
Sunday morning I was up early, it was raining lightly and none of the other riders were up yet. I wanted to move the bike under a near by shelter so I could start to install the new tube out of the rain. The back tire was so flat, I could not move the bike. The parking lot was slippery from the rain so chances of me losing my footing and dropping the bike was high. I used a Co2 cartridge to air up the tire enough to move the bike across the parking lot (about 30 feet). I took the tire off the bike and the tire off the rim so I could clean and check the inside of the tire for any kind of debris that might puncture my tube from heaven. By this time Richard and Uncle were up and assisted me with the tire install.
Another pic of Saturday morning everyone getting ready to ride , we thought.
Sunday morning working on the flat tire.
Richard_ said:
The flat tire problem could have been a real catastrophe had I not had the backing from my fellow riders. I was so impressed with Richard for sharing his knowledge and support during that full day of changing one flat after another. Had I been by myself I surely would have been stuck in that desert for many days walking back to the main road begging for help from strangers.
Gustavo and Richard were my heroes. If they had not found that tire tube I was going to have to arrange for some kind of transport for my bike back to the border. It would have been such a hassle, I dreaded the thought. It was a humbling experience feeling so helpless. I cant thank Richard enough for his assistance and support.
Sunday morning I was up early, it was raining lightly and none of the other riders were up yet. I wanted to move the bike under a near by shelter so I could start to install the new tube out of the rain. The back tire was so flat, I could not move the bike. The parking lot was slippery from the rain so chances of me losing my footing and dropping the bike was high. I used a Co2 cartridge to air up the tire enough to move the bike across the parking lot (about 30 feet). I took the tire off the bike and the tire off the rim so I could clean and check the inside of the tire for any kind of debris that might puncture my tube from heaven. By this time Richard and Uncle were up and assisted me with the tire install.
Another pic of Saturday morning everyone getting ready to ride , we thought.
Sunday morning working on the flat tire.
Wasabi
0
Some thoughts and observation about what I learned from the tire changing experience. My tire changing kit needs work.
I was glad I had brought the Tire Tamer, the valve puller. I found they helped me the most to speed up the tube tire change. Still there is no substitute for and extra pair of hands and knee to push down on the tire.
One interesting note about the electric air pump was that neither my WalMart take apart special nor Scott’s Slime pump would start to air the tube when it was totally flat. I used a Co2 cartridge to start the inflation on Scotts flat as well as my three flats. Not sure why this is so, it was a surprise when it happened. Richard was the one that recognized the problem and suggested the Co2 cartridge when the pump was running for several minuets and the tire didn’t start to inflate.
One item Richard brought to change tires was a white plastic drop cloth to keep the wheel parts from getting dirt on them and to help organize tools while you work. Excellent idea and it will be on my tire changing tool list.
My KLR has a center stand. One item I did not bring that would have helped prevent the bike from falling off the center stand when the back tire was off is a cable / strap to hook on the stand to the skid plate. I use it all the time at home and it works well. Another item to add to the tire changing kit.
I was glad I had brought the Tire Tamer, the valve puller. I found they helped me the most to speed up the tube tire change. Still there is no substitute for and extra pair of hands and knee to push down on the tire.
One interesting note about the electric air pump was that neither my WalMart take apart special nor Scott’s Slime pump would start to air the tube when it was totally flat. I used a Co2 cartridge to start the inflation on Scotts flat as well as my three flats. Not sure why this is so, it was a surprise when it happened. Richard was the one that recognized the problem and suggested the Co2 cartridge when the pump was running for several minuets and the tire didn’t start to inflate.
One item Richard brought to change tires was a white plastic drop cloth to keep the wheel parts from getting dirt on them and to help organize tools while you work. Excellent idea and it will be on my tire changing tool list.
My KLR has a center stand. One item I did not bring that would have helped prevent the bike from falling off the center stand when the back tire was off is a cable / strap to hook on the stand to the skid plate. I use it all the time at home and it works well. Another item to add to the tire changing kit.
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HA! I love the pic of the bike and me hanging on the gate looking defeated 
Nevermind what Chris was doing... Good thing we got the bike back up before you got the camera out... never happened!
You forgot to mention the absence of that nice mat when we were doing my tire and me picking little rocks out of the bearing grease
I am not wild about your centerstand. It goes so far forward that it does not get the bike up off the ground very well. The strap idea is a good one and I normally use it at home as well. I did not worry about it with my bike on the trail because I already had so much weight up front I was not worried about it going backwards! One other thing, when the bike fell, it was not on real level ground and the dirt was a little soft. Besides getting it level, perhaps a small board long enough to get under both feet and maybe 2" wide would be a good addition to your kit to help with the soft ground issue? If it is thick enough, it might also help get the tire higher up off the ground.
Is that really all the pics you took!? hehe...
Nevermind what Chris was doing... Good thing we got the bike back up before you got the camera out... never happened! You forgot to mention the absence of that nice mat when we were doing my tire and me picking little rocks out of the bearing grease
I am not wild about your centerstand. It goes so far forward that it does not get the bike up off the ground very well. The strap idea is a good one and I normally use it at home as well. I did not worry about it with my bike on the trail because I already had so much weight up front I was not worried about it going backwards! One other thing, when the bike fell, it was not on real level ground and the dirt was a little soft. Besides getting it level, perhaps a small board long enough to get under both feet and maybe 2" wide would be a good addition to your kit to help with the soft ground issue? If it is thick enough, it might also help get the tire higher up off the ground.
Is that really all the pics you took!? hehe...
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Oh yeah, I am not convinced about Richard's theory regarding the small pumps being unable to inflate the tubes. It worked here Unless the stem is leaking, a pump that can run up to 300 psi should have no trouble getting the tube to start its initial inflation More testing is in order...
gotdurt
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There's no reason any pump couldn't start a tube... unlike a tubless tire, the tube is sealed. However, those compressors are capable of high PSIs due to the very small pulses of air they produce, so it takes a really long time to fill larger volumes, and may seem to be getting nowhere... just give it time. Many times I've used a small mountainbike hand pump (that's what I carry), and for the 1st few minutes, you'd swear it's not taking air, but it will fill it, and I'd loose 10 lbs in the processTourmeister said:
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For whatever reasons, on multiple occasions I've been unable to get air into a new tube that is installed in a tire. I've had this problem with both my hand pump and my airman pump. If I pull the tube out I can get air into it but not when it is in the tire. If I put some air into the tube prior to putting it in the tire then the pump works fine. This doesn't happen everytime, but it has happened often to me. I've never been able to figure it out
Ricardo
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Can't wait to read the rest. Almost like being on the ride.
Ricardo said:
Welcome to the forum Ricardo, glad to have you on board.....
Steve
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Sunday
Sunday
The last thing Scott said to us on Saturday night was that he wanted to leave for Texas at 9 a.m. I inwardly groaned because that meant we had to get up at about 7:30 a.m. We still had to fix Bill’s flat tire, plus pack everything up, and eat.
I woke up a little after 8 a.m. Sunday morning and dragged my sorry butt out of bed. Uncle had made it home safely from the night before and was hidden beneath his covers. I wandered outside to find Bill already working on his bike so I pitched in to help. A little after 9 a.m. the bike was done. Everyone, except Scott, was up and packing their bikes by this time. I wandered down to his room and hollered through the open window.
“Scott, it’s after 9.”
Scott, whose sleep I had just disturbed, hollers back, “I meant 9 a.m. Mexico time” (This part of Mexico is an hour behind Texas time.)
I could have slept an extra hour...
With some time to spare several of us wandered off in search of breakfast. Yesterday everybody in town was up and about by this time of the day. Today, it was a ghost town and everything was closed down. We stumbled upon the only restaurant that we could find open and had a quick breakfast.
Finally everyone was ready to roll, so off we went. I had originally thought we could do some unpaved road exploration to get back to Texas. But considering our tired condition, uncertainty that Bill’s tube would hold, the lateness of the time, and the light rain that was falling, we decided to take the direct, paved route to Eagle Pass. 100 miles later we pulled into Pedras Negras to check out of the country. After completing our paperwork, we crossed into Texas at Eagle Pass. Our finally group event was lunch at Pizza Hut as we watched the skies open up and soak the area.
Federales checkpoint outside of Pedras Negras
Converting Pesos to Dollars
It had been a heck of an expedition. It started with rain in Del Rio and ended with rain in Eagle Pass. We rode some great roads, learned some important lessons, overcame a difficult situation, made some new friends, and enjoyed some strange times. Can't wait till next time.
Sunday
The last thing Scott said to us on Saturday night was that he wanted to leave for Texas at 9 a.m. I inwardly groaned because that meant we had to get up at about 7:30 a.m. We still had to fix Bill’s flat tire, plus pack everything up, and eat.
I woke up a little after 8 a.m. Sunday morning and dragged my sorry butt out of bed. Uncle had made it home safely from the night before and was hidden beneath his covers. I wandered outside to find Bill already working on his bike so I pitched in to help. A little after 9 a.m. the bike was done. Everyone, except Scott, was up and packing their bikes by this time. I wandered down to his room and hollered through the open window.
“Scott, it’s after 9.”
Scott, whose sleep I had just disturbed, hollers back, “I meant 9 a.m. Mexico time” (This part of Mexico is an hour behind Texas time.)
I could have slept an extra hour...
With some time to spare several of us wandered off in search of breakfast. Yesterday everybody in town was up and about by this time of the day. Today, it was a ghost town and everything was closed down. We stumbled upon the only restaurant that we could find open and had a quick breakfast.
Finally everyone was ready to roll, so off we went. I had originally thought we could do some unpaved road exploration to get back to Texas. But considering our tired condition, uncertainty that Bill’s tube would hold, the lateness of the time, and the light rain that was falling, we decided to take the direct, paved route to Eagle Pass. 100 miles later we pulled into Pedras Negras to check out of the country. After completing our paperwork, we crossed into Texas at Eagle Pass. Our finally group event was lunch at Pizza Hut as we watched the skies open up and soak the area.
Federales checkpoint outside of Pedras Negras
Converting Pesos to Dollars
It had been a heck of an expedition. It started with rain in Del Rio and ended with rain in Eagle Pass. We rode some great roads, learned some important lessons, overcame a difficult situation, made some new friends, and enjoyed some strange times. Can't wait till next time.
Sprocket
0
One small comment about the checkpoint pic...
The little guy behind and to my left had just spent 2 minutes gesturing to my bags and saying "abierto" (open) over and over. I spent the same 2 minutes slowly and loudly saying "I am sorry sir, I do not speak Spanish and do not understand what you are asking me to do or I would be happy to do it" over and over. Of course I used my s-l-o-w-e-s-t Texas drawl...
In the spirit of declining Mexico/US détente, he then stares up at me (all 4'-11" and buck-O-five of him) and says the Spanish equivalent of "'effin American" before moving on to Scott. Being his first Mexico trip, Scott wasn't aware of the "Play a Stupid Gringo and not have to unpack and repack your gear" ploy and was happy to comply.
Fortunately a full body cavity search did not ensue. 'course he did cost the rest of us an hour of much needed sleep...
The little guy behind and to my left had just spent 2 minutes gesturing to my bags and saying "abierto" (open) over and over. I spent the same 2 minutes slowly and loudly saying "I am sorry sir, I do not speak Spanish and do not understand what you are asking me to do or I would be happy to do it" over and over. Of course I used my s-l-o-w-e-s-t Texas drawl...
In the spirit of declining Mexico/US détente, he then stares up at me (all 4'-11" and buck-O-five of him) and says the Spanish equivalent of "'effin American" before moving on to Scott. Being his first Mexico trip, Scott wasn't aware of the "Play a Stupid Gringo and not have to unpack and repack your gear" ploy and was happy to comply.
Fortunately a full body cavity search did not ensue.
'course he did cost the rest of us an hour of much needed sleep...
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What was that saying we heard over and over about Mexico...? "We stay in bed until ten minutes after we feel like getting up!" All weekend we were yakking on Mexican time, why should it have been any different when you asked me what time to leave 
Besides, had we left earlier we would have missed the send off by Paul Sr.
Dang, this is the best adventure report I've read in a long long time.
Bravo!!! Great trip! Feel as if we rode along with y'all.
Sounds like a good time despite the tenacious terrible tube.
I'm soo jealous.........
Bravo!!!
Great trip! Feel as if we rode along with y'all.Sounds like a good time despite the tenacious terrible tube.
I'm soo jealous.........
- Joined
- Feb 28, 2003
- Messages
- 51,657
- Reaction score
- 9,255
- Location
- Huntsville
- First Name
- Scott
- Last Name
- Friday
Right... so where was I...?
Ah yes... Friday morning... more rain 
Jeff and I are out in the parking lot, running a few minutes late when the others pull up ready to roll. I had not intended to wear the rain gear, but once outside, I changed my mind. The riding suit I'm wearing on this trip is brand new. When I left Huntsville Wednesday afternoon, that was the first time I had worn it on the bike. I am still getting used to the ins and outs of the suit, like trying to get the rain liner in the pants Anyway, I get the last straps on the bike cinched down tight a few minutes after everyone arrives and we are ready to roll. We cruise through town, hit the toll bridge where Richard pays for all of us to speed things up, and we cross once more into Mexico.
Last night, the streets were empty and we were the only ones about other than the border guards. This morning the place is a madhouse. All we need to do is find a place to exchange some U.S. currency for Pesos. After several laps around the block in heavy stop and go traffic, we eventually wind up right back at the Tourist Visa office. It seems the exchange booth is open now. Several of us wait with the bikes while the others go make the exchange.
Jeff keeping an eye on the bikes
And his nicely decked out Honda XR 650R
Uncle Roger's heavily loaded GS ready for adventure
Chris's even heavier loaded KLR 650...
Bill's KLR 650
My sleek and elegant beauty ready for action
Richard's heavily laden V-Strom 650
The border town we have crossed into is Ciudad Acuna, a city of about 125,000 people. In the light of day, things feel very different. Here is the view as soon as you come off the bridge and pass the border checkpoint:
One of the first things that jumps out at me in the light of day is how dingy the city seems. The streets are narrow and the buildings sit right up against the sidewalks. Overhanging the streets are signs of every manner competing for our attention, as if the crazy traffic were not enough of a demand for our attention! Judging by the signs, a LOT of Americans come here to play... In my younger days, I would have been sorely tempted to indulgence. Now, it evokes a very different reaction. Instead of contemplating the many ways I might satisfy my carnal desires, I wonder instead about the lives of the people that come and go in places like these. Are they really finding what they are seeking? Are they simply escaping into distraction? What has led them here and will they ever leave it behind? I cannot sit in judgment of them because I am not qualified. I presume they are doing what they think is right or they would not be doing it. That is all I have ever done and I cannot expect anymore from anyone else.
A moment of reflection, a silent prayer, and it is time to head back to the others. As I turn, before me sits a man that looks far older than he probably is. He's legless, toothless, and dirty, sitting in a ragged wheelchair. In that moment our eyes connect. He looks me over, standing here in my brand new $1000 dollar riding suit, carrying a fancy digital camera, and looking at his world as if I were at the zoo checking out the latest exhibit. The contrast in our lives is stark. All the times I have felt sorry for myself because things were not going the way I expected or wanted seemed to fade into triviality in that moment. Life is not fair. Some people endure misery not of their doing and others enjoy luxury not of their doing. I give him the peso coins in my pocket, maybe $10 US in total. It seems almost pointless because I know that ultimately it will not change his life, but perhaps for a brief time it might buy him some relief. Maybe in some way I also do it to sooth a nagging sense of guilt on my part, although I know intellectually I have nothing for which to feel personally guilty. This encounter will return to me in various times and places during our trip I am sure. Outside my bowl, the contrast is stark indeed. One wonders if things inside the bowl will ever be the same...
Everyone gathers back at the bikes and we are ready to get started. That sense of excitement is creeping back into the edge of my awareness. We are about to head into remote desert areas and we've no idea what we will encounter. We pull out of the parking lot, I am fourth in the line of six bikes: Richard, Bill, Chris, Me, Jeff and Uncle. I look up in time to see the first three turn left down the main drag in the picture above. In my peripheral vision I catch a car on my right that looks like it is about to turn into me to make the same left and I see the stop sign for the first time. Instinctively, I squeeze the front brake with one finger...
When I roll to a stop, I get up and walk back over to the bike, laying on its side, engine still running. I reach down and kill it. It is hard not to bust out laughing. Here I was worried about all the things that might happen somewhere out there in the future and I forgot to worry about the things right under my nose... like the big oil patch my front tire was on when I tapped the brakes It was not raining and the streets were dry so I got a bit careless and assumed good traction. Lesson learned? There are a LOT of vehicles running around in this crowded area, all going slow and spending a lot of time idling in stopped traffic. Looking around I noticed the road was pretty messy. I should have been treating it as a low traction environment and stayed off the front brake. Rules and guidelines... this trip will be a learning lesson even if it kills me. I get off easy. The suit shows no signs of wear/tear from the impact with the ground. I am fine. The bike and gear is fine. But scarcely five seconds into the ride we have already lost the first three guys!!
Jeff and Uncle help me lift the bike. We get it out of the traffic and do a quick check just to make sure the bike and I are still good to go. We quickly decide that the best course of action is to wait for the others to return. Richard had just given us the lecture about being responsible for keeping track of the guy immediately behind you. So ideally they should be right back to get us... in theory... eventually... Maybe fifteen minutes goes by before Chris finally comes around the corner looking confused to find us just standing around our bikes with nothing apparent being wrong. A quick word of explanation and we are heading out to catch the others. We find Richard and Bill waiting for us, Richard trying to make sure we get out of town and headed the right direction. Once underway I notice the forks are twisted in the triple clamps. While stopped I pull up next to a fence post, place the front tire against the post and give a good heave ho on the bars a few times to straighten things out... Good as new
We head West, slowly making our way out of town. It occurs to me that ALL of the buildings look old, worn, in various states of disrepair, and dirty. Even the relatively new buildings look this way. Paint is faded. Concrete is chipped and cracking. Nothing looks maintained. Most of the cars are worn and old. There just seems to be an air about everything of being run down. It shows on many of the adults as well. The kids, as with most places, seem joyfully oblivious to such things. I can't help but wonder what the lasting effects of existing in such an environment has on a person's mentality and view of the world. We miss a turn, consult on GPS indications, turn around, and finally find the road we are looking for. Soon Acuna is fading in the rear view mirrors, a dusty blur on the horizon.
Ah yes... Friday morning... more rain Jeff and I are out in the parking lot, running a few minutes late when the others pull up ready to roll. I had not intended to wear the rain gear, but once outside, I changed my mind. The riding suit I'm wearing on this trip is brand new. When I left Huntsville Wednesday afternoon, that was the first time I had worn it on the bike. I am still getting used to the ins and outs of the suit, like trying to get the rain liner in the pants Anyway, I get the last straps on the bike cinched down tight a few minutes after everyone arrives and we are ready to roll. We cruise through town, hit the toll bridge where Richard pays for all of us to speed things up, and we cross once more into Mexico. Last night, the streets were empty and we were the only ones about other than the border guards. This morning the place is a madhouse. All we need to do is find a place to exchange some U.S. currency for Pesos. After several laps around the block in heavy stop and go traffic, we eventually wind up right back at the Tourist Visa office. It seems the exchange booth is open now. Several of us wait with the bikes while the others go make the exchange.Jeff keeping an eye on the bikes
And his nicely decked out Honda XR 650R
Uncle Roger's heavily loaded GS ready for adventure
Chris's even heavier loaded KLR 650...
Bill's KLR 650
My sleek and elegant beauty ready for action
Richard's heavily laden V-Strom 650
The border town we have crossed into is Ciudad Acuna, a city of about 125,000 people. In the light of day, things feel very different. Here is the view as soon as you come off the bridge and pass the border checkpoint: One of the first things that jumps out at me in the light of day is how dingy the city seems. The streets are narrow and the buildings sit right up against the sidewalks. Overhanging the streets are signs of every manner competing for our attention, as if the crazy traffic were not enough of a demand for our attention! Judging by the signs, a LOT of Americans come here to play... In my younger days, I would have been sorely tempted to indulgence. Now, it evokes a very different reaction. Instead of contemplating the many ways I might satisfy my carnal desires, I wonder instead about the lives of the people that come and go in places like these. Are they really finding what they are seeking? Are they simply escaping into distraction? What has led them here and will they ever leave it behind? I cannot sit in judgment of them because I am not qualified. I presume they are doing what they think is right or they would not be doing it. That is all I have ever done and I cannot expect anymore from anyone else. A moment of reflection, a silent prayer, and it is time to head back to the others. As I turn, before me sits a man that looks far older than he probably is. He's legless, toothless, and dirty, sitting in a ragged wheelchair. In that moment our eyes connect. He looks me over, standing here in my brand new $1000 dollar riding suit, carrying a fancy digital camera, and looking at his world as if I were at the zoo checking out the latest exhibit. The contrast in our lives is stark. All the times I have felt sorry for myself because things were not going the way I expected or wanted seemed to fade into triviality in that moment. Life is not fair. Some people endure misery not of their doing and others enjoy luxury not of their doing. I give him the peso coins in my pocket, maybe $10 US in total. It seems almost pointless because I know that ultimately it will not change his life, but perhaps for a brief time it might buy him some relief. Maybe in some way I also do it to sooth a nagging sense of guilt on my part, although I know intellectually I have nothing for which to feel personally guilty. This encounter will return to me in various times and places during our trip I am sure. Outside my bowl, the contrast is stark indeed. One wonders if things inside the bowl will ever be the same... Everyone gathers back at the bikes and we are ready to get started. That sense of excitement is creeping back into the edge of my awareness. We are about to head into remote desert areas and we've no idea what we will encounter. We pull out of the parking lot, I am fourth in the line of six bikes: Richard, Bill, Chris, Me, Jeff and Uncle. I look up in time to see the first three turn left down the main drag in the picture above. In my peripheral vision I catch a car on my right that looks like it is about to turn into me to make the same left and I see the stop sign for the first time. Instinctively, I squeeze the front brake with one finger... When I roll to a stop, I get up and walk back over to the bike, laying on its side, engine still running. I reach down and kill it. It is hard not to bust out laughing. Here I was worried about all the things that might happen somewhere out there in the future and I forgot to worry about the things right under my nose... like the big oil patch my front tire was on when I tapped the brakes It was not raining and the streets were dry so I got a bit careless and assumed good traction. Lesson learned? There are a LOT of vehicles running around in this crowded area, all going slow and spending a lot of time idling in stopped traffic. Looking around I noticed the road was pretty messy. I should have been treating it as a low traction environment and stayed off the front brake. Rules and guidelines... this trip will be a learning lesson even if it kills me. I get off easy. The suit shows no signs of wear/tear from the impact with the ground. I am fine. The bike and gear is fine. But scarcely five seconds into the ride we have already lost the first three guys!! Jeff and Uncle help me lift the bike. We get it out of the traffic and do a quick check just to make sure the bike and I are still good to go. We quickly decide that the best course of action is to wait for the others to return. Richard had just given us the lecture about being responsible for keeping track of the guy immediately behind you. So ideally they should be right back to get us... in theory... eventually... Maybe fifteen minutes goes by before Chris finally comes around the corner looking confused to find us just standing around our bikes with nothing apparent being wrong. A quick word of explanation and we are heading out to catch the others. We find Richard and Bill waiting for us, Richard trying to make sure we get out of town and headed the right direction. Once underway I notice the forks are twisted in the triple clamps. While stopped I pull up next to a fence post, place the front tire against the post and give a good heave ho on the bars a few times to straighten things out... Good as new We head West, slowly making our way out of town. It occurs to me that ALL of the buildings look old, worn, in various states of disrepair, and dirty. Even the relatively new buildings look this way. Paint is faded. Concrete is chipped and cracking. Nothing looks maintained. Most of the cars are worn and old. There just seems to be an air about everything of being run down. It shows on many of the adults as well. The kids, as with most places, seem joyfully oblivious to such things. I can't help but wonder what the lasting effects of existing in such an environment has on a person's mentality and view of the world. We miss a turn, consult on GPS indications, turn around, and finally find the road we are looking for. Soon Acuna is fading in the rear view mirrors, a dusty blur on the horizon.Scott,
After my personal travels in third world countries I know my bowl was never the same and I doubt yours will be either.
Rod
After my personal travels in third world countries I know my bowl was never the same and I doubt yours will be either.
Rod
Just FYI guys, you can put a front tube in a rear wheel if it's all you have, even a 21" front tube can run in an 18" rear wheel just fine.
It'll get as far as ya need to go.
You guys sure pack heavy, I'd want to see in there too if I was one them guards.
It'll get as far as ya need to go.
You guys sure pack heavy, I'd want to see in there too if I was one them guards.