The Ultimate Southern California Adventure Bike day trip
There's something uniquely liberating about riding an adventure bike.
Don't get me wrong - I love my dual sport. Nothing beats a lightweight bike when the trail gets technical. But they're miserable on the freeway, and loading one onto a trailer always feels like the adventure doesn't really begin until you arrive.
An adventure bike is different.
It's a machine built for the journey itself. You pack your gear, roll out of your driveway, settle into the rhythm of the highway, and a couple of hours later you're carving through dirt roads without ever needing to stop. That seamless transition from city streets to remote wilderness is part of the magic.
There's something deeply satisfying about covering huge distances on a powerful twin-cylinder engine. Endless torque, effortless highway miles, and enough capability to explore forgotten places once the pavement disappears. It's the perfect balance of comfort and adventure.
This ride was exactly that.
Our small crew left Los Angeles before sunrise, pointing our bikes east toward the old movie sets of Pioneertown. Once home to countless Western films, the dusty streets still feel frozen in time. It's also home to the legendary Pappy & Harriet's, where countless riders have ended a day's adventure with good food and even better stories.
From there we climbed into the San Bernardino Mountains via Burns Canyon Road. The desert slowly gave way to pine forests as the trail wound its way toward Big Bear before crossing the historic Holcomb Valley and eventually descending the spectacular Coxey Truck Trail into Apple Valley near Hesperia.
The route couldn't have been better suited for big adventure bikes.
I was riding my Ducati DesertX, Rod had just picked up his brand-new Husqvarna Norden 901 Expedition, and Louis was aboard his ever-capable BMW R 1250 GS Adventure. The terrain is mostly easy-going, allowing the bikes to do what they were designed for: effortlessly eating up miles while letting you soak in the landscape instead of worrying about every obstacle.
But adventure has a funny way of reminding you that nothing ever goes exactly according to plan.
In fact, we'd argue it isn't really an adventure if everything goes perfectly.
The first surprise came when my Ducati developed what looked like a flat tire. For a brief moment, it seemed the day might end with an embarrassing call to a tow truck. Fortunately, the culprit turned out to be nothing more than a loose valve stem. A quick tighten and we were back on the trail—a simple reminder that carrying a valve stem tool can save an entire ride.
Later, another lesson arrived.
Even an easy dirt road deserves your full attention.
A hidden rut caught Louis off guard, sending the big BMW into the embankment. Thankfully nobody was hurt, and before the rest of us could even reach the bike, a pair of overlanders driving nearby had already jumped out of their Jeeps and helped lift the heavyweight GS back onto its wheels.
That's one of the things we love most about traveling through places like this.
Out here, people look after one another. Whether you're on two wheels or four, you're simply another traveler sharing the same remote roads.
Holcomb Valley itself carries a remarkable history. During the gold rush, this peaceful landscape was anything but peaceful. Thousands of miners flooded into the valley chasing fortune, and disputes over claims often turned violent. Entire settlements sprang up almost overnight before eventually disappearing back into the wilderness.
Today, the gold is gone.
The treasure that's left is something entirely different.
Quiet forests. Endless mountain views. Abandoned mines hidden among the trees. The silence of places that have watched generations come and go.
As we descended Coxey Road toward Apple Valley, the landscape changed once again. Towering rock formations lined the trail, rising dramatically from the desert floor. They're the kind of scenery that constantly steals your attention, making it surprisingly difficult to keep your eyes on the road ahead.
Eventually the dirt gave way to pavement, and with it came the inevitable journey back toward Los Angeles.
None of us were particularly eager to leave.
Some roads have a way of staying with you long after you've ridden them.
Coxey Road is one of those places.
Maybe it's the history. Maybe it's the scenery. Maybe it's the simple joy of exploring with good friends on motorcycles built to chase horizons.
Whatever it is, we left feeling like we'd left a small piece of ourselves somewhere out there between the pines of Holcomb Valley and the rocky desert beyond.
We'll have to go back for it someday.
