Here’s how it came to pass: The Austrian design firm Kiska, which is responsible for designing motorcycles and more for KTM, organized the focus group to ask some ‘adventure riders’ in person what they would want in the next generation of adventure bikes. They happened to find me while searching the forums on ADVRider.com, where I have posted a handful of times. For example, I posted when someone started a thread called ‘What did you name your bike?’ (Padfoot), and ‘Let’s see your 1200GS’ (photo of Padfoot). And I posted several times when some guys from Hamburg wrote in on the Germany-specific forum asking for advice riding around this area.
Kiska saw my proximate location, which is self-reported as ‘the foothills of the Bavarian Alps’, so they sent me a PM – private message – through the forum, which at first glance looked a lot like spam, what with them hinting that they might like to invite me to a hotel in the Alps for a weekend event. The first thing I thought of was one of those ‘free seminars’ which amounts to trapping the unsuspecting in a conference room until they agree to buy a timeshare condo or become vitamin distributors. Happily, this was not the case. A few emails later and a little internet snooping on my part turned up the fact that Kiska is the real deal. Really real.
Tanja from Kiska interviewed me by telephone for a half-hour about my riding activities, and somehow I must have said the right things, because an email arrived soon after, verifying their invitation for me to join ten other guys for an all-expenses-paid night on June 4th at the Hotel Enzian in the Austrian Alps, on the condition that I ride there on my adventure bike, and talk to them about riding. Oh, throw me in the briar patch!
During the phone interview, Tanja asked me several times from various angles about off-road riding – which is something I don’t so much seek out as sort of happen to do when the road I’m riding turns from pavement into a tractor path or forest passage (with no signs restricting vehicular access, as one usually finds here). I relish those occasions, but they are few and far between. The fact that it had happened to me just a couple of weeks before my Kiska interview gave me a recent anecdote to relate, but I’m no off-road enthusiast by any stretch.
Other than continuing a few km on a farm or forest path, I can count on one hand the times in the last decade I’ve managed any truly non-pavement progress: there were a couple of times on Ol’ Blue in the Italian Alps at an enduro park near Passo Croce Domini, and there were the miles of fire roads that Sabo and I rode in Washington when I visited him in 2012. That’s about it. I guess if you go back far enough, I had some dirt bike experiences in the California desert several decades ago. Anyhow, I guess I mentioned enough dirt to be invited, even if in reality I’m 99.9% an asphalt dweller.
The event kicked off at 3 pm on Saturday June 4, 2016 at the Hotel Enzian in Landeck, Austria. Things got started with a meet-and-greet, which is when I first noticed how little I could understand of the thick, rolling Austrian dialect of most of attendees. There were three German guys I could understand pretty well, and fortunately, the Kiska staff of Tanja, Anita, and Christof all spoke excellent English. Some of the other attendees did, too, and were kind enough to do so with me.
Kiska saw my proximate location, which is self-reported as ‘the foothills of the Bavarian Alps’, so they sent me a PM – private message – through the forum, which at first glance looked a lot like spam, what with them hinting that they might like to invite me to a hotel in the Alps for a weekend event. The first thing I thought of was one of those ‘free seminars’ which amounts to trapping the unsuspecting in a conference room until they agree to buy a timeshare condo or become vitamin distributors. Happily, this was not the case. A few emails later and a little internet snooping on my part turned up the fact that Kiska is the real deal. Really real.
Tanja from Kiska interviewed me by telephone for a half-hour about my riding activities, and somehow I must have said the right things, because an email arrived soon after, verifying their invitation for me to join ten other guys for an all-expenses-paid night on June 4th at the Hotel Enzian in the Austrian Alps, on the condition that I ride there on my adventure bike, and talk to them about riding. Oh, throw me in the briar patch!
During the phone interview, Tanja asked me several times from various angles about off-road riding – which is something I don’t so much seek out as sort of happen to do when the road I’m riding turns from pavement into a tractor path or forest passage (with no signs restricting vehicular access, as one usually finds here). I relish those occasions, but they are few and far between. The fact that it had happened to me just a couple of weeks before my Kiska interview gave me a recent anecdote to relate, but I’m no off-road enthusiast by any stretch.
Other than continuing a few km on a farm or forest path, I can count on one hand the times in the last decade I’ve managed any truly non-pavement progress: there were a couple of times on Ol’ Blue in the Italian Alps at an enduro park near Passo Croce Domini, and there were the miles of fire roads that Sabo and I rode in Washington when I visited him in 2012. That’s about it. I guess if you go back far enough, I had some dirt bike experiences in the California desert several decades ago. Anyhow, I guess I mentioned enough dirt to be invited, even if in reality I’m 99.9% an asphalt dweller.
The event kicked off at 3 pm on Saturday June 4, 2016 at the Hotel Enzian in Landeck, Austria. Things got started with a meet-and-greet, which is when I first noticed how little I could understand of the thick, rolling Austrian dialect of most of attendees. There were three German guys I could understand pretty well, and fortunately, the Kiska staff of Tanja, Anita, and Christof all spoke excellent English. Some of the other attendees did, too, and were kind enough to do so with me.
Christof (2nd from left), Anita and Tanja from Kiska Design
The Kiska team split us into two smaller groups for a round-table discussion, where we were asked a lot of questions. The first one was, ‘What does adventure mean to you?’ I promptly fielded it with the answer, ‘Adventure is what you get when you don’t get what you wanted,’ which brought a round of laughter and cheers from the other guys at my table. I can honestly say that was the last time I had a firm grasp on the conversation. After that, there was a vociferous debate about proper adventure bikes and… well, I’m not sure what all, as trying to follow impenetrable dialects at the table sank my ship of comprehension. Sorry, but input like that simply overwhelms the processing capacity of my brain’s language module.
After the meeting, Christof offered to lead us out on a group ride, but I, and most of the others, declined to go on the ride due to the pouring rain. Adventure is one thing, senselessness another.
The evening dinner was another one of those German-language events which strain my abilities. Fortunately, I sat next to Christof and was able to chat a bit in English some of the time. After dinner we were herded into a small meeting room for slides and presentations from each of the attendees. We had all been asked to send over 5 photos from a memorable trip before the event; I picked that trip to visit Sabo in 2012.
As they went around the room asking the guys to explain their photos and tell the story of that trip, it became apparent I was in the company of some major badass round-the-world (RTW) adventure riders. ‘My buddy and I went to the North Cape of Norway. Twice, actually. Once in summer, and once in winter. Here are the pictures of the winter trip – 4000 kilometers on ice and snow, with temperatures down to minus 38. We wanted to see the polar lights.” Then, “My girlfriend and I rode enduros from Morocco to South Africa down the west coast of Africa. We got delayed at one border and had to wait a week for our visas, during which time the rainy season began. The roads turned to mud and swarms of mosquitos came out.” And, “Rode from Alaska to Mexico, camping all the way. Up north, the blackflies were horrible and the wolves in the forest worried me at night.” “I shipped my bike to New Zealand and spent four weeks riding around both islands. My friend injured his shoulder so I was on my own the whole first week of riding. Here I am on a glacier.” “My girlfriend and I went off-road through Romania, Bulgaria, and the Balkans.” “I rode from Germany to Baghdad.” The room was positively bristling with Adventure Riding badassery.
When my turn came, in my best low-intermediate German, I told the story of how I’d gone to the States to celebrate my 50th birthday with my best friend Jeff Sabo, the happiest man I know, who has a nice collection of adventure bikes, and we rode them all. I rode to the Pacific Ocean where the Columbia River flows into it under the Astoria Bridge 5 kilometers across, rode the Klickitat Canyon wilderness area in Washington with trees as far as the eye can see and volcanos in the background, the miles and miles of lonely gravel fire roads with no cell phone signal or help nearby if you crash. I emphasized the off-road parts of the riding, without mentioning that we managed to make it back to civilization every night for sustenance and re-hydration therapy in the pubs of Portland. Not very badass, but plenty fun, and quite memorable. At least it involved going to another continent.
Here are the pictures I showed them:
Jeff's collection of Adventure Bikes ( there are 2 more bikes you don't see)
Klickitat Wilderness Area fire roads
Pristine mountain lake, woods as far as the eye can see
Suavie Island with a view to the Willamette River
SE Washington, Mt. Adams in the background, traffic state zero
The presentations finally wrapped up around 10:30 pm and we all headed to bar for some much needed fresh air and liquid refreshment. I complimented several of my peers on their RTW achievements, and, perhaps a little too defensively, pointed out that I had, after all, moved 10,000 km from my home in southern California expressly to go motorcycling in the Alps and wallow in the camaraderie of the European moto-culture, and that every ride I take – indeed, every time I leave my house – I’m in a foreign country with a foreign culture and a foreign language. That should count as being adventury, shouldn’t it? Do I really have to suffer mosquitoes, wolves, and mud to count it an adventure? My new friends politely agreed, and changed the subject. I sulkily drank one more beer than I needed to, and headed for bed.
Don't be fooled - these guys are badass Adventure Riders
Next morning after breakfast the Kiska crew took us one by one out to our motorbikes for a personal interview. Anita invited me to go first at 8:00, which I was happy to do so that I could get on the road and be home by lunchtime. She asked me lots of questions about how I’d customized the bike, what I want and don’t want in a bike, ergonomic preferences, the luggage system, and a lot more I don’t remember now. She also asked me to explain my riding gear – a pet topic of mine, you know – and I was happy to expound, though I’m pretty sure I didn’t make a lot of sense. I’m not good at pop quizzes. I would have given better answers if they had thought to send me the questions a week in advance.
Hotel Enzian bar has various pics of bikes, & one of a helicopter. Yay helicopters!
The interview went on for the better part of an hour, at which time Anita patted my arm and said, ‘Well I think you’re an adventure rider.” Aww, shucks. Glad I qualify, Anita.
I was thanked for my participation, dismissed, and invited to take a KTM backpack as a parting gift. I scampered off to my room to pack and gear up, check out of the hotel, and load the bike. I bid everyone farewell and headed off in the rain around 9:30. I managed to forget my free backpack.
I discovered to my abundant pleasure that if you want to ride on empty roads in the Austrian Alps, go riding in pouring rain at 9:30 on a Sunday morning. All my gear is Gore-Tex lined, so the rain is hardly bothersome, and the empty roads magnificent. A sunny day with lots of traffic isn’t necessarily an improvement. Kudos to the Michelin Pilot Road 4 Trail tires that have seemingly unlimited grip in the wet.
Roadside view towards Landeck under threatening skies on Saturday
So, am I an Adventure Rider? I’d kinda thought I was, at least in my own way. But after thinking about it, I realized the problem isn’t with my answer, it's with the question. It’s the No True Scotsman fallacy all over again – there’s always going to be someone out there who, no matter what you do, keeps moving the goalposts. He'll say, “He’s no true Adventure Rider. A true Adventure Rider rides on knobby tires, sleeps in the dirt, and eats roadkill cooked on the hot motor,” or some such crap.
Think of all the times you’ve heard it: Real pilots fly taildraggers. Real sailors sail in salt water. Real rock guitarists use Marshall amps. Real beer drinkers drink Guinness. Real jazz fans understand Mingus. Real runners don’t quit when their knees hurt, they run through the pain. (I fail on all these tests.) Are you a real adventure rider? It sounds to me like little more than a marketing ploy to get you to buy the bike so that you can claim the title, whether or not you have adventure in your heart.
Here is Triumph selling "The Best Equipment for Real Adventurers" to the German-speaking market
I know the argument, I heard it over the weekend: to the serious RTW rider, a guy on an adventure bike that doesn’t leave the pavement is like a guy in a Land Rover that doesn’t leave the city, who simply wants to be seen as adventuresome. But that analogy fails on a crucial point: It’s not what he drives -- it’s that the city guy stays put in his comfortable world, making the same stops around the same routes. And what is the meaning of adventure, after all, if it’s not pushing outside your personal zone of comfort, of exploring the world outside your usual orbit just to discover what’s there, to see what you’ll see, to meet who you’ll meet? You don’t need an ‘Adventure Bike’ or need be an ‘Adventure Rider’ to do that. You just need to do it. Adventure comes from your heart, not your equipment.
So thanks Anita, but it’s okay with me if I’m not a real Adventure Rider in the eyes of the marketing department, or anyone else. In fact, I’m satisfied just being a rider of any kind.
Now, let’s go riding!
