Healy-Guttman Blog

The name “Dusty” brings forth visions of cowpokes on the range with sturdy horses that are sure footed and unflappable. That is the type of name that the new Kawasaki KLR650 now wears as a badge of honor after an 8 1/2 hour round trip adventure to and around Mauna Kea on an unimproved “road” named simply R-1.

After a week of ownership I felt it was time to test the bike’s off-road capabilities - after all, it is considered a “dual sport” bike. I had ridden the Saddle Road to Hilo the week prior (on day 2 of ownership) but had only veered off briefly on a gravel road. I had intended to ride up to the observatory but never did find the access road. This was not a disappointment since the road is incredibly fun and full of twisties all the way to Hilo. …but I still wanted to take the bike up Mauna Kea to its 13,000+ altitude since I had never been there…

So having nothing better to do on a Friday I picked up my copy of “Hawaii - The Big Island Revealed” and thumbed to the section entitled “Saddle Road Sights”. Here I discovered a brief mention of R-1 that starts at the Kilohana Hunter Reserve and was billed as “…the least known major unpaved road on the island.” It circles Mauna Kea at between 6000′ - 9500′ and culminated at the Mauna Kea access road - exactly where I wanted to go. How cool is that - yes, I wanted to try it!!!

It takes about 1 1/2 hours to get to the 43 mile marker where the Kilohana Hunter Reserve access is located just off Saddle Road. I left Kealakekua Bay at around 10 AM and brought two bottles of water anticipating about a 3 hour trip around Mauna Kea - easily back to the bay by 4 PM (right…). I had the foresight to bring extra clothing (needed at these high altitudes even though it is Hawaii) but had forgotten the sandwich I had intended on packing (not to worry, I thought, since I had a big breakfast)… Here’s a picture just before the reserve:

At around 11:30 I was winding my way into the reserve and started following the rustic signs marked “R-1″. After a few switchbacks I was faced with my first real obstacle - sand. …very deep black sand… I had not let air out of my tires since I still had a 1 1/2 hour trip back to K-Bay after the adventure and figured “how bad could this road be?”. The sand sucked the bike in and it took every ounce of focus I had to negotiate this first section.

After a few miles I was use to the occasional “sand bog” but now the road started winding upwards with several switchbacks and increasingly steep hills. The road became very rocky with slippery gravel and deep ruts. On one short steep section, I lost my momentum and when I tried to get going again, my rear wheel simply ran in one place and dug into the gravel/sand to the point where I was stuck. I hopped off the bike, slipped on the gravel (it was steep!) and the bike slowly tipped over - its first trip to the ground. I struggled to get the bike back up and after a fair bit of huffing and puffing (I was at around 6500′ elevation) I got it turned around and headed back down to a point where I could start over.

Thus began about 2 hours of steadily rising terrain and a road that became increasingly rocky (read: challenging!) that had many steep sections to negotiate. ….run out of momentum and you have to start over. Turning the bike around resulted in over half a dozen trips to the ground accompanied by more struggle, huffing and puffing and a bit of cursing. In the midst of this, I worked my way up into a cloud that seemed to go on forever (and it did save for one brief section above it). It wasn’t raining, but visibility was poor (the rain came later). Lest you think this was not good - the terrain was still fascinating (hard to believe I was on the Big Island) and there were increasing sightings of wild black pigs (or boars?) and other smaller game birds. Getting into such an isolated wilderness area was a blast and kept me going.

Somewhere along the line I took these photos:

After about 2 hours of this I was wearing down when on a particularly tough uphill section again the rear wheel dug in under power and then - nothing but a really bad rasping sound. ….my chain had come off… At first I was pissed - how could this happen after just 850 miles on the odometer (and the 500 mile service just the week before). …then I realized that I had not seen a single soul besides the abundant wildlife, I was at least 10 - 15 miles into the ride and at least that far from getting to the access road, I hadn’t seen an “R-1″ sign for quite some time so I was starting to wonder if I was still on the main road, and was suddenly overwhelmed with the sense of “aloneness”.

I took off my helmet, jacket, backpack and other miscellaneous gear (by now I was sweating and hot even though it was probably in the low 50’s) and took a swig of water. Then I started pondering which direction I was going to walk - ahead or back. With my helmet off and earplugs out I was also hearing various wildlife - including the wild pigs (which I hear can be kind of nasty if you happen to run into one). I was wondering if it would be better to stay put and hope that someone came by. Then I remembered the tool kit! Something I had pushed aside when looking for a place to store the registration. I remember thinking at that time: “when will I ever use this thing?” Inside were all the tools I needed (rudimentary as they were). After about 45 minutes I had managed to get the chain back on without a stand (those big lava rocks make for a really nice hammer!) and soldiered on.

It is at this point that I should stop and answer the obvious question: why hadn’t I just turned around after encountering a much more difficult terrain than anticipated. …well, it’s a rather complex answer but in a nutshell it is a combination of being a very goal oriented individual (and I suppose a bit stubborn), a very gradual increase in difficulty (I got sucked in) and after that thought crossed my mind, I realized that I simply did not want to go back down some of the hills I had climbed. …that seemed more difficult than simply pushing ahead.

After another hour the speedometer/odometer gave up. …I guess all the bumping and jarring knocked something loose… My front end was also starting to rattle. After one fall, my front brake lever was twisted down and I had to lever it back into position. Somewhere along the line it broke in half. The two plastic panels on either side of the radiator were popping off - their screws lost miles ago somewhere in the gravel. I decided to stop and inspect the chain and the suspension. The chain was too tight, but the thought of adjusting it again seemed out of the question. I then noticed that the top “stem nut” that is integral to the front suspension and forks staying on the bike had worked itself loose to the point it was almost off… I tried to tighten it with one of the tools in the kit but couldn’t get it under the crossbar. My only option was to hand tighten it. …which I did continuously for the rest of the entire trip (about once every mile). This sounds like no big deal but as the temperature dropped, the rain started, and my hands froze - this was more difficult than it sounds… I don’t remember when, but at some point I took this photo of the now missing front brake lever:

After a few more miles I was surprised to see an SUV round the bend slowly and deliberately in the opposite direction. I flagged them down and asked if I was still on R-1. They confirmed I was which overwhelmed me with relief. They told me to expect a lot of “rocky and very challenging” terrain ahead as well as a lot of sand (I wondered how it could get any worse!). We both questioned how this black sand might have formed since it seemed strange to find it halfway up a mountain… They told me I probably had another 2 hours or so to go.

As I continued to rise I encountered more sections of black sand - but due to the steep grade this time - I was forced off the bike and had to work the bike forward in first gear while walking/jogging alongside. By now I figured I was nearing the 9500′ elevation and this was hard work at that altitude. …I would make it a few feet, the engine would die, I would start it and gain another few feet, the engine would die - and so forth. It was about that time when the rain started… Although this sounds bad - and I guess it wasn’t comfortable due to the dropping temperatures and the fact that I didn’t have decent gloves - it did help with the sand and soon I was back on the bike. Within a mile or two I worked my way above the cloud layer and was struck by moonscape scenery. And it was dry and flat! (For the previous 3 hours the terrain had been a never ending series of uphill and downhill sections). I parked the bike and took this photo:

After this section, there were actually a few stretches that I could take in 2nd gear for the next 1/2 hour. I don’t think I had been out of 1st gear since the beginning of R-1 over 3 hours back. As the terrain started winding downward I descended back into the clouds, but this time there was rain. …at some points very hard rain. I had to lift up my visor so I could negotiate the terrain and it felt like stinging ice pellets. My body temperature plummeted and my hands became cramped and useless (this made tightening that big nut holding on the forks a challenge!). I sensed I was close to the end but since the odometer stopped working an hour back I really didn’t know other than using my watch and the information I had received from the folks in the SUV. The continuous rain meant the terrain - although still very rough - was actually more manageable since the sand tightened up and was a bit easier to traverse. …not to mention that I was now going downhill more than uphill as well as getting a much better feel for the bike.

Finally after 5 hours, I rounded a corner and saw civilization in the form of the Onizuka Center for International Astronomy on the Mauna Kea access road (9200′ elevation). The rain had slackened and visibility had improved to about 200 yards. My spirits were soaring and even though my hands were frozen, I had to ride up to the observatories. What’s another 9 miles! I headed up the road which is a very steep (17%) and is about 5 miles of bumpy gravel and 4 miles of paved road. The elevation (and cold) takes your breath away. …although I was now about the clouds, the surrounding terrain below about 9000′ was all obscured. Here is Dusty at the top:

On the way down, the clouds, rain and wind moved in suddenly and it was a slow, wet and low visibility slog down the mountain, past the visitor’s center and to Saddle Road. The good news is that it got warmer! After a few miles on Saddle Road, I could feel my hands again but the visibility got worse along with the rain. If you have ever driven Saddle Road, you know what a challenge that can be. …lots of corners, severely potholed, rough and narrow asphalt road, and cars/trucks coming at you fast and always slightly in your lane. For about 5 miles before hitting 190, I estimate the visibility was less than 50 yards and it seemed like nightfall.

Eventually I worked my way back into the sunshine and peak Kailua Kona traffic. I crept along Holualoa Road, through Honalo, Kainaliu and finally hit Napoopoo Rd for the final leg back to the Love Shack. Amazingly I made it back to Kealakekua Bay by sunset and our nightly “sunset crew”. I didn’t quite know how to answer my friends (and cousins) queries about “where had I been all day”. It all seemed so surreal.

Although I was admonished for taking such big risks, I don’t regret my adventure for one moment. I spent several hours washing off Dusty the next morning and inspecting the damage. A few minor repairs and Dusty will be ready for the next big ride. ….but next time I will not attempt R-1 without riding buddies…