Los Angeles-Barstow-to-Vegas Easy Route, the Hard Way

[Hugh Janus]

Justin Dawes and I checking our roll charts and resetting our odometers on day one of the LAB2V ride. (Grumpy/)

I didn’t grow up riding dirt bikes. I have never owned a motorcycle without a license plate, although I once crossed the Sahara Desert on a Sportster. As the Los Angeles-Barstow-to-Vegas ride date neared, I was nervous. But I figured my philosophy of “huck yourself in, figure your way out” would work as well here as it did in Morocco, especially considering what I would be riding here and the training I had undergone since then.

Aside from a handful of last-one-there-buys-the-drinks moments, I’m not a competitive motorcycle rider. I’m certainly no desert racer. When we loaded up our machines and headed into the desert, I imagined my wealth of on-road experience would translate to this completely different set of skills. I pictured myself zipping up the steepest hills and through the roughest terrain just because of my time spent in other saddles.

That was not in fact the case. In point of fact I shivered, strained, repaired, and overcame, all cut with moments of brilliant purity, until I made it all the way from Los Angeles to Barstow, and then on to Las Vegas, in that haze of blended misery and brilliance that comes only from not fully understanding what you’re about to do.

Related: 5 Things I Wish I Knew Before Riding a Motorcycle

Dawes, still clean only a couple of hours into our first day of riding. (Grumpy/)

The Los Angeles-Barstow-to-Vegas ride is better known as the LAB2V. The ride celebrated its 37th year in November 2021. This would be my first time participating. My partner on the ride was Cycle World Executive Editor Justin Dawes. Dawes grew up racing dirt bikes and has participated in this event many times. He was only 15 years old the first time he did the LA-to-B-to-V. He finished first with the second-place rider hours behind him.

I had recently built up a 1989 Honda NX650 and was hoping to take it on this ride, but paperwork be damned, I couldn’t get its license plate in time. Plan B was the push-button 2021 Husqvarna 701 LR. With WP suspension, dirt-tuned traction control, and a combined 6.4 gallons of gas between two tanks, this was arguably the best tool for the job (it wasn’t; we’d soon find that the best tool is a KTM 500 EXC-F) until Dawes showed up.

Dawes was riding his maximalist custom KTM 790 Adventure R. With more than $28,000 invested, his build has just about every high-end upgrade imaginable. His suspension alone cost more than most used dirt bikes. So here’s this expert off-road rider on an absolute weapon of an adventure bike, and me behind him, figuring it out.

Gales and Dawes flowing through some switchbacks on the easy route on day one’s ride. (Grumpy/)

Riding the LAB2V takes two days with an overnight stop in Barstow. Riders pick up their navigation each morning before the ride. The route changes year to year. I would be using a simple paper roll chart while Dawes used a roll chart backed up with his Trail Tech Voyager Pro GPS. He was Lord Farkle, king of fancy gadgets and accessories. I was not.

We arrived in Palmdale at 4 a.m. to register and load up our gear in the chase truck before hitting the road. The contents of our backpacks were carefully planned and balanced, as were our riding kits; we had to be ready for cold mornings and hot afternoons. We pulled out of the parking lot around 6 a.m. and started making our way through the desert town toward the beginning of the first trail in the dark. It was 38 degrees, and my fingertips were already stinging as the wind cut through my gloves. We had planned for cold mornings, but space in our backpacks was limited, so things like tools and spare inner tubes took priority over an extra layer of insulation. I would be happy about this decision later, but while the sun still hid behind the horizon, I could hardly focus on anything other than my stinging fingers. What misery frostbite must be.

We turned off of the pavement where our roll charts told us and started into the great dusty unknown. Unknown to me, anyway. Dawes was riding like I do on the I-5, clearly in his element, passing effortlessly over rocks and through deep sand. I, meanwhile, had to think and plan my path around or over each obstacle I approached. Still, as the sun rose on the California desert, my eyes were forced away from my path and I was compelled to pause and appreciate the beauty around me. The Husqvarna was doing its job, the job of every motorcycle, to bring you to a beautiful place and help you enjoy it.

The seemingly endless dirt roads that traverse California’s open desert hold a unique type of beauty. The Alpinestars Halo Drystar demonstrates its versatility with sleeves removed. (Grumpy/)

The LAB2V’s routes bisect into easy and hard paths, with major hazards listed on the roll chart to warn riders. The charts break each day’s path into segments with odometer resets at the end of each one. This is because every odometer measures mileage slightly differently, and the longer the distance the greater the variance; this could lead to a rider making a turn late and ending up who knows where. Segments vary in length, rejoin, and split again. Some sections are longer than others. Some are extreme. Some are essentially hard-packed dirt roads. I wanted to challenge both myself and Dawes’ patience by tackling paths of both difficulties.

We carried a moderate pace and made good time on our way to Barstow. About halfway through the day, the morning’s cluster of riders had spread out and we weren’t eating quite as much dust. Most of the ride consisted of long sandy washes with miles of whoops that brought us to paved roads into town. We reached the hotel, quickly checked in, and grabbed some pizza from a nearby sports bar before retiring to our rooms for some early rest. Earned sleep is exceptional.

Thanks to some earlier practice and training with Dawes, I was comfortable and confident changing my inner tube trailside. (Grumpy/)

The next morning we had kickstands up by 7 a.m. We were leaving a few hours later than the prior morning, but as the sun was up we had warmer temperatures. This also put us at the back of the pack with time to make up. I felt confident following the first day’s ride and opted for the more challenging route, so we headed for the Calico Steps.

Calico Steps is a technical rock section that requires riders to climb several 2-to-3-foot rock ledges in short succession. It’s a key point on the ride each year, located about 10 miles from the starting point. It’s also a particularly challenging section that can get crowded quickly, so we had to either wait or find a creative line around tipped bikes and resting riders. Our slow morning meant that almost all the riders had already passed, save only a few stragglers.

We made it to the climb section of the steps easily, and Dawes hopped off of his bike to help coach me through the upcoming tough stuff. Other riders made their attempts as we watched; some were more successful than others, but there was something to learn from each attempt. When my turn came I used my long, gangly legs to push off of the tall rocks on either side of my path and quickly reached the top; I looked back, seeking confirmation that I wasn’t celebrating too early, to see Dawes surprised that I had done it. What I considered a great accomplishment, he then traversed like he’d done it a thousand times. We continued upward.

Descending the backside of Calico Steps, I was eager and mistakenly traded speed for control, though it was fun for a moment. (Grumpy/)

As we rode along the mountain ridge, we were surrounded by beauty in every direction, vast open expanses of desert, rolling sand dunes like a wrinkled towel on the floor. This is why we ride motorcycles, the moments of brilliant peace sandwiched between the chaos of places like Calico Steps and what was coming next.

A metallic clanging dragged me off my happy cloud like an anchor around my ankle. I stopped to confirm what I already knew: My front tire had gone flat. We found a big rock and used the 701′s kickstand to get the bike on top of it. I was thankful for the spare tube in my bag and the time Dawes spent teaching me to change that tube. I hadn’t thought about my gloves much since the day before. After bloodying my knuckles a bit and cursing at tire irons, the inner tube was replaced, my bead was set, and we were back on the road.

A second flat tire forced me to take a break, so I hydrated and rested while I waited for the truck to show up. (Grumpy/)

It couldn’t have been more than 10 minutes of beautiful cruising before I heard that same metal clanging. My front tire was flat again. I must have done something wrong. Maybe I had pinched the tube while installing it? I took off the tire to inspect and replace the tube and, no, it was just a combination of more bad luck, a lack of experience carrying too much speed when I needed control, and another sharp rock. My second spare front tire tube was on the chase truck, which meant the repair wasn’t going to be as simple as the first one. I limped the bike along the trail for 5 miles and reached the nearest gas station, where I sat in the shade, drank Gatorade, and waited for the truck to join me. Dawes continued on with another group, and we planned to reunite at lunch.

The truck showed up within the hour and we hastily hoisted the Husqvarna into the truck. It was another hour to lunch so I took advantage of the truck’s back seat and caught a few Zs. We arrived at lunch where Dawes was waiting with tools and ready to help get the Husky back on the road. It was almost 2 p.m. at this point and we were still hoping to reach Vegas before sundown.

Tire changes are much easier when you’re out of the dirt. (Grumpy/)

Before we left lunch, we’d decided to take a bypass route designed to help stragglers like myself catch up, which meant that we’d be blasting power line roads. So far I had been envious of other riders on their lighter enduro machines, but here, now, as we accelerated up to 80 mph on the wide sandy road, I wouldn’t trade the 701 LR for a damn thing. I was really just happy to be back on the bike, moving quickly, confidently, and on schedule. I had successfully reached my happy cloud again.

I stood on the pegs with my hands loose on the grips as I held the 701′s gas tank with my knees. Natural beauty was still all around us. We were moving fast. Our bikes were performing well. Was the bypass route a subtle blessing that I was forced to take? It seemed so. Maybe a ride covering 500ish miles was not the ideal setting for pushing my limits. Maybe just participating and enjoying it was enough.

Skirting by side-by-sides and the occasional semitruck (we couldn’t figure it out either) we eventually reached paved roads and approached Vegas near the time that we had expected to, had I not gotten two flat tires.

Santa Claus and showgirls wait for photos at the LAB2V finish line. (Grumpy/)

We’d taken a few easy routes. Yes, we took a bypass route, but riding a dirt-covered motorcycle past the famous “Welcome to Las Vegas” sign alongside minivans and sedans full of party-ready tourists, we got there the hard way. We stood up and rode along the strip like dust-covered champions. People with 3-foot margaritas walked from casino to casino, obviously celebrating our success, though I may have only imagined their cheers.

I felt successful. The ride had not gone the way that we’d planned, but I’d gotten what I’d hoped to from the experience. I’d achieved something I hadn’t been sure I’d be able to.

At the night’s banquet dinner we sat among friends bonded by experience, telling stories of the day. Some riders had been tank-deep in muddy water on one of the difficult routes. Others had done the ride on Honda Groms, facing their own set of challenges. The majority of riders completed the course on KTM 500s that looked remarkably similar. Regardless of what you rode or how you got to that dinner, if you were there, you had finished the LAB2V and taken part in a historic motorcycle ride.

Plan all you want, dream all you want; if you haven’t tried it, you don’t really know. I hadn’t known, until I did it. I got in over my head at times, but overcoming obstacles only builds confidence for the next time. I will ride LAB2V again, but next year I’m doing it on my NX650. And maybe I’ll take the easy routes and the bypass routes. After all, it’s just about enjoying the ride.

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[Buckster]

Gay.