What I Did on My Summer Vacation: My Four Corners Tour by Rick Rohlf, MOA #17094 When I picked up my new K1200LT in April, I tried to think of an interesting way to break it in. Then I heard about the Southern California Motorcycle Association's "Four Corners Tour." As I learned more about it, I became hopelessly hooked. The basic premise of the tour is deceptively simple: Can you visit the four corners of the continental United States on your motorcycle within 21 days? The gauntlet was thrown down, and the challenge accepted. (When I described the ride to my wife, Lisa, and suggested she come with me, she just looked at me like I was crazy, laughed and said, "Have a nice time.") The specifics of the tour are quite basic: you have 21 days to visit San Ysidro, California; Blaine, Washington; Madawaska, Maine; and Key West, Florida. You can run the corners in any order, by any route, and at any time of year that you wish. Some (fool-) hardy souls even run criss-cross routes (from CA to ME to WA and then FL, for example.) From each corner, you need to submit a picture of your bike in front of a landmark (Post Office, city limits sign, etc.), get a gas receipt, and find a "secret" phone number. The SCMA provides you with local maps of each corner city, along with self-addressed envelopes in which to send everything. You then mail this information from each corner to SCMA headquarters. Once they've verified everything, you're an official finisher. They send you a very nice binder with your pictures, your local maps, a certificate of completion, two patches (one of them large enough to suffice as a small blanket) and a very classy finisher's pin. They also have a finisher's banquet in Southern California every February. I left my home in Round Rock, TX, the morning of Wednesday, May 26th, heading for my brother's house in San Diego, arriving Friday morning about 10:00. That gave me nearly two full days to visit with my brother and sister-in-law, as well as my sister, who drove down from Costa Mesa for the weekend. I started out on the actual tour, from San Ysidro, CA, on Sunday morning, May 30th. I made Blaine, Washington, 1,400 miles later, the next evening. Getting to Madawaska, Maine, took a little longer; I had to get my 6,000 mile service in Montana, and while in Quebec I hit some of the worst weather since Noah built his boat. Consequently, I didn't get to Maine until Wednesday, June 9th, 3,600 miles after I left Blaine. The 2,235 miles down the Atlantic seaboard were a blur, and I made it to Key West on Saturday, June 12th. (One helpful tip: do NOT come rolling into Key West like an idiot at 9:00 P.M on a Saturday in June without the benefit of a hotel reservation. Sure, *I* got lucky, but you might not…) Total mileage for the actual "tour" was a little over 7,300 miles; "door to door" was an indicated 10,214 miles. I arrived back home on Wednesday, June 16th, three weeks to the day after I left. It was, for me, a most unusual ride. Normally, the ride is much more important to me than the destination; consequently, I prefer to take "the road less traveled" and just enjoy the journey. On this ride, however, that was all turned upside-down; the destination was the goal, and the miles in-between simply hurdles to overcome. Consequently (and somewhat surprisingly,) the dreaded "superslab" Interstates became my routes of choice. They have much to recommend themselves on a ride like this: everyone is traveling in the same direction and at approximately the same high rate of speed, making it easy to bite off big chunks of distance quickly; there are no intersections or cross-traffic to worry about; hotels, restaurants and gas stations are just off the exit ramps; and the surfaces are generally in good repair. Despite the "deadline" nature of the ride, it made for a most enjoyable and interesting tour. Part of my plan of attack was to avoid large cities during rush hours; this worked astonishingly well in LA, as I blew through doing the speed limit at around 8:00 A.M. Sunday morning. Unfortunately, later in the ride I ignored my own counsel and tried to get through Montreal at 4:00 P.M. … on a Friday… on the "expressway"… in bumper-to-bumper, stop-and-go traffic… in my one-piece Aerostich… in 100+ degree temperatures. At this point, the K12's radiator fans helpfully kicked in, bathing me in a Bessemer-like blast. For those of you considering this tour, the latter approach is NOT recommended. During the ride, I learned that the snow-belt states and Canadian provinces actually have but two seasons: winter and "Road Work Ahead." While an occasional nuisance, it was never really a problem… except when I got to Missoula, Montana. I had been planning to get my 6,000 mile service done at the North Dakota dealer listed in the Anonymous book. When I called them from Missoula to schedule an appointment, however, they informed me that they were no longer selling or working on BMWs. Uh oh… what to do? I looked in the Anonymous and found Smith and Jones Coachworks, the Missoula BMW dealer. A quick phone call and pleading explanation of my plight was offered; to my surprise (and great gratitude) I was told, "Come on in and we'll figure something out…" When I got there 20 minutes later, head mechanic John Munch stopped what he was doing to perform the 6,000 mile service and to spoon two new Michelin Macadam 50s onto the wheels. By the time he was finished, however, it was nearly 5:00 P.M. Worse was the weather, which had turned into a howling monsoon. I wasn't going any further that day. The shop's owner graciously offered to drive me to a local hotel, and to pick me up the following morning to retrieve my bike. I was only too happy to accept. The next morning, the weather had calmed down to a mild gale, and I was rarin' to put down some miles to make up for the rain-shortened day before. As I prepared to head out, John reminded me to "take it easy on those new tires for the first 50 miles or so" until they scuffed in and achieved full adhesion. I tiptoed carefully in the rain back to the interstate, only to find that Montana was smack in the middle of its second season: the entire road was being resurfaced, and had been ground down to the bedrock. Think of rain grooves about an inch wide and just as deep, and you'll get the picture. For 15 miles, it felt like trying to tap dance on ball bearings; I was sure the tires were slippery as eels and just waiting for me to make a ham-handed move so they could throw me down onto that cheese-grater of a road. Fortunately, I made it through safely, although now I'll have to enter the priesthood to fulfill promises made in silent prayer to see me through in one piece. One of the best suggestions I have to offer anyone contemplating this type of ride is to carry a "personal hydration system" (hey, don't blame me; I didn't think up the name.) These are intended for bicyclists, hikers, rock climbers and other intrepid outdoorsy types. There are several different brands available, but they all work pretty much the same: a flexible bladder made of aluminized plastic fits in an outer carrying bag similar to a small backpack. The bladder has a flexible tube with a "bite valve" that runs to your mouth, offering you the ability to get a cold drink of water while riding. The one I used was the "Gregory Mirage," and it had a capacity of around 100 fluid oz. of water. The aluminized bladder helped to keep the water cool, and the mouth was large enough to fit small icecubes of the type found in motel icemakers. While perhaps an obvious step to take, it was worth its weight in gold; it made long runs between rest stops much more feasible, and it may just have saved my life when I got caught in stop-and-stop traffic in a (surprise!) construction zone in 104 degree Arizona heat. It took nearly 40 minutes for me to find a way off of the freeway, which had narrowed down from three lanes to one, and I was pulling on that tube the whole time. One of the best parts about a trip like this is the people you meet along the way. For example, when I finally got out of the purgatory that was Montreal rush-hour traffic, I stopped along the road to check out my map. Within seconds, a friendly Quebecois pulled over in his Jeep to see if he could help. I explained how I had gotten lost, and in heavily accented English, he said, "Oh, zees is easy… Just turn around and go back to Montreal…" When I rather hysterically declined to go through that again, he gave me an alternate route along back roads which would avoid the big city. Of course, I became lost again within minutes… I stopped at a convenience store where I met the owner, a crusty gent sitting in front of an electric fan and chain-smoking Galouise cigarettes. He didn't speak much English, and my long-forgotten high-school French wasn't much help, either. Through pantomime and much pointing at maps, he understood what I was asking for, and led me over to his display rack of provincial maps. He pulled out a very large and detailed folding Quebec road map and began drawing on it with a colored marker to show me the route I should take. Gratefully, I reached for my wallet to pay for the map, but he just raised his hands and shook his head; after a few seconds of searching for the right words he smiled, bowed from the waist and said, "Umm… don't know the English, but avec plaisir." "With pleasure…" With his kind gift of the map, I was quickly back on track. His routing also directed me through what became my favorite town of the trip: Saint-Louis-du-Ha!-Ha! (really) in New Brunswick. That map remains one of my most prized mementos from the trip. The folks in Madawaska were a friendly bunch, as well. When I crossed back into the US, I pulled over to check out the local map the SCMA folks had provided. A moment later, a nice young man walked over to me, smiled and said, "Oh, doing the Four Corners, eh? Go up one block and turn left. The gas station is a mile up the road on the right, and you can get your receipt and phone number there. The post office is just a little further on the left, and you can get your picture." After thanking him, I rode to the gas station. I told the attendant I needed a receipt and he said, "Oh, doing the Four Corners, eh? OK, here you go. The Post Office is just down the road." I pulled up to take the picture, positioning the bike so the town name would show up in the photo. Unfortunately, this meant that I had to kneel in the middle of Main Street, dodging traffic to line up the shot. A man across the street saw me and shouted, "Oh, doing the Four Corners, eh?" He then came over and offered to take the photo which accompanies this story. Another very special memory… Then there was the time on the Golden State Parkway in New Jersey. I was in the middle lane, blasting along with traffic, when I saw a blur on my left and heard a horn honk. Looking over, I saw… myself! There was a local rider on a Canyon Red LT Custom, identical to mine. He smiled through his helmet, gave me a big thumbs up, and pulled in front of me, taking over the chore of cutting a trail through the rush-hour traffic. Thirty miles later, he waved as we went our separate ways. The LT lived up to its billing as a top-notch tourer. It's a terrific bahn-burner, very comfortable and long-legged (i.e. 4000 rpm in top gear yields an indicated 90 mph.) The engine has lots of smooth power and gobs of torque available throughout the powerband. It returned a respectable 48 mpg at an average speed of 65 mph throughout the tour, and the 6.4 gallon tank gave about 250 miles of travel before the reserve light came on. The large mirrors were rock-steady, and gave a clear view rearward at all times. The 6-CD changer and helmet-mounted speakers were very welcome during some of the less-interesting parts of the ride, and the weather radio provided helpful information about the kind of junk I was heading into. The cruise-control saw a lot of action as well, providing some much-welcomed relief to my throttle hand. The heated grips and seat (and my Gerbing Jacket Liner) came in quite handy going over Snoqualmie Pass in Washington state; even though the temperatures dipped well below 40 degrees, I remained nice and toasty. I even had a chance to field-test the front and rear "protective rubbing strips" at the end of my first day, in Redding, CA. I was executing a slow-speed turn in the hotel parking lot when I nudged the raised edge of a wheelchair ramp. Forward momentum lost, and before I could get my foot off the peg, the top-heavy bike swooned and flopped over on its right side like a beached whale. The motel manager saw the whole thing and came running over, helping me right the beast. Inspection revealed no damage to the bike, although the chrome trim on the rear rubbing strip was a little gouged from the pavement. A word of advice: when this thing decides it wants to lie down, just get the heck out of the way. Trying to hold it up proved to be futile, and at 6'2" and 240lbs, I'm not a small guy. I now swallow my pride, take my feet off the pegs and paddle around during those slow, tight turns. I was less impressed with other aspects of the bike. The bags and top pack are shapely and quite waterproof, but somewhat deficient in useful capacity compared with some competitive offerings. The adjustable windshield is handy in theory, but in practice I found that adjusting it just relocated the turbulence; I had a hard time finding a position that offered clean air around my helmet. The switches for the heated grips and seats are inconsistent; the off position for the grips is all the way to one side, or position one of three, while the off position for the seat is in the middle, or position two of three. This led to some rather toasty buns before I figured it out. While the stock Bridgestone Excedra tires are quite sticky and allow the bike to handle more like a much smaller scooter, they wear out very quickly; I replaced both tires at 5,300 miles. The transmission shifted cleanly and, while not providing the "snick-snick" shifting of the latest Japanese offerings, was a lot less clunky than the mixer found on BMW's twins. Unfortunately, it was also the cause of my sole mechanical breakdown. (See sidebar for more information and the story of the tow truck from Hell.) This was truly a wonderful tour, and one which I recommend to anyone with the time and wherewithal to undertake it. My one regret was that I pushed myself so hard to complete the ride on schedule I didn't leave myself much time for any real sightseeing. In retrospect, that was unfortunate, since I finished the Four Corners part of the tour in 13 days, 12 hours and 21 minutes (and yes, I kept track!) I could have taken another full week and still qualified as an official finisher. Even so, I can't second guess my decisions too harshly, as I wanted to give myself enough of a cushion for weather delays, mechanical problems and routine maintenance; I didn't want to be on my last day, looking at a 1,000 mile push to complete the ride in time. One final postscript comes courtesy of Robert Krull, co-owner of my local dealer, Lone Star BMW. He tells me that shortly after I got back in June, someone on a K1200LT from San Antonio came in for a visit. He was saying how much he enjoyed his new bike, and was proud that he already had nearly 6,000 miles on it. Robert responded politely, "That's not bad." The visitor was a little taken aback by that, and said, "Not bad?!? The bike's only been out two months!" Robert smiled and responded, "Well, we like to ride 'em up here. I've got one in the back that's in for its 12,000 mile service…" HOME