Kier's and Daddy's Motorcycle Trip

I have a bunch of wonderful kids (hers, mine and ours). Kier (nickname for “Kieran”) is 7 and my only son. His sister, Kallan (10) is also from my previous marriage. I have a step-daughter, Chayse (10), and a daughter from my second marriage, Quinn (3). It can be a big challenge to find time to spend with each child individually. In fact as I sit here writing this, I can’t think of a single time when Kier and I have been together without any other family members for a full day. Or even a single overnight.

Kier and I had talked about a motorcycle vacation a few times over the past six months. The opportunity seemed good as my wife was planning a horse-riding trip (think “City Slickers”) with the gals. That trip didn’t come together, but when we shortened our 2-week family trip to 1-week due to my wife’s work and a camp Kier’s sisters really wanted to do, I knew immediately what I was going to do with the second week. A “boys” motorcycle trip!

I needed approval from my ex-wife to bring Kier, which was reluctantly given. As the trip approached she wavered a little. When she dropped Kier off the last time before the motorcycle trip, she asked: ”Why don’t I ever see other kids on motorcycles?” I claimed kids are too small to see, but don’t think she bought it. If I am the only parent on the face of the earth irresponsible enough to endanger my kids... that was certainly NOT the time to admit it. Sure, I’m very cautious when a kid is aboard. Sure, they wear the right gear. Sure, I pick routes I believe are safer. Heck, I even sold my Honda Shadow because I wanted ABS for safety. All that said, I know motorcycling will never be completely safe. I’ve talked to Kier about the danger. I know he can’t really appreciate it or make a decision about it. But it makes me feel better for him to know bikes are dangerous and the only way it’s worth the danger is if he loves riding. He’s loved it from the first ride. My daughter Kallan likes to go for a ride now and then, but doesn’t have the same passion for it that Kier does.

I told Kier about 3 weeks before our trip that we were going to take a 4-night/5-day motorcycle trip together immediately after returning from the family vacation to Death Valley, Las Vegas and the Grand Canyon. We were both very pleased with ourselves and confided to each other that we were more excited for the motorcycle trip than the other vacation. Well, I had the tact to keep that observation to myself. Kier, on the other hand, was happy to let anyone who would listen know that he was much more excited about the motorcycle trip. In case they forgot, he often reminded them.

Five days of riding. Twice as big a trip as I'd ever taken before! Where to go? We live in Petaluma, CA. The two choices were Highway 1… north or south. I didn’t want to head inland given the likely heat at the end of June. Kier and I broke out the maps and referred to the Pashnit Moto Roads site for ideas. I was open to either direction. But the perfect itinerary came to us while reviewing the Pashnit page on the “Lost Coast” north of Ft. Bragg, secluded from the world by its total lack of car-friendly roads, many of which are dirt. “The Lost Coast!” It sounded like a wonderful adventure right from the beginning! That same night I booked camping reservations for three of the nights. We’d improvise the other.

Kier and I loved the TV documentary “Long Way Round," the adventure story of Ewan McGregor's and Charlie Boorman's trip around the world on BMW R1150 GS’s. I liked the idea that we might also find some dirt roads to try out on my BMW F650 GS. Kier especially liked the idea of camping and asked me: “Can we just stop and camp next to the road like they did on Long Way Round?” I had to explain that we can’t do that here. Ewan and Charlie were in Siberia and other places where there were few people and fewer rules.

I also warned Kier that we might fall off the bike while on dirt like they did on Long Way Round. That didn’t seem to concern him much. Though when I reflected on my total off-road experience, I had to wonder a bit about that part of my plan. Unless I counted the half mile or so on sand/dirt in Joshua Tree National Park earlier this year, I really had never left the pavement much on my bike. That was ok, I told myself, I’d take it slow and turn around if it got too tough, returning quickly to the paved roads. This is also what I repeatedly told Kier, my ex, my wife, and my mother. Oh, my mother! She couldn’t believe it when I starting riding in the first place—about 12 months, three bikes, and 7,000 miles ago—let alone when I started taking her grandchildren for rides! She was difficult to convince that her grandson should be included in such a trip. But I knew part of her understood when she told me we would both remember the trip forever.

The next big step was figuring out what we could bring. I’ve never been accused of traveling light and didn’t have cute little backpack-versions of any camping equipment. Kier and I joked that we could always cut back on underwear if we ran out of room. (At least I was joking.)

If we were going to camp for four nights, I had to have some small luxuries. A good inflatable mattress was non-negotiable. I’d be crippled otherwise after just one night. Close behind in importance were many other “necessities” ranging from baseball gloves (to play catch at least once per day!) to a hatchet (to kill grizzly bears) to 2 half bottles of Armida late-harvest Zinfandel to playing cards (we played “war” every night before going to bed…Kier went undefeated) to a full-size bottle of flying insect killer for the inevitable mosquitoes to camping chairs. I took the most grief for the camping chairs, which I found surprising since it’s clearly impossible to properly enjoy a campfire without camping chairs!

When the gear assumed a huge mass on the floor the morning of our departure, it seemed inevitable that we’d have to leave some of it behind.



However, due to the nearly duct-tape-like mystical power of bungee cords and elastic spider nets, we didn’t leave anything. Not a single precious item was sacrificed. With Kier’s weight at 75 pounds, my 220 pounds, plus the approximately 100 pounds of gear, we were right about at the maximum gross weight for the GS 650. (Maybe a little over, but a moment like this was not the time to let a few pounds one way or another stop us. Just fully deploy that adjustable suspension and trust the Germans to overcompensate.) I wondered what that weight would do to handling, especially on the dirt. I didn’t wonder enough to leave anything behind, especially the air mattress.

I tried to keep the center of gravity low, with lighter items up top. On top of the hard bags I used stretch netting to attach our sleeping bags. I’d received a gift of a “sissy bar” to go with my custom Corbin seat for Father’s Day. I was able to attach a 9’x 8’ tent and a backpack to the area behind the sissy bar. I got some grief that the tent, purchased for this trip, was excessive for the two of us. I had grown well used to ignoring the peanut gallery by this time. And a darn fine tent it proved to be!