Riding into history

Origins of New Mexico’s popular image

Little is better than a break in the weather that invites a day-long ride to a place that’s steeped in history, both real and contrived, across roads that are far from the Interstate, abundantly curvy, and visually astounding.

New Mexico is a strange and wonderful place, truly the Land of Enchantment. But not for the reasons most people think. People see silver and turquoise jewelry, adobe (or what passes for adobe) architecture, a strong ancient native culture crossed with a stronger Spanish Colonial heritage, an impossibly big, blue sky; a sparse, tan, almost empty landscape; and it all seems based on a culture that’s, well, primitive.

There are a few places from New Mexico’s past that still lend insight into the origins of the New Mexico of today. Some are going concerns, such as the Taos Pueblo. Others are long abandoned, like the Gila cliff dwellings, the ruins at Chaco Canyon, and the amazing Salinas Missions. Now there’s old … and there’s old. In Europe, structures dating to the 1580s aren’t all that old, really. But in the United States, established in 1776, a large building from 1580 would generally be considered very old. Well, in 1581 the pueblo of Quarai was a thriving community of more than 400 people, just southeast of what is now Albuquerque. It’s not known exactly how long Quarai had been there before the Spaniards visited for the first time in that year, but it had clearly been there a long time.

Visiting there now is not only fascinating, but also a really fun motorbike ride. It’s about a 250 mile ride round trip from Santa Fe. Starting out south on State Road 14, through the semi-famous artists’ hamlet of Madrid. At Interstate 40 near Tijeras the road essentially becomes State Road 337 and gets twisty. The blacktop snakes through mountainous terrain emptying into a plain and turning to State Road 55, revealing a collection of tiny settlements called Escobosa, Chilili, Tajique, and Torreon along the way, all with storied colonial histories of their own. The Quarai ruin is nearby the tiny village of Punta de Agua.

The Salinas Missions, Spain’s colonial, religious strongholds, though in ruins and long ago abandoned, have a very strong influence on what people are thinking when they think of New Mexico today. The Missions, Gran Quivera, Quarai, and Abo, along with their more northern cousin, the Mission ruin at Pecos, formed the basis for what we now know as “Pueblo Revival Architecture.” The Mission ruins are part of the National Park Service. The facilities are excellent, the ruins well preserved, and the Rangers expert. There is no camping, but there are excellent little museums, picnic tables, and clean restrooms.

Believe it or not, the predominant architectural style of Santa Fe in the 1910s was, like most of America, quite brick-a-brack and brightly-colored Victorian. There are stacks of books on how Victorian Santa Fe became “Pueblo Revival” Santa Fe, but if you want to actually see some of the influencing style, go to Quarai.

The architectural complexity is stunning. Neither the native peoples nor the Spanish priests were building primitive structures. And the people were getting along. The evidence of native “Kivas,” places of native religious ceremony built inside the Mission grounds, lead most historians to believe that a get-along-go-along culture existed for many years.

Of course the whole thing had to blow up. The Spanish delusion of “El Dorado” riches did not materialize. The home government of Spain demanded tribute and so the priests and government officials clashed over the priorities of tribute to State versus tribute to God.

It was so bad that it all came apart for the southern Salinas Missions about 10 years before the more famous, exceedingly violent, Pueblo Revolt of 1680 in the north. Whether you are riding for the day or on a longer trip, if your route takes you through central New Mexico, a stop at one of the Salinas Missions is a valuable way to touch a bit of the old that has had a real influence on the new.

Clearly Polycarbonate

A not-too-big windscreen you can see through

The stock windscreen on the current models of the BMW R1200GS is a marvel of molding. The squared-off design is a futuristic angular beauty that, on the road, is more about looks than function. Sure, it keeps the wind from blasting you directly in the chops, but doesn’t really redirect the rain or substantially buffer buffeting from 18-wheeler bow wave or windshear on really windy days.

Plus, after about a year on the road, the tiny scratches from repeated washings in the West’s exceptionally dusty environment begins to turn the stock shield slightly smoky and soft-focus.

A really big windscreen is great in the rain. Full-on touring types always rave about their electrically adjustable see-through barn doors that they raise up with the flick of a switch and hide behind when the weather’s nasty.

Smaller windscreens look good, though, and weirdly enough, a big part of motorbiking is all about how you look.

It’s not easy to find a replacement windscreen for the GS that’s big but not too big; cheap but not cheap looking, aerodynamic and scratch-resistant, tough without being clunky, optically pure with minimal color, and free of lightwave interference lines at the plastic bend points. What’s wrong with wanting it all?

There are tons of aftermarket windscreens out there. The biggies include perennials Aeroflow, Cee Bailey’s, and Parabellum. Newer to the scene are Givi and ZTechik. All offer aftermarket windscreens specifically for the GS. Larger screens require additional hardware to keep vibration at a minimum.

The Z2242 from ZTechnik meets nearly all the stated replacement requirements, even though it would be better if it was just a bit bigger. It mounts easily in about 30 minutes using the existing windscreen hardware. It’s as clear as a bell. It’s made from 4.5 mm hardcoated polycarbonate, so it’s tough and scratch resistant. At about $150 it’s just about the least expensive windscreen out there. Its shape is rounder than the stock windscreen, and a modest 2 inches taller and 4 inches wider. But at 80 mph it’s an obvious improvement, blocking more wind with less buffeting.

It’s odd that you can’t order a ZTechnik product directly from ZTechnik, but must go through an authorized dealer. It’s not a big deal, though, as the Z2242 arrived from A&S BMW in about 10 days.

Just a couple of installation tips: Watch out for the vanishingly small nuts, bolts, and washers that easily drop out and disappear into the black hole of the garage floor. To reduce the stress on the plastic and to dampen potential vibration, add a couple of small rubber faucet washers to the front mounting points.

A bigger windscreen may eventually be part of the motorbike’s future. It’ll be interesting to see how the ultra-clear poly holds up over time and many miles and how well the design sheds the rain away. But for now, the ZTechnik fits and feels like an excellent alternative to the Star Trekian sheet of acrylic that comes standard on the GS.

Book Review: The Road

An Unimaginable Journey

People’s fascination with a post-apocalyptic world has produced a wide variety of books and movies based on the subject. The classic Australian film The Road Warrior starring an impossibly young Mel Gibson remains the Gold Standard of world-gone-mad, car-crashing survival-at-all-costs tales. Too bad the prequel and sequel, Max and Thunderdome failed to be equal.

Actor/Director Kevin Costner has also made two “what if the world blew up” movies, Waterworld and The Postman.

Now that the film adaptation of Cormac McCarthy’s No Country for Old Men has won the best film Oscar it is certainly only a matter of time before a movie of The Road (2006, Vintage Books) McCarthy’s Pulitzer Prize winning story of survival on a charred and hostile Earth, goes into production.

McCarthy’s vision of America the Destroyed is exceptionally bleak. At least Waterworld’s Costner got a cool catamaran, a tan, and the sultry sex appeal of Jean Tripplehorn. Even Gibson got a sawed-off shotgun, a bitchin’ booby-trapped hot-rod, and a dingo. All the main characters in The Road have is a blue plastic tarp, debilitating lung disease, a broken down shopping cart, and a well-deserved, hyperactive paranoia. Unexpectedly though, The Road is strangely uplifting.

The realism is breathtaking. McCarthy’s economy of language is masterful. The result is a story of journey, hunger, survival, death, fear, and a father’s devotion that tattoos images on the brain. It’s a day-to-day description of satiating the simplest, minimal needs under the most terrible circumstances, yet clinging to hope in the face of hopelessness. It’s a frightening, suspenseful book that’s impossible to put down. Like the main characters in The Road you must keep going even though the temptation to give up is there on just about every page.

Like a lot of life’s journeys, a big part of you really doesn't want to go, but you do—because, ultimately, you are better for it.

Obviously, not all great books translate easily into movies. But, if this one does, Mel’s Mad Max could be in for some serious cinematic competition.

Touratech Panniers for the R1200GS

Tourenkoffer Motorradausrüstung

Long time motorbikers all remember Vetter. The Vetter line of motorbike accessories brought the idea of aftermarket fairings and panniers to the mainstream. Back then stock motorbikes came unadorned, just frame, engine, and wheels. The only stuff you could take with you was the stuff in the pockets of your coat.

First generation GoldWings could be seen in the late 1970s cruising down the road with a full Vetter faring and luggage holding that extra helmet and your bag lunch while blaring Led Zeppelin from the console mounted “Cycle Tunes” motorbike radio — it was all very new.

BMW’s were the first bikes in memory that came stock with some kind of fairing and panniers. Pannier is a word from Middle English that roughly means “a pair of woven baskets” slung across the back of a beast of burden. While better than a pair of woven baskets, BMW luggage has had a mixed history. There are many stories of BMW Integral Bags inexplicably “going missing” somewhere along the road. They are legendary for their stellar aerodynamics and good looks, but limited capacity.

The BMW “Vario” line of panniers for the current edition of the R1200GS have an almost foolproof system that assures they will not fall off in transit. They also have a nifty feature that allows the bags to fly in low profile, or expand to a larger size, adding about 30% more volume. But their construction is primarily plastic with a brushed aluminum trim that gives only the illusion of robustness. The lever system that enables the expansion mode has that feel that quietly says, “push me too hard and I’m definitely going to break.”

There is a universal truth that all two-wheeled vehicles will, sooner or later, fall over. When the R1200GS with Vario bags falls over, the bags are a major point of contact with the ground — the other being the cylinder head. Suffice to say that the cylinder head fares better than the Vario bag, especially if the bag is in the full-capacity expanded mode. One or two minor spills and the injured bag lists like it’s had a minor stroke, on spill #3 it snaps and will no longer function.

Criteria for a suitable replacement: The panniers must not break. They must be lightweight. They should be large but not barn door large. And they must look good.

The debate: Jesse Bags vs. Micatech vs. Touratech. The hardest part is deciding on obscenely expensive panniers knowing that you can’t really know how well they’ll work until you’ve already shelled out major bucks and have them mounted on the bike. You ask around, you surf the web, you see a few types at rallies and at your local dealership and then you roll the dice.

The choice here is the German-made Touratech “tourenkoffer” which translates to English as “suitcase for a go around-the-world.” The panniers arrive from Touratech wrapped in enough corrugated paper and bubble wrap to thwart even the most aggressive Silver Back parcel handler. Ripping into the packaging like a kid at Christmas the motorbike owner-turned-accessory-installer quickly faces the Tourtech puzzle.

First challenge: The assembly instructions are in German. In bold letters the first instruction is Alle Schrauben zunachst nur ansetzen und erst anziehen wenn alle Schrauben angesetzt sind. Using a German to English translation website you later learn that this means, “Don’t fully tighten any bolt until all the bolts are installed,” or something to that effect. This is valuable information to have before installation, but completely worthless after.

Luckily the instruction book has pictures.

The instructions also do not tell you that you’ll need #25 and #30 Torx drivers and a set of metric hex wrenches, not even in Deutsch.

The hardest part is that the entire tail section of the bike must be disassembled to add a supporting bar in the rear fender. And, the hardware bag is filled with a dizzying array of hex-head bolts and washers, but the instructions do not specify what goes where. If you like puzzles, you’ll like spending the two hours it takes to figure it out and install the panniers. If you don’t like puzzles, pay your local BMW mechanic to do it.

Hint, hint, the Touratech panniers are very German. Well constructed from high quality materials they exude quality but are not fancy. They’re built for durability and function. The 41 Liter per bag capacity is big, but not too big. The top loading feature means you can fill the bag to bursting and open it without having stuff spill out into the mud. The mounting frames are exceptionally sturdy, but lightweight and engineered to fit at high tolerance. Locks? These bags are set up for padlocks.

With the panniers mounted and road tested — you hardly know they are there — all that’s left for the packer is to contemplate the space available, the stuff that should go into that given space, and how to do it. Einige Menschen lieben Rätsel (some people love puzzles).

Pilot to navigator …

Trading beloved maps for an electronic wayfinder

Old Man Winter’s grip is as tight as ever. With early March temperatures in the single digits, the bike is forced to hide in the garage and leave the rider with a building, coltish frustration — way past ready to ride, yet still unwilling to freeze.

Two weekend short trips have been canceled so far due to the spotty forecasting by the Government’s meteorologists who have promised sunny Saturdays and Sundays but have delivered only overcast skies, cold, and snowy roads. It’s got to be a conspiracy concocted by those sadists at the National Weather Service and car-driving motorbike-haters everywhere.

Beset on all sides by black ice all that’s left to do is thumb through motorbiking catalogs and ponder the irresponsibility of spending money on gadgets that are advertised as essential to the Adventure Touring Experience.

The gaze lingers on the pages of electronic navigation devices.

While considering what kind of Global Positioning Satellite based device might work best and not lighten the treasury too much, a lightning bolt of luck strikes. While discussing all things motorized with a friend he explains that he’s stopped having fun on his GoldWing and so has sold it. But he’s kept his rarely used, barely one-year-old Garmin 550 – The Gold Standard of GPS devices made specifically for motorbikes. And, he wonders if you’d like to pick it up, for say, far less than half of retail.

After a day of audition, the Garmin 550 changes ownership. It’s a solidly built unit that comes with a variety of easy wiring options — though wiring it yourself is apparently a violation of the warranty — it does not require a relay if wired directly to a 12 volt system. It has a sturdy mounting bracket that is able to twist itself into an almost infinite number of Cirque du Soleil worthy positions, and locks down tightly, so an aftermarket bracket is not needed.

The bracket attaches pretty easily to the small inverted u-shape bar that partially supports the instrument panel of the R1200GS. Using a standard 2 inch u-bolt and an inch-long piece of hard-rubber ¾ inch sprinkler tubing, the bracket holds remarkably tight and displays almost zero vibration at speed. It looks right at home perched aside the instrument cluster.

The Garmin has a large, bright touch screen that has easy-to-read maps, buttons big enough to be seen, and navigating its menu is accomplished even wearing the heaviest gloves. It’ll calculate any route you’d like to take and provide you with more data about your trip than you’ll ever want to know.

Even though GPS devices have been around for more than a decade, and are commonplace in most cars today, having one for the bike feels like a decadent luxury item. And, for a monthly service fee it’ll even report the most current weather forecast. Fat lot of good that’ll do you.