There are two ends of the exploration spectrum for motorcycle riders. You can hop on and go where the front wheel points, or meticulously plan a route and let the navigation guide you through every turn. I’m a map and memory guy. I pore over maps, log the roads in my memory, and pull them up as needed.
Sometimes, those roads germinate in my head for decades. 9 Mine Canyon Road and Sherman Pass Road, linking U.S. Route 395 near Pearsonville and Mountain Highway 99 at the Johnsondale Bridge over the Kern River, was one such route. I saw it on maps and contemplated the ride over and over.
Sherman Pass is a challenging ride logistically. You have a 90-mile gap between reliable gas stations, and a climb from an elevation of 2150 feet at Pearsonville to 9200 feet at Sherman Pass in the High Sierras’ Sequoia National Forest. Snow blocks the way in the winter, and temperatures at each end are in high triple digits in the summer. Also, the road twists and turns almost the entire way, so fuel is rapidly consumed.
Dual sport bikes are out due to small fuel tanks. Touring bikes are doable, but the condition of the roads makes them less than ideal. It’s a route seemingly made for adventure bikes, and that’s why I did it on a BMW F 900 GS. It has the fuel capacity to make it without breaking a sweat, and the mid-size GS can handle all the imperfections the roads throw its way.
I enjoyed the epic ride so much that, decades after my first ride on it, I returned with Associate Editors Kelly Callan on a Moto Morini SCR Trek and Jess McKinley on his personal BMW R 1200 GS Adventure to do it again a month later. As I expected, they loved it.
This spring, I tackled another road I had viewed longingly on a map and from both termini—Breckenridge Road. No, it’s not in Colorado. It is a route in the Sequoia National Forest from Comanche Drive on the eastern outskirts of Bakersfield, California, to the incredible Caliente Bodfish Road near, well, not much. Okay, it’s 12 miles south of Lake Isabella, if that helps.
While there’s gas at the Bakersfield end, you don’t get more fuel until Lake Isabella. That’s a 47-mile gap between Shell stations, with a climb from 2600 feet at Comanche Drive to 7100 feet above sea level at Breckenridge Campground. Like Sherman Pass, adventure bikes are the sweet spot for the ruggedly paved route with a couple of short dirt sections.
The first warm spring day sent me up the road on a KTM 790 Adventure shod with dirt-favoring Dunlop Trailmax Raid tires. Fully gassed and nicely warm, I was set for an adventure.
Happily, Breckenridge Road did not disappoint. It starts from Comanche Drive as a two-lane road that you can make good time on. Everything was green as it sweeps up into the southern end of the Sierra Nevadas. You want to be careful, as it’s open range, and cattle are on the road. While some pay you no mind, others are skittish—be gentle on the throttle when passing.
As you climb higher, the centerline vanishes, and vehicles from both directions share the narrow pavement. With plenty of blind corners, caution is key. As Shakespeare’s Falstaff put it, “The better part of valour is discretion, in the which better part I have saved my life.” Stupid moves get no mercy here, with help miles away.
Riding up the mountains, I passed a ranch and the only other vehicle on the road that weekday—a work pickup truck. I waved. They waved. A faded sign assured me that the road was open ahead, though it never occurred to me that it might not be. Had I planned ahead and inquired with the local officials? No.
Nearing the Breckenridge Road’s highest point, I spotted patches of snow scattered around, with the temperature plunging from the low 90s to the low 50s. Suddenly, I rounded a corner and faced a snow-covered road. At that moment, I had to decide: head back 30 miles down the road or soldier on through the snow?
Even though I was riding alone and probably should have made a U-turn, I gave it a shot in the shallow snow. I put the KTM into Rally Pro, reminded myself of the Dunlop Trailmax Raid tires, and went for it. The snow section was short and not too deep, giving way to wet mud. I made it, which put a smile on my face. What I thought would be a casual ride had some spice ready for me.
A bit later, I made my way over the ridge and had a view of the Walker Basin and my destination—Caliente Bodfish Road.
I was triumphantly making my way down the steep switchback road. About a third of the way down, I came around a corner and saw a closed gate in the distance. What? This explains the lack of opposing traffic.
I ride up, and the gate is not just closed—it’s locked. From the other side, there was a sign announcing its closure due to fire damage, which I rode through, and snow, which I also rode through. Great. I’m about 35 miles into a 36-mile ride at this point.
I scouted any bypasses around the gate, and there are ways around on both sides—if you have a dual-sport bike. On the KTM 790 Adventure, with its guppy-style fuel tanks, there just wasn’t enough clearance to slip through.
My attempt on the uphill side came up about six inches short, and the Dunlop Trailmax Raid dug a hole. More digging allowed me to wrestle the KTM back down to the pavement, and I had to concede defeat.
If Jess had been with me, he would have charged up the hillside, performed a flawless floating turn, and the gate would have been a minor inconvenience. Instead, he was back at his office, and I was on my own.
Despite the disappointment of having to turn around and retrace 35 miles of riding, the road was great in the opposite direction. The snow and mud were still tricky, yet not hard enough to cause me any anxiety. I had this, as the KTM and Dunlops did their job bolstering my confidence.
The Sherman Pass ride taught me a lesson—don’t just dream about the road ahead. Stop longingly staring at map lines or road signs. Do your homework, ensure your bike’s ready, and then hit the throttle—chase the adventure now!
