There’s no finer teacher of humility than a Suzuki DR-Z400s and a sudden September snowfall. Our grand 1,131-mile dual-sport ride through Idaho, Washington, and Oregon began with optimism, a questionable motel coffee, and a Travelodge room in Hawthorne that had seen better decades. Riggins welcomed us with the Salmon River’s charm, and Elk City offered frontier hospitality with a side of “Watch out for bears.” Pierce, boasting a hotel named The Outback, did its best impression of Australia — minus the kangaroos and plus a suspicious number of pickup trucks. Wallace dazzled with its mining-town grit, while Sandpoint served up crisp mountain air and a gentle reminder that snow doesn’t negotiate. Faced with a sky full of flakes and tires ill-equipped for winter's ambition, we made a hasty retreat south to Clarkston, where the RiverTree Inn provided refuge and hot showers. Ontario greeted us once more with the comforting hum of a Quality Inn ice machine, and soon we were back through Hawthorne, with our pride slightly frosted but our spirits still warm. As for the snow? Well, it won that round — but the Suzuki’s still ready for a rematch

If there’s one thing a Suzuki DR-Z400s excels at, it’s making a man feel both free and foolish in equal measure — and on this 1,930-mile ride through Montana and Wyoming, I sampled a healthy dose of both. We started with the customary ritual of loading the bikes like pack mules and pretending we knew what we were doing. From Saint George to Vernal, the truck hummed along obediently, blissfully unaware of the abuse its occupants were about to endure. Lyman greeted us with a stiff Wyoming breeze — perfect for testing the aerodynamic properties of a rider clinging to a dual-sport like a windswept scarecrow. Alpine Junction offered the scenic serenity of mountains and rivers, while Arco contributed a fine selection of sunburn and road dust. Dillon and Ennis provided beds that didn’t quite squeak in protest, and Red Lodge’s Quality Inn lived up to half its name. Sheridan offered comfort, but only after convincing us that one rest day is never enough — especially when the saddle’s been working harder than a ranch hand on branding day. Ten Sleep and Lander reminded us that small-town charm often comes with large-town breakfast portions. Eventually, we looped back to Vernal, where the truck awaited us like an old dog, happy to see we hadn’t perished. Back to Saint George we went, sunburned, saddle-sore, and grinning like fools — the kind of fools who would do it all over again at the first hint of an open road.

If you’ve never saddled up an Africa Twin and pointed it toward the Pacific, let me tell you — it’s like straddling a two-wheeled buffalo that thinks it’s a gazelle. On this 4,027-mile jaunt up the West Coast, we galloped from the Danish pastries of Solvang to the foggy cliffs of Monterey, chased the ocean breeze through Rohnert Park, and wrestled with a headwind in Fort Bragg that had opinions on our choice of speed. Arcata smelled of salt and sawdust, while Gold Beach introduced us to the fine sport of dodging coastal mist. Reedsport and Newport proved the Oregon Coast serves up scenery with a side of questionable roadside coffee. Aberdeen had all the charm of a damp sock, but Sequim made up for it with the sort of hospitality that only comes from people who know the value of a dry jacket. Raymond and Florence taught us that every small town has at least one man with an opinion on motorcycle tires, and Crescent City assured us that “Best” in a Best Western is an optimistic claim. Garberville and Gualala boasted redwoods that reached higher than our hopes for a clean windshield. By the time we reached Santa Maria and Gilroy, we were road-weary but grinning — because no trip is complete without a last-minute debate on whether the chain was supposed to sound like that. Back in San Diego, we unpacked the dust, stories, and one particularly stubborn granola bar from the depths of a saddlebag, already scheming the next grand adventure.

2019 Northern AZ Southern UT June Bug

June, 2019, we tore through 2,800 miles of Northern Arizona and Southern Utah, mostly off-road, on a 14-day figure-8 odyssey (I’m a pro at those!). Remote canyons, mining ruins, and fun two-tracks unfurled across forests, green meadows, sparse deserts, and red rock country. We rode the AZBDR north from Flagstaff, overlapped 40 miles of the UTBDR, and stitched the rest ourselves. Snow blocked one track, a washout another, but the rest? Pure gold—comfortable to hot, rarely a soul in sight.

As told by Mrs Knobby -- We’re San Diego-based nomads now, having roamed the U.S., hooked on exploring this big, wild world. We met post-college at work—him a hotshot dirt bike racer with a fire-breathing 500. I couldn’t resist. I invited myself on a ride, never having touched a bike. One spin and I was addicted. A friend’s beat-up Suzuki TS100 became mine—no license, just guts. Our first date? An enduro. Timekeeping? Clueless. Engagement brought a CR125 with gold rims—his way to my heart. Decades of forests, deserts, and mountains followed, from two-strokes to thumpers, street bikes to KLRs. Alaska, Copper Canyon, the Continental Divide—sporty bikes gathered dust as dual-sporting stole us back to dirt. Here’s our June Bug tale, skipping Day 1’s slog.

Day 2: Blythe, CA to Wickenburg, AZ – 165 Miles

North of Quartzsite, paved Palomas Road crossed desert to a pass where a rough two-track north tempted—future fodder. Tiny Bouse led to dirt Swansea Road (not the mine one), linking to Lincoln Ranch Road’s pipeline rollercoaster—biggest climb last, woo-hoo! Two-tracks, pavement, and gravel hit Wayside Restaurant near Alamo Lake—closed, but a caretaker’s ice water saved us. He tipped us to a giant saguaro two-track—check. Dirt Alamo Road (aka Wickenburg Road) played highway with surprises, narrowing to fun near Hwy 60. Wickenburg’s Best Western—quiet, big rooms, pool, solid breakfast—nailed it.

Day 3: Wickenburg to Kingman, AZ – 175 Miles

Scenic Loop’s dirt fed a weaving two-track past Stanton ghost town to wide dirt, climbing to Hillside. My first gila monster (well, second—first was a hermit named Gila). Twisty Hwys 96 and 97 sang; Burro Creek Road turned epic—ordinary dirt to rough, narrow, steep jeep trail, soft edges daring us near drop-offs. Terrain? Meh. Road? A kick. Gas and Trading Post lunch in Wikieup fueled us; Cholla Canyon Ranch Road paralleled Big Sandy River valley 25 miles to Blake Ranch Road—ridge-high, steep Hualapai foothills rollercoaster. Kingman’s Best Western Wayfarer’s Inn (not the other BW) and a pricey-but-shareable Indian meal with naan capped it.

Day 4: Kingman to Flagstaff, AZ – 190 Miles

I-40 to Love’s for gas and snacks—navigator (me) botched a turn, forgetting OSM’s routable maps don’t spoon-feed like Garmin’s fat arrows. No biggie, just self-annoyance. Hwy 93 south to Knight Creek Road’s 20-mile gem climbed flowering desert, narrowing and roughening along a creek—loved it, no pics (typical). A sailboat marked the end—huh? I-40 and dirt frontage roads hit Seligman; Route 66 and I-40 reached Ash Fork’s Ranch House Cafe lunch with locals. Hwy 89 south to Nf-4’s forest turned chunky—rocky bear, not car-friendly—prepped by AZBDR’s Mormon Lake. Nice forest roads followed; I-40 zipped us to Flagstaff’s cozy Best Western, Chinese dinner a win.

Day 5: Flagstaff to Page, AZ – 195 Miles

AZBDR kicked off 17 miles north—scenic, fun, rocky, empty bliss. Tusayan Ruins and Museum at Grand Canyon (free, no exit fees) charmed. Cameron’s gas, McAlister’s Deli lunch, and Navajo permits (future-dated) prepped us. Hwy 89 droned; paved Copper Mine Road offered quieter scenery. Page’s Rodeway Inn—far parking, breakfast included—worked; Fiesta Mexicana fed us well.

Day 6: Page, AZ to Escalante, UT – 95 Miles

Smoky Mountain Road into Grand Staircase-Escalante (no fee) stretched 75 remote miles—gas up, no bailouts. One truck, one ATV in 65 miles. Underground coal seams smoked; steep, sandy, rock-slabbed climbs hit Kaiparowits Plateau’s leveling, then wound drainages. Serenity Natural Bridge trail missed—next time. Ghostly ancient art haunted me. Circle D Motel’s quiet and restaurant-bar combo shone; a new bar nearby dulled with shuffleboard noise.

Day 7: Escalante to Torrey, UT – 140 Miles

Escalante Outfitters Cafe’s quiche fueled us; Hwy 12’s twisty marvel led to Boulder gas. Burr Trail’s halfway mark hit Wolverine Loop Road—good red rock, canyon trails, dry Silver Falls detour. Moody Creek Road looped back; Burr Trail switchbacks (KLR nerves ’06, DRZ ease ’19) met sandy Notom-Bullfrog Road’s Waterpocket Fold in Capitol Reef. UT 24’s Fruita petroglyphs mourned lost orchards. Torrey’s Chuckwagon Motel—grocery, cafe, laundromat next door—paired with Red Cliff Restaurant’s basics.

Day 8: Torrey to Price, UT – 185 Miles

Grocery cafe breakfast sent us to Caineville Wash Road—colorful, winding, empty but for cyclists. Cathedral Valley’s Temple of the Sun gifted a quarter; gypsum sinkholes and black ridges wowed. Baker Ranch Road/Last Chance Road’s deep ruts tested us; Muddy Creek’s lone bridge surprised. Green patches and BLM 635’s dry South Salt Wash crossings hit two-track BLM 6792—ravine-crossing blast, capped by the Mother of All Ravines. Hubby powered my DRZ through; Dutch Flat Road eased to Ferron’s Firepit Restaurant golf course lunch—huge sandwiches. Price’s Holiday Inn Express and Winger’s dinner closed it.

Day 9: Price to Green River, UT – 135 Miles

UTBDR’s 40 miles roamed ranchland and desert—Buckhorn Draw washed out, skipped. Wedge Overlook out-n-back echoed my ’04 dirt bike days—better camera now. Busy pictographs, flowing San Rafael River, then south to I-70 and a good dirt road to Green River. Ray’s Tavern burgers broke our rule; a DRZ-riding local gabbed bikes. America’s Best Value Inn and Tamarisk Restaurant river dinner sealed it.

Day 10: Green River to Torrey, UT – 140 Miles

Dirt backtrack, I-70 to unmarked Black Dragon Pictographs—vandal scars cursed. Buckhorn Draw/Temple Mountain south past locals and Temple Mountain (penny found) stunned; a narrow canyon from ’04 slipped memory. Rough tracks turned us back; UT 24 skipped Goblin Valley fees—hoodoos peeked. Hanksville’s Duke’s Slickrock Grill lunch led to Capitol Reef’s Behunin Cabin.

Day 11: Torrey to Kanab, UT – 230 Miles

Snow and high creeks nixed Pleasant Creek Road; paved UT 12 climbed snowy mountains—stunning. Tropic’s gas and lunch locals warned of Skutumpah Road’s washout. Steep climbs, Bull Valley Gorge’s dicey crossing—narrow strip, deep drop—turned us back. Bryce-Hatch detour hit Alton’s lush valley and coal mine bustle; county roads rolled ranchland to Kanab’s quirky Best Western. Pizza dinner fought heat outside, noise inside—earplugs next time.

Day 12: Kanab, UT to Page, AZ – 130 Miles

Fredonia to dirt Winter Road—smooth, then rough, steep, rocky to Vermilion Cliffs—condor country, temple luck holding. Lees’ Ferry mining ruins and Marble Canyon lunch preceded a closed Powell Museum. Steer 89 Steakhouse’s excellence fed us.

Day 13: Page, AZ to Flagstaff, AZ – 180 Miles

After a quiet night at Page’s Rodeway Inn, we shook off the stale breakfast vibes—granola bars don’t cut it—and pointed the DRZs south on Hwy 89. The plan? Hit the AZBDR through the Navajo Reservation. I’d braced for flat, sandy ugliness—think endless grit and heat—but boy, was I wrong. Once we ditched the highway for dirt, the two-track came alive, weaving and rolling past washes, hills, and buttes. Higher elevation kicked in—greener, cooler, a world apart from the highway’s blah strip. I couldn’t stop grinning; this was my kind of surprise.

Smoke from a Utah forest fire smudged the horizon, but closer in, the Little Colorado River glittered. We paused there, swapping stories with two English riders on rentals—cheeky accents, big grins, same dirt lust. From the highway, it’s “meh”—a dull tease—but out here, it’s magic. Lunch at Cameron Trading Post sealed it: club sandwiches so huge we split one, marveling at a Navajo silversmith pic on the wall—Spanish-taught craft, centuries deep. The drone down Hwy 89 to Flagstaff dragged, but mountains loomed, promising relief. Best Western’s small room worked; Golden Dragon dinner hummed with a Chinese tour bus crowd. They tucked us in a quiet corner—maybe “Nosebleed Lady” vibes?—and the food still rocked.

Day 14: Flagstaff to Wickenburg, AZ – 190 Miles

Flagstaff’s Best Western breakfast fueled us—better than Page’s sad offering. We bolted onto Woody Mountain Road, dirt unfurling past lovely meadows, the San Francisco Peaks peeking through pines. Northwest on Nf-530, ruts chewed the path—I dodged mud like a pro, grinning at my own route-picking pride. Rocky stretches followed; I loved it, even if my bias shows. We wove through Kaibab National Forest on a mix of good and rough roads—Nf-354 west taunted, but heat and time killed it. Perkinsville Road to Chino Valley was the dream, but 190 miles loomed, so Hwy 89 it was.

Gas and lunch in Chino Valley—a quick deli stop—kept us rolling. Williamson to Tonto Road offered a nice hill-hugging cruise to Skull Valley, but no photogenic skulls or vistas begged a stop. Wickenburg’s Super 8 on the north end greeted us—fine, cheaper than Best Western, breakfast just okay. Denny’s dinner was standard fare, but after a day of dust and pavement, it hit the spot. We crashed early, plotting the final push.

Day 15: Wickenburg, AZ to Blythe, CA – 170 Miles

Super 8’s breakfast was meh—coffee and a muffin—but Vulture Mine Road south woke us up, dirt Aguila Road northwest promising more. It rolled fine until haul trucks rumbled from a mine, nixing our two-track detour plan—too much traffic, too little peace. We stuck to Aguila, hitting paved Eagle Eye Road—locals zipped by, a reminder to watch our backs. A stint on I-10 to Vicksburg exit scored gas, then south to Kofa National Wildlife Refuge’s pipeline road. Past trips’ pics flashed in my mind—rugged, lonely, perfect. Heat cranked to 105°F, a toasty farewell.

Blythe’s Best Western, our go-to, loomed like an oasis. Lunch at my favorite Mexican joint—spicy, fresh, soul-soothing—revived us; Sizzler dinner capped it with a toast to 2,300 miles of glory. Forests, deserts, canyons, and two-tracks danced in our heads—variety and scenery that wowed. Re-living it through photos and this tale keeps it sharp before memory fades. Thanks for riding along.

The End.

Well, we saddled up the 2017 Suzuki DR-Z400s like a couple of desert desperadoes, ready to conquer 2,445 miles of sun, dust, and highly questionable decisions. Palm Desert kicked things off with heat that could fry an egg on a cactus. Blythe welcomed us back like an old uncle—loud, uncomfortable, and slightly suspicious. Buckeye, Arizona, offered a Holiday Inn with a mattress so soft it practically apologized for existing. Prescott, with its Prescottonian charm, made us feel sophisticated until we tried pronouncing "Prescottonian" with a mouthful of jerky. Phoenix Anthem was neither a song nor a celebration, but they did have waffles. Globe was a town that somehow managed to be both hot and colder than reasonable science would allow. Mammoth’s Lodge boasted one of the finest motel carpets to have ever witnessed boot dust and bike grease. Tombstone had us thinking we were Wyatt Earp, but the closest we came to a shootout was wrestling with a stubborn motel vending machine. Patagonia treated us like royalty — if royalty were two sunburned fools smelling faintly of gas fumes. Kearny and Young reminded us that Arizona isn’t just a state, it’s a test of human resilience. Sedona tried to soothe us with red rocks and overpriced coffee, while Cottonwood’s Super 8 lowered our standards to subterranean levels. Wickenburg Ranch called us back with a "grande" in its name and an attitude to match. By the time we stumbled into Blythe once more, we’d learned the desert has a way of humbling a person — but not enough to keep us from plotting our next great misadventure.

The California and Nevada backcountry discovery routes unfolded like a desert dream on our Suzuki DR-Z400s, where each twist and turn revealed more of the rugged beauty these states have to offer. From the scorching heat of Blythe, we cruised through Needles and Shoshone, feeling the weight of the sun on our backs as we tackled endless dirt trails. The remote roads led us to Beatty, Nevada, where we made two pit stops at the quirky Exchange Club Motel, before venturing through Lone Pine’s stunning views of Mount Whitney. From Bishop’s quiet charm to Tonopah’s vintage flair at the Mizpah Hotel, we navigated the backcountry with grit and determination, before ending our journey in Primm, where we tested our luck in the casino and soaked in the last of the desert’s wildness. By the time we rolled into San Diego, we had covered 1,890 miles of desert, mountains, and unforgettable memories.

The Knobbys - Boppin’ in the Desert (SoCal, Western AZ & SoNev)

In January 2019, we loaded up our DRZs, strapped on fresh knobbies, and set out for a 10-day, 1,480-mile off-road odyssey through Southern California, Western Arizona, and Southern Nevada. Two-tracks, wagon roads, pipelines, powerlines—dirt, rocks, sand, and more sand—tested us amid stunning, lonely landscapes. We pieced together our own routes, nabbed some “Mojave 1000” tracks from ADV Inmate wbbnm, borrowed from Rocky Mountain ATV’s “Hooked on Phoenix,” and dipped into the CABDR. Balmy days were rare; most were cold. Here’s how we bopped through the desert.

Day 1: San Diego Area to Palm Desert, CA

We kicked off scuffing new tires on paved twisties through hills and canyons, climbing to Valley Center before dropping steeply on Old Cole Grade to Hwy 76. Then came Nate Harrison Grade—a rough, muddy haul up Palomar Mountain’s southwest flank. Snow at nearly 6,000 feet froze my fingers; the north side’s greenery mocked the dry south. Descending east, we dodged potential black ice—no sport bikes carving corners today. Warner Springs’ “open” bar & grill was closed (thanks, winter hours), so granola bars saved us. Indian Flat’s 7-mile one-lane rollercoaster and the sandy, rocky California Riding and Hiking Trail (CRHT) thrilled us. A parallel two-track tempted, but erosion said no. Santa Rosa Mountain Road climbed steeply—rocky, then muddy with fresh snow above—so we bailed and dropped Hwy 74’s long shadows into civilized Palm Desert.

Day 2: Palm Desert, CA to Parker, AZ

Joshua Tree National Park’s northern wilds called. From I-10’s Dillon Road exit, Fargo Canyon turned dirt, linking to Aqueduct Road near a trash-strewn shooting range—old TVs met their maker here. Rocky, then sandy, then sandy-with-rocks stretched for miles—my sand-riding crash course. Face your fears: stay on the gas! No Joshua Trees, just sparse blooms and solitude. Old Dale Road climbed rough, rocky steps past mining relics and art-splashed tanks, exiting the park into more sand. Lunch at Twentynine Palms’ Las Palmas—a monster Chile Verde burrito—fueled us for a 110-mile Hwy 62 dash to Parker as daylight faded. The Best Western welcomed us, but a bathtub flood from upstairs soaked our bathroom and saddlebags. Towels mopped it up; a yard-sale spread dried my gear. “We could’ve used the dryer,” they said. For leather gloves and an electric vest? Nope. Discount: stingy.

Day 3: Parker, AZ to Wickenburg, AZ

Remote bliss west of Parker awaited. Shea Road started paved, turned easy dirt, then hit Swansea Mine Road—colorful basin, rougher drops, and mining ghosts: shafts, tunnels, smelter ruins. The “little pipeline trail” was a two-track blast—updownupdown—crossing gullies with ruts and steep wash plunges. Google Earth scouting paid off; exits hid up washes. The “big pipeline road” upped the ante: steeper, rockier hills, a bypass skirting the Mother of All Hills (no pic—doh!). Clouds wowed us as we rolled Old Alamo Road’s sandy arroyos to Wayside Bar & Grill for a burger. Alamo Road’s Joshua Tree forests and sandy dips led to Wickenburg’s comfy Best Western. Bar 7’s Mexican pizza? Three-time winner.

Day 4: Wickenburg to Kingman, AZ

New two-tracks beckoned. A cruiser snuggled my bike overnight—empty lot, really?—but we escaped north on Rincon Road. Mining contamination signs and glowing cholla lined the way. Stanton Hall’s washouts and windmills rolled past; Stanton’s ghost town hid in an RV park. Hwy 89 to Hillside was sleepy, prickly pears blanketed hills. Paved 96 twisted 3D-style—no pullouts, just fun. Seventeen Mile Road climbed 1,000 feet west of Hwy 93—rollercoaster heaven with bridge views. Signal and Coyote Wells Roads flaunted giant saguaros, then a Joshua Tree sea. Chicken Springs Road’s 4,300-foot pass and Cane Springs Ranch Road’s dips landed us in Kingman. Best Western Wayfarer’s Inn delivered; the Indian restaurant overcharged for killer naan and curry—worth it.

Day 5: Kingman, AZ to Boulder City, NV

Coldest morning yet—pipes warmed numb hands on Hwy 60. Antares Road’s flat dirt led to a vineyard shock at Pierce Ferry Road—gas topped us off. Gregg’s Hideout passed Burned Mill’s graves and mill ruins, fresh diggings hinting at treasure hunters. Gold Basin Road’s two-tracks rolled easy, climbing through a burn to a Joshua Tree forest and a 4,500-foot pass—snow-capped Panamints winked northwest. Sand washes taught me the middle’s compact line. Hwy 93’s bypass detour (GPS fail) spat us into Boulder City early. A rough two-track southeast hit a Colorado River viewpoint—campsite potential, steep drop included. Best Western’s muffins disappointed, but dinner next door rocked.

Day 6: Boulder City, NV to Bullhead City, NV

Short miles, big fun. Hwy 95 to 165 passed a steamboat sign and solar fields. A canyon “road” started rocky, eased into a gem, popping out at Nelson’s mining hamlet—shafts barely fenced. Nelson Cutoff switchbacked over a ridge, river views teasing a tower climb for next time. A powerline road turned epic—hills, ruts, rocks, and river peeks. Empire Wash Road’s 8 miles of sandy rocks and canyons tested us; Christmas Tree Pass’s scenic wilderness run dropped us to Hwy 163. IHOP lunch and Bullhead City’s Days Inn beat Laughlin’s casinos. Humbertos’ greasy Mexican fare under bright lights and soccer hum was a win.

Day 7: Bullhead City to Primm, NV – 130

Mojave Preserve two-track heaven, thanks to wbbnm’s “Mojave 1000” tracks. Laughlin gas, then a sandy pipeline road linked to Mojave Road—hardpack to sand with wash dips. Fort Piute’s rocky ruins turned us back; a powerline road north rolled easy. First two-track: 17 miles of weaving bliss past mining grates and mills. Second: rolling to flat, then 3 miles of sandbox hell—sand-weary relief hit Black Canyon Road. Hole-in-the-Wall’s wild rock formations and rungs awed us. Cedar Canyon, Kelso Cima, and Ivanpah Roads—rut-pounded but JT-lined—landed us at Primm Valley Casino. Remodeled room, stirrup headboards (decorative, sure), and quiet vibes.

Day 8: Primm, NV to Needles, NV

CABDR time—cold and windy. From Whiskey Pete’s lot, dirt skirted Ivanpah Dry Lake to Colosseum Road’s 3,000-foot, 6-mile climb—15-20% grades, relentless rocks. Hubby’s DRZ overheated; we skipped the mine pit, craving descent. A rocky, sandy wash eased us down, ruins below. A powerline road slogged south; Cima Road’s gentle two-track cruise soothed us through Joshua Trees. New York Mountain Road’s easy sand and wash drop fed us to Ivanpah and Lanfair Roads—storm damage noted. Goffs’ schoolhouse was locked; a sandy powerline detour flopped. Hwy 95 and I-40 hit Needles’ Best Western—coupon breakfast next door sealed it.

Days 9-10: Needles to Palm Desert to San Diego Area

Rain cut two days short—Utah, Arizona, now here. Cold, wet pavement home was a soggy end, but 1,480 miles of desert boppin’ before El Niño struck? Victory. Knobbies held, sand skills grew, and remote beauty filled us up. Thanks for riding along.

The End.