Learning to Ride at the Catskills: My Story
The author is all smiles after completing the off-road school.
Kathy shows decent form as she goes through the off-road course.
The light rains have stopped and it is time for class to begin.
George and Kathy at the 2009 Colors in the Catskills.
The author discusses proper technique with a BMW instructor.
The class included techniques on lifting a bike.
"Hmm, do I really want to be doing this? The lodge looks so warm and dry from here..."
The author got the last spot in the morning session for the Team MAX off-road class.
Kathy lets some air out of her tires before class.
Web Extra - Learning to Ride at the Catskills: My Story
By Katherine Arculeo #127149, Photos: Jim Soque and George Lentini
(This is an extended web-extra version of the article from Pages 73-75 of the January 2010 BMW Owners News)
My first-ever BMW Rally. Color in the Catskills. October 2-4. Riding in group formation. Me, the only woman. I-84W to Taconic North. Going how fast? Are you kidding? I just began riding in traffic a couple of months ago. I knew I had my work cut out for me...
As a teenager, I used to ride two-up with boyfriends. Back in the 1970s, it was the cool thing to do, with my long brown hair flying in the wind from under my helmet, and my shoulders glistening in the warm, summer sun. Aside from the helmet, jeans and close-toed shoes were the extent of my protective gear. Besides, at 17 I was exempt from society's laws of logic. My father would have died if he knew...
The next three decades were challenging, but not as daring. Raising my son as a single-mom, attending adult education classes in the evenings to complete my bachelor's degree, and advancing my career all but replaced the memories of the carefree lifestyle I had enjoyed as a teen. However, with my 50th birthday quickly approaching, I decided it was time to find a better balance between responsibility and freedom. After making several life-style changes, I soon met a very special man, George, who had the same lust for life that I did. We spent much of our first summer together riding two-up, our favorite among many outdoor activities. Gosh, I felt like a teenager again. I was amazed that riding on the back of a motorcycle more than 30 years later would give me the same thrill I had once known. As the summer was drawing to an end, George suggested that I take a rider safety course to obtain my own license. I thought, "Well, I've got nothing to lose. The course will either feed my desire to ride on my own, or help me determine if riding two-up was enough to satisfy me." None of my girlfriends or co-workers rode a motorcycle, which made me question if what I was doing was a bit too "out there" for a middle-aged woman. Casting my reservations aside, I focused on my desire for new-found freedom.
In October of 2008, I took the NYS DMV motorcycle exam and obtained my permit. That same week, I signed up for a local Motorcycle Safety Foundation (MSF) Basic Rider Course in Dutchess County, NY, and dedicated the weekend to taking the written exam and 2-day training course. The instructor, Paul W., asked the class what type of bike we would be riding after obtaining our licenses. My BMW gear was a dead give-away. Although not all participants passed the course, I demonstrated the basic riding skills necessary to get my temporary license. After completing the course, I knew riding was for me, but I also knew that many necessary hours of riding experience were to follow. Paul said I was a "thoroughbred BMW rider," and would do well. I proudly accepted the compliment. As I drove home, I told George the good news. He met me in the driveway, where he had been warming up his 83 Kawasaki 750 Spectra. Handing me the keys, he asked, "Where to?" "Are you kidding?" I protested. "I've been riding a 150 all weekend. It's basically a bicycle with an engine!" I sat on the Spectra, and got the feel of the clutch and the weight of this 4 cylinder bike. After several attempts at riding a few feet in the driveway, then walking the bike backward while seated, I proceeded to turn the wheel while grabbing the front brake. Down she went. "Well," I thought, "this is going to take some time. For today, let's just ride two-up."
Into December, I rode the Spectra on the back roads of our development, but my main practice area was in a nearby business park with empty roadways and parking lots. Athough these unpopulated areas continued to satisfy my comfort zone, the Spectra always seemed too heavy, and I just never felt confident. We decided to look into what type of bike would fit me best, and I kept coming back to the BMW F650GS. We knew a used bike would suit me better, as dropping a brand new one was not something I wanted to entertain. This past June, we found her. It was a 2006 F650GS, with only 900 miles. Although we would have preferred the dual cylinder, this bike would be perfect for me, as a new rider. During the following weeks of summer, I continued to practice and my confidence grew, as my skills progressed. George and I would take short rides on the country roads of Connecticut, but I continued to stay away from riding in any real traffic. Then I learned about an upcoming BMW MOA event in the Catskills and knew I wanted to ride there on my GS.
During the weeks prior to the Catskills trip, George informed me that there were going to be many events at the Second Annual BMW Rally, known to many as "Color in the Catskills." Using the BMW MOA link, we looked online for the various venues, as well as reviewed photos and reviews about last year's event. Over the 3-day event, thousands of attendees were expected again this year, and I knew I would meet some very interesting riders from all over the country. There would certainly be other women riders, and I looked forward to learning about their riding experiences. After reviewing the site and making our lodge reservations, George and I learned that the famous off-road racing and riding group, TEAM MAX, would be offering riding classes for all levels of off-road riding. My initial reaction was one of angst. I didn't think that my skill level was seasoned enough to place me in an off-road training course. I'd only been riding my GS for several months, and was only just beginning to feel comfortable riding in traffic. My comfort zone continued to consist solely of riding the suburban roads to the nearest empty parking lot, where I'd practice U-turns, weaving, quick stop and swerves, and figure-eights. Determined to make this trip, however, I began coming home from work and practicing riding until dusk, and on the weekends, George and I would practice on twisty country roads. On one of our trips, a dragonfly found comfort on my handle bars, leading me to aptly name by GS, "Dragonfly." I slowly graduated to taking the trip from Connecticut to Bear Mountain, New York. I even hit 60 on the highway! Don't laugh; you've got to start somewhere.
On Friday, October 2nd, the BMW Rally was upon us. I had been anxious about the pending rain, but the autumn afternoon sky remained silently cloudy, and I was ready for this new adventure. However, George had undergone spinal surgery the previous May, and determined that he couldn't predict his ability to endure the ride north to the Catskills on his K1200GT. George knew how important this ride was for me, and encouraged me to complete it anyway. Luckily, I was comfortable enough by that time to ride on my own, and agreed to follow behind on my GS as he led the way in his Ford Explorer. Once we reached the Connecticut/New York state border, we met our friend Jim Soque. The e-mails between us had been flying for weeks prior to the ride, and we were excited to be riding together, he on his R1150R, and me on my GS.
The ride north on the Taconic State Parkway was incredible. With foliage at 30%, it quickly transitioned to 40-50% as we proceeded to 199W, across the Rhinecliff Bridge, and continuing to Route 32 and finally the twisties of 23A. Through intermittent drizzle and only partially wet road conditions, I was proud to be riding solo, with Jim in the lead and George following comfortably behind.
Reaching our destination before dusk, we had plenty of time to unpack before dinner. We met Jim for a relaxing dinner at the Kaatskill Mountain Club Lodge, where we were enthusiastically introduced to Max Stratton, owner of Max's BMWs out of Albany, NY. We began discussing the TEAM MAX off-road riding class that was being offered for free during the rally. As I mentioned, George had recommended that I take the course, and now he was asking Max how to register me for the class. My first thought was, "Oh geez, please don't make this a confirmed deal. I don't think I can do this." Max informed me, however, that the class was for everyone, from experienced off-road riders looking for some advanced riding techniques, to novice riders like myself, who have never even stood up on their pegs. I learned that the classes were scheduled for 9 and 11 Saturday morning, and 2 and 4 in the afternoon, with one more class at 9am on Sunday. I was told that they'd fill quickly, and Max suggested that the 9am Saturday class would probably work best for me. "Okay," I thought. "You can do it."
On Saturday morning, George made my favorite breakfast - pancakes and eggs, as I showered and prepared my riding gear. It was nearing 8:30 as we ventured outside, and already there were hundreds of bikers canvassing the area for the day's activities. We ventured to the TEAM MAX registration area, where I was fortunate to sign up as the final registrant. "Well," I thought, "there's no turning back now."
With dense fog settled at the base of the mountain, and the ground still wet from the previous night's rain, I joined the group. Yup; I was the only female. My attention was quickly drawn to the group of instructors, who were outfitted in the latest technical off-road gear. Geez, these guys looked hard-core. They had probably been riding dirt bikes since they were ten. It was here that I met Bill, the Chief Instructor. He and the team of instructors teach at the Off-Road School at the BMW Performance Center in Greer, SC. I was told that today's class would run for 90 minutes. First, we'd ride to the far end of the parking area near the Hunter Mountain Welcome Center, complete the technical skills lesson and trial run, then traverse a 1,600-foot vertical climb up Hunter Mountain on our off-road or dual sport bikes. I looked at my friend, Jim, and exclaimed, "Trial run? You mean I need to pass a road test?"
Gathering up what was left of my quickly diminishing courage, I rode to the designated starting point. As we listened to Bill's introduction, I took inventory of the other participants. I assessed that they were of various riding skill levels and I ranked myself at the bottom of the experience level. However, my focus quickly turned to Bill's introduction, while my desire to learn new skills replaced my anxiety.
The group of instructors from TEAM MAX were fabulous. The rapport they had, among themselves and with the class, put everyone at ease. Bill explained each of the technical skill lessons in detail that we would be learning that morning. He would then give a demonstration while the other team members narrated his course run. In just 45 minutes, we learned how to properly pick up a downed bike, counter-balance maneuvering, and control braking.
Bill began the skill lesson by telling us that part of the off-road riding experience required the acceptance of dumping your bike; "You're gonna dump your bike. Accept it." Bill called it building character. I thought to myself, "I have built enough character with my past riding experience; let it be someone else's turn today." Bill went on to say that, once you get over the humiliation, it isn't so bad. "Everyone will have already noticed that you've dumped your bike," he told us, "so the first thing to do is take inventory of yourself, then your bike. Don't try to look cool by jumping back on or lifting it while it's facing over the edge of the bike trail. Take a moment to gather your senses, be sure you don't have any injuries, assess your bike, then proceed to lift her right-side up and continue your ride."
Bill taught us two different techniques for picking up your bike. The first was simply lifting the bike by the handle grip. I had never seen this technique in either my basic rider safety course, nor in the numerous motorcycle rider training videos that I've watched with George. Bill first turned the handle bars so the front tire faced the sky. Then he got leverage by squatting down, placed his hands between his legs and, with his head up, eyes toward the sky, and hand grip locked in both hands, he simply walked the bike up.
The second technique was familiar to me: simply squat down, back toward the bike, grab the hand grip (again, the front wheel is facing up toward the sky) and find a good frame hand-hold, either near the center or the back end of the bike, depending on your arm span. Then, keeping your arms locked and the bike close to your body, simply walk backwards, lifting the bike with your legs. Another tip Bill shared, was to first face your bike in the direction you want to go before you lift it. Although quite logical, it never occurred to me that it would be easier to have your bike facing the direction of your route, rather than perpendicular to the direction in which it may have fallen. A simple swiveling of the bike before lifting it will save you from the embarrassment of trying to maneuver your bike back and forth on a narrow trail to get her in the direction you want to go.
The second technical skill of this training course was counter-balance maneuvering, which involved cornering strategically placed cones while standing on our pegs and shifting our weight counter to the direction we were cornering. This is where I gained more character. Did I mention the squishy mud, slick wet grass and puddle-riddled field we were riding on? The challenge I faced was finding the sweet spot of my clutch, while using my rear brake and throttle in harmony. The feel of my clutch and throttle were foreign to me as I hugged my thighs around the fairings adjacent to the seat of my bike, and stood on my pegs. Then I had to remember to use the throttle and rear brake while counter-balancing the bike. I ran the course several times without incident, until I hit a slick grassy patch, then a soft, muddy area. Struggling to stay on course, I turned my front wheel to the left, but forgot to lean on my right peg. I was also going way too slow and thereby wasn't giving the bike the inertia it needed to follow upright. Before I realized it, I was lying in the mud with my left foot stuck under my GS. As I silently cursed to myself for being the first one to fall, ("Hey everybody, look: the girl fell just as we knew she would," was what I expected to hear, before I soon realized that I was the only one criticizing, and that the group was preparing to help, not laugh.) I scrambled out from under the bike. Several members of the team came over and reminded me to assess myself, then my bike, before lifting her. As I've mentioned already, dropping a bike was not a new experience for me. Before buying the GS, I rode George's 750 Spectra, which I found quite top-heavy. It wasn't unusual for me to come around the dead-end circle at home, going about 2 mph, and politely spill the bike by going too slow and turning the front wheel. As I'd enter the house, George would say, "Doodles," (we don't remember where he came up with that nickname for me, but it fits), one day we'll go out riding and you won't even drop the bike." To my chagrin, that would take a bit of practice, but I was determined to become a seasoned rider. If nothing else, I was tenacious. Okay, stubborn is probably more accurate.
As I rejoined the group of instructors and participants, I fought hard to focus on the next lesson, and not on my recent fall. Nothing more than my ego was injured, so I tried to concentrate on Bill's lesson. This next skill was controlled braking, using the front brake in off-road conditions. Being in a pseudo enduro training circuit, we had to use the throttle to create the forward motion that would have naturally taken place off-road. The task was to feel the effect of the front tire skidding, which required us to keep off the clutch, stay on the throttle, squeeze the front brake, then allow the bike to follow through with the release of the brake. I was becoming overwhelmed with so many techniques to perform at once. If you recall, I had only been riding for about two months in traffic and still found comfort practicing in empty parking lots. During those parking lot and driveway incidents, I learned the hard way that you can't squeeze your front brake when you're not going fast enough to keep the bike upright. That's a bad thing, because the bike will do nothing more than meet the ground in a hurry. Inertia is the key here, which is what we had to accomplish during this exercise. As you can imagine, I figured I had built enough character with the cornering exercise. There was no way I wanted to build more during this controlled braking exercise. Although the MAX Team was encouraging, I didn't get up nearly enough speed and I retreated to using both front and rear brakes, thereby failing the point of the exercise. No front skid. No fall. No character. I filed a mental note of the technical skill and knew that I'd practice it another day. For now, I humbly rode over to the group, who were eagerly waiting for the next exercise. "What the heck was I doing here?" I asked myself once again. "I'm the only girl, and I've only been riding for a few months!" While half of the guys in the class were probably also doing all they could to hold their own, I felt like I was the only one who was completely out of my element.
As I rejoined the group, Bill was talking to them about riding to the summit. There would be a half-way point where we'd have a photo taken of us at the waterfall. Then, the instructors would point to the continued assent, and anyone who didn't think they'd feel comfortable with the incline could safely return to the base of Hunter Mountain. As the group pulled out, I stayed behind. Seeing my hesitation, one of the instructors rode over to me. I explained that I wanted to continue up the lower trails of Hunter Mountain and rejoin the group at the waterfall, but I didn't know if my skill set was enough. Remembering that safety always comes first, I relied on his assessment of my skills. The instructor said that if the desire was there, so was the accomplishment. With renewed confidence, we rode up together. "Nothing was going to stop me, now," I thought. Up the slippery, grassy field I went. Up, down and over the miniature slaloms, my GS climbed. My back end would slide, and I'd push forward using my throttle, standing proudly on my pegs. George's ever-encouraging words kept running through my mind: "You can do this, Doodles. The bike wants to climb; it's what it was designed to do." So up I went. Arriving a bit after the others, I stood solo by the waterfall. All that worry didn't matter; I'd made it.
After my photo at the waterfall, the group split up; half went to the summit, while the rest of us traversed other trails. Toward the end of the class, with time still remaining to ride, we were asked if we wanted to go back over the same trail or head up a bit further. None of the other riders answered, so I said, "Let's go up." And up we went. We traversed the wet, muddy trails, each of us putting to use our newly-formed skills. All too soon, it was time to head back. Standing on pegs, with back tires skidding, we slowly made our descent. Back at the base, I was elated. I had completed the course and learned valuable off-road riding skills, which I now looked forward to putting to use. I already knew that some of Bill's final words will ring true: "One day, you'll be riding along, and you'll see a dirt road, or even a narrow trail. Rather than just wondering where it leads, you'll find yourself exploring it with the confidence of the off-road riding skills you've learned."
The techniques of off-road riding were not the only take-away from MAXs class. My confidence as an on-road rider has soared. For the remainder of the BMW Rally, I proudly displayed my muddy GS to other riders. "Did you go off-road?" they'd ask. "You bet I did," I'd answer. Later in the day, I even participated in an afternoon ride with several special folks I'd met at the rally. As we rode the country roads, I no longer feared the down-hill twisties. Rather than look away, I found myself standing on my pegs to view a ravine below. I was becoming a rider, a confident and proud rider.
Now at home, George and I continue to enjoy our weekend rides. With the cooler weather settling in, I've purchased heated clothing so I'm able to continue riding through the winter months in comfort. Each day that we venture out, I am more comfortable and ride with more confidence. I continue to practice safety, as well as the technical maneuvering skills I've learned. I'm looking forward to taking group rides to benefit MS, children's cancer research, teenage outreach programs and other worthy organizations. Aside from the enjoyment of riding the beautiful country roads of New York and Connecticut, I also enjoy the attention I receive from folks on the road. Some are other riders, who share the 2-wheel "hi" sign. Others are motorists who smile as they watch me fill my gas tank, or children in the back seat of their parent's car, who look with awe at the female motorcycle rider at the red light. Although my smile is hidden from beneath my helmet, I'm sure they can see it in my eyes. My only reservation about riding a motorcycle is that I didn't find this freedom sooner in life. It's never too late to start, though. If I can do it at 50, anyone can do it, at any age. As George Eliot once wrote, "It is never too late to be what you might have become."
Interested in attending the 2010 Color in the Catskills? Watch your BMW Owners News and th BMW MOA Web site for dates & details in the coming months.
