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klr650-digest         Wednesday, June 9 1999         Volume 02 : Number 470




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Date: Wed, 9 Jun 1999 09:35:24 -0700
From: "Arne Larsen" <[e-mail]>
Subject: Re: (klr650) Riding Jacket/pants - NKLR

- -----Original Message-----
From: Vik Banerjee <[e-mail]>
To: Jeff & Lisa Walker <[e-mail]>; [e-mail]
<[e-mail]>; [e-mail] <[e-mail]>
Date: June 9, 1999 7:22 AM
Subject: Re: (klr650) Riding Jacket/pants - NKLR


>Arnie,
>
>Will tell you that they are perfectly waterproof except at the crotch -
>which is great as long as it doesn't rain.
>
>Cheers,
>
>Vik
>
>
>-----Original Message-----
>From: Jeff & Lisa Walker <[e-mail]>
>To: [e-mail] <[e-mail]>; [e-mail]
><[e-mail]>
>Date: Wednesday, June 09, 1999 7:13 AM
>Subject: Re: (klr650) Riding Jacket/pants
>
>
>>
>>
>>>Anyone with knowledge or experience of "Joe Rocket" Ballistic
>>jacket/pants
>>>combo?  Am planning an Alaska trip Y2K and doing the outfitting
>>bit by bit.
>>>Jim-A13-Cocoa
>>>
>>Don't own any, but have heard from others that they should be
>>avoided.  Poor ventilation was definitely mentioned, and cheap
>>construction.  Not sure about the water resistance either.  Do
>>some searching, someone reviewed these I'm sure.
>>
>>Jeff

That is correct - the crotch is not waterproof - from the outside-in
anyways...  I did find the pants to be adequately vented though.  They are
zippered (and gussetted with a meshy stuff) from the ankle to mid thigh.
5000 kilometers to Moab and back in hot sun, cold wind, driving rain, and
hail/snow, and they still look great.  I can't tell you about the Joe Rocket
Ballistic jacket though, as I wear a Firstgear Kilimanjaro, which is awesome
in ALL conditions.

Arne


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------------------------------

Date: Thu, 10 Jun 1999 04:18:54 +1000
From: "Hauck, Michael MG" <[e-mail]>
Subject: (klr650) 1. Rear Turn Signals ; 2. Throttle Grip

1. Has anyone found a better replacement (than stock) for the turn signals? Specifically the black casing. I was thinking of something with a more rubber-like texture that wouldn't break when I inevitably ditch the bike in the desert again...

2. Same thing for the throttle grip - it cracked on the same episode (despite bar ends). Any sturdier replacements? Will the Acerbis handguards protect the bar-end & throttle?


I'm starting to think I should cushion the bike's fall when I go down to save money, instead of letting it go...but I don't want the 400 lbs. on my legs!

Warning: Those of you who replace the front brake cable with Fastline steel cables, beware of the faster response in the dirt...front-end washouts at low speeds become more likely!

Please ignore the irritating disclaimer crap below...

EOM

NOTICE - This message contains information intended only for the use of the addressee named above.  It may also be confidential and/or privileged.  If you are not the intended recipient of this message you are hereby notified that you must not disseminate, copy or take any action in reliance on it.  If you have received this message in error please notify The Broken Hill Proprietary Company Limited immediately via mailto:[e-mail].

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------------------------------

Date: Thu, 10 Jun 1999 04:33:27 +1000
From: "Hauck, Michael MG" <[e-mail]>
Subject: Subject: Re: (klr650) Riding Jacket/pants

The best stuff I have found for function (not style) is from MOTOPORT.
Their catalog (order online) is also very informative. I ordered some pants from them (unfortunately on back order).

Things to watch out for: Denier (nylon fiber size) should be >500 ;
Goretex is waterproof but should be removable for temp's > 90 F.
The goals are threefold: comfort, protection from weather (Goretex) and road rash (best is leather, next is a high Denier fabric).
Synthetics are a compromise between these goals.

www.motoport.com

Contact Information
Telephone  [phone]
FAX   [phone]

Postal address
6110 Yarrow Dr. Carlsbad, Ca. 92009

Electronic mail
General Information: [e-mail]
Webmaster: [e-mail]


EOM

NOTICE - This message contains information intended only for the use of the addressee named above.  It may also be confidential and/or privileged.  If you are not the intended recipient of this message you are hereby notified that you must not disseminate, copy or take any action in reliance on it.  If you have received this message in error please notify The Broken Hill Proprietary Company Limited immediately via mailto:[e-mail].

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------------------------------

Date: Wed, 9 Jun 1999 12:49:08 -0600
From: "Pokluda, Gino F" <[e-mail]>
Subject: (klr650) (NKLR) Moab photos wanted

One of the problems with being a rally coordinator is that you don't get to
take very many pictures.  So, I'm at a severe loss for pictures to put in
the next issue of DSN (which will not be out until mid July). If you have
any pictures you would like to share, send them to me.  I promise to return
them.  If they are digital, they can be e-mailed to me in .jpeg format.  I
need photos by the 6/18.  Thanks.

Gino


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------------------------------

Date: Wed, 9 Jun 1999 13:08:20 -0600
From: "Pokluda, Gino F" <[e-mail]>
Subject: (klr650) Five-Stars Givi racks wanted

I have a friend looking for a set of Five-Stars Givi racks if anyone has any
to sell.
Please e-mail off-list.  Thanks.

Gino


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------------------------------

Date: Wed, 9 Jun 1999 12:32:10 -0700 (PDT)
From: k man <[e-mail]>
Subject: (klr650) KLR highway horsepower?

Hey all,

Back from the Moab trip, what a treat to meet some of
you and check out all the bikes!

Question though for yall, I came from Denver and going
over the passes I couldn't maintain speed very well,
the KLR struggled with the altitude, climbing,
headwind, plus the extra load.  I would shrug it off
but several vehicles past me without a problem, so the
question is did anyone else come over I-70 from the
east and how did the KLR do?

By the way the best mod I had for the trip was a
sheepskin loaned to me - it spread the load a bit and
looked quite trick next to the KLR green!

Desperately seeking horsepower,

Kevin
A10 Tweety

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------------------------------

Date: Wed, 9 Jun 1999 14:10:50 -0600
From: "Kurt Simpson" <[e-mail]>
Subject: (klr650) Andres Carlstein Trip Report #8a...NKLR

Subject: Update No. 8:  History According to Satan and My Moment of Zen
Date: Wednesday, June 09, 1999 11:47 AM

Hi Everyone,

We are now in Lima, and too much has happened to tell.  Colombia and Ecuador
were fantastic, and we had a great time there.  Peter "Satan" Maria does a
good job of talking about some of the spectacles and history we have
experienced here in Peru, so I will let him fill you all in.  After that, I
will continue with an additional story you might find interesting.  He
writes:

From Lima Peru -

We ride to the ruins of the pyramids of Sipan.  This site is located to the
south of the city of Chiclayo.  The main structures are two large mud brick
pyramids eroded by the rain of many centuries.

During the period between the first and seventh century of our era, this was
one of the most important santuaries of the Moche culture.  This culture
existed before the Incas and based their surprizing development on the
artificial irrigation of the coastal desert. They constructed extensive
irrigation systems that allowed them 1200 years ago to cultivate more than
twice the area that modern Peruvians are able to farm today in this desert!

Anyway enough of the history lesson.  In 1987, clued in by the appearance of
some exquisite Moche artifacts in the black market, the Peruvian authorities
intervened to stop the plunder of some recently discovered burial sites.
The archeological excavation that followed revealed the undistubed tomb of a
Moche king buried 1700 years ago. the remains of this man, who the
archeologists called the "Lord of
Sipan", were in the center of treasure of incalculable value.  Of course a
person of his stature in society could not go away alone so several people
were buried alive with him. The excavation revealed the bodies of a military
leader, three young women, two llamas, a boy, and a dog..( watch out
Empanada in case I die!).  The soldier had his feet amputated problably so
he would not run away.  Thats the only way I would stay around to be buried
with my supervisor..!  The Brunig archaeological museum did a wonderful job
of restoring and displaying the find.  National Geographic in the fall of
1990 or 1992 had a great article on this, check it out.  A picture is worth
1000 words.

My first taste of Peru's rich heritage has been more than I expected.  The
Lord of Sipan exhibit is of the caliber of Colombia's Gold Museum.  Our next
stop is the mountain city of Cajamarca.  This is the place were Pizarro and
160 of his spanish conquistador friends capture Atahualpa the emperor of the
Inca empire.  Don't ask me how they did it, but they nailed the Incas here
pretty bad.

The Story goes that Pizarro asked Atahualpa to come by for a meeting in the
old Inca city of Cajamarca.  Atahualpa came accompanied by his nobles and
guarded by about 6000 clubmen.  The spanish lay in ambush until Atahualpa
refused to accept a bible from the friendly Spanish priest.  This is taken
as the excuse for the spanish to charge out of their hiding places.
Although greatly outnumbered they manage to kill
most of the Incas and capture Atahualpa alive.

Atahualpa sees things are not good so in exchange for his life and freedom,
he offers to fill the room he is held in once with gold and twice with
silver.  For this purpose, he draws a line on the wall as high as he can
reach.  Pizarro accepts.  The word spreads throughout the land, and the
treasure starts flowing into Cajamarca from every corner of teh empire.
When the ramsom is almost paid, Pizarro
decides to burn Atahualpa alive in the main square in front of his people.
Only a last minute and  humilliating coversion to christianity saves the
once mighty Inca emperor from this horrible death.  He is instead strangled
with a rope.

We visit the room he was held in, it is the only Inca structure that remains
in Cajamarca.  One can only wonder the incredible works of art that filled
this room 450 years ago.  A futile attempt by a dying empire to save its
last real ruler.  All artifacts were melted by the spanish for transport to
their country.

That night we stay in a interesting little hostal, hidden in the mountains
not far from the city.  We all get our own room for a change, the price
certainly allows some privacy here.  I go to sleep early, but wake up around
2 am to the sound of a spanish guitar.  I can hear people singing nearby.  I
have two choices:  get the earplugs Dennis gave me in Hobbs or go outside
and join the party.  Considering I feel rested and have slept enough, I get
dressed and go outside.  There I meet the hotel manager, his wife, several
of their friends.  They are quite drunk and having a great time.  The
manager is playing the guitar as his friends sing along many familiar latin
songs.  They warmly open their circle of friends to include me and offer me
a drink which i readily accept.  Amazing singing, quite a talented bunch.

Without going into detail, I have a little bit TOO much fun singing,
drinking, eating, and partying with these total strangers.  So much fun that
when Robert and Devil-O come into my room to wake me up for the ride to
Trujillo, I am still drunk.  My answer to their request to get ready was
along the lines of "f... that!  I am sleeping, I cant ride because I am
still drunk, I will meet you in Trujillo at the
Casino Real!"  They don't insist much.  They probably can smell my breath
from across the room so they leave.

I sleep until 11 am.  After lunch, I get on the road to Trujillo, a winding
mountain road that leads to the western coastal plains.  By now, fully
recovered, I enjoy the road greatly.  The motorcycle is working beautifully.
  I descend to the coastal plains and with the setting sun beside me, I
speed along the Panamerican Highway to
the desert City of Trujillo.

I arrive at 7 pm.  I find Andres and Santa Claus already checked in at the
hotel we agreed on before.  The plan is to visit the ruins of the City of
Chan Chan tomorrow.

Peter.

So that's Peter's story.  The next day we did, in fact, visit Chan Chan.
Chan Chan's ruins are also of the Moche, a culture that built giant pyramids
of sun dried mud bricks, which now really show the wear from years of
erosion and looting.  It's amazing that they look as good as they still do,
considering that they are as old as Christianity.

I made the horrible mistake of running my bike on part of the archeological
sight, while following Peter and Robert on a tour around the ruins.  I was
just having fun riding around and when I went off on my own, and unknowingly
strayed into a part of the ruins I should not have been in.  Peter did too,
but not as much as I.  Robert scolded us both for it later, and it was only
then that I realized what I had done.  Then I felt like total shit for the
rest of the day.

I hate to see those people that come and scribble their names or moronic
statements into the ancient ruins we have been visiting.  And to think I may
have done more damage with my bike than those idiots with penknives could
ever have done!  I was really pissed at myself for not realizing.  Oh well,
those ruins have survived centuries of intentional looting and destruction,
so hopefully my 10 minutes on the sight will not amount to much.

On the way to Chimbote, a coastal town that reeks of dead, burnt fish
because of all the processing plants, we met three Colombian bikers who were
riding south too.  One of them, Oscar, had a KLR 650 sold in Colombia.  The
model was a 99, but was very different from mine.  It sported a small
fairing with no windshield, 3 gallon tank, MX style plastic panels and seat,
and a tool kit that fit into a plastic box under the left side panel
opposite the exhaust.  Overall, the bike seemed to be a smaller, lighter
package geared for more off-road use, with basically the same internal guts.

Part a of a-c





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------------------------------

Date: Wed, 9 Jun 1999 14:11:35 -0600
From: "Kurt Simpson" <[e-mail]>
Subject: (klr650) Andres Carlstein Trip Report 8b...NKLR

We rode with those guys for a couple of days, on some seriously ugly roads
that were hard to go fast on.  Oscar and I were out in front, (those KLR's
were spanking the other bikes, which included two BMW GS's and a pair of
Transalps--go Kawi!).  During the ride, I was pushing the KLR when I bounced
a rock off the shifter and created a fissure in it that prevented me from
shifting up.  I stopped and took off my gear to inspect the problem, and
soon after the rest of the guys appeared (we were six in all).

Then were were assaulted by these tiny little bugs the size of gnats.  When
they bite, they take a little piece of skin with them.  Supposedly they are
related to mosquitoes, but they are impossible to feel when they bite.  I
saw robert being bitten on the face and pointed it out--when he killed the
bug, there was a drop of blood left on his face from where the little thing
tore off a piece of him.

Anyway, I quickly put my gear back on to avoid being torn apart by the
strange insects.  Peter volunteered to ride back with me to the nearest town
to get the shifter welded.  Robert suggested I put the bike in second and
ride all the way back like that, since I would not be able to change gears.
I agreed, since it would have taken me forever to do it in first.  We
couldn't go with third either, since the road was way too rough to allow
that.  So we took the shifter off of Oscar's bike and put mine in second
gear.  With Robert giving me a shove to get started, Peter and I went back
to the previous town.


In case people on the KLR list are wondering (I have heard this debate there
before I think), the shifter is not aluminum, because it welded back
together just fine.  The welder was truly skilled, and after he was done,
the shifter literally felt better than new.  He charged me three soles, or
about ninety cents for the work.

After riding together for a while, our Colombian freinds moved on to Lima.
Robert, Peter, and I took a route into the highlands, towards a place called
Chavin.  We were riding on some pretty tough roads, so I was out in front
for a change (those guys usually lead on the highway, but in the dirt I
can't stand to be behind them sucking down all the dust).

I don't mean to get too obscure here, but please bear with me, because I
really don't know how else to explain what happened next.  I had hoped on
this trip to reach one or more spiritual epiphanies of some kind.  I wanted
to gain a better sense of myself and my place in the universe.  Of course, I
never planned on getting it in the way I did.  Whenever I have envisioned
bad things happening, it is always a cloudy, rainy day, or at night.  The
vision is obscure and the danger apparent and menacing.  That's why what
happened next was so surprising.

As I said, I was in front as we climbed through the incredible Peruvian
scenery.  Twenty-five-thousand-foot peaks, covered in snow, thrusted out of
the ground all around us.  There were 48 switchbacks up the mountain, and
the road was a single lane of dirt, rocks, and bad attitude.

The sky was completely clear and the sun pierced through my UV shield and
sunglasses.  It was so beautiful.  The cerulean blue waters of a frigid
mountain lake reflected light on the mountain walls.  The sides of the trail
plunged thousands of feet down to rocks washed smooth by the flow of ancient
waters.  My words fail to capture the inescapable solemnity and serenity of
one of the most pristine and peaceful places I have visited in my short time
on this planet.  At over 10,000 feet, the dirt was as bright as brown can
be, and the canary-yellow wild flowers popped sporadically into view along
the mountian.  I was humbled by the vision of a place humans should never
have been allowed to desecrate.  It was at this point, making mental notes
of what I needed to record about this scenery, when I rounded the corner to
meet my fate.

It's so weird how you know before it happens, how it happens with freeze
frame slowness, even though the time is actually a matter of seconds.  I
rounded the corner, oblivious to all but the beauty around me, when a bright
blue truck (seeming much cleaner and brighter than the evil truck of my
nightmare visions would be), appeared in my path.

I couldn't believe it, but there it was.  I came around the corner, and as
plain as day and as hard as life, was a sky blue truck coming at me.  Fast.
There was no time left.  There was nothing but surprise.  No turning.  No
stopping.  No avoiding it.  Then the realization:  Wow, I am going to hit
this truck--and all I can do is sit here.

In the flapping of a hummingbird's wing, I had reflexively grabbed a fistful
of brakes, bouced off the hood of the truck, and hit the ground.

There's a truck.  Oh shit.  Boom.  It was over that fast.

It's strange.  At the time, I knew I would be fine.  As my front tire began
to collide with the truck's bumper, or rather, right before that moment, I
knew in my gut I would be fine.  I had no fear, just surprise.  I was
completely incognizant, all experience, all senses, moving in the thrall of
forces beyond my control.  I know it sounds crazy, but I experienced a
moment of tranquility and understanding that I have never felt before.
Satori.  The moment without thought, yet with complete understanding and
concentration.  Sort of like that split second when you see the ball
aproaching you, and you have just started to swing the bat, and the rest is
just watching what happens next.

The front tire hit, the bike's forks bent backwards, and my beautiful new
KLR pivoted forward on the axis of the front wheel, smashing the fairing and
headlight against the grill of the other vehicle.   I slid forward and my
helmet and shoulder pressed against the truck, and I recall a flash of the
look on the faces of the two guys in the cab of the truck.  Priceless.  I
also recall that my very close visual inspection of the hood of the truck
revealed that it was not as clean as it appeared from a distance.

I hit the ground, and my first thought was for my bike and how badly it
might be damaged.  My next thought was for my camera, which was in the fanny
pack I had just landed on.  That's always the way.  If I had to land on
something, it had to be the camera.  Also, the bike fell on the Givi bag
that had the computer in it, of course.

Then there were hands touching me--this little guy trying to pick me up and
make sure I was OK, but it felt like he was checking my status more for his
own benefit.  Then he tried to lift my bike.  I started to get pissed.  You
asshole.  First you guys drive fast like idiots in the middle of the road,
you crash against my bike, and now you want to touch it on top of that?  I
pushed him away and told him I would do it.  I lifted the bike and set it on
the side of the road on the kickstand.

I double-checked myself and noted I was fine:  I could walk, I felt no pain,
my head was relatively clear, I was not in shock.  Things were cool with me.
  Next the bike:  Fairing warped, front light smashed, handlebars slightly
bent, forks had bent back, shortening the rake of the bike.

Part b of a-c





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------------------------------

End of klr650-digest V2 #470
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