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Speed vs. economy, or Fd = 1/2pv(squared) x CdA
Fuel economy is a funny subject. Very, very few people want to admit their vehicles get poor mileage. The overwhelming tendency is to fudge the other way when the subject comes up. I know for a fact there are guys who get 25 miles per gallon at 75 miles per hour in their one-ton diesel pickups while towing their 30-foot Airstream trailers, because I hear it with astonishing frequency.
I also know they don’t.
I never say as much when presented with these or similar absurd boasts, because there’s simply no profit in doing so. All I do is raise my eyebrows and say, subtly, “Wow. That would be impressive.” To show skepticism, much less outright derision, provokes the same peculiar outrage one receives doubting someone who claims to have been abducted and studied by aliens. There’s just no point in arguing.
There’s also no point in arguing with the laws of physics—especially those relating to speed. Note that formula in the headline. In plain English it states that the drag (Fd) on a solid object moving through a fluid medium (which in physics includes air) is a function of one-half the density (p) of the medium times the speed (v) of the object, squared, times the drag coefficient (Cd) of the object times its cross sectional area (A).
Note in particular the reference to the square of speed. That means that as speed goes up, the drag that results rises on a logarithmic curve. If speed doubles, drag quadruples.
Fuel economy is a funny subject. Very, very few people want to admit their vehicles get poor mileage. The overwhelming tendency is to fudge the other way when the subject comes up. I know for a fact there are guys who get 25 miles per gallon at 75 miles per hour in their one-ton diesel pickups while towing their 30-foot Airstream trailers, because I hear it with astonishing frequency.
I also know they don’t.
I never say as much when presented with these or similar absurd boasts, because there’s simply no profit in doing so. All I do is raise my eyebrows and say, subtly, “Wow. That would be impressive.” To show skepticism, much less outright derision, provokes the same peculiar outrage one receives doubting someone who claims to have been abducted and studied by aliens. There’s just no point in arguing.
There’s also no point in arguing with the laws of physics—especially those relating to speed. Note that formula in the headline. In plain English it states that the drag (Fd) on a solid object moving through a fluid medium (which in physics includes air) is a function of one-half the density (p) of the medium times the speed (v) of the object, squared, times the drag coefficient (Cd) of the object times its cross sectional area (A).
Note in particular the reference to the square of speed. That means that as speed goes up, the drag that results rises on a logarithmic curve. If speed doubles, drag quadruples.
Here’s an example using an algorithm I found recently, calculated around a theoretical but representative vehicle with a drag coefficient of .30 (very low), and a frontal area of 30 square feet, on a paved road. Our vehicle requires just 2.6 horsepower to move at 20 mph. To reach 40 mph it needs 8.2 horsepower, and to reach 60 it needs 19.6. To cruise at 80 would require 39.9 horsepower—twice that needed to maintain 60. (To give you an idea of the drag acting on very high-performance sports cars, our vehicle would need 521 horsepower to hit 200 miles per hour.) The unassailable fact of highway driving is that beyond about 40 miles per hour aerodynamic drag overtakes powertrain friction and rolling resistance as the chief factor in fuel consumption—and from there on up it wages a rapidly escalating war on the level in your tank.
Another . . . interesting . . . claim I’ve heard is from guys (mileage fudging seems to be strictly a male pastime) who say something like, “I get better mileage at 80 than at 60 because my engine is in its power band there.” Sorry, but nonsense. There might be situations in which, say, shifting from fourth gear at 55 mph into an overdrive fifth gear and adding a few miles per hour will do no harm to or perhaps even slightly improve economy, but for a given gear, adding speed will increase fuel consumption, plain and simple. No one is going to get better gas mileage at 80 than at 60.
Algorithms are all well and good, but accurate real-world figures are more difficult to locate. Fortunately one of my best friends, Michael Cox, is diligent about recording the mileage he achieves with his 2006 4WD Dodge 2500 pickup, which has the Cummins turbodiesel, a six-speed manual transmission, and BFG All-Terrain tires. He can just break 21 mpg at 55 miles per hour. At 60 it drops to 19.5, at 65 it’s down to 18, and 70 mph knocks off another mile per gallon. He recorded similar changes with his Four Wheel Camper on the truck: 18.5 mpg at 60 mph, 16.5 at 65, and 15.5 or less at 70.
The immediate lesson from all this is so obvious I won’t bother to state it. But more subtle contributors to drag are worth investigating. Cleaning up the aerodynamics of a vehicle can have a significant effect on fuel economy, even on one with the base Cd of an apartment building. Removing the tall porthole ConFerr roof rack on my FJ40 increased my highway (i.e. 60 mph) fuel economy by a full one mile per gallon—and going from 16 mpg to 17 in an FJ40 is a blessing. Suspension lifts and wider tires increase drag, the former hugely. So, somewhat surprisingly, do such add-ons as bull bars and driving lights, which create a dirty front of turbulence before the air even hits the vehicle proper. Extreme example: When my nephew Jake exploited his newfound skills at welding and fabricated an exoskeleton roll cage for his V6 Tacoma, his mileage plummeted from 18 to 13 mpg. So, do you really need a fat grille bar to fend off stray kangaroos, or would you be served with a simple winch bumper? Do you need that Paris/Dakar-esque bank of driving lights, or would a headlamp upgrade provide all the safe illumination necessary? With gasoline poised to top $4.00 per gallon and diesel above that as I write this, every bit will help on a long highway trip.
Although rolling resistance becomes less important than aerodynamic drag at high speeds, it’s still worth considering. That one mile per gallon I gained on my FJ40 made up for the exact same amount I lost when I switched from BFG All-Terrains to BFG Mud-Terrains on that vehicle. Long experience with various tread types has led me to the conclusion that there’s not a big mileage difference between street/trail tread patterns such as BFG’s Rugged Terrain and the slightly more aggressive All-Terrain—but jumping to a Mud-Terrain you’ll take a quantifiable hit. So if you put mud-pattern tires on your vehicle just because you like the look, think again. You’ll get better mileage, better handling, a better ride, and longer tread life with an all-terrain pattern, probably equivalent traction in most circumstances, and better in some.
What about tire width? Wider tires certainly increase frontal area and drag, but I’ve never seen an authoritative study to determine if a wide but short contact patch produces more rolling resistance than a longer, narrower one. You’d need to determine loading per square inch, hysteresis of the carcass, heat buildup, and other factors to make a solid judgement. With that said, I believe narrower tires offer advantages in so many other areas that I invariably stick with unfashionably skinny sizes. I just spent two weeks in Egypt’s sand seas in gargantuan Land Cruiser Troopies riding on pizza-cutter 235/85x16 All-Terrains, and we were never more than nominally stuck despite running near-street pressure in areas mined with the razor-sharp limestone outcroppings called kharafish.
The unique characteristics of individual vehicles can make a difference in fuel economy as well. For example, my mechanic friend Bill Lee had a customer who drove an FJ60 with a five-speed conversion, who complained of wildly varying mileage on the highway in the 60-65 mph range. Bill figured out that the secondary venturi on the 2F engine’s two-barrel carburetor started opening at around 63 miles per hour. If the driver kept the speed just below that, mileage was a full two or three miles per gallon better than just above it.
Modern fuel-injected engines are unlikely to have such a sharp break in efficiency. Nevertheless, it’s worth experimenting with varying speeds—especially if you have a mileage function on your vehicle’s computer—to see if it has a “sweet spot” above which consumption spikes.
In general though, you can expect your computer to tell you, “Yep—when you drive faster you use more fuel, stupid.”
Touring tip: When it's tool time on the road
If you’re like most adventure motorcyclists, you don’t want any type of mechanical problem to deal with during a motorcycle tour. And, of course, the best way to keep that from happening is a heavy dose of preventative medicine before your bike ever leaves the garage. But unforeseen mechanical malfunctions can and do happen out on the road. So, taking selected tools with you and knowing how to use them are sensible precautions for any touring rider.
Key Assumptions: If you ask 10 different riders for their list of necessary tools to have along, you may get 10 different lists. That’s probably because of the assumptions each person is making in several key areas:
- Length of Trip: The longer you expect to be on the road the more likely it is that something on the bike will need repair. If your trip involves going around the globe, then many more tools and spare parts will be needed than for a weekend jaunt to the mountains.
- Type of Bike & Riding: All other things being equal, dual-sport riding and adventure touring are more likely to result in something coming loose or a bike going down than while street riding.
- Riding Environment: Riding in remote locations usually requires riders to be more self-reliant in fixing whatever needs repairing.
- Number of Riders in the Group: The solitary rider must carry all of the tools and spare parts he or she might need. In group riding situations the load can be spread amongst the riders.
- Mechanical Expertise of Rider(s): There’s no point in carrying a lot of tools and spare parts if you don’t know how to use them to make the repairs. Riders traveling long distances in remote areas, however, should have the requisite mechanical expertise and equipment to repair most any type of mechanical malfunction.
If you’re like most adventure motorcyclists, you don’t want any type of mechanical problem to deal with during a motorcycle tour. And, of course, the best way to keep that from happening is a heavy dose of preventative medicine before your bike ever leaves the garage. But unforeseen mechanical malfunctions can and do happen out on the road. So, taking selected tools with you and knowing how to use them are sensible precautions for any touring rider.
Key Assumptions: If you ask 10 different riders for their list of necessary tools to have along, you may get 10 different lists. That’s probably because of the assumptions each person is making in several key areas:
- Length of Trip: The longer you expect to be on the road the more likely it is that something on the bike will need repair. If your trip involves going around the globe, then many more tools and spare parts will be needed than for a weekend jaunt to the mountains.
- Type of Bike & Riding: All other things being equal, dual-sport riding and adventure touring are more likely to result in something coming loose or a bike going down than while street riding.
- Riding Environment: Riding in remote locations usually requires riders to be more self-reliant in fixing whatever needs repairing.
- Number of Riders in the Group: The solitary rider must carry all of the tools and spare parts he or she might need. In group riding situations the load can be spread amongst the riders.
- Mechanical Expertise of Rider(s): There’s no point in carrying a lot of tools and spare parts if you don’t know how to use them to make the repairs. Riders traveling long distances in remote areas, however, should have the requisite mechanical expertise and equipment to repair most any type of mechanical malfunction.
Most Common Malfunctions on the Road
It behooves all riders to have the necessary tools and skills to fix the motorcycle malfunctions that are most likely to occur on tour:
- Flat Tire: For tubeless tires, there are a number of kits available in the marketplace that enable riders to perform a temporary repair, without removing the tire from the bike. Besides the CO2 cartridges that come with these kits, it’s a good idea to have a small compressor to ensure that the re-inflated tire has sufficient pressure for safe riding. (You’ll need a tire pressure gauge to know for sure.) However, riders should have a professional technician repair or replace the tire as soon as possible.
For tube-type tires, the repair process is more involved and requires more tools. (Helpful hint: Even if a tire is marked “tubeless” on the outside, if it’s mounted on a spoke wheel, a tube will be required on the inside.) The wheel and tire must be removed from the bike, so the necessary wrenches should be on board for both the front and rear axles. Tire irons and a bead buster will be needed to remove the tube for repair or replacement.
- Electrical Malfunction: The most common types of electrical problems are blown fuses and burned out light bulbs. So, it’s important to know where the fuses are located on the bike and to have spares with the correct wattage. Also, it’s a good idea to carry extra bulbs for the headlight, taillight and turn signals, and to have the correct tools and expertise to replace them.
- Broken Cable(s) and Levers(s): Broken cables are a potential issue only on bikes with a manual clutch (i.e., non-hydraulic) or drum brakes. In these situations, carry an extra cable(s) already zip-tied in place with the one in use. This will dramatically reduce repair time if a cable breaks.
A broken clutch or brake lever, usually caused by a fall, can be a big problem on the road. Although the risk of a broken brake lever is somewhat hedged by the fact that there are two of them, there is only one clutch lever and it’s pretty hard to ride a motorcycle without the benefit of a clutch. Consequently, taking extra levers is a good insurance policy.
- Fouled Spark Plug(s): It’s always a good idea to have extra spark plugs, which have been pre-gapped, along on your trips. They don’t take up much space and can make the difference of whether you're stranded or not. Obviously, the proper wrenches will be needed to replace them.
- Low Motor Oil: If your bike has a history of using oil, it makes a lot of sense to take along a quart of motorcycle oil, which might otherwise be difficult to find on a Sunday, Monday or Holiday.
- Broken Bodywork: Sometimes a spill can leave cracked and loose body parts, which can make the motorcycle unsafe to ride. A roll of duct tape can often do wonders in these situations.
The above list is not an exhaustive one, but it does represent the type of malfunctions that could occur on a trip of several weeks.
Customizing Your Toolkit
Unfortunately, the tool kits that come with bikes are often of inferior quality. You don’t want a wrench breaking or rounding off a nut when you’re relying on it to get you out of a predicament. Consequently, I’m an advocate of building a customized toolkit that’s designed around the type of repairs you may have to perform on the road. Based on the key assumptions about your touring plans and the types of repairs that are likely to occur, acquire the specific, high quality sockets, ratchets, screwdrivers and other wrenches that are needed to perform these tasks. It’s OK to use items from the manufacturers toolkit if they’re of sufficient quality. To make sure you have what’s needed, use your tool kit while still at home to remove the wheels, change a spark plug, replace a light bulb, etc.
I found that the customized tool kit for my dual-sport bike would no longer fit under the seat, so I fashioned a separate container out of PVC pipe and mounted it on the skid plate. So far I’ve been able to make any needed repairs on the road - but the best tools to have along are still a cell phone and a credit card.
Published with the permission of RoadRUNNER Motorcycle Touring & Travel Magazine for Overland Tech & Travel / Overland Expo only. Not for sale or distribution.
Is Gross Vehicle Weight Rating . . . Overrated?
We all know most of America is overweight these days. But 2,000 pounds overweight?
Scott Lesak wrote us regarding his 1997 Mitsubishi Montero (the one in front here), which he has outfitted extensively for overland travel (his brother Mark owns the one following). Recently, Scott weighed virtually every piece of gear that goes into the Montero for a typical camping trip, and after adding in the curb weight of the vehicle, plus occupants, was concerned, if not really surprised, to find the total nearly 2,000 pounds higher than the factory’s listed 5,700-pound GVWR (Gross Vehicle Weight Rating includes empty vehicle weight plus all fluids, occupants, and cargo). He wondered if by carrying that much excess weight he was, a) risking damage to the vehicle, and, b) compromising safety on the road through reduced braking performance, etc.
To which, of course, the short answer is yes and yes.
We all know most of America is overweight these days. But 2,000 pounds overweight?
Scott Lesak wrote us regarding his 1997 Mitsubishi Montero (the one in front here), which he has outfitted extensively for overland travel (his brother Mark owns the one following). Recently, Scott weighed virtually every piece of gear that goes into the Montero for a typical camping trip, and after adding in the curb weight of the vehicle, plus occupants, was concerned, if not really surprised, to find the total nearly 2,000 pounds higher than the factory’s listed 5,700-pound GVWR (Gross Vehicle Weight Rating includes empty vehicle weight plus all fluids, occupants, and cargo). He wondered if by carrying that much excess weight he was, a) risking damage to the vehicle, and, b) compromising safety on the road through reduced braking performance, etc.
To which, of course, the short answer is yes and yes.
If you’ve never weighed your own vehicle completely kitted and fitted for an overlanding trip, you might wonder how anyone could wind up a ton over the maximum recommended weight for a sturdy 4WD vehicle such as a second-generation Montero (which has a 1,300-pound cargo capacity including occupants). Trust me, it’s not that difficult. In many cases, the weight of just the modifications we bolt to our vehicles can come perilously close to topping the GVWR, before a single down sleeping bag gets tossed in the back. Look at Scott’s list of his own modifications:
150 lbs for upgrade to 35-inch tires
150 lbs for (empty) Garvin 84-inch roof rack
300 lbs for ARB bumper and 12,000-lb MM winch
200 lbs for custom rear bumper and swing-out mount
100 lbs for custom skids under transmission & transfer case
60 lbs for 15-gallon (empty) auxiliary fuel tank
100 lbs for rock sliders
80 lbs for extra AGM battery (105 amp hour; big and heavy for a 2nd battery)
100 lbs for custom drawer system (empty)
20 lbs for ExtremeAir compressor
50 lbs for fridge slide
80 lbs for Engel 60 freezer fridge (empty)
45 lbs for cargo barrier
25 lbs for 84-inch roll out awning
35 lbs for Hi-Lift Extreme jack
Remember that 1,300 pound cargo rating for the Montero? Scott just blew past that by almost 200 pounds—and he hasn’t loaded a single item of camping gear. Or fuel. Or himself. Let’s look at the rest of his list.
200 lbs for 25 gallons non-potable water for showering/cleaning
80 lbs for two 5-gallon jerry cans of potable water
92 lbs for 15 gallons fuel in auxiliary fuel tank
123 lbs for fuel in main tank
60 lbs clothing for 4 persons for 5 days
30 lbs for storage box #1 containing propane grill/heater and various accessories
40 lbs for storage box #2 containing cookware, electric coffee pot, dry food items
40 lbs for 4 sleeping bags, towels, pillows
20 lbs for 4 folding chairs
20 lbs for tent/awning mosquito net/folding table
20 lbs for firewood
10 lbs for propane tank
5 lbs for axe/sledge
700 lbs for passengers
40 lbs for hiking pack
60 lbs for gear in drawer (hoses for shower system, chains, recovery straps, 1 qt engine oil, 1 qt trans fluid, Hi-Lift attachments, basic tools, air hoses for tires/air mattress, lantern, fire ring, 1200 watt inverter)
20 lbs food/drink in the fridge
10 lbs cold weather clothing/rain gear suits
That’s another 1,570 pounds of people and stuff. And while it’s certainly comprehensive, there’s nothing in the entire list that’s really out of the ordinary for a vehicle set up for backroad exploration and camping with a family in mind. But what about unforeseen consequences from all that weight?
Every vehicle has a GVWR, or Gross Vehicle Weight Rating, specified by the manufacturer. The information is usually on a sticker on the edge of the driver’s door or door frame, as well as in the owner’s manual. There are dozens of factors that can be used to calculate GVWR, which isn’t to say that all manufacturers use the same list. Most obvious is the suspension, including spring rates, shock valving, anti-roll bars, etc. Braking capacity is another critical variable. Chassis design, wheel and tire size and rating, engine horsepower and torque, transmission capacity, differential gear size and ratio, driveshafts, axles, wheel bearings, CV joints—all these and more contribute in some way to the vehicle’s capacity to haul a load. Whether or not they’re all included by the manufacturer, they should be considered as an interdependent system by the owner.
You might think fear of litigation would drive manufacturers to be conservative regarding GVWR, but, particularly when discussing pickup trucks, advertising trumps reality. If your pickup has an 8,000-pound GVWR, and the brand across the street boasts a 8,500-pound GVWR, that makes your truck look puny in the one-upmanship game with which the American truck market is obsessed. So just because your vehicle is rated to carry 2,000 pounds of cargo doesn’t mean it can do it comfortably—or even safely. As an example, our 2000 Toyota Tacoma Extra Cab with the TRD package was rated to carry 1,400 pounds, if memory serves. Yet with nothing but an 800-pound Four Wheel Camper in the bed the rear end sagged alarmingly, the headlights lit up bedrooms in third-floor apartments, and we negotiated corners looking like a sailboat rounding a leeward buoy. Immediate suspension modification was called for. In our case, a set of heavy-duty shock absorbers and a pair of adjustable air bags handled the situation perfectly.
Scott’s Montero is equipped with a set of custom coil springs, and from photographs they appear to handle the extra load very well. The factory shocks that came on the vehicle are adjustable, and now live permanently in the “firm” mode (brother Mark’s Montero didn’t have that option and rides on Old Man Emu shocks).
Scott also extensively modified the vehicle for better performance on challenging trails. The tires are 35-inch Goodyear Wranglers, significantly taller (and heavier, as noted in his list) than the stock 30-inch tires. To fit them, Scott raised the suspension two inches and installed a two-inch body lift as well. He compensated for the taller tires by changing the differential gears from 4.2/1 to 4.9/1. In addition, the modest stock transfer case ratio of 1.9:1 is now a healthy 3.15:1, giving the Montero a very good 43:1 crawl ratio in 1st/low. The vehicle also has a stock Mitsubishi rear diff lock and an ARB front locker.
On Class 3 and 4 trails, there’s very little doubt Scott’s Montero would outperform a stock one. But how do his modifications, combined with the oversized load, affect its durability and safety as an overland vehicle?
The springs are clearly doing their job keeping the vehicle level and retaining sufficient suspension travel. The next component to consider is the braking system. Scott is lucky in that his Montero came with four-wheel disc brakes, not very common on mid-90s SUVs. Nevertheless, at nearly a ton over GVWR those discs are obviously working harder than they would be in a lightly loaded truck, and there’s no need for a track test to confidently assume emergency stopping distances are increased. And the bigger tires don’t help at all, as they add an enormous amount of rotating mass. I have a study in hand from the American Association of Motor Vehicle Administrators, in which they tested braking effectiveness with successively larger tires on a 1992 F150 Ford standard-cab pickup, in terms of the g-force generated by specific pressure on the brake pedal. For example, 76 pounds of pedal pressure—equivalent to a hard stop—produced .57g of retardation with 32-inch tires, but only .51g with 35-inch tires. With 150 pounds of pedal pressure—a full panic stop—they recorded .68g with the 32-inch tires, and only .62g with 35-inch tires. Since Scott’s Montero’s stock tires were 30-inchers, we might expect the difference to be larger in his case. In addition, the weight of the roof rack and its contents puts more stress on the front brakes in a panic stop, and will kick in the Montero’s rear anti-lock system earlier.
Those larger tires, combined with the suspension and body lift and the loaded roof rack, also negatively affect the center of gravity of the vehicle. In the same study referenced above, the Ford truck was evaluated for Static Stability Factor (SSF), an industry standard for determining the vehicle’s chances of rolling during a violent emergency maneuver. On stock 29-inch tires with no suspension modifications, the chances of rolling were calculated at 10 to 20 percent—low enough to earn the truck a four-star rating (out of a possible five). On 35-inch tires, with a three-inch body lift and a four-inch suspension lift—not at all out of the ordinary on a full-size truck—the chances of rolling went up to 30 to 40 percent, enough to drop it to a two-star rating. And that’s without a loaded roof rack. (I doubt any of this is a revelation to Scott, but I found it interesting to see actual figures attached to what we know instinctively.)
I got a dramatic seat-of-the-pants lesson in the effect a loaded roof rack can have on a trip to Mexico in my FJ40 (with its short 90-inch wheelbase and tall profile), when I rashly decided to carry an uninflated 14-foot Zodiac and a 40-horsepower Yamaha outboard up top. Total weight, including the massive Con-Ferr rack, about 600 pounds. All went reasonably well on the curvy road to Hermosillo—until I had to dodge a cow that stepped into my lane: Oh. ooh. C’mon. Jeeeez.
Back on four wheels, I thought calmly to myself, Right. Last trip with a powerboat on the roof.
Looking at the rest of Scott’s modifications, the 4.9 ring and pinion gears he installed are weaker than the stock 4.2 gears, due to the smaller pinion needed to achieve the higher ratio. Combined with the 35-inch tires this compromises the drivetrain strength. However, the second-generation Monteros came with mighty 9.5-inch rear ring gears, and substantial 8-inch gears in the front (independent) diff. So I suspect this won’t be the problem it is for those kids who stick 42-inch Mudders on Toyota pickups with 7.5-inch front diffs, then punch the locker when one wheel is spinning in thin air.
On the other side of the coin, the lower crawl ratio in the Montero is a definite asset, since it allows Scott to tackle rough sections at lower speeds, reducing the possibility of drivetrain stress, enhancing engine braking on descents, and easing transitions into off-camber situations with that higher CG. Of course high range isn’t negatively affected, so road performance remains normal—although I’d bet the combination of weight, windage, lift, and tires on Scott’s vehicle drops fuel economy of the V6 into the low teens more often than he’d like.
The last concern for Scott would be stress on the Montero’s bodywork and chassis. Again, he’s fortunate to have a strong, fully boxed ladder frame with no known weak points. The front double-wishbone and multilink rear suspension structure is sturdy and easy to modify for increased capacity. The roof rack mounting points on the drip rails might be a concern, but frequent inspection should be sufficient to detect any incipient issues.
What do the lessons from Scott Lesak’s thoughtfully outfitted, but overloaded, Montero tell the rest of us?
First, most obviously, is that if possible one should keep the all-up weight of the vehicle below the manufacturer’s GVWR. It’s easy to add a set of heavy-duty springs or air bags and then just start throwing stuff in, but just because the truck sits level doesn’t mean it isn’t dangerously overloaded. Scott showed a great deal of thoughtfulness by calculating the total weight of his Montero; how many of us have done the same, or paid five bucks at a commercial scale to see what our fully loaded overland vehicle weighs? With solid figures in hand, it’s a lot easier to decide if action is necessary to alleviate the situation.
However, rather than assembling a completely modified vehicle and camping kit, and then finding out what it all weighs, a better and less expensive strategy would be to learn from Scott’s example, and pay attention to weight from the beginning, when first modifying the vehicle and buying camping gear.
It’s common for those starting out in the overlanding world to be tempted to get the “look” down first (I certainly was). Those winch-mounted bull bars, roof racks with six driving lights, and multi-function rear bumper/swing-outs look absolutely ace, but each one not only adds weight, it does so in the worst possible place: on the ends of the vehicle, and on top. Decide carefully whether or not you really need each. How I wish more manufacturers made sturdy winch bumpers without the bull bar, which very, very few of us really need. But apparently the market demands the full-on Aussie look . . .
Camping equipment can get out of hand easily too. Personally I think it’s odd to drive a 4,000-pound vehicle somewhere, then sleep in a five-pound mountaineering tent and cook over a microweight backpacking stove, as some friends do—but if sleeping and eating are just chores to be dealt with for you in between hikes or fishing, why carry more weight? I like to tell people to evaluate their priorities and splurge there first. For example, when car camping I like to have a tent with stand-up headroom inside, and real cots to sleep on. But I’m happy with a single-burner stove and one-pot meals. Roseann enjoys cooking, so she prefers a more comprehensive kitchen. We’ve picked and chosen to arrive at a compromise—a modest-sized but full-height tent and lightweight aluminum cots; a well-equipped kitchen mitigated by such things as a Worthington aluminum propane cylinder, which weighs half what an equivalent steel tank does. The result is a comfortable camping setup for two people (a vital distinction from Scott’s family situation). Yet, according to my calculations taking into account the known weight of our FJ60 (with M8000 winch, Slee rear bumper, and 40 gallons of diesel), with everything aboard we are just nudging past its 5,380-pound GVWR—not too bad.
When loading gear for a trip, remember that everything adds up, not just the big bulky items. Do you really need an axe, or would a hatchet or folding saw suffice? One day not long ago I finally tossed out the never-used 25-pound choker chain in our winch kit. What a difference that made. I also discovered we had somehow wound up with two folding shovels in the vehicle—not really necessary. And what on earth was that old three-D-cell Maglite still doing stuffed under the front seat? Two pounds saved . . .
If you do find yourself unavoidably abusing your vehicle’s GVWR, there are several ways to mitigate the potential side effects. First, make sure your most vital item of safety gear—the braking system—is completely up to snuff. Eschew the $49.99 lifetime brake job at the muffler shop and install the best brake pads and shoes you can find. Likewise, suspension bits should be the best available. I’ve found that, especially with shock absorbers, you really do get what you pay for. If your vehicle is equipped with anti-roll bars (a.k.a. sway bars), consider upgrading them to thicker units to reduce body roll in turns (although this will diminish compliance on trails unless you have disconnectable bars). And when on a trip, force yourself to check everything on the vehicle religiously, from the tires on up, every day—particluarly those pieces that take the most abuse from weight.
Research your vehicle to see if there are well-known weak points in its running gear or chassis. The internet has made this child’s play—you can bet if a vehicle has a common problem, word will get out. For example, a search for “Toyota Tacoma frame problems” will acquaint you with the known weakness in the rear of the frames on first-generation Tacomas. Several companies sell weld-in gussets to address the issue on this otherwise superb truck. Mid-80s Chevy trucks are notorious for numerous frame, shock-mount, and steering box weaknesses. Even Ford’s recent über-truck, the Raptor, is showing early signs of a serious chassis flaw, at least for those owners who insist on driving them like the commercials suggest. All these problems have been extensively discussed on the web.
Finally, most obviously: Pay attention to your driving, and adjust it to suit the lower capabilities of the overloaded vehicle in terms of braking performance, emergency maneuvering, side-slope security, and so on.
What would I do differently in Scott’s place? Monday-morning quarterbacking is the easiest job in the world. However, given the situation he described, I’d be very tempted to look into a 4WD-capable utility trailer from one of the growing number of companies offering them. Offsetting the hassle of a trailer would be the elimination of that 150-pound roof rack (and ladder), and the redistribution of its load, along with much more gear from the Montero’s cargo bay—which would likely mean that the 100-pound drawer system could be tossed out, along with, perhaps, the 45-pound cargo barrier. That 280 pounds of water could go in the trailer as well, as could the jerry cans which now have to reside on that 200-pound custom rear bumper and swing out. Toss that too (or go for a much lighter Hi-Lift-capable bumper with just a tire mount). With the fridge in the trailer the 50-pound fridge slide could go. We just lost over 500 pounds in one paragraph—which would, ahem, go some ways toward offsetting the weight of the trailer (although towed weight is much different from carried weight). The entire load would be distributed much more evenly (and lower), relieving the burden on the Montero. I’d be curious to see a controlled experiment regarding highway fuel economy comparing a vehicle with a high roof load to one towing a utility trailer. I strongly suspect the trailer would add more drag, but it might not be a huge difference.
On the vehicle itself, a few things jumped out at me, but again from my own perspective. The Garvin roof rack seems immensely heavy—the full-length aluminum Front Runner rack we use when necessary on our FJ60 is light enough for me to lift with one arm, yet sturdy enough to stand on. Scott’s 12,000-pound-capacity Mile Marker winch is actually well-matched to the total weight of his vehicle (gross weight x 1.5 is the general rule), but depending on frequency of use I’d be tempted to go with a Warn M8000 and synthetic line—total weight less than 80 pounds—and employ snatch blocks to increase pulling power. That would not only save weight but would remove it from the end of the vehicle, where its effects are magnified.
Scott apparently knows what he needs in the way of tires, given where he wants to go (those dual diff locks and 43:1 crawl ratio are clues). For myself, I’ve never seen a need for tires larger than 33-inch on a vehicle that size. That would eliminate the need for the body lift, thus saving rotating weight (the worst kind) and lowering the center of gravity at the same time.
In the end, while Scott is certainly stretching the load-carrying ability of his vehicle, he could have done much worse than to choose the fine second-generation Montero as his platform. Here’s hoping it and Mark’s twin hold up for many thousands of miles of family adventuring.
Vehicle rentals in New Zealand?
My wife and I are headed to New Zealand in March and I wanted to see if you knew of anybody down there who did vehicle rentals? We are looking at renting a pop-top camper van to spend our 2 weeks traveling around the south island. Any leads would be helpful! Thank you for your help.
~ Beau Johnston (www.LivingOverland.com Gourmet Cooking * Travel * 4WD) via email
10 Great Last-minute Christmas Suggestions
Whether your preferred mode is motorcycle, truck, bicycle, or foot, Overland Tech & Travel editor Jonathan Hanson offers up great last-minute gift suggestions for the overlanders on your list—or a treat for yourself.
Fenix E11 LED microlight ($27)
I remember when I thought a halogen flashlight that produced 70 lumens from two expensive lithium batteries (for one hour) was hot stuff. The E11 puts out 105 lumens for almost two hours from a single AA battery—or a walking/reading-level 32 lumens for eight hours on low. Astonishing. Headed to the developing world? Take several—they make genuinely useful trade items or gifts. Fenix
Whether your preferred mode is motorcycle, truck, bicycle, or foot, Overland Tech & Travel editor Jonathan Hanson offers up great last-minute gift suggestions for the overlanders on your list—or a treat for yourself.
Fenix E11 LED microlight ($27)
I remember when I thought a halogen flashlight that produced 70 lumens from two expensive lithium batteries (for one hour) was hot stuff. The E11 puts out 105 lumens for almost two hours from a single AA battery—or a walking/reading-level 32 lumens for eight hours on low. Astonishing. Headed to the developing world? Take several—they make genuinely useful trade items or gifts. Fenix
Hasyun merino wool underwear (from $43)
I just tried out this very affordable base layer system in 5º Fahrenheit blizzard conditions on a strenuous elk hunt. Verdict: Scrumptious. Wait, I didn’t mean to write that. What I meant was, “Excellent.” Hasyun underwear—made in Turkey since 1952—uses Woolmark accredited extra-fine merino wool from New Zealand. It’s sensuously soft and warm for its weight, machine-washable, and won’t retain odors like that nasty polyester stuff. The small/medium size in both top and bottom fit my 150-pound, 5’9” frame perfectly. Available in both men’s and women’s, imported by a little company that also sells, um, kid’s bicycles. Go figure. Hasyun
MSR Titan titanium pot ($60)
Pot, kettle, bowl, mug, scoop—MSR’s brilliant 4.2-ounce Titan pot does it all. It’s the only cook kit you need for a solo motorcycle tour, or a compact coffee-making system for your 4x4. An MSR Pocket Rocket stove and fuel canister ride neatly inside. I’d like to have one of these stashed in every vehicle we own. It should be the official MoMA ultralight cooking pot. Simply perfect.MSR Titan
Vintage pocket compass ($60-$140)
You can employ a vintage pocket compass two ways. Produce it with a flourish from a vest pocket, leashed on a leather cord or—better—a silver chain, and flip open the lid to consult it as Selous might have on his way to the Rufiji River. Or, glance at it surreptitiously, then point to the horizon and say sagely, “That should be north.” Either way your companions will be impressed. I carry my WWII-era Wittnauer version everywhere—it’s especially handy for remaining oriented south of the Equator, where the sun always seems to be in the wrong place. This young woman (Kornelia Takacs, who also wrote the book Compass Chronicles), has a wonderful selection: Vintage compasses
Helle Temagami ($170)
Everyone should own at least one really good sheath knife—and if it happens to be beautiful as well, all the better. The Temagami (say teh-mah-gah-mee) from Norway is both. A hand-filling, oiled curly birch handle surrounds a superb laminated steel blade—two resilient 18-8 stainless outer layers sandwiching a high-carbon cutting edge. Like all Helle knives, the Temagami comes razor sharp, in a leather sheath that works equally well for right- or left-handers. I’ve included two suppliers: Feathered Friends, who also make some of the best down sleeping bags in the world, and the delightful Ragweed Forge, which you should visit anyway. Feathered Friends Ragweed Forge
Overland Expo 2012 Gift Certificate ($265)
Okay, it’s our own event, but after all, think of what you get: Three days of classes & programs (over 80 to choose from); driving instruction from Camel Trophy team members in your own vehicle or a new Land Rover; an all-new Camel Trophy Overland Skills Area where you might, say, learn how to build a bridge to get your 110 across a washed-out ravine; motorcycle instruction from RawHyde Adventures, the official BMW training partner; over 120 vendors & exhibitors of high-quality overlanding products & services; the Adventure Travel Film Festival; happy hours; and a barbecue to wrap it all up. We’ll do up a custom e-Card or printed card. Find out why people come again and again. Overland Expo
Cerberus (from $499)
The era of one-way “I’m okay” or “Help!” global messaging is over. The Cerberus device twins with your smartphone to allow two-way text messaging from anywhere on earth. If a cell network is not available, Cerberus automatically switches to the Iridium satellite network. You can send up to 160-character messages, and receive up to 1600-character messages. In an emergency it allows detailed two-way communication with a 24/7 command center. You can also drop breadcrumbs, and receive customized regional weather and geo-political alerts. We’ll be testing a unit in the Egyptian desert early next year, so that last feature might come in handy. Cerberus
ARB CKMTA12 air compressor ($540)
For years, owners of vehicles equipped with ARB’s legendary diff locks have been abusing the tiny little compressors usually supplied to activate them, by adding a connector for filling tires. Surprisingly, they seem to hold up to this quite well, but the process is glacial and the compressors can reach glow-in-the-dark temperatures. The company’s new twin-cylinder compressor will still activate lockers, but its tire-filling and air-tool-operating capacity is in a different universe. It’s fully up to the job of serving as a hard-mounted vehicle-wide air-supply system, with a stout 100-percent duty cycle. (But, really, couldn’t they have just called it the ARB Twin-cylinder Compressor?) ARB
Goal Zero Sherpa 120 Adventure Kit ($670)
Never run out of power again for your laptop, tablet, or phone, with Goal Zero’s 120-watt-hour power pack (AKA lithium iron phosphate battery) and 27-watt folding solar panel—small enough to pack into your panniers. You can also charge the power pack from a wall outlet or cigarette lighter. What impresses me most about Goal Zero is the foolproof plug-and-play nature of their systems, any of which can be effortlessly augmented with additional panels and batteries (or a 120-volt AC inverter). Goal Zero
La Peregrina Natural Pearl Necklace ($3,000,000)
Just seeing if Jonathan is paying attention. (Elizabeth Taylor’s jewelry collection is up for auction at Christie’s; a nice little trinket, this, though not suitable for overlanding in all countries). Christie’s
Why I hate Nalgene bottles
Few outdoor product manufacturers have attained the market dominance enjoyed by the Nalge Company, once an obscure maker of laboratory storage containers, after company president Marsh Hyman discovered his son’s Boy Scout troop was using their one-liter bottles as canteens early in the 1970s. The subsequent rebranding of Nalgene Outdoor Products was successful beyond the wildest dreams of marketing people who had previously relied on guys wearing lab coats and pocket protectors as customers. So successful, in fact, that I seriously doubt anyone reading this has not at some point had a drink of water from a Nalgene.
I drank the water, and the Kool-Aid, early on. The original one-liter white HDPE bottles with the wide cap were light, tough, and fit perfectly in the side pockets of my Camp Trails frame pack. They were easy to fill from a stream or bucket, and didn’t leak. You could chill the contents with ice cubes, or freeze the whole bottle with impunity. The Austrian Olicamp bottles I’d been using were leakproof and tough, too, but had a tiny opening and a fiddly two-piece top, so—despite years of yeoman service, including a backpacking trip spanning southern Arizona and three mountain ranges—I shelved them and shamelessly embraced their replacements.
Few outdoor product manufacturers have attained the market dominance enjoyed by the Nalge Company, once an obscure maker of laboratory storage containers, after company president Marsh Hyman discovered his son’s Boy Scout troop was using their one-liter bottles as canteens early in the 1970s. The subsequent rebranding of Nalgene Outdoor Products was successful beyond the wildest dreams of marketing people who had previously relied on guys wearing lab coats and pocket protectors as customers. So successful, in fact, that I seriously doubt anyone reading this has not at some point had a drink of water from a Nalgene.
I drank the water, and the Kool-Aid, early on. The original one-liter white HDPE bottles with the wide cap were light, tough, and fit perfectly in the side pockets of my Camp Trails frame pack. They were easy to fill from a stream or bucket, and didn’t leak. You could chill the contents with ice cubes, or freeze the whole bottle with impunity. The Austrian Olicamp bottles I’d been using were leakproof and tough, too, but had a tiny opening and a fiddly two-piece top, so—despite years of yeoman service, including a backpacking trip spanning southern Arizona and three mountain ranges—I shelved them and shamelessly embraced their replacements.
Smaller Nalgene bottles that soon followed were ideal for toiletries, spices, and first-aid supplies. In fact, so enamored was I of Nalgene products that I spent an absurd sum special-ordering some of the first Nalgene 20-liter jerry cans then available in the U.S. I strapped two of them into my FJ40 and thought it was a pretty stylish setup.
The facade began to crack—literally—a few years later. Previously I’d noticed that the odd small bottle I used for toiletries or other incidentals had degraded. The translucent plastic would turn dull and opaque, then tiny stress cracks would appear. Forceful pressure with a finger would punch right through the material. At first I blamed this on the stuff I was putting in them (although an internal voice chided me that the containers were originally intended for lab use, and thus presumably should stand up to contents a lot more caustic than Suave Green Apple shampoo). But then one morning on a remote beach in Mexico I reached into the back of the Land Cruiser to pull out one of those stylish jerry cans, and the side split open right under the handle, spewing half my water supply into the sand.
Still I doubted my own doubts. UV exposure certainly could have been at fault in the jerry cans’ demise (inspection had shown the second one to be compromised as well)—although I’d had previous plastic water containers last longer. Regardless, my confidence was now shaken. I switched to Nalgene’s harder Lexan water bottles, but wondered why I should have to. The more oxidized white bottles I found in my pile of assorted Nalgenes, the more annoyed I became. (I have no idea if “oxidation” is the correct term for the problem, but that’s what I called it.) Once I narrowly avoided disaster when a camera bouncing around in my center console punched a small hole in an old six-ounce Nalgene bottle of window cleaner I kept there. Fortunately the hole was above the level of the liquid and I discovered it before it tipped over onto the camera.
Whatever the mechanism might be—UV degradation, shampoo corrosion, planned obsolescence (just kidding, Nalgene)—I’ve concluded that white HDPE Nalgene bottles seem to have a finite, potentially annoying or even hazardous, life expectancy. I can’t be sure what it is—given the hodgepodge of examples I’ve purchased over the years, there’s no way to determine the age of a compromised bottle. The apparent capriciousness of it is odd too—one two-liter square bottle I know I’ve had for ten years is still in fine, pliable shape. But the situation has reached the point where I look at every Nalgene not purchased the week before with suspicion—and that’s no way to have to view one’s outdoor equipment. I still use the small bottles for toiletries, having as yet found no leakproof substitute made in as wide a variety of sizes, but, like any disillusioned disciple, my former accolades have turned to acrimony, and I now spurn every Nalgene product for which I can find a reasonable substitute. Steel Wedco or plastic Scepter jerry cans hold bulk water; and an indestructible NATO canteen carries drinking water on hikes.
Then again, I just might go back to those Austrian-made Olicamp bottles. You see, out of curiosity, while writing this I dug them out of the recesses of my gear storage—they were right there next to the SVEA stove and Sigg Tourist cook kit. Thirty years after I carried them across southern Arizona, they’re still perfectly usable.
Anyone at Nalgene listening?
Review: Desert Travels by Chris Scott, Kindle edition
Times have changed when Chris Scott offers a book as a Kindle edition.
It’s not as though the desert travel veteran is un-tech-savy—his authoritative Sahara Overland Forum has been on the Web for what seems like eons. But Chris’s participation in threads there always had sort of a message-from-the-wilderness mystery to it—one imagined him typing on a gritty Panasonic ToughBook from the top of a sand dune, sending the signal via satellite using a generator powered by a camel harnessed to plod in circles, or maybe hooked up to the rear wheel of a knackered Yamaha XT500.
However, the advent of a Kindle edition of his Desert Travels means he must have snuck back to his flat in London for at least long enough to arrange the appropriate technology transfer. In any case, for the price of a cup of coffee ($2.99) you can now have the book downloaded to your Kindle, or a device that can read Kindle books (such as an iPad).
Desert Travels covers some of Chris’s earliest explorations in the Sahara, beginning with his disastrous initial foray and precipitous retreat on an XT500, ending with a fractious ride alongside a pseudonymed companion from Algeria to Mauritania, and centered around a foray into vehicle-supported (via a dodgy 101 Land Rover) guided motorcycle trips, on which “five set off . . . only one came back riding.” This period in the 1980s, just before the nomad rebellions began to make travel in the central Sahara, and Algeria in particular, hazardous in places for foreigners, is what Chris refers to as the Golden Age of Saharan Exploration, when anyone with the experience and/or commitment could undertake truly epic trans-national journeys across an area the size of the United States.
Times have changed when Chris Scott offers a book as a Kindle edition.
It’s not as though the desert travel veteran is un-tech-savy—his authoritative Sahara Overland Forum has been on the Web for what seems like eons. But Chris’s participation in threads there always had sort of a message-from-the-wilderness mystery to it—one imagined him typing on a gritty Panasonic ToughBook from the top of a sand dune, sending the signal via satellite using a generator powered by a camel harnessed to plod in circles, or maybe hooked up to the rear wheel of a knackered Yamaha XT500.
However, the advent of a Kindle edition of his Desert Travels means he must have snuck back to his flat in London for at least long enough to arrange the appropriate technology transfer. In any case, for the price of a cup of coffee ($2.99) you can now have the book downloaded to your Kindle, or a device that can read Kindle books (such as an iPad).
Desert Travels covers some of Chris’s earliest explorations in the Sahara, beginning with his disastrous initial foray and precipitous retreat on an XT500, ending with a fractious ride alongside a pseudonymed companion from Algeria to Mauritania, and centered around a foray into vehicle-supported (via a dodgy 101 Land Rover) guided motorcycle trips, on which “five set off . . . only one came back riding.” This period in the 1980s, just before the nomad rebellions began to make travel in the central Sahara, and Algeria in particular, hazardous in places for foreigners, is what Chris refers to as the Golden Age of Saharan Exploration, when anyone with the experience and/or commitment could undertake truly epic trans-national journeys across an area the size of the United States.
Of course, every explorer since Mungo Park has felt he participated in “The Golden Age of Saharan Exploration,” but in Chris’s case he might have a point. Especially given recently resurgent violence toward tourists in Mali, the days when all one needed to worry about in the Sahara were minor risks such as dying of thirst or heat stroke are, at least temporarily, over.
Any first-person travelogue runs the risk of self-glorification, or at least self-indulgence—unless it’s written by Chris Scott (or his Saharan compatriot Tom Sheppard). Chris is so modest, the cover of the print edition of Desert Travels shows a motorcycle, period. Nary a sign of the author posing in front and looking off into the distance with steely-eyed determination. The self-effacing attitude pervades the book, and renders it not only insightful but hilarious. There’s one extensive but interesting diversion into the history of the tragicomic Flatters expedition of 1880—it’s almost as if Chris included it to say to the reader, So, just in case you’ve decided I’m inept . . .
No one even close to inept could have survived 30 years of Saharan exploration into some of the most remote regions of the desert, frequently solo. Trust me, for three bucks you’ll get a lot more enjoyment from this book than you will from a cup of Pike Place Roast. Find it here: Desert Travels
Tested: 2012 Yamaha Super Ténéré
If it’s Tuesday, it must be Timbuktu!
by Ken Freund
Yamaha has been selling this new Super Ténéré adventure-touring model in Europe for several years now and is finally bringing it to North America. Ténéré (pronounced like “tay-nay-ray”) is the word for “desert” in the language of the Tuareg tribe that resides in the region of the Sahara where Timbuktu is located. The first bike to carry the Super Ténéré name was the 1989 XTZ750 twin and it won the trans-Saharan Dakar Rally six times — so this new machine has good DNA!
If it’s Tuesday, it must be Timbuktu!
by Ken Freund
Yamaha has been selling this new Super Ténéré adventure-touring model in Europe for several years now and is finally bringing it to North America. Ténéré (pronounced like “tay-nay-ray”) is the word for “desert” in the language of the Tuareg tribe that resides in the region of the Sahara where Timbuktu is located. The first bike to carry the Super Ténéré name was the 1989 XTZ750 twin and it won the trans-Saharan Dakar Rally six times — so this new machine has good DNA!
Powertrain
Power is supplied by a liquid-cooled 1199cc parallel-twin engine unique to this model, which is rated 108.4 hp in Europe (US specs don’t list power). With an 11.0:1 compression ratio, it breathes through four-valves-per-cylinder and has a DOHC shim-under-bucket valve train that boasts 24,000-mile service intervals. Twin 46mm Mikuni EFI throttle bodies feed fuel through 12-hole injection nozzles and two-spark-plugs-per- cylinder light the fires. The Super Ténéré also gets Yamaha’s YCC-T ride-by-wire throttle control that interfaces with an effective traction-control system.
Inside, the motor is fitted with a 270-degree crankshaft, having a staggered firing order that produces a unique exhaust note. Parallel twins are known for their vibrations and to combat this, Yamaha added two primary counter-balancers. These keep vibes completely in check until about 80 mph in sixth gear, when a few tingles get through the handlebar.
Redline arrives at 7,750 rpm and the torque curve feels very steady throughout the mid-range. While lacking spirit, the engine has plenty of power for passing and climbing and this docile character makes the bike feel predictable, easy to ride on loose surfaces and unintimidating to less-experienced riders. There are two rider selectable engine-computer maps called D-Mode: Touring and Sport, which simply control the rate of throttle opening and don’t affect peak power. Touring mode is very linear and best on dirt, while Sport mode has an initial strong pull that makes the bike feel more powerful than Touring—even if it’s not.
A hydraulically actuated wet clutch, six-speed transmission and low-maintenance shaft drive bring power to the rear wheel competently, with no missed shifts or false neutrals. Overall gearing is well-matched to the bike and engine, although a slightly lower first-gear ratio would help in rough off road conditions. Sixth gear is tall for relaxed highway riding, turning about 4,000 rpm at 75 mph. The 6.1-gallon tank includes a gallon on reserve and can take you more than 200 miles.
Chassis and Suspension
The stout tubular-steel frame uses the engine as a stressed member for rigidity. An inverted 43mm fully adjustable fork and the aluminum rear swingarm both offer 7.5 inches of travel for a plush ride. In back, a single shock provides rebound settings and has a knob for quick preload adjustment.
Yamaha employs a linked Unified Braking System. With UBS, applying the front brake alone also provides some rear-wheel braking, which is handy when you’re riding on dirt standing up, but pressing the rear brake first overrides UBS for separate braking. UBS is unobtrusive and even adjusts the bias percentage, based on how much weight the bike’s carrying.
In front, a pair of 310mm wave rotors clamped by four-pot calipers and a single 282mm disc with one-pot caliper in back provide strong braking — perhaps a little too grabby for off-road. We were skeptical about the standard ABS, which is not switchable, but seemed to work acceptably well on dirt. If you really want it off, run the bike on its centerstand in second gear briefly until the ABS warning light comes on, and ABS will be disabled until a restart.
Traction control, also standard, controls wheelspin by varying ignition timing and injection cutoff, and it has three settings. Setting one intervenes early enough to prevent slides; setting two is for riders who like to get a bit loose on dirt, and there’s an off position for serious off-roaders who really like to power slide. All settings worked as claimed, and setting two was great for letting the back hang out a little on dirt, without worrying about doing a face plant.
Yamaha developed spoked wheels that allow tubeless tires, and our test bike was fitted with 110/80-19 front and 150/70-17 rear Metzeler Tourance EXP rubber (Bridgestone Battle Wing tires are also original fitment). Low-speed maneuvering is easy, grip is good, and even at high speeds, the bike feels planted and stable.
The manually adjustable standard windscreen does an adequate job, but requires tools to adjust; a larger screen and wind deflectors are offered as accessories. Instrumentation is all in a tidy cluster that includes speedo, tach, dual trip meters, clock, fuel gauge, fuel trip meter with average and instantaneous consumption, coolant and air temperatures, plus D-mode and Traction Control settings.
Super Ténéré has a riding position designed to allow standing for off-road sections, yet offers all-day comfort when seated. Although seat height is adjustable from 33.3 to 34.3 inches it may be a bit tall for some riders, so a 1.4-inch lower seat is available optionally. Passenger seating is spacious and rear footpegs are comfortably positioned.
The aluminum panniers, which have a 61-liter combined capacity, and the 30-liter tail trunk that can hold a full-face helmet, are offered as accessories. They look nice and are keyed with the ignition, but the locking mechanism is fiddly and you always need to use the key. Other accessories include an engine guard that holds two optional fog lamps, an aluminum skid plate, headlight protector, heated grips, case liners, and a tankbag.
Final Thoughts
We found the Super Ténéré to be nicely made and finished. It’s well sorted out, capable, comfortable, fun, and easy to ride all day. It’s a great all-around machine that can take you to work daily, attack the canyons and backroads on the weekends, and then whisk you across vast continents on your vacation.
=================
Technical Specs:
+ comfortable, good handling, reasonable price
- heavy compared to GS, could lose a few pounds
Distributor Yamaha, www.yamaha-motor.com
MSRP: $13,900
Engine: DOHC 4-valve-per-cylinder parallel twin
Displacement: 1199cc
Bore x Stroke: 98x79.5mm
Fuel Delivery: Mikuni EFI w/ two 46mm throttle bodies
Power: 108.4 (Euro spec)
Cooling: liquid
Ignition: digital electronic w/ 2-plugs-per-cylinder
Transmission: 6-speed, hydraulically actuated clutch, shaft drive
Frame: Tubular steel w/ engine as stressed member
Front Suspension: KYB inverted 43mm fork, adj. preload, rebound & compression damping, 7.5in travel
Rear Suspension: aluminum swingarm, YHS single shock w/ adj. rebound & preload, 7.5in travel
Rake/Trail: 28º/5in (126mm)
Brakes: Front/Rear Dual 310mm wave discs w/ 4-piston calipers/ one 282mm disc w/ 1-piston caliper
Tires, Front/Rear: 110/80R17/150/70-17
Wet Weight: 575lbs (306.5kg) (claimed)
Wheelbase: 60.6in (1540mm)
Seat Height: 33.3 – 34.3in. (845/870mm)
Fuel Capacity: 6.1gal (23l) w/1 gallon res.
Fuel Consumption: 42.1mpg
Colors: Impact Blue, Raven
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Overland Tech and Travel is curated by Jonathan Hanson, co-founder and former co-owner of the Overland Expo. Jonathan segued from a misspent youth almost directly into a misspent adulthood, cleverly sidestepping any chance of a normal career track or a secure retirement by becoming a freelance writer, working for Outside, National Geographic Adventure, and nearly two dozen other publications. He co-founded Overland Journal in 2007 and was its executive editor until 2011, when he left and sold his shares in the company. His travels encompass explorations on land and sea on six continents, by foot, bicycle, sea kayak, motorcycle, and four-wheel-drive vehicle. He has published a dozen books, several with his wife, Roseann Hanson, gaining several obscure non-cash awards along the way, and is the co-author of the fourth edition of Tom Sheppard's overlanding bible, the Vehicle-dependent Expedition Guide.