Trip to Copper Canyon 2007 by Al Holtsberry

Three Weeks on a KLR 650

I had hoped that my trip to Copper Canyon would be memorable. Someone said "Be careful what you wish for". It would certainly be different. Every trip for the last 30 years has been on a BMW; this ride would be on a KLR 650 single.

The bike went to the nearest Kawasaki dealer for a complete inspection. I asked that they especially look at the chain, because I knew the chain care for the last year had been less than adequate. Everything checked out OK. I told the parts man I needed a tool kit since I had bought the bike used and didn’t get any tools with it. He said the Kawasaki tool kit was expensive and not the greatest and that he could put together a better set of tools for about the same price. I thanked him and bought what he suggested.

I left home on Tuesday to give myself plenty of time to ride the 1800 miles to El Paso, where I would meet a group tour with Moto Discovery on Saturday. The weather was great, temperature in the 50's. I would be coming home the second week in April, so I didn’t need winter riding gear.

U.S. Route 62 runs all the way to El Paso and right past the motel where I would meet the Moto Discovery group, so route planning was not a big problem. I did plan to detour through Plano Texas to visit a cousin.

The ride down Route 62 to Kentucky was familiar and winding through northern Kentucky was great. There were horse farms with names that I knew from watching the Kentucky Derby. A bit further west there was a large sign that said "Bourbon Drinkers, Welcome to Paradise". It was the Wild Turkey distillery. Fittingly, a few miles later a beautiful wild turkey with tail feathers spread flew from the right side of the road to the steep slope on the left. This recalled the days when I insisted that fairings were for old men and sissies.

At a stop in White Plains Kentucky the bike wouldn’t start. The headlight was strong but the neutral light would not come on, pushing the starter button didn’t even make a click. I tried putting up the side stand and pulling in the clutch but there was still no response. I had never used AMA Motow, but now was the time. They soon had a truck there with a driver who was a motorcyclist. We had a nice visit while he got me to a shop in Owensboro. The driver called ahead and the service manager agreed to stay a few minutes after their 5:00 PM closing time to allow us to get there. When I tried to show them what was wrong the bike started as if there had never been a problem. I left the bike for the mechanic to check out in the morning and the tow truck driver dropped me at a motel.

The next morning I waited impatiently for the shop’s 9:00 AM opening time then I called. The service manager said they would come and pick me up. When the mechanic arrived to pick me up he was on my bike, which was a good feeling. The mechanic had found loose battery terminals, which he thought was probably the cause of my starting problem.

Back at the shop they pointed out that rust from my chain was collecting near the front sprocket and the links in the chain were not bending freely. I agreed that they should replace the chain. The mechanic showed me how to adjust the chain to allow for my weight on the bike.

It was nearly noon when I finally got under way. I took any road that was going South or West and wound my way back to Route 62.

Here is a trivia question. On what route can you ride from Ohio to Illinois without going through Indiana? That wasn’t really fair, you already knew I was riding Route 62. From western Kentucky Route 62 crosses the Ohio River into Illinois before crossing the Mississippi into Missouri. I was in Illinois for less than a mile.

In Missouri and Arkansas I saw several crop dusting planes being prepared for the crop dusting season. It was a pleasant afternoon and as it was getting dark I stopped in Pocahontas Arkansas. I checked and oiled the chain, but it didn’t seem to need adjusting.

In the morning the bike wouldn’t start! This time the representative from AMA Motow had trouble finding anyone to pick me up. He finally found someone who would come and get me but he wouldn’t be there until noon and he said it was 100 miles to the Kawasaki shop in Batesville. The Motow rep thought it was not that far and a look at my map showed it was about 50 miles. With no other choice I agreed to wait for the tow. Motow would pay for the first 35 miles.

I went to a nearby café for breakfast, then as I was waiting around the motel a young man came over, looked at the bike and started a conversation. He offered to get a friend and push me to get the bike started. When the bike started I gave them $20.00, which they were happy to get but at first didn’t want to accept. I told them they had saved me at least twice that. I called Motow and cancelled the tow, then headed for the shop in Batesville. I was careful to stop at a gas station where I could coast to start the bike.

When I arrived at the shop the mechanic had just left for lunch. I went across the street for a soft drink and sandwich and was back at the shop a few minutes before the mechanic. The service area was about the size of a one car garage and it was half full of boxes, but the mechanic knew what he was doing. Unfortunately, as he was tracing the problem it disappeared and the bike began starting as if there was nothing wrong. The mechanic showed me how to use a screwdriver to jump across the starter relay when the problem came back.

Since I had lost so much time with the starting problem, I called my cousin in Plano to tell him I would see him on the way back. I programmed my GPS to take me to El Paso by the shortest route.

All afternoon I rode with my Aerostitch jacket open and the vents opened up. At dark, I stopped in Paris Texas. I oiled the chain and discovered that there was no wrench in the tool kit, which the parts man at home put together, that was large enough to loosen the axel nut so the chain could be adjusted. Two hundred yards from the motel there was an auto parts store where I bought a crescent wrench and completed the adjustment.

The weather channel predicted severe thunder storms Friday afternoon so I decided to start early and try to get beyond the weather system before the afternoon when the thunder storms wouldl be at their worst. I was on the road at 5:00 AM and stopped for breakfast at 8:30. After breakfast I called Moto Discovery to tell them about my starting problem. The manager told me to get to the meeting place as early Saturday as possible and ask for Brian.

The rain got heavy and I began getting wet around the zipper in my jacket. I guessed that the fastener worked behind a fairing but with nothing to break the wind it was not water tight. When I stopped for gas I discovered that I had neglected to fasten the velcro covering over the zipper. I fastened it and closed the vents but it was a little late. I was already pretty wet. The temperature was 46 degrees. My feet were also getting damp. My boots are water proof if I wade in water for a couple of minutes but in an all day rain a little water seeps through them. I kept hoping I would get beyond the frontal system that was causing the rain but the rain just got heavier. In towns, the storm sewers could not carry the water away fast enough and I rode through water, sometimes 6 inched deep. When I stopped in Carlesbad, New Mexico it was still raining. The news speaks of "record breaking" rains.

At 6:30 AM the next day, I broke the ice off the seat of the bike and got ready to ride. It was 6:50 AM when the wheels started rolling. I should have brought my cold weather gloves. Sometimes the bike would start, but most of the time I had to use the screwdriver to jump the starter relay.

Because of the rain and cold I didn’t adjust the chain. I went past the motel in El Paso and as I turned around to go back the chain came off the rear sprocket. I got the chain back on, adjusted and oiled it.

Brian came to check out my starting problem. The bike started ten times in a row without failing. Finally we got it to fail. He discovered that, the bike won’t start with the clutch lever pulled in all the way. By holding the starter button and letting the clutch lever return just a little bit it would hit a spot in its travel where the bike would start. Up to now, this method has never failed.

I lay around the motel and watched a golf match on television while waiting for the rider dinner and meeting.

It turned out that Moto Discovery was also having problems. Three bikes that they were supposed to have for the trip were still on a ship in the Gulf of Mexico. Two members of the tour who were using rented bikes would have to ride in the chase truck to our first stop in Chihuahua where they would pick up bikes left by the last tour.

Juan, who was just back from the last tour, met us at the border and helped with the paper work to get the bikes into Mexico.

The ride to Chihuahua was all 4 lane highway, much of it toll road. Gradually the land turned from very arid desert to agricultural. On the way the clutch gave out on the one rental bike that started. Brian and Juan solved this by both staying in the truck and letting that rider use the bike that Juan had planned to use.

I was in my room at 3:30 in the afternoon with little to do until we met at 7:30 for dinner. I spent an hour walking around the center of town and snapping pictures.

On Monday we followed the truck out of town and waited for it to lead us through another small town. We had good instructions to the lunch stop in a town where it was impossible to get lost, so riders strung out. We all arrived within a few minutes of each other and had a much better lunch than necessary. For my money, tour companies spend far too much time and effort on food.

After lunch we headed for Creel. The instructions were fairly simple and we all had the maps Brian had given us at the Saturday evening dinner. Three of us turned the wrong way at one intersection. Tom Spitzer, from Green Belt Maryland saw me and chased me down. I thought he was mistaken but looked at the map just to humor him; then turned and went the way he told me. Jerry and Don made the same wrong turn and barely got back in time for dinner. When they described their ride I wished I had been with them.

Soon after I arrived at the outskirts of Creel, Tom caught up with me again. I thought I would wait for the truck but Tom decided to go on into town and try to find the motel, so I followed him. In town I pulled out the paper with the name of the motel and we were getting ready to show it to someone and see if they could point us in the right direction when a van pulled up across the street with the name of our motel painted on the side. Tom asked how to get there. The driver, a very attractive young lady, said to follow her. She took us along a bumpy gravel road to a small complex that has been built to look like an old Mexican town, complete with church and jail. It was an interesting place and the people were eager to do anything possible to make our stay pleasant. I spent most of the afternoon wandering around there.

On Tuesday we rode for a little over an hour on a great motorcycle road to have breakfast at El Divisadero. It was a beautiful spot on the rim of a canyon. On the way back I stopped to shoot some pictures of burros along the road.

Back at the motel we waited around until almost noon before leaving to ride to the canyon. It was another great road to where we stopped to fill up with gas and deflate our tires to pressure that would be better for the dirt.

The road down the canyon was the roughest dirt road I have ever encountered. It was extremely rocky and there was rarely a smooth wheel track to follow. If there was a wheel track there were pot holes. While the road was extremely rough it was not particularly difficult.

I stopped frequently to take pictures and was last to arrive at our hotel but it was still two and a half hours before time for dinner. Some of the group went swimming in the river but it had never occurred to me to bring a bathing suit. Instead, I rode into the little town of Batopolis and looked around.

When I came back from Batopolis there was a little excitement. A pickup came in that had his right front tire shot out by bandits when he refused to stop. They had also put three bullet holes in the right side of his truck trying to hit the right rear tire. He had gone a few miles beyond them before stopping to change his tire. An SUV also came in that had been robbed, apparently by the same bandits. The driver said they threw his wallet with his papers and credit cards back in the window after removing the cash.

As we were sitting around talking I repeated that I hadn’t had much experience with riding dirt. Len Ridgely, from Pearland Texas, said that from various conversations he knew that I learned to ride a bicycle on gravel roads, rode the Alcan highway when 800 miles were unpaved, and fell down trying to ride the haul road to Prudhoe Bay. He thought that was a little dirt experience.

Len almost convinced me that I knew something about riding dirt until after dinner when two young guys came by on Honda dual sport bikes. One had a headlight that had stopped working. Ron and Ed, from Maryland, carry only a few more tools than the average shop. They tore into the bike to see if they could fix the problem but found that a part was needed and no temporary fix was possible. As they rode back toward town the rider with no light was following his friend. They went down the road in the dark faster and smoother than I could ride it in daylight. A few minutes later the rider with lights came back to get his camel-back water carrier that he had forgotten. As he left, he pulled a wheelie for about 100 yards for our amusement. I was right the first time, Len, I’m not very good on dirt.

On Wednesday we visited a church that had been built in the canyon and a friend of Juan’s gave us a lot of information about mining history in the area. Besides copper, a lot of silver has been taken from the canyon. A Canadian company is working to begin silver mining again.

Juan then took us to visit an Indian family that he knew. Their home was a three sided log structure. A 15 year old young woman had two children and another due soon. Many of the Indian families still live in caves.

These Indians are famous for running long distances. They race for up to 100 miles over rough terrain while kicking a small wooden ball. Some people have tried to get them interested in running marathon races but they think marathons are too easy and won’t bother with them.

After visiting the Indians four of us went on up the road leading Southwest. We knew the time to meet for lunch so took half the available time before turning back. Three of us forgot that we were starting about 8 miles out of town and got back late for lunch. We had a little trouble finding the group. When we found the right place we had another feast. After lunch I sat in the plaza in the center of town and just watched people passing for over an hour.

Back at the hotel I watched a burrow feeding on the mountainside across the river. The temperature was well into the 90s.

For dinner Juan had arranged for a mariachi band that was very entertaining.

We had breakfast at 7:00 and were on the road immediately afterward. Even though I thought I was underway quickly there were only three riders behind me when I started. I had discovered that my camera was not working so I didn’t make any stops on the way out of the canyon. Even though I thought I was handling the rough dirt road pretty well two of the three riders passed me. When we arrived at the end of the dirt Ron and Ed used a portable 12 volt compressor to air up our tires while we were waiting for the truck.

We were back at Creel with all afternoon and nothing to do. I decided to ride somewhere and Juan suggested an area known as the Valley of the Monks. The main feature of the valley is an area with tall, slender, rock formations that with a little imagination can look like monks in long robes. There were also Indian families living in caves and three sided cabins plus a church that was decorated for Easter. The roads were dirt with a couple of stream crossings.

On Friday Juan suggested that we leave early and ride a couple of hours before breakfast. Everyone agreed. I took a wrong turn getting out of Creel and when I turned around and found my way back to the highway I found the entire group following me. In a few miles someone thought I had taken another wrong turn and went another way. After going on a few miles I stopped to look at my map to be sure I was OK. I arrived at the breakfast location with no one else in sight so decided to get gas while I waited. Jerry and Don arrived at the gas station as I was filling my tank. The rest of the group were just arriving at the restaurant when we got back.

After a great brunch Jerry and Don invited me to go with them, since everyone else still had to get gas. We arrived at the hotel in Casas Grandes about an hour before the rest of the group. Jerry and Don took off to visit a town where Jerry’s grandfather was buried. After the rest of the group arrived some of us went to visit some ruins and then a couple who were making clay pots the same way they were made two thousand years ago. A granddaughter is learning the technique.

On Saturday we had about 200 kilometers to go to the border where we took care of the necessary paperwork to let the Mexican Government know that we were leaving the country with the vehicles that we brought in.

It was early afternoon when we took some last pictures and said farewell near Columbus New Mexico. I decided to go north to miss El Paso. I spent an hour at White Sands and had a late lunch in Alamogordo.

Going over the Sacramento Mountains on Route 82 it got cold. On the east side of the mountains there was a freezing mist that was coating the juniper with ice on three sides, like flocked Christmas Trees. Looking in one direction everything was white for miles; in the other direction green and white. It was beautiful but I was freezing. Because of the cold I stopped early in Artesia.

When I called Melynda she said I should stop at a Walmart and get a sweatshirt. I told her there hadn’t even been a McDonalds for a t least a hundred miles. I expected it to be warmer in the morning, after all it is April and I am in the desert southwest. When I turned on the weather channel they were discussing record cold weather.

On Sunday morning the weather channel said the local temperature was 35. There was fog that froze on my face shield and forced me to ride with it open. Bridges were icy. I really missed my fairing and heated grips. I really should have brought my winter riding gear, even though there would be no plug in for an electric vest. Certainly, though, in this area it would warm up by afternoon.

By 3:00 PM I gave up and found a motel and a long, hot, shower. Just before stopping at the motel there was a scraping sound as I went through some dips. I discovered that my rear shock was completely gone and the noise was the license plate bracket hitting the rear tire. All of the adjustment was used on the chain and it was very loose.

It was not quite as cold on Monday and I made it to my cousin’s place in Plano. The chain came off four times on the way but I had no way to shorten it.

I had a great visit with my cousin and got reacquainted with his wife. I also used their facilities to wash some clothes.

On Tuesday I was at the closest Kawasaki shop when they opened. They put on a new chain but I didn’t want to wait for a shock and was sure I could make it home. I knew that the chain would limit the travel of the rear suspension and this would be hard on the sprockets but I could take care of all of the problems when I got home. I had lunch with my cousin and his wife and headed home.

It was comfortable when I left Plano but soon got windy and cold. Since the weather was still bad I just followed I-30. It was getting dark when I stopped in Arkadelphia Arkansas.

In the morning I planned to ride at least an hour before breakfast but as I was back on the Interstate and getting up to highway speed the engine stopped and the bike was coasting. I pulled over to the breakdown lane and stopped. I soon discovered that the chain had come off and must have torn up something, because the engine cranked but didn’t start.

I had a weak cell phone signal but managed to get through to AMA Motow again. They said there would be a truck there in half an hour. I checked my watch and in exactly half an hour the truck came in sight. The driver got me to a new shop in Hot Springs.

The service manager there found that the chain had torn up some ignition wiring that is just in front of the sprocket but fortunately had not busted the case. I had breakfast and waited while they repaired the wiring and put on another new chain.

Back on the road the weather was the best I had seen since Mexico. I checked the map for an alternative to the Interstate but found nothing that would not add a lot of miles. The weather stayed nice until I turned North on Route 51 in Western Tennessee. Then the sky in front of me looked ominous. By the time I reached Dyersburg the wind was making it difficult to ride and to the North the clouds looked like the weather could get violent. I holed up in a motel and had a pizza delivered for dinner.

It took another day and a half to get home. It was cold and windy, but not nearly as cold and windy as it had been in Texas. It was 39 degrees when I stopped for the night and clear up to 49 when I got home.

I guess I am either an old man or a sissy. I don’t think I will be taking any more trips on a bike with no windshield. I also probably won’t leave home in April without my winter riding gear.