Dan's Travel Adventures

I thought I’d do a post for my gear-headed, geeked-out riding clan, to talk about the non-biologic equipment on this trip. You non-riders will yawn through most of this…

My bike for this trip is a 2021 BMW R1250 GS Adventure. If you were going to build a bike to ride across the country, then up to a place called Deadhorse, Alaska, it would be the Adventure. Part luxo-cruiser, part off-road clydesdale, it’s earned it’s reputation as the most versatile bike in the world over many years and millions of miles. BMW invented the adventure bike, and it’s still one of the best.

I am running Michelin Anakee Adventure tires for the mostly-street portion, and Mitas E07+ for the dirt sections. The Mitas’ are a nice surprise, acquitting themselves well in both the slop of the Top of the World Highway, the dirt and gravel of Dalton Highway, and even the twisties in between.

Luggage is standard Adventure BMW aluminum panniers, two sides and top case. I’ve added pannier extenders from Aliexpress. The bike looks a bit odd, but I can now carry all my clothes and tools, plus two bison calves, should the need arise.

Riders debate, ad nauseum, GPS vs. maps. I’m a believer in both, but do all my routing on PC, for downloading to GPS. Mine is the integrated Nav V, made to work with my BMW motorcycle. I send Mitch and Tony the day’s route every morning, by bluetooth. Since Tony rides a Ducati, I assume the turn-by-turn directions are yelled at him in Italian, with appropriate hand gestures on the GPS screen.

In the realm of riding gear (for some reason, it was never called personal protection equipment), one of my most cherished pieces is an Aerostich Roadcrafter suit. For those unfamiliar, this is a one piece suit, made to wear over your clothes, that’s fairly easy to don and doff. It features abrasion resistance and impact protection in the form of armor. While that may conjure pictures of a svelte navy aviator in a form fitting jumpsuit, it’s not that…think of a piece of soft luggage converted into clothing, then stuffed with padding. Add in extra abrasion panels that echo iron-on knee patches your mom put on your dungarees as a kid, and you start to get the picture. I have added (because I didn’t want to risk the attraction of any female attention on this trip) a high-viz yellow vest, electronically armed to inflate airbags should I take a spill. It moves the pointer from fashion victim to full blown carnival clown. Whenever possible, I wear mismatched clothes underneath, so the experience can continue when we take off the gear and go to lunch.

What’s actually special about this suit, though, is its provenance. I’ve been a member of a loosely held group of riders since 1998, the year I bought a Honda VFR800 – a bit of a cult bike. The technological flagship of Honda motorcycles, it attracted, shall we say, a brainy crowd. Think pocket protectors, folded maps and arguments over shunt versus MOSFET rectifiers. These are my brethren.

In the crowd was Dave Thompson. Dave was a few years older than me, and had logged many more miles on his highly modified VFR. He was one of those rare people who remembered everywhere he had ever been and every road he had enjoyed. Blurt out an obscure town – perhaps it was Shamokin, PA, or Staunton, VA – and Dave knew a good road, just outside of town, sure to provide miles of smiles. He came to be known as The Routemeister because he would design 350-mile day rides that were legendary. Routing became passion of mine, and I studied Dave’s routes and roads, and learned. A few times, I even got to ride them, with Dave. Those were good days.

A few years back, while sitting on a bar stool next to an 80-something year old Dave, we caught up a bit. He told me about his girlfriend, his racetrack riding, and health issues. Though I couldn’t have known it then, it was the last time I would see him. He lost his life soon after, but I’ll always remember him smiling and laughing, telling stories in a parking lot or at dinner, delighted to be sharing this love of riding with someone.

After his passing, one of our brothers helped Dave’s family deal with the motorcycle stuff all riders collect over the years. In the closet was Dave’s last Aerostich, black with gray accents, just my size. When it was discussed in our community, I couldn’t think of a better way to remember Dave than give it a second life, take it around the country, and show it some new roads. I’ve always had a bit of Dave in my psyche, so it’s fitting to have him along for the ride.