I've done a couple of brief write-up's on another forum, but this is my first full trip report. Here goes…
I planned to attend the Death Valley 49er’s Encampment with my mom and dad November 4-8. My husband was scheduled to work, so I was going to ride my Husky out and camp with my parents. At the last minute, my husband was able to get the time off, so the plan changed a little. We considered riding our Honda CRF230L’s to Death Valley, but my husband doesn’t like to camp in the tent for more than a night or two, since we have a small camping trailer. So the final plan was for my husband to tow the trailer and haul his 230 in the back of the truck, my mom would drive their camper, I would ride my Husky SM610, and my dad would ride his TW200.
My dad is mainly a cruiser rider, and an 800 Intruder is his primary ride, but he only had his TW with him, because they were in transition from their summer home in Oregon to their winter home in California. He's even lowered his TW to feel more cruiser-like! We kind of have opposite tastes in bikes, but it's all good. He's actually talking about getting a KLR650, and I am totally encouraging him! Anyway, he assured me that the little TW could cruise at 60 mph all day, and could hit 70 for brief stints. So we set out, caravan style, and headed for the desert.
Here we are taking a break in the middle of nowhere:
It was mid-afternoon by the time we reached the National Park boundary:
And the sun was starting to set as we rolled into Stovepipe Wells:
The truck and trailer in the pic above is my husband.
We arrived in Furnace Creek just after dark. Unfortunately the campground was full, because of the 49er Encampment, and the campground host told us we could either head 15 miles to “The Slabs” (abandoned mobile home park) or ride 27 miles back to Stovepipe Wells. My dad was familiar with “The Slabs”, so we chose that option. But first we fixed some chilidogs before heading out into the night.
Here’s my bike just before we took off:
We headed up the mountain towards “The Slabs”, climbing from below sea level to 3000 ft. Watching the moonrise in the desert sky was really amazing. I wish I could have got a pic, but we were on a mission. Unfortunately we never saw any lights from other RV’s, and we rode right past “The Slabs”. At 30 miles, we reached Death Valley Junction. There was a wide turnout at the junction, and my dad announced that it was home for the night.
Here’s what it looked like the next morning:
We rode back into Furnace Creek, and luckily one rig had pulled out and we got a site. After lunch we unloaded my husband’s 230L, my mom climbed on the back of dad’s TW, and we headed for Dante’s View. Along the way, we checked out Twenty Mule Team Canyon in the Badlands. It’s the first time I’ve taken the Husky off the pavement for more than 100 yards. The road was about 3 miles long, and the Husky worked great, even with street tires.
Here I am on the Husky:
And here’s my husband on his Honda 230:
Back on the highway, we climbed to just over 5,400 ft., and the view from Dante’s View was amazing.
What happened next, caught me totally by surprise. I mounted my bike, started it up, looked down, and saw a huge gush of gas coming out the right side just in front of my leg. Thankfully I was smart enough to hit the kill switch immediately, which turned off the fuel pump and stopped the waterfall coming from my bike. I’m not sure how much gas I lost, but I realized that I could have drained my tank if I hadn’t seen it so quickly.
So I got off my bike, looked at the engine and could immediately see that the fuel line was not connected. My dad connected the two lines, but it still didn’t seem quite right. He finally gave it a really firm push and it clipped together securely. I realized that probably what happened was that when my mechanic did the valve check, he didn’t fully connect the fuel line when he put the tank back on.
When I rode through the Badlands, it probably caused it to loosen, and then when I restarted the engine at Dante’s View, the surge of gas was enough to pop the bottom half of the line free. All I can say is thank goodness it didn’t happen while I was blasting down the freeway! You can bet that I will double-check that fuel line after the next valve check!
That night I sang a song, and my husband played guitar and sang harmony for me at the Coyote Howl, which was an amateur talent night. Most of the “talent” was absolutely awful, so I wasn’t too stressed about performing. I wasn’t the best, but I was far from the worst!
The next morning we went to the Hootenanny Breakfast.
To burn that all off, we hiked through Golden Canyon and took a break from riding. At one point I hiked down a different ridge than my husband and parents, and I got a neat pic of them.
Here’s the ridge I was hiking on:
As we exited the canyon, the wagons were making the final leg of their 50-mile journey to Furnace Creek:
The next day we crossed the border into Nevada on our way to the ghost town of Rhyolite:
Mercantile:
The Bottle House:
Cook Bank:
Train Depot:
Then we headed for Beatty so my husband could play a little blackjack. After he made his donation
, we headed back to camp.
The next day it was time to head for home. My husband wanted me to ride in the truck with him going home, because he gets a bit bored riding alone, but I really wanted to ride home. My dad said he’d ride with me, so we both rode. About 50 miles from home, I was riding along thinking about how hard my dad rides his TW200. I hate to admit it, but he can out ride me in the twisties, and I’m the one on a hot supermoto. Of course he’s been riding for over 50 years, so obviously experience counts for a lot. He really proved to me that you don’t have to have a lot of cc’s to keep a decent pace and had fun. Anyway, I was riding along thinking about all that, when we were exiting the freeway. He pulled to the shoulder and stopped and his TW promptly died. I thought, that’s it. It’s blown up! He tried and tried to start it, and it wouldn’t run. Finally, he asked me how far we’d ridden since the last gas stop. I told him about 80 miles. He flipped it onto reserve, and it fired right up. He’d run out of gas. He’d pushed it so hard that his gas mileage had dropped like a rock.
It was really a fun trip, and my longest so far. Getting to ride it with my dad made the trip even better. Our total trip mileage was just under 700 miles. The Husky worked great and got 60mpg on the two tanks I checked. I used a sheepskin on the seat, which definitely helped, but I can tell you this…I am really looking forward to my appointment with Renazco Racing next month to have my seat done!
I planned to attend the Death Valley 49er’s Encampment with my mom and dad November 4-8. My husband was scheduled to work, so I was going to ride my Husky out and camp with my parents. At the last minute, my husband was able to get the time off, so the plan changed a little. We considered riding our Honda CRF230L’s to Death Valley, but my husband doesn’t like to camp in the tent for more than a night or two, since we have a small camping trailer. So the final plan was for my husband to tow the trailer and haul his 230 in the back of the truck, my mom would drive their camper, I would ride my Husky SM610, and my dad would ride his TW200.
My dad is mainly a cruiser rider, and an 800 Intruder is his primary ride, but he only had his TW with him, because they were in transition from their summer home in Oregon to their winter home in California. He's even lowered his TW to feel more cruiser-like! We kind of have opposite tastes in bikes, but it's all good. He's actually talking about getting a KLR650, and I am totally encouraging him! Anyway, he assured me that the little TW could cruise at 60 mph all day, and could hit 70 for brief stints. So we set out, caravan style, and headed for the desert.
Here we are taking a break in the middle of nowhere:
It was mid-afternoon by the time we reached the National Park boundary:
And the sun was starting to set as we rolled into Stovepipe Wells:
The truck and trailer in the pic above is my husband.
We arrived in Furnace Creek just after dark. Unfortunately the campground was full, because of the 49er Encampment, and the campground host told us we could either head 15 miles to “The Slabs” (abandoned mobile home park) or ride 27 miles back to Stovepipe Wells. My dad was familiar with “The Slabs”, so we chose that option. But first we fixed some chilidogs before heading out into the night.
Here’s my bike just before we took off:
We headed up the mountain towards “The Slabs”, climbing from below sea level to 3000 ft. Watching the moonrise in the desert sky was really amazing. I wish I could have got a pic, but we were on a mission. Unfortunately we never saw any lights from other RV’s, and we rode right past “The Slabs”. At 30 miles, we reached Death Valley Junction. There was a wide turnout at the junction, and my dad announced that it was home for the night.
Here’s what it looked like the next morning:
We rode back into Furnace Creek, and luckily one rig had pulled out and we got a site. After lunch we unloaded my husband’s 230L, my mom climbed on the back of dad’s TW, and we headed for Dante’s View. Along the way, we checked out Twenty Mule Team Canyon in the Badlands. It’s the first time I’ve taken the Husky off the pavement for more than 100 yards. The road was about 3 miles long, and the Husky worked great, even with street tires.
Here I am on the Husky:
And here’s my husband on his Honda 230:
Back on the highway, we climbed to just over 5,400 ft., and the view from Dante’s View was amazing.
What happened next, caught me totally by surprise. I mounted my bike, started it up, looked down, and saw a huge gush of gas coming out the right side just in front of my leg. Thankfully I was smart enough to hit the kill switch immediately, which turned off the fuel pump and stopped the waterfall coming from my bike. I’m not sure how much gas I lost, but I realized that I could have drained my tank if I hadn’t seen it so quickly.
So I got off my bike, looked at the engine and could immediately see that the fuel line was not connected. My dad connected the two lines, but it still didn’t seem quite right. He finally gave it a really firm push and it clipped together securely. I realized that probably what happened was that when my mechanic did the valve check, he didn’t fully connect the fuel line when he put the tank back on.
When I rode through the Badlands, it probably caused it to loosen, and then when I restarted the engine at Dante’s View, the surge of gas was enough to pop the bottom half of the line free. All I can say is thank goodness it didn’t happen while I was blasting down the freeway! You can bet that I will double-check that fuel line after the next valve check! That night I sang a song, and my husband played guitar and sang harmony for me at the Coyote Howl, which was an amateur talent night. Most of the “talent” was absolutely awful, so I wasn’t too stressed about performing. I wasn’t the best, but I was far from the worst!
The next morning we went to the Hootenanny Breakfast.
To burn that all off, we hiked through Golden Canyon and took a break from riding. At one point I hiked down a different ridge than my husband and parents, and I got a neat pic of them.
Here’s the ridge I was hiking on:
As we exited the canyon, the wagons were making the final leg of their 50-mile journey to Furnace Creek:
The next day we crossed the border into Nevada on our way to the ghost town of Rhyolite:
Mercantile:
The Bottle House:
Cook Bank:
Train Depot:
Then we headed for Beatty so my husband could play a little blackjack. After he made his donation
, we headed back to camp. The next day it was time to head for home. My husband wanted me to ride in the truck with him going home, because he gets a bit bored riding alone, but I really wanted to ride home. My dad said he’d ride with me, so we both rode. About 50 miles from home, I was riding along thinking about how hard my dad rides his TW200. I hate to admit it, but he can out ride me in the twisties, and I’m the one on a hot supermoto. Of course he’s been riding for over 50 years, so obviously experience counts for a lot. He really proved to me that you don’t have to have a lot of cc’s to keep a decent pace and had fun. Anyway, I was riding along thinking about all that, when we were exiting the freeway. He pulled to the shoulder and stopped and his TW promptly died. I thought, that’s it. It’s blown up! He tried and tried to start it, and it wouldn’t run. Finally, he asked me how far we’d ridden since the last gas stop. I told him about 80 miles. He flipped it onto reserve, and it fired right up. He’d run out of gas. He’d pushed it so hard that his gas mileage had dropped like a rock.
It was really a fun trip, and my longest so far. Getting to ride it with my dad made the trip even better. Our total trip mileage was just under 700 miles. The Husky worked great and got 60mpg on the two tanks I checked. I used a sheepskin on the seat, which definitely helped, but I can tell you this…I am really looking forward to my appointment with Renazco Racing next month to have my seat done!
I was thinking that very thing last weekend when Eric was seriously trying to walk away from me on trails on his KTM640 with Conti SM street tires. I was on my 450 with knobbies and there was no way I was going to let that happen 
