Discovering Northern California via the BDR
A great deal of the last decade of my life has been spent training others at the BMW U.S. Rider Academy. We instruct others to build a rock-solid foundation of riding skills, then we chisel away at bad habits and knee-jerk reactions to sculpt excellent motorcyclists. We push our students with trials and hare-brained tests to strengthen their resolve. The Northern California Backcountry Discovery Route (CABDR-North) took me out of my routine and tested my abilities in new terrain.
“Where does the road go?” is both a rhetorical and a literal question I pose to my students. As we develop the talent to allow us to move onto paths less traveled, trails will begin to catch our eyes. Approximately five percent of the world’s roads are paved, which leaves a great deal for us to explore on two wheels. The question of where the road goes piques my curiosity each time I transition off the pavement.
A basic tenet that I teach is to let your eyes look forward and fix your gaze straight ahead. By keeping our vision up and focused on the immediate future, we can take in a great deal of information. Doing so allows us to carefully consider the path and how to commit to it.
The CABDR-North was the perfect gateway to adventure riding. The vast majority of the route is geared to riders new to the BDR. The approximately 1,000-mile route raised my eyebrows initially, as I am not accustomed to long distance riding. It spans from Mammoth Lakes, California, to the Oregon border, and it was all new territory for me. We planned to pack a tremendous amount of sightseeing into 11 days.
Kickstands went up and we embarked on our voyage. Despite the number of miles we had to travel, we were able to make a variety of stops along the way. Within the first few days, we saw the otherworldly landscape of the calcium carbonate mounds protruding from Mono Lake and a ghost town that appears like a prop from an old western movie. Remnants of gold mines, a one-room schoolhouse, and saloons stand dusty and flanked by tumbleweeds. The BDR route scout team expertly structured the itinerary to provide unique experiences like this on an almost constant basis.
Mountain ridges and a series of state parks laid ahead of us. Each overlook gave me a different viewpoint on the masterpieces of God’s creation. Spectacular blues were mirrored in every body of water. Massive evergreen trees towered over the fertile undergrowth. The higher elevation of the Sierra Nevada allowed us to see for miles in each direction and often gave us 360 degrees of views. Some adorn their walls with painted canvases of snowcapped mountains and waterfalls, but I had the real deal right in front of me.
The Sweetwater mountain range’s highest peak is Mount Patterson. The climb of 11,000 feet to the top of this beast was a highlight of our journey. A full panoramic view of the other ridgelines and crystal blue skies greets anyone who reaches the summit.
This trip stretched my perception of how picturesque scenery can be. With each turn and hillcrest, I was stunned by the new view. There was a sense of endless beauty encouraging me to study my surroundings. My motorcycling comrades often joked with me, “They don’t make it like this where you’re from, do they?” Indeed, the beauty of South Carolina is far different from California.
One thing defied my expectations, as fires have torn through this portion of the country in recent years. What was once forest is now an alien wasteland, filled with charred tree trunks forming a strange boneyard. The millions of acres wiped clean are a reminder of how easily disaster can befall us. One fire was even the size of our smallest state, Rhode Island. Soon there will be bright green buds of life popping up through these lands, and the new life will bring good news for all who witness it.
The riding did not steal away from the lovely vistas. The route designers planned the excursion to be well suited for people just entering the adventure riding arena, so the terrain provides little challenge. There are optional advanced sections for those who dare to ride them. The most notable were the single-and double-track sections—gnarly, prolonged areas with rock, emphasizing the notion of keeping my eyes up and evaluating what was yet to be.
Some advanced sections were atop massive drop-offs. They required precision and confidence as we rolled through them. I simply told myself, “Don’t turn to the right or to the left,” and I never lost sight of where I wanted to go. Other areas had large water crossings threatening to wash the dust from our bikes if we dropped them—and as I aptly demonstrated. These voluntary hero segments honed in on specialized skillsets and rewarded the voyager with more of God’s glory.
Another test of the BDR was the weather. Our trip spanned from late September into October, and the temperatures reflected it. One entire day was spent riding in rainy conditions. After being waterlogged for a day, we opted to load into a small cabin like sardines in a tin instead of camping. It was another fateful evening when I lost a good pair of socks to the heat of a wood burning stove. Who knew they would melt while I was attempting to dry them?
Asking ourselves where that road goes often leads to more roads. Although our trip ended near the California-Oregon border, there is another BDR route in that state. There are more rural towns rife with character. There are more unfamiliar landscapes dotted with animal life. There are more views of countryside uninterrupted by infrastructure. While some roads may end, others begin and carry us to places we never imagined. I can think of no better way to see it all than atop a trusty BMW R 1250 GS, with a few new friends by my side.
Richie Few is a Motorcycle Instructor at The U.S. Rider Academy in Greer, South Carolina.
