Our Holiday Tradition

Me and X-Man, Castle Hot
Springs in the background.

What's the use of living in Arizona if you don't celebrate traditions appropriate to your surroundings? There'll be no dreaming of a White Christmas in this house! In fact, we live here because we don't dream of a white Christmas.

Last year was our first holiday season as confirmed Arizonians, and we started our Christmas motorcycle ride tradition in 2014. This year we ventured out on Christmas Eve, and it was an off-road experience we craved.

I was on a mission to see my first burro, so we headed to Lake Pleasant and it's surrounding dirt roads. Mr. J had just fixed my X-Man up with leads on the battery so I could wear my heated gear, and only in AZ can you get away with that under a mesh jacket in December!

Wild burros are abundant around the lake, and I wasn't disappointed! I love nature and wildlife, and it's so cool to be able to visit these guys less than an hour from home. If you visit, please drive slowly. They aren't fast animals.

Out the back of the lake is Castle Hot Springs Road, which you can take to Crown King if you've got the skills to get there (I'm hoping that trip will be on my agenda next summer).

You can also take the road to the actual Castle Hot Springs, which was a resort for the rich and famous in the 20's and 30's, a military rehab center during the War, and a speculator's paradise today. When will someone turn it into the next French Lick/West Baden?
 

Happy Holidays from the Johnsons.

Cut the engines on your bikes, and you can actually hear the hot springs gurgling. Some day I'm going to sneak out there and take a dip.

Enjoying the outdoors on our motorcycles year-round is one of the greatest pleasures of living in Arizona, and I am eternally grateful to enjoy that opportunity.

Now let's get home and put that leg of lamb on the grill!

Border Patrol



Only the Arivaca sky is bigger than this
old tree on the Cienega Trail.

There are places in Arizona where words, pictures and tall tales don't do justice. Up until yesterday I had only heard the tall tales. I guess the addition of the X-Man to my motorcycle arsenal has made me worthy of a visit to Arivaca.

With good reason, I now know.

While the paved roads in the area aren't bad, they only serve to connect you to the labyrinth of off-road riding to be done in the area!

All a matter of perspective.

Sometimes you need a change of perspective, and there's one good way I know to get it.

Hop on a motorcycle, gear up and hit the road. I chose Lil Trip for company today. As far as adventures go, I didn't go any place I've never been before. I just wanted to head out with no real plan and challenge myself to think about things with a different perspective.
 
So the woman in the black pickup who gassed it as hard as she could to get ahead of me: was she a motorcycle-hating jerk? Or just sad because family and work prevented her from getting that cruiser she really wanted, and she just wanted to admire my bike for as long as possible?
 
The guy on the shiny sport bike who couldn't be bothered to give me the wheels down wave: was he a squid with an attitude looking for a race? Or was it his first day using clip-ons and he was scared to take his hand off the grips?
 
The guy on the pretty red cruiser with nothing on his noggin but a do-rag: does he have a death wish? Or is his fear of peer pressure so strong that it's worth it to him to risk his life?
 
We make a lot of assumptions about others; strangers, friends, family, it doesn't matter. What if we just tried to change our perspective once in a while? Where would that put us and our relationships?
 
Today I went out looking for a fresh perspective and I found it.
 
Nothing like a ride to clear your head.

Apache Trail Under A Full Moon

My new bike, X-man.

A couple of weeks ago Mr. J helped me buy a used Yamaha XT250. I've been wanting to explore the endless dirt roads I'd been watching from the airplane window every time I traveled to PHX. They've been calling my name.

Mr. J: "We're going there".

After a week of necessary maintenance,  Mr. J escorted me on my first off road adventure. Riding around in the middle of nowhere isn't the smartest thing for a girl to do on her own, and I'm fortunate to have a willing and able guide by my side. He challenges me to do things I might not do alone, rides his big bike so he won't go too fast for me, tells me how great I am, and we have a good time. Lucky girl, even though I don't believe in luck. 

Our destination for night one was Mormon Lake, and our goal was to hit as many dirt roads as time would permit. We started with Seven Springs Road north of Cave Creek and took it all the way to Bloody Basin & I17. With a

Just Mr. J, Mrs. J, Big Tigger and X-man in the whole world.

late start (imagine that!), and travel taking "a lot longer than I thought", we did a 40-mile stint on I17 to get us to Stoneman Lake road. I was never sure if the "lot longer" travel was due to my slow pace or his underestimation of time, but the full rainbow we saw over the Verde Valley made the interstate detour worth the ride. I began the day pretty sure that my front fender was a sail made to lift the front end, that the wobble created by the knobbies would send me skidding, and that each semi would be my cartwheeling demise. I got used to all that quickly, and by end of day one, I'm all good at speed.

Coffee in the mornin'.

A room at Mormon Lake Lodge, a steak at the bar, a few games of pool with the locals and a PBR or three made the after dark ride to finish the day worth it. I'm amazed at how relaxing off road riding is, was thrilled when I climbed my first rocky hill, and I'm already in love with the views of nothing but nature. This stuff is for me.

No pants, no problem.

Day two was an earlier start and delicious mounds of breaky in Happy Jack. Our goal: upper Rim Road, Young, Roosevelt Lake and Tortilla Flat via the Apache Trail. We got soaked with rain coming into Young, and I got a big chill in my bones. Eight cups of coffee and hot soup still didn't set me right, but when the owner of The Antlers ordered me to remove my pants so she could put them in the dryer, I knew things were looking up. I described the underwear I was wearing (to assure her they were demure enough for public), and when she said "I don't care",  I knew I was in business. Ashley was busy entertaining himself with the white Nigerian he met at the bar and none of the other patrons seemed to mind that I was pantless and barefoot.  I sipped my coffee and waited for the rain to stop, then announced that it's time to go. Off we went, over the pass and down to the back of Roosevelt Lake. 

The stunning view from Upper Rim Road.

Even though we didn't get much more rain, the road was soaked and muddy. I now consider myself fairly comfortable with a little tire spin and movement on the bike, and even though I'd still like to avoid both on the streets, I got enough of a taste to say it doesn't freak me out. Ok, so I never exceeded 30 MPH: I road up and down rocky passes, through mud, shivers and frozen fingers, and along the edges of cliffs. I earned some stripes.

The road from Young was challenging for me for all those reasons, and also because I knew the rest of our journey would depend on it. If I was too cold and tired, dropped my bike or generally lost bodily function, we'd have to play it safe and come home on the highway. On an adventure trip, highway = defeat. And I'm not a loser or a quitter. Smart, cautious and risk averse, yes, but once I set my mind on something, I don't give up.

I felt a big high when we hit pavement on the other side of Young Road, and the view of the back side of Roosevelt Lake brought tears. (Didn't mention that I'm also a cry baby). The view, the warm light from the storms, and the sense of accomplishment was overwhelming. It didn't hurt that the road was smooth and twisty, and after a couple of days of rough terrain, I was comfortable throwing my X-man around a little bit. We crossed a bulging Salt River and zoomed into a gas station for fill up and pow wow. We now had a decision to make.

I took the road last traveled, and it has made all the difference.

I love to think about how a motorcycle trip can be a metaphor for life. You make a plan, and things don't go to plan. You make decisions, and circumstances change. You make good decisions, and bad decisions. You can whine about not getting what you want, or you can find the best in what you have. And most of the time, if you're willing to open your eyes and accept it, life turns out to be beautiful.

That's what we did with our ride to Tortilla Flat on the Apache Trail. It was going to get dark: on a steep, dirt canyon road along a river. With no guard rails. After a rain. It was dusk when we started, and the light and views were breathtaking. As dusk began to fade the sky turned a sultry blue, setting the canyon walls aglow. I was concentrating on "my line", taking every opportunity I could to look down at the river hundreds of feet below on the right, and up at the cliffs hundreds of feet high on the left. I turned a tight corner, and looked up to see the full moon. Wow. We're about do do the Apache Trail under a full moon.  

 
The sky eventually turned black, and the views of the canyon and river disappeared, but the moon only got brighter. We did the longest climb in pitch black, which may have been just as well, because I couldn't see the sheer drop just feet away. Mr. J loves to call me a scaredy cat, but I wadn't scared at all. Just in awe that our trip that didn't exactly go to plan turned out to be an experience of a lifetime.

And now, I'm an off-road rider!

I love it when we're cruisin' together

Big dreams of the next adventure

We hit the road this morning with half a plan and a whole day, our only objective to enjoy our Street Triples, for me to see AZ96 for the first time, to escape the PHX heat... and to have lunch.

Heading up I17, I knew it was going to be a nice day. My Lil Trip was sounding smooth, and my tires are still fresh as a baby's bum, but with a few more grooves. The sun was already high, but we were heading up into the clouds, and I could feel the temp dropping as we climbed.

Mr. J

There's something about having your earplugs in just right - you can hear the sound of the engine, but very little wind noise - you have the feeling of just you and your bike, engine purring, and all that power, right at your fingertips and toes. That's how the day started - it felt like just me and my machine.

Don't get me wrong, Mr. J was there. Usually up ahead, sometimes way ahead. Sometimes he humors me with a little taste of keeping up with him in the curves. Then he likes to give me a taste of what's possible in the curves. That's when I watch in awe for a few seconds before reminding myself to keep my eyes on the road.

Herb & Barbara

We stopped at the Kirkland Bar & Steakhouse for lunch (got behind schedule and couldn't make it to Prescott. Oh, wait...we didn't have a schedule, so it didn't matter!). Herb and Barbara, proprietors, bar tenders, cooks and hosts, are to die for. And her barbecue and green chili rock. They've been married for 59 years, running the place for 23, and Barbara said she tells him every day "It's one day at a time, buddy". I might have to try that attitude myself. We can't wait to go back and spend an evening and enjoy a steak and a local brew on tap (they're also an Inn, but there's only one room with AC, so we might wait until it cools down a little).

After leaving Kirkland we rode one of my favorite local roads, Nowhere to Prescott. Beautiful, twisty road with a smooth surface and every type of curve you need. Heading up the hill we saw some pretty spectacular lightening strikes, and just as we finished the fun part we got a nice cool rain. Perfect timing. Cooled us down, and hopefully washed some of the California sand out of my engine that I'm sure's still sitting there from my last adventure.

Big sky & the train in Kirkland

Of course we met the obligatory road warrior at the gas station. Just rode from CA today to pick up some forks for his bike, and had "no idea the weather was like this in Arizona". Oh, and his phone had vibrated off its holder on his 1980 XL500. I wonder why. So we let him borrow mine and wished him luck.

Off we went, down the hill, out of the rain and into the heat. In the course of about 5 minutes I think the temp rose 20 degrees. Not lying'. But we were wet and cool, and living' the dream in the valley of the sun, so we don't care.

A day full of adventure and no schedule...just big dreams of the next adventures. On our bikes and in life.

Idylwild, a couple times

I'm amazed sometimes what fits into a day. And how a day with your motorcycle can be a metaphor for life. A start to the day with coffee, pool and mountains. All that really matters is the mountains. 

It's a windy day, and I'm a worrier. Don't enjoy wind on a bike so much, so I went for a run to get the endorphins going. It worked.

My Lil Trip needed some love, so I let a stranger clean and lube his chain. Gotta get that flash flood grit outta there. It was worth the two day wait for Desert Motor Sports to open. Nice, nice people, they let me rub some of the dirt off him while they did the real stuff. Got him right in. I can tell when I shift that he needs an oil change, but that's gotta wait till I get home.

Lil Trip's been complaining a little about all the straight lines, so I took him up 243 to Idylwild today. Even went up and back a couple of times for good measure. I didn't feel very comfortable. It's really windy, and I've been doing too many figure 8's lately and not enough twisteys. There was grit and gravel everywhere because of the rain, and my shoulders were tight, despite Eugene's best efforts. But we made a good day of it, and I learned (for about the 40th time) that the wind's not so bad. 

I had a bowl of (yucky) chili in Idylwild and talked with some European dude about bikes. He really really wants a KTM 1290, but he's scared of the height because he's short. (He was sitting, but I took his word for it). I told him to get the 690, but he already has it! Needs more power and low end torque on the road. He thought my bike was a Speed Triple, and couldn't BELIEVE it when I told him it's 675 and I've ridden it 28K miles, rode from Phoenix. I expected more, but I guess it just goes to show you that all Euro dudes aren't like my friend Stephan. 

It was a beautiful day and I'm fortunate. I worried way too much about the wind (although as I write this its howling twice as hard, so I'll worry about tomorrow, too), and nothing spectacular happened. Just a day of taking in the sights, experiencing what I feel and accepting it, and appreciating the little things. And that, is life. 

After school I take a dip in the pool, which is really off the wall. 

Not a Twisty To Be Had

How can I be three days into California and not yet seen a curve? Not a bend in the road. And the ones I have seen? Covered in mud. 

(Sometimes gearing up is half the fun)

Today I trekked West toward LA to ride one of my favorites: HWY 2. Its 80 miles from where I'm staying, and I left at 6:30, early enough to to beat the traffic. As I climbed in altitude it started getting chilly, so I stopped for a gas station coffee and warm up near the start of this famous stretch of road. 

The locals were horrified when I told them where I was going, and I soon learned why. All the rain had caused rock slides, and the road was full of heavy equipment to clear the mess. Three miles in, the road was closed. I passed through enough rock and debris on the easy early miles of the road to know it was probably just as well. 

I turned back toward the desert, sympathized with a couple of "sport tourers" and hit the road. (They were discusted locals, "If you can't ride up here in July, when can you?").

I was disappointed (and cold), hit the highway through a construction zone, and nearly lost one of my nine lives. Some maniac in a mini-van darted in front of me from the left, nearly rear-ended the car that was in front of me, then cut back to the left and missed the car he passed by inches. (I say "he", but I got no idea). There was newly planted pylons, dirt, construction vehicles and tight traffic. I don't know why a bunch of us didn't bite it, and I don't know what was up with the guy--either he was having road rage at the slow vehicle he passed on the right, or he didn't see me (but I know he did). Either way, I always ask myself what I should have done differently, and the only thing I come up with is that I should have seen the crazy behind me a ways back. It's hard when you're in a construction zone and dealing with those obstacles, but that's why you gotta be super competent to ride a motorcycle, and I nearly came short. I'll stop feeling sorry for myself more quickly about a "bad" day next time. Oh, and I also learned that I'll probably talk to myself (out loud) about it if I ever do go down ugly. I'll spare you the words that came out of my mouth. 

So, day's over, it's NOON, so what's a girl do? I came home and made a smoothie (my first mean, if you don't count coffee), and set about motorcycle maintenance. My Lil Trip's still dirty after his flash flood run-in, so I needed chain cleaning, lubrication, and a top-up of coolant. I finally found a shop that's open on a Monday, only to find it closed. 

I was gonna do a quickie up 74, but Brian at Auto Zone (he was on a Gixer), said "you don't wanna go up there right now". (FYI, Auto Zone has WaterWetter, oil and filters, but nothing else for a bike. (I was gonna do my own maintenance, but guess not).

Fortunately right after my smoothie I booked a massage, so I had Eugene from Transylvania coming over at 6 (seriously). So after battling desert sun trying to find some biker supplies, I settled on steak, wine, and a massage. What's a girl gonna do. 

Oh, in my biker tools pursuit, I did find some guys at a car wash who let me use a hose to rinse the silt from Lil Trip's radiator and chain. Now if I can just find some chain lube. 'Cause tomorrow, We got a big day. 

The Wild Wild West

Last minute escape to California. Rain predicted. Yeah right. Got out of PHX before it was bakin'. Through Wickenburg, up to Parker, and headed west on 62 above Joshua Tree. 

Big clouds started to build in the mountains, got some pretty strong side wind, temp dropped a lot, but I never got much rain. It wouldn't have killed me, but on a bike it can feel like a bother. 

I was thinking how fortunate I am to have the cloud cover, crazy cool temp, I must be livin' right...when a movement in the drainage gully along side the road caught my eye. It was moving quickly and silvery in color. Hmmm. My radar was on and this was strange. 

I realized it was moving water carrying sand and silt (hence the color). I've seen the videos on YouTube of desert flash floods and I thought they were fake. Ok, guess not. 

It wasn't a lot of water, no worries, but as soon as I looked back to the road I saw a light color on the blacktop. Drifting sand, cool, until I realized it was more water about to cross the road. Yeah, not good. I knew I could mostly beat it, but it washed across the road just as I passed, and this frothy crap got all up under my bike and in my boots. 

I was thinking this could turn serious as I crested the next hill and saw about three more  washes across the road. Wow. My own desert flash flood. Not a vehicle, animal or human in sight. 

Now we've all seen the news videos of  idiots who drive through the flash flood and gets swept away. And you ask yourself, who does that? Well, I have a little better understanding of how it might happen. I went through about 10 washes, I was careful, but they were getting progressively worse. I could turn around, but those might now be worse too. It was never so bad that I would get swept away into the Colorado river or anything, but if I dropped my bike and it washed off the side of the road, that would be a pain. I was considering the situation when...

Finally a pickup was coming toward me and I flashed him down. He said the road was closed ahead and cars were backed up. So I turned around. Not happy, but how could I ever face a new class of beginner riders again, knowing I was one of those idiots. 

It started to rain hard and I was getting cold, so 4-miles into the turn around I pulled over to put my liner on. I was irritated knowing I'd have to get on the freeway eventually, but I couldn't be an idiot, could I?

Next thing a motorcycle crested the hill coming toward me, and, as we do, he stopped. I told him what was ahead, and the dude smiled. Now if I was a guy on an '83 GS I probably would have too. But I didn't have that luxury. He was gonna check it out, and when I told him I didn't want to turn back, he offered to help me out. Peter was an Aussie from Florida, so I said OK. He had a good look at by bike to consider what he was getting into, so I figured he had half a brain. 

He rode through the washes first to test them out, and turned and gave me a thumbs up that I could make it. I followed his line in 2nd gear, stayed relaxed on the handlebars (there was a lot of rocks, debris and mud), and rode 'em out.  He pulled aside after a particularly deep one, huge grin is face, "this is awesome!"

After about the 15th wash we came upon a snow plow that was pushing mud and rocks off the road! This must have been where the traffic was stopped. We just cruised around him, gave him a wave and kept riding. Soon after that we were headed out of the low area, and the flooding was done. 

We stopped at a gas station in Twenty Nine Palms, traded stories, I told him about HWY2, and off he went. Headed for the coast where he was going to store his bike to await the next adventure. I don't know what I've done to deserve coming across this angel on the road. I'll always be indebted, and I'll ALWAYS stop for a fellow rider. 

'Lil Trip isn't meant for flash floods, and he had a couple of gurgles, but he did me just fine.

I gave him a spit bath under the carport run off when we got to Palm Springs (hey, CA is in a drought), and he needs a chain cleaning, but he's ready for more tomorrow. I, myself, might need a day off. 

Adventures Don't Have to be Big

Adventures don't have to be big. Take the time to make small adventures every day. Bigger isn't always better.

Where are the small adventures in your own neighborhood? Taking just a little time from our busy day to appreciate the little things and create small adventures can make life more fulfilling.

The Good Life

Graduating class of 2015!

This week I became certified by the Motorcycle Safety Foundation as a RiderCoach. It was a fun, challenging and amazing experience, and I can't wait to teach motorcycle riding and safety to beginners! 

MSF helps people learn to ride a motorcycle, and to do it safely and responsibly. In 2010, before I started riding, I took the Basic Rider Course, and to this day I credit my coaches for creating a fun experience that helped motivate me to make motorcycling an important part of my life.

Now that I'm in a place in my life where I have a lot of flexibility in how I spend my time, I chose to apply to take the course so I can help others enjoy the same experience, and maybe even get them hooked on motorcycling. I told the good folks at Team Arizona I was interested, and when a training opportunity came available, they chose me as a candidate.

The training sometimes felt like boot camp, and not just because it was held on Luke Air Force Base! Nine straight eleven-hour days in the Arizona sun (ok, the first two days it was freaky cool in the mid-80's), classroom work, and some long days on our motorcycles learning training exercises.

"How bad can it be?" you ask? Well, legitimate question. It got a pretty hot (I think we hit 100 a couple of times), I had to pass written, skills and coaching tests, and we were challenged, criticized (constructively, of course), rated and scored. Not everyone passed, and MSF is clearly serious about ensuring that qualified and competent coaches are teaching. Fortunately, I made the grade, but it came with a lot of work and some stress.

My fellow students were mostly military guys (passing the Basic Rider Course is a requirement to ride a motorcycle on base), a couple of retirees, and Kate, my new buddy and the only other woman in the course. It took the guys a few days to get used to us, but they quickly figured out that we weren't there to be cute, and started treating us like one of the gang. I'm sure we never experienced their true potential for vulgarity, jokes and mahem, but I sure appreciated it when they clearly started expecting the same skills and knowledge from us as they did the guys.

We did the training on our own motorcycles, which was interesting and challenging. They young guys rode sport bikes, the old guys rode cruisers, Kate's going to turn her cruiser into a bobber, and I had the only standard naked. It's amazing how bikes match a person's personality. (Not sure what mine says about me - that I like to be naked?).

Most of my 25K miles of riding has been on twisty canyon and back roads, so that's where my strongest skills are. I quickly learned how weak I am on tight maneuvers, and while I improved a lot during the course (thanks to some generous extra time from my instructors), I still have some work to do. One of the things we teach students is that you have to constantly practice your skills, and that remains true no matter how long you've been riding. One guy (who's been riding for 40 years) rode off one of the exercises, claiming that the course was set up wrong and couldn't been done by a novice rider. Unfortunately, the truth was, he just couldn't do the exercise on his bike.

I'm not criticizing though, trust me. I had to demonstrate a tight weave as one of my assignments, and I spent extra hours practicing until I got it right. I wasn't about to be the chick who couldn't ride the exercises, and both Kate and I spent extra time making sure that didn't happen. Yeah, we were over compensating, as some of the guys had trouble, too, and never got them all right. I'm not a "girl power" kind of girl, but I'm pretty proud of us for doing a good job.

At the end of the day, this training wasn't about us, though. The last two days we taught an actual class of real students, four of whom had never been on a motorcycle. The whole class was excited about that, and we all took teaching seriously. The lone female student has dreamed of riding a sport bike since she was a kid, and it was such a pleasure to watch her and the other beginners succeed. I'm proud to say that they all passed the course, and I sincerely hope that they enjoy a lifetime of fun, safe and adventurous motorcycling.

And, that's what it's all about.

Luke Air Force Base

It's really cool to watch the fighter planes take off all day. 'Lil Trip is the closest I'll ever get to operating one of these, but a girl can dream.

A New Adventure Begins

I'm enjoying day 7 of training as a Motorcycle Safety Foundation RiderCoach. About 10 other motorcycle enthusiasts and I, if we pass, will be certified to teach the fundamentals of safe, responsible motorcycling to those who want to learn. On day 3 of the training, I probably wouldn't have described myself as "enjoying" much. It's been 11-12 hour days in the Arizona, most of it outdoors learning skill exercises. We had freaky cool weather the first 2 days (mid-80's 😉) and now we're pushing triple digits.

My fellow trainees are mostly military guys (we're training on Luke Airforce Base, which is super cool in itself), which leaves Kate and I as the lone females. (Don't worry, we're holding our own, thank you very much). So, yeah, I'm spending my days with buff military guys, riding motorcycles. No complaints here. Now that two of the three tests are complete, anyway. (Yes, I passed the first two). This weekend were teaching the class to real students. Yikes. We'll be evaluated on our teaching and coaching skills, and then set loose to talk friction zone, apex, and slow-look-press-and-roll to anyone who will listen. I can't wait.