By Johnny T. Young
I’m a firm believer that you can’t put the sticker on your bike if you haven’t used the product. Sometimes the cost of that logo is minimal, like a $10 liter of oil. For others the cost is high, like the $4,000 plus price tag of my little green WABDR sticker. Of course the real question is, “Is it worth it?”
In June I asked Mosko Moto what it’s really like in Washington as they went through an unprecedented heatwave with temperatures above 100°F. They said I might want to wait before tackling the 600 mile Washington Backcountry Discovery Route (WABDR). I reply, “I’ll see you in a few days.”
Washington is 1200 miles from Colorado. To save wear on my CRF450L’s knobbies, I loaded it onto the bumper of my Tacoma, then hit the highway right after work.
I stopped for the night in Utah at a sketchy fleabag motel that smelled like a Saturday night gone bad: Tequila, perfume, and bleach. Three hours later someone steals my bike off the back of the truck and tries to jimmy the ignition with a nail. Thankfully he’s run off by another guest before he figures out how to start it. I attempt to get some more sleep with the bike safe in my room, but it’s no use, so I drive on.
600 miles later I park at Mosko Moto’s Bates Mototel, a special place they have created just for moto travelers. I’m greeted by Mosko Bear, who looks about how one would expect him to look, in a good way. Bear shows me around the place, which would have been a biker’s heaven, except for the thermometer reading 113F.
I wake at 7AM. It’s cooled off to 80F. I ache everywhere. Bear, who is living at the Mototel, is cheerful as ever. I show him where I hide my truck keys “just in case”, and ride out.
The WABDR begins on the Bridge Of the Gods. My knobbies hum as I motor through the open airy structure. I feel I’m finally on my journey. At the end I make a right-hand turn and... the tablet I use for navigation goes black. WTF? My fancy USB port has died. Since it’s my only source of juice for my electronics, I kind of need it.
One mile into the WABDR and I’m on the sidewalk in front of a NAPA in the shade of a tree cobbling together an SAE connector, car cigarette lighter, USB adapter, and a roll of tape. Then I’m off again. Again.
Washington is beautiful, even when it’s 110F. Mt Adams, Mt Rainier, glaciated volcanoes spot the horizon. Riding its open ridges gives me spectacular views in all directions. Sections 1 through 4 are green and gold.
Section 5: Coming down off Hungry Ridge my speedometer reads 0 MPH. Huh? The bike starts sputtering, then dies. I coast into a big camping spot. Now it won’t even turn over, and I have no cell signal.
I always carry a jump-start battery, just in case. I find I can jump it, but it won’t run for more than a few minutes. The system is putting out 9 volts. Stator? In the event I don’t make it, I shoot a “Last Will and Testament” video. As I roll silently to the bottom of the hill, I’m worried but still moving forward.
At the bottom is a paved road, but still no signal. I’m thinking “Now what?” when a blue Chevy pickup towing a trailer with a DRZ on it pulls up. “Need some help?” Blue Chevy asks.
We load my overloaded dirt bike and we’re off, though, where to, I don’t know. Blue Chevy is willing to get me to a town with services, but that’s all he can offer. Half an hour ago I was shooting a video for the strangers who would eventually find my half-eaten corpse, so I’m ok with whatever help he can give.
We end up in the tiny town of Twisp on a Sunday evening. Blue Chevy waves goodbye and I start calling for help on social media. I also text some folks who I know will do whatever it takes to rescue a fellow nomad, Pete from Mosko Moto comes up with the perfect solution: Bear will drive my truck the 8 hours from the Mototel to Twisp, the next day.
It’s 117F, so I wrangle a room at the “Full” Twisp River Inn. Turns out the owner’s son lives in Colorado, up the road from me. I sleep for 12 hours.
While I wait for Bear I hang out in a cafe’. As long as I’m a paying customer I hope they won’t kick me out. I use their WiFi to field questions about my situation. At noon a Pride Parade goes by that seems to have more people in it than could possibly live in town. I follow it to a park where there’s a band playing. In support, I buy a can of Purple Bubly Water and send a selfie to my Granddaughter. She loves it.
As the town begins to close up Bear arrives to rescue me and my unbreakable broken bike. He will forever be my hero.
Back in Colorado, I pull the stator and sure enough, it is burnt up. I believe I overloaded it by running my portable air pump, then accidentally turning everything else on high. Or maybe the kid who tried to steal my bike messed something up? I send the stator out to Ricky Stator who sends it back better than new.
I’m going to finish the last of the WABDR, no matter the cost. I wasn’t through with it until I had ridden all 600 miles to Canada and could honestly apply that green sticker. Little did I know, Washington wasn’t through with me either.
September - I leave right after work again but this time I stop at a nice hotel with a brightly lit parking lot.
Back in Washington the temps are in the 70s. I stay at the Mototel again where I’m the only one there. No Bear.
Day 1: I go over the bike, twice, and discover that the gauge which reads battery voltage is dead. I set off anyway. I hold my breath as I ride across the bridge, through Stevenson, past my shade tree. I let it out when everything is still working. The weather is wonderful! The forecast is for rain in a few days, but for now I just enjoy the smooth dirt roads through Gifford Pinchot National Forest.
I launch my drone just short of an incredible view of Mt Hood. When it works, it follows me like a blue puppy. When it doesn’t, every twig becomes an insurmountable obstacle. I manage to put together what I think will be a beautiful flight up the forested road ending with the drone flying off a cliff towards a distant volcano. The footage will be priceless!
Section 2 follows Bethel Ridge, one of the prettiest stretches of the WABDR. Unfortunately, when I get to the turn-off the road is closed due to forest fires. I ride north, thinking to sneak in from the other end, but over the course of an hour three things change my plans.
First is the call for heavy rain over the next two days; a ridge is the last place I want to be in a thunderstorm. Second is an unexpected text from an old Mountain Guide friend who asks if I will be at the Touratech Rally in Plain, WA. He lives a few minutes away and wants me to visit; maybe stay the night. I didn’t even know there was a rally. The third thing that clinches my plans is an Instant Message from Mike Spurgin of Taco Moto Co. He is at the rally, and if I show up, lunch is on him. Kismet?
I mosey my way to the Touratech Rally and find Mike hanging out with Kelly from Trail Tech. Brian from Pacific Power Sports stops by and notices my moto has a fairly used set of Motoz Rallzs. This is the 3rd set I’ve bought from him to conquer BDRs. He insists the rear is too worn and has a new one installed. Mike does an interview with my motorcycle while Kelly and I discuss the (dis)advantages of using a $100 Samsung tablet for navigation. Throughout the day I meet a ton of viewers of my YouTube channel and talk about CRF450Ls, moto camping, and riding BDRs. As predicted it rains on and off, but in meeting so many new faces, I barely notice.
About the time the rain settles in to stay, I ride off to visit my friend Dave. It’s great to catch up with him after 15 years of stalking each other on FaceBook. With beer in my belly, I sleep great.
