The ExhaustNotes Blog (2024)

A Four-Screw Navy Arms Repro Colt 1860 Army: Part 2

By Joe Cota

When I got home yesterday from a routine 10-year colonoscopy exam (the prep was the worst part), I took a short nap, later in the evening the little lady went outside for something and brought in a package that had been sitting unguarded on my front doorstep probably since mid-morning. To make matters worse, it had been shipped it in a clearly marked ASUS Workbook computer box, complete with carry handle!

I opened the package today and the gun far exceeded my expectations! Man, this piece is so very cool. The Navy Arms box is complete with some minor scuffing. All the paperwork is present as near as I can tell.

Here are two pages from the catalog. You can click on the two images below to see larger versions that make reading the print easier.

There is also a color catalog. My gun is letter C in the catalog photo which proclaims it to be “one of the finest muzzle loading pistols in the Navy Arm line.” After handling the gun, I believe them. Oddly, nothing in the package I’ve seen in my brief review indicates that this gun was manufactured by Uberti, but the Uberti crest stamped inconspicuously on the frame tells me that it was.

The AB stamp on the gun translates to a 1976 date of manufacture. Totally unexpected by me, the frame, hammer, and loading lever are all beautifully case color hardened steel. Oh, man the photos don’t do any justice to the vibrant colors! The barrel is a highly polished deep blue having a mirror-like finish. The brass trigger guard is a little dull, but not tarnished at all after spending the past 48 years in its oiled plastic bag time capulsule. Oh, and that super fine ocean battle scene either engraved or rolled onto the cylinder is simply immaculate! The walnut stocks deep grain really showcases this piece.

Well, I have to catch up on my office work today, so I am just put everything back in the Navy Arms box for now. Maybe I’ll have some time over the coming weekend to clean it up and put on a fresh coat of oil. Until then I imagine there will be a considerable amount of daydreaming about this piece going on upstairs.

For now, enjoy these updated photos. The gun still hasn’t been cleaned. I Can’t wait to shoot it. Yeah, I know, I know. There may be a few folks who say the gun has survived 48 years without being fired and should stay that way. Well, it probably had been proof fired in Italy at the factory, but there is no evidence of it except for the factory proof markings. My thinking is that this isn’t an original Colt 1860 Army and I paid only a couple beans for it including shipping, so why not wake it up from its long hibernation and have a blast?

We forwarded Joe’s photos and request for info to my good buddy Paul, who is our resident blackpowder firearms guru. Here’s what Paul had to say:

Those two extra screws are for a shoulder stock. You remove those screws and put the shoulder stock on then secure the stock with those screws. That gun is desirable because of that feature. If he had the shoulder stock it would be worth three or more times what the gun alone is worth. That gun looks like new – I wish I owned it! Not too many people purchased a shoulder stock for those guns that’s why you don’t see them often and when you do they cost BIG MONEY.

There were a few different styles being sold back in the ’60s & ’70s. I looked on YouTube for some questions that I had and found that some of the shoulder stocks did not need to remove those screws. The stock only used those screws to pivot the stock attachment area on, then the claw would grip a notch in the bottom of the grip frame. Some guns would be cut under the recoil shield on both sides of the shield for the front of the shoulder stock to hook under so they did not need those screws. Have a look on YouTube to get a better picture of what I am referring to. By the way it looks like a great gun!

Good inputs, Paul, and thanks very much for the explanation!

More Tales of the Gun!

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A Four-Screw Navy Arms Repro Colt 1860 Army: Part 1

By Joe Cota

What is it supposed to be a copy of?

My “new” in the box never fired Colt 1860 Army clone was imported by Navy Arms some 45 or so years ago. It hasn’t arrived yet but should be in the mail any day now.

After purchasing it, I was looking more carefully at the photos and I am a bit perplexed. It definitely had four screws. The barrel is stamped “Model 1860 Army Cal 44.” This one appears to be by Uberti.

I had never heard of a four screw Colt 1860 Army before, but I had seen online photos of what I believe was described as a four screw Colt 1861 Navy.

These are the only photos I have for now and they are not really all that clear. The guy says it’s still covered in packing grease and he’s only had it out of the plastic bag twice in the 40-some years since he bought it, including last week to take these photos. It looks like it might have some sort of cylinder engraving, but wouldn’t that be a Navy and not the Army model?

Does anyone know what we have here? Did Navy Arms import a lot of these four screw early Army versions, or more of the standard three screw guns? Was this gun made by Gregoreli & Uberti, Uberti, or is it something else?

Were these guns good shooters? I’m not expecting too much out of it as I know it won’t be anywhere near as nice as my Uberti 1858 New Army (which is shown above), but heck, it was almost free. I never pass up the opportunity to buy interesting and unique guns at bargain prices.

Stay tuned for Part 2 when I finally see what it is I bought.

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A Custom .22 Magnum Colt Paterson Conversion

By Joe Berk

Here’s another fascinating custom revolver that showed up in our Uberti Facebook page. It’s from good buddy Steve, who sent additional photos and is allowing us to use the story here on ExNotes. Here’s what Steve shared with me:

I have an original Paterson in its original configuration of .36 caliber (I mean an original Uberti Paterson, of course). I searched for years for a way to buy a conversion cylinder for it. I stumbled across this and could not pass it up.

A little history on this one…the way it was converted was the gunsmith milled down a Harrington and Richardson .22 barrel and sleeved it into the Paterson barrel. Then he used standard .22 Magnum sleeves in the cylinder The loading ramp was milled such that it pins the base of the round in, so there was no need for a loading gate.

The barrel and frame are actually the original blue steel. The gunsmith dip stripped the parts then meticulously polished them to a bright shine. I just keep it well oiled.

Steve, your .22 Magnum Paterson is a great looking gun. Thanks for allowing us to share it here. For our ExNotes readers, the Paterson was the original Colt revolver patented by Samuel Colt in 1836. The revolvers are called Patersons because they were manufactured in Paterson, New Jersey. Colt built these and then went bankrupt and shut the gun business down. He unsuccessfully pursued other business interests and then was contacted by Captain Samuel Walker of the Texas Rangers, who had used Colt Patersons against the Comanches to great effect. Captain Walker told Samuel Colt about that and how he thought the revolver was a very effective weapon, and the two Sams (Colt and Walker) designed the 1847 Colt Walker, which we’ve written about before.

If you’re wondering why Steve’s Uberti Colt Paterson replica appears to have no trigger, it’s because the trigger retracts into the frame. It extends when the revolver is co*cked. That design was eliminated on the Colt Walkers, which had what we now view as a normal trigger and trigger guard.The Paterson did not have the loading lever common to later Colt blackpowder revolvers, which greatly slows the Paterson loading process.

Uberti no longer lists the Paterson in its menu of reproductions (I’ve already checked, as posting this blog whet my appetite for a Paterson reproduction). Pietta (another reproduction revolver Italian manufacturer) does, but they show the Paterson as out of stock. These replicas sell for big bucks when they come on the market (typically for something in the $750 to $1000 range), but that’s trivial to what an original Colt Paterson would bring. Those have fetched a million bucks.

Another bit of trivia…you may think you’ve never seen Paterson, New Jersey, but if you watched The Sopranos (an HBO crime drama TV series currently available on MAX and set in New Jersey), you’ve probably seen Paterson a few times and not known it. There are at least a couple of Sopranos scenes at the falls in Paterson (one in which Mikey Palmici throws a guy off a bridge, and another where Hesh threatens to do the same). Ah, New Jersey…I’ve never been to Paterson, but the next time I’m back in the Garden State I’m going to hit some of the spots featured on The Sopranos. When I do, I’ll post it here on ExNotes.

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This Just In From Janus Motorcycles

By Joe Berk

This press release just came in last week and I wanted to share it with our ExNotes readers. I’ve been traveling or I would have posted it sooner.

TWO MIDWEST BRANDS HAVE COME TOGETHER FOR THE ULTIMATE ADVENTURE

DULUTH PACK + JANUS MOTORCYCLES TO DEBUT LIMITED EDITION MOTORCYCLES AND RIDING BAGS

To celebrate the partnership and collaboration, the brands are co-hosting a launch party at the Duluth Pack flagship retail store in Duluth, Minnesota.

DULUTH, MINN –– Wed May 1^st, 2024 – Two Midwest companies focusing on old-school techniques, Duluth Pack and Janus Motorcycles have teamed up to create a collection of expertly crafted riding bags and a one-of-a-kind motorcycle called, “The Rambler Edition”. The collaboration embodies the same ethos of rooted appreciation for the outdoors, and both preserving history with traditional and historic manufacturing techniques. American-Made gear and equipment that is built with purpose for the long-haul. Now the best of both have emerged with “The Rambler Edition”. To kick-off the highly anticipated collection, both brands are co-hosting a launch party on Friday, May 3^rd at Duluth Pack’s flagship retail store in Canal Park, Duluth, MN.

The event will be from 2:00 PM – 7:00 PM CST with raffles and giveaways provided by Duluth Pack and Janus Motorcycles every hour during the event. Attendees will be able to be the first to shop the exclusive and limited-edition styles of Duluth Pack bags and the vintage crafted Janus Motorcycle. The collection focuses on both brand’s DNA including colors of the original olive drab colorway and a partnership logo. Families, friends, locals, visitors, and motorcycle enthusiasts are all encouraged to come to the store to celebrate at the launch party.

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The Autry Museum Colts

By Joe Berk

I haven’t been to the Autry Museum in Los Angeles since 2018 when I took the photos you see here. I’ll get out there in the next few months. It’s one of the great destinations in the Los Angeles area, and what makes the Autry even better for me is the extensive firearms display.

I found these photos when I was poking around a bit on an external hard drive. For this blog, I’m including only the Colts in the Autry Museum. I only photographed a few of firearms I saw there. The Autry had more Colts, as well as Winchesters and other firearms on display.

The photos were a challenge. Each of the guns you see here was behind glass, and the lighting was fairly dim in the firearms display area. I was using my D3300 Nikon with its standard 18-55mm lens, shooting at ISO settings of 800 to 3200. These are not conditions conducive to capturing good images. I did the best I could.

The sixgun you see in the photo above is an original Colt Walker, one of the one thousand guns Sam Colt manufactured for Sam Walker in 1847. The last original Walker I know of that sold went for a million bucks. We’ve mentioned the Colt Walker in an earlier ExNotes blog. I bought the Uberti reproduction; the reproduction Uberti Walkers sell for just over $500.

The Autry Museum firearms collection features several Colt black powder revolvers. In addition to the Walker up top, here are a two more I photographed. The first one is a .36 caliber 1851 Colt Navy that belonged to Wild Bill Hickok. The second is a .44 caliber 1860 Colt Army. It’s quite fancy and it probably belonged to somebody famous, but I don’t know who (and that gives me a good excuse to get back out to the Autry Museum).

As you might imagine in a museum dedicated to the American West (and one carrying the name of a famous cowboy star like Gene Autry), the Colt 1873 Single Action Army revolver is well represented in this collection.

One of the 1873 Single Action Army revolvers on display at the Autrey Museum belonged to Theodore Roosevelt. His initials are carved into the ivory grips.

There were also a few Colt double action revolvers:

In addition to the early Colt revolvers, there were three Colt Pythons:

This is a crop showing some of the engraving detail on the revolver above.

The Museum also displayed an engraved 1911 .45 Auto. This 1911 was manufactured by Colt and several other manufacturers (as is the case even today; Colt still makes the 1911 and so do many other companies). The 1911 shown here had the trigger guard cut away. The idea behind removing the trigger guard is that it allows getting off a shot more quickly. The modification is not something I’d want.

There was one more Colt I should mention: A Bulldog Gatling gun. Richard Jordan Gatling, the Gatling gun inventor, never operated his own factory. All U.S. Gatlings were manufactured by Colt in Hartford, Connecticut. They were also made under license in Russia military by the Orloff company.

We’ve done other blogs in the past on the Colt Walker and the Colt Single Action Army (including the two replica revolvers you see in the photo above), other Colt black powder revolvers, and variations of the Gatling gun. Those blogs are here. You might also want to pick up our book on the Gatling gun.

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An Aldo Uberti Encounter

By Joe Berk

We recently started a Uberti Firearms Facebook group, and the response and growth has been phenomenal. Within 10 days, membership grew to more than a thousand people. One of those new members is my new good buddy RJ, a Uberti owner and Hollywood stunt man. He posted an interesting story in the Facebook group, I asked if we could show it on ExNotes, and RJ graciously consented. The photo RJ refers to is the one at the top of today’s blog.

Here’s a pic of my iron frame Henry. I have a kind of a neat story how it came about.

In ’92 I was the armourer for “Buffalo Bills Wild West Show” at EuroDisney in Paris. I was constantly getting new guns and swapping guns out through our provider, a gun dealer in Paris.Most times it was someone I knew but every once in a while a new guy made the delivery.

One evening before showtime, I had been prepping a 66 carbine and a delivery showed up, brought to us by an older new guy with several firearms. I had a yellow boy carbine spread over the work bench and I was stoning the parts. The guy asked me what I was doing and I told him these guns are a little “clunky” when I get them and I have to smooth them up for the girls who played Annie Oakley. So he gave me a rundown on what he’s brought while I put the gun together.

I asked him how long he’s been with Maratiaee and he’s said he’s not; he’s just delivering and going to take in the show. I introduced myself and said, “I’m RJ Preston.” He said, “It’s a pleasure, Sir. I’m Aldo Uberti.”

Oh man, I just told Aldo Uberti his guns were clunky!!!! It turned out we became good friends and I told him I would love one of the iron frame Henrys. He offered to build me one personally, so I told him that the iron frames all had three-digit serial numbers. He said he had some three-digit frames set aside.

In about a month he asked which distributor I want the gun sent to in the United States. My dad and Val at Navy Arms were friends and we had done business with Navy Arms since the mid-’60s.

I had to wait until I got back to the US to see it but what a peach: No varnish, oil finished wood, under 300 serial number, an action smooth as butter, and with A.U. stamped on the inside of the right sideplate. It was already sighted in and it was a tack driver. It came with a Uberti company envelope and the invoice said “NO BALANCE DUE” with a short note enclosed. “Here’s one that’s not clunky, enjoy.”

He was a great guy. Rest in peace, Aldo.

What a story and what a rifle! RJ, you are one lucky guy. Thank you for sharing your story with us.

If you would like to join our ExhaustNotes.us Facebook group, it’s here. If you would like to join our Facebook Uberti Firearms group, it’s here.

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The Wayback Machine: 7 Favorite Baja Destinations

Baja is a motorcycling paradise and I have a bunch of favorite destinations there. Seven of them, to be precise, although truth be told, I like everything in Baja except for Tijuana and maybe La Paz and Loreto. That said, my favorites are:

- - Tecate
  - San Quintin
  - Cataviña
  - Guerrero Negro
  - San Ignacio
  - Santa Rosalia
  - Concepcion Bay

Here’s where they are on a map:

So what’s so great about these places? Read on, my friends.

Tecate

Tecate is the gateway to the middle of northern Baja, and it’s the easiest point of entry. Both Tijuana and Mexicali are too big and too complicated, and the Mexican Customs guys are too official in those bigger cities. Tecate is a friendly place. The last time I picked up a tourist visa in Tecate, the Customs officer tried to sell me salsa he and his family made as a side gig. That’s what the place is like. I love it.

If you’re into fine dining (not as in expensive dining, but just great food), it’s hard to go wrong anywhere in Baja. Tecate has some of the best, from street taco vendors to Malinalli’s to Amore’s. I could spend a week just in Tecate. It’s that good.

San Quintin

San Quintin is 186.4 miles south of the border on Baja’s Pacific coast. It’s usually a quiet ag town that has a lot of things going for it, including interesting hotels, good food, and Bahia San Quintin. The Old Mill hotel and its associated restaurant, Eucalipto, is my personal favorite. The hotel is about 4 miles west of the Transpeninsular Highway, and what used to be a harrowing soft sand ride to it is now easy peasy…the road is paved and riding there is no longer a test of your soft sand riding skills. The Eucalipto restaurant is second to none.

What could be better than an ice cold Tecate overlooking Bahia San Quintin after a day’s riding in Baja? We once saw a California gray whale from this very spot.

You’ll notice at the top of my scribblings about San Quintin I said it is usually a quiet town. The one exception for us was when there was a labor riot and we were caught in it. The Mexican infantryman about 80 miles north of San Quintin told me the road was closed, but his English matched my Spanish (neither are worth a caca), and without me understanding what I was riding into, he let me proceed. It’s not an experience I would care to repeat. But it’s the only event of its type I ever experienced in Old Mexico, and I’d go back in a heartbeat.

The Cataviña Boulder Fields

Ah, Cataviña. Rolling down the Transpeninsular Highway, about 15 miles before you hit the wide spot in the road that is Cataviña you enter the boulder fields. Other-worldly is not too strong a description, and if the place wasn’t so far south of the border it would probably be used more often by Hollywood in visits to other planets. The boulders are nearly white, they are huge, and the juxtaposition of their bulk with the bright blue sky punctuated by Cardon cactus.

I get a funny feeling every time I enter this part of Baja. Not funny as in bad, but funny as in I feel like I’m where I belong. I once rolled through this region in the early morning hours with my daughter and she told me “you know, it’s weird, Dad. I feel like I’m home.” She understood (as in completely understood) the magic that is Baja.

I like the area and its stark scenery so much that one of my photos became the cover of Moto Baja! I grabbed that shot from the saddle at about 30 mph on a CSC 150 Mustang replica, which I subsequently rode all the way down to Cabo San Lucas (that story is here).

Every time I roll through Cataviña with other riders, the dinner conversation invariably turns to how the boulders formed. When I was teaching at Cal Poly Pomona, I asked one of my colleagues in the Geology Department. He know the area as soon as I mentioned it. The answer? Wind erosion.

Guerrero Negro

The Black Warrior. The town is named after a ship that went down just off its coast. It’s a salt mining town exactly halfway down the peninsula, and it’s your ticket in for whale watching and the best fish tacos in Baja (and that’s saying something). I’ve had a lot of great times in Guerrero Negro. It’s about 500 miles south of the border. You can see the giant steel eagle marking the 28th Parallel (the line separating Baja from Baja Sur) a good 20 miles out, and from there, it’s a right turn for the three mile ride west into town. Malarrimo’s is the best known hotel and whale watching tour, but there are several are they are all equally good. It you can’t get a room at Malarrimo’s, try the Hotel Don Gus.

After you leave Guerrero Negro and continue south, the Transpeninsular Highway turns southeast to take you diagonally across the Baja peninsula. About 70 miles down the road (which is about half the distance to the eastern shores of Baja and the Sea of Cortez along Mexico Highway 1) you’ll see the turn for San Ignacio. It’s another one of Baja’s gems.

San Ignacio

San Ignacio is an oasis in the middle of the desert that forms much of Baja. The Jesuits introduced date farming to the region hundreds of years ago, and it’s still here in a big way. Leave Guerrero Negro, head southeast on Mexico Highway 1, and 70 miles later you run into a Mexican Army checkpoint, a series of switchbacks through a lava field, and when you see the date palms, turn right.

San Ignacio has a town square that’s right out of central casting, there’s a little restaurant that serves the best chile rellenos in all of Mexico (I’m not exaggerating), and the place just has a laid back, relaxing feel about it.

Santa Rosalia

You know, this town is another one of Baja’s best kept secrets. As you travel south on Highway 1, San Ignacio is the first town you encounter after traveling diagonally across the peninsula. Folks dismiss it because it’s an industrial town, but they do so in ignorance. There’s a lot of cool stuff in this place.

One of the things that’s unique about Santa Rosalia is the all-wooden architecture. The town was originally built by a French mining company (Boleo) and they built it they way they did in France. Like the Hotel Frances, which sits high on a mesa overlooking the town and the Sea of Cortez. I love staying there.

There’s a cool mining musuem a block or two away from the Frances, and it’s worth a visit, too.

There are many cool things in Santa Rosalia, and one of the best is the Georg Eiffel church. It was designed by the same guy guy who did the Eiffel town.

I’ve heard people dismiss Santa Rosalia as a gritty, industrial place not worth a stop. Trust me on this: They’re wrong. It’s one of my favorite Baja spots.

Bahía Concepción

Concepción Bay is easily the most scenic spot in Baja. It’s just south of Mulege (another delightful little town, and the subject of an upcoming ExNotes blog). Bahía Concepción runs for maybe 20 miles along the eastern edge of the Baja peninsula. I’ve seen whales from the highway while riding along its edge, the beaches are magnificent, and the photo ops just don’t stop. The contrast between the mountains and Cardon cactus on one side and the pelicans diving into bright green water is view from the saddle you won’t soon forget.

So there you have it: My take on seven favorite spots in Baja? How about you? Do you have any favorite Baja destinations? Let us know here in the comments sction!

Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area

By Joe Berk

Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area is an interesting spot located just west of Las Vegas. During our recent visit to Death Valley, we rode to the Red Rock Canyon area after stopping for lunch at Mom’s (a great restaurant) in Pahrump.

The Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area has a good plan for managing visitors. You have to make an online reservation that slots you into 15-minute arrival intervals. There’s $16 entrance fee (I guess it’s per vehicle), but when we arrived the park ranger didn’t even look at my senior citizen lifetime pass. He just waived us in. That’s happened to me a few times at National Parks. Maybe I just look old.

We took Highway 160 east from Pahrump and it was a pleasant ride. As we approached Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area, the Spring Mountains on our left (north of Highway 160) had brilliant burgundy horizontal rock layers. The red is caused by iron oxide. We weren’t even in the Park yet, and the views were already stunning. It really is something to see.

Once we entered Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area, we explored the Visitor Center and four interpretive exhibits accessible via a walkway outside. After that, we started the 13-mile one-way ride through the park. There are many stops offering different views of the mountains and rock formations. Motorcycles are fine on this road, and we also saw people riding bicycles. I’d like to do the ride on a bicycle someday. It looked like fun.

Desert tortoises live here and there are exhibits that provide information about them. The tortoises live near Visitor Center paths, but we didn’t see them while we were there. That’s okay; I’ve seen desert tortoises out and about on previous treks. As an aside, if you happen to see one, don’t pick it up. Doing so will frighten the tortoise and literally scare the pee out of it, which can induce dehydration and kill the tortoise. The desert tortoise is a protected species, so leave them alone.

You can hike and camp in Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area. When I read that I immediately thought of Mike Huber, who is wheeling and camping his way around New Zealand as I write this.

Although I’ve been to Las Vegas many times, I had never visited Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area. It’s about as different from Las Vegas as a place can be, and in my opinion that’s a good thing. If you’re ever in this part of the world, Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area is worth a stop.

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Chanson d’Armour

Carl Bennett of the UK has contributed to the ExNotes blog before. He recently sent to us a piece related to riding gear and we thought you might enjoy it.

By Carl Bennett

One thing I never wanted to hear on a motorcycle was the Ra-ta-da-ta-da of my head, elbows, hips, knees and toes bouncing down the tarmac having come off it. Ok, you might have to be of a certain age and indeed of a more than certain pretentiousness to recognise the song and the joke in the title, if that’s not too strong a word for it, but if you ride, you’ll have thought about buying the stuff, if you haven’t already. Which I’m feeling as if everybody else in the universe already has.

Back when I started riding motorcycles, rider armour was something I read about in Bike magazine, something strictly for people like Barry Sheene, who was the nearest thing to the Bionic Man I’d ever heard of. For our younger readers, Barry Sheene dropped his bike at Daytona somewhere around 170mph when he was 24 when his tyre blew up.

“I was rolling, and I could feel all my skin coming off. I didn’t feel the leg because all I could feel was the skin tearing off my shoulders. I went to get up and looked down, and my leg was right-angled, poking under the other one.”
Barry Sheene

He broke his left femur, right wrist, forearm and collarbone, six broken ribs, and a few vertebrae, sandpapered a lot of his skin off and got himself a 40cm steel plate screwed into his leg bone to hold it together. I don’t know what it’s like to do 170 on a motorcycle, and on my antique BMW F650, it’s not something I’m likely to find out. But I do know I never want to feel anything like Barry Sheene that day. Or any other.

I’d seen a kid at school who came off his bike at something under 40mph, but as he was wearing one of those sleeveless tops with a strap over each shoulder, the kind of thing they made you wear at English schools for Games back in the days when the P.E. teacher would wander around the shower room to “make sure” everyone was washing. This kid had one big scab from his wrist to his shoulder for a couple of weeks. He’d given up gloves to keep cool.

My view back then was that the more I looked like Mad Max, the cooler I’d look, so I bought myself a leather jacket. The one I wanted was in a proper motorcycle dealer in Bath, just about affordable, padded with something at the shoulder and the elbow and bulked me up massively. It was also an unseemly shade of orange, which was probably why it was affordable. The other problem was all I had was a Yamaha FS1E. Seriously.

Instead, I got a jacket made for me by a chain-smoking hippy in a weird shop in Bath’s Walcot Nation. He got the leather from cutting up old jackets, handbags, or wherever he could find it for free, then lined the coat with an old wool blanket he’d probably dug out of a decommissioned Cold War bunker under Box Hill. I got full marks for recycling and alternative cred, but it was about as protective as the mini-skirts it was probably made from, and it stank of cigarettes for months until the wind blew the smell away.

When I got a 650 Triumph, I had to get something more becoming, so when I was on holiday and visited Truro market, I bought the Stranglers-style black leather jacket I’d always yearned for, for a massive £35. As Meatloaf used to tell us, it was long ago and far away. According to Google, that would be about £180 today, so it’s not so much better after all. When I got my Sportster, I got myself a Schott A2. Luckily, I never got to test either of these out seriously, but after that, I turned my Harley into a laser printer and a laptop to start a business that saw me around the world for 15 years or so, during which I didn’t have a bike and being dumb, gave away or sold all my kit, gloves, Ashman boots, Belstaff boots, open-face Bell 500, goggles, jackets, waxed cotton over-trousers, Rukka suit, the Schott, the lot.

Then, just before Christmas, Santa brought me a BMW 650. Before I rode it anywhere, I had to start from scratch, starting with a helmet. I drove up to Harleston on one of those crisp December days to find a shop full of bikes I didn’t even know the names of, where they totally ignored me, then on to a shed (always a sign of a better bike shop) full of guys my own age and more who tried very quietly but firmly to sell me a nice Triumph but didn’t have any helmets. When I got home, Best Beloved, who fondly recalled her tasselled leather jacket and Yamaha 650, took me to the nearest bike shop in Ipswich, marched me to the helmet racks and whipped out her bank card. She chose a flip-front helmet I’d never heard of. I tried it on in the shop, and the sales guy told me it was the right size. After talking me out of buying a Scott chain oiler, agreeing it would be ideal if I was riding Route 66 coast to coast but also pointing out quietly and firmly that, in fact, I wasn’t, she walked me to the till and then her car.

The biggest problem was my head. It’s huge. Seriously. It’s 63cm and 64 if I need a trip to the barber. I tried the shiny new, never-heard-of-the-maker polycarb (I know..) helmet on in my home office and couldn’t believe three things: How heavy it was. How much my head hurt. That the nice guy in the shop was lying when he’d told me the helmet was my size.

It clearly said 61cm on the label on the back of it, and yes, I most definitely had said 63 in the shop. Another Saturday, another trip to the store, and a full refund. I got a Bell online instead, with the Gold ACU sticker.

I’d forgotten, or rather never really knew, how fashion was now a massive part of motorcycles. This is good because it means old stock is Out Of Fashion, and the seller still has to sell it, so there’s a whole load of good stuff being sold off cheap because Oh-mi-Gard it’s last season’s gear.

The same day we went to the bike shop in Ipswich I answered an ad on Gumtree that promised leather jeans for £30. After a tour of the town’s lesser architectural gems southeast of the railway station we found the house and the guy who said he was giving up riding motorcycles. Whether or not that was true, £30 bought a fantastic pair of leather bike jeans, padded at the knee. Ok, they zip from the wrong side and possibly, just possibly the cut makes them fit slightly like jodhpurs, more as if I was going to co-pilot Amy Johnson than ride a motorcycle, but hey. £30. A significant upgrade on Levi’s for protection anyway, and I’m too embarrassed to say when I remember Levi’s were £30 anyway.

The brand new Halversen gloves donated to a charity shop on Ebay were better than the ones I used to ride with, despite the Mad Max-style knuckle dusters that seem to be a legal requirement for riding gloves these days. The Bering jacket was the best thing though. I was intending to use my old leather jacket. Not the Schott that went to Ebay about five years back but the one I bought one Christmas in Fuengirola about 20 years back when it wouldn’t stop raining. After waxing it, soaking it in neatsfoot oil, daubing it with cocoa-butter and generally stinking my office up I realised that I might as well just buy something with armour and have done with it.

The Bering was a ludicrous £89, and that’s from a man who still thinks £4.95 is a benchmark price for pheasant pie, chips and peas, which I used to get for quiet evenings on my own in Stow-On-The-Wold back when I had a 400-year old house there. It’s got armour in the elbows and the shoulders, and a slot to stuff more armour down the back. It’s blue instead of leather coloured, with a twin zip up the front and a zip across the shoulders at the back, so that in summer you can ventilate yourself on the three weeks it ever gets above 80 Fahrenheit in the U.K. It’s made of 600 denier Cordura with a woven aluminium zip-in full lining for winter, and a handy strap and a brass buckle at the throat. More to the point, despite all the protection and windproofing, it doesn’t make me look like I’m auditioning for a Mad Max film. Best Beloved, who sews for a living, took one look at it and said “That’s a £300 jacket.”

Now, maybe it’s me, but if I’m spending £300 on a jacket I’m only going to wear in one eventuality, on the back of a motorcycle or anywhere else, then I want it to look pretty special. Some lizard skin detailing, maybe, or a paisley lining. Instead I get armour and fine-spun aluminium. When I started riding the biggest deal in protective clothing was whether you could find white sea-boot socks to turn down over the top of your knee-length zip-up boots, the ones where the only armour insert was a steel plate in the right instep, for the kick-starter.

The older I get the more I realise that saying is true: the past is another country. They do things differently there. And just sometimes, at least when it comes to motorcycle clothing, they do some things a whole lot better here.

Carl, thanks much. It’s a good writeup, I enjoyed reading it, and I think our readers will, too. ExNotes readers, if you’d like to follow Carl’s blog, the link is writer-insighter.com.

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Cool Stuff Near Death Valley

By Joe Berk

I recently posted a couple of blogs about Death Valley, including a recap of my several visits over the last decade. This blog is a little bit different. it’s about some of the cool stuff near Death Valley. I didn’t have any hard rules about how close “near” means. I’m including the places I’ve visited and thought were worth a mention. If you think there should be more, leave a comment and tell us about it. We love hearing from you and we love when you click on the popup ads, so don’t forget to do so (and when you see that donate button at the bottom of this blog…well, you know what to do).

I shot most of the photos in this blog with my Nikon D810 and the 24-120 Nikon lens. A few were with the Nikon N70 film camera I recently wrote about, and where that is the case, I’ll say so in the photo caption.

Baker

When visiting Death Valley from the south (as in southern Calilfornia), it’s likely you’ll pick up Highway 127 in Baker, just off Interstate 15. There used to be a hotel in Baker, but it’s gone. There are a couple of gas stations a couple of tacky fast food franchises, but don’t waste your time eating in a fast food franchise. What you want is the Mad Greek.

I didn’t eat at the Mad Greek on this trip (either coming to or leaving Death Valley). Sue decided several trips ago she didn’t like the place, so I deferred to her wishes. I never know when I might want to buy more reloading components, another gun, another watch, or another motorcycle, so we took a pass on the Mad Greek (Sue is of Greek ancestry; maybe that has something to do with it). When I ever pass through Baker on my own, though, the Mad Greek is a sure thing.

The other thing Baker is famous for is its thermometer. It’s 134 feet tall, in honor of reaching that record temperature in 1913 (I guess we had global warming back then, too). If you go through Baker, you have to get a photo of the Baker thermometer. It’s a rite of passage.

Highway 127

The ride north through the California desert from Baker to Death Valley is both beautiful and historic. It follows the Old Spanish Trail, something I had never of until I saw the signs and did a little research. Established in 1829, the Spanish Trail is a 700-mile long road that runs from Santa Fe to southern California. It traverses New Mexico, Colorado, Utah, Arizona, Nevada, and California. John C. Fremont and Kit Carson used it. Serapes and other woven goods went to California from New Mexico; California’s horses and mules went to Santa Fe. Indian slaves, contraband, and more used this same route.

Shoshone

The first time I ever visited Shoshone was on the Destinations Deal ride. I remember well the terror I felt on that stretch of road, leading a group of other riders after a long day through Death Valley. We were heading south on Badwater Basin Road and I was relying on my cell phone and Waze to guide me. I was worried about running out of gas, keeping one eye on the gas gage and the other on the road. I should be okay, I kept thinking, but I’d never been this way before and I didn’t know. Then my Waze program quit. It had been running on stored info because I had no cell phone reception for the last 60 or 70 miles. The gas gage was nudging closer to the “no more” line and I was sweating bullets. It sure was remote out there.

Finally, Highway 178 ran into Highway 127 and a sign pointed to Shoshone. I felt better, and then I realized I didn’t have the Shoshone Inn’s address where we would spend the night. “How will I find it?” I wondered. It wouldn’t be easy leading other riders while looking for the place (I’ve had to do this on other rides). Then I was suddenly in Shoshone and I started to laugh. You can’t miss the Shoshone Inn. It’s one of only three or four buildings. I’d say Shoshone was a wide spot in the road, but California 127 was no wider there than it was anywhere else.

Shoshone was founded by Ralph Fairbanks in 1910; initially, it was primarily a mining town (old Ralph was a Death Valley prospector and entrepreneur). Charles Brown (yep, Charlie Brown) married Fairbanks’ daughter. Charlie and Stella moved away, but they returned in 1920 and further developed the town. Charlie became a California state senator and he turned ownership of Shoshone over to his son (who was also named Charles Brown). I guess you might say Shoshone is a Charlie Brown kind of place. I been there a few times, always looking for a girl named Lucy, but so far, I’ve had no luck.

As I mentioned in an earlier blog, the Population 31 sign lied. It’s only 13 people now. The lady who runs the hotel (Jennifer, not Lucy) commutes from Pahrump (Pahrump is about 45 minutes east on the other side of the Nevada state line). She told us about the sign lying. The rest of the people either died or moved away. None of them were named Lucy.

Shoshone is the last town before the southern entrance to Death Valley National Park. One woman, a Mrs. Sorrells, inherited the town. There’s a school that handles kids from K through 12th grade, some of whom commute from up to 120 miles away. There’s a general store (including a gas station), a museum, a restaurant (the Crowbar Cafe and Saloon), a nature trail, an RV park, and an unmanned airstrip. I guess if you are flying to Shoshone, you have to make a pass or two over the runway to make sure it’s clear.

The Shoshone Inn

The Shoshone Inn is surprisingly nice, although it’s probably time for it to be refurbished. There’s a gas-fired fire pit outside in the unpaved parking lot; when I rode into Shoshone with the Destinations Deal crew we spent a nice evening drinking Joe Gresh’s beer, which he bought from Shoshone’s next-door Charles Brown general store.

I got up early the next morning to take pictures with my film camera (the N70 my sister gave to me) and I saw that the fire pit was still going; I think the Shoshone Inn desk clerk may have forgotten to turn it off (they will be surprised when they get their gas bill).

The Charlie Brown Rocks

When I Googled what else was around Shoshone, the Charlie Brown rocks appeared. Highway 178 east intersects with Highway 127 right at the southern edge of Shoshone. When I saw the Charlie Brown rocks on Google, I wasn’t sure how far east on 178 I’d have to go, but when I approached Shoshone, I saw it was not far at all. The rocks are what appear to be sandstone formations and they are kind of in your face as you approach Shoshone. I could see the cave openings I’d read about, but there were signs to ward off trespassers and I didn’t want to wander in. A few photos were good enough.

The Crowbar Cafe and Saloon

Sue and I had two meals in the Crowbar. As I had experienced on previous visits (especially if you get there later in the day) it’s good to have three or four meal choices ready when the waitress takes your order. Hamburgers? No hamburgers, we had a busload of Chinese tourists come through and they ate all the hamburgers. Trout? No trout. Tacos? Yep, the Crowbar had tacos and they were surprisingly good.

When we left after lunch that first day, we spotted a small airplane on the runway at the town’s southern edge (the runway is tucked into the southeastern corner of the Highway 127/178 intersection). There’s no tower or buildings or anything else there, and you only see that it’s a paved runway when you look (you wouldn’t notice it otherwise). We think the four young guys who were sitting one table over from us at lunch flew in from somewhere to eat at the Crowbar.

We sat at the bar the next night and the one-man-band lady who handled everything (waitressing, barmaiding, dishwashing, etc.) asked if I wanted a beer. You bet, I answered. There were four taps, all unmarked. She didn’t know which tap had which beer, so she poured me a small sample of each and I opted for a craft-brewed dark beer. The bartender/waiter/dishwasher told me was made in nearby Tecopa. It was good, as were the chicken fajitas Sue and I shared for dinner.

The Shoshone Museum

We didn’t go into the Shoshone museum because it was closed the two times we visited the Crowbar (it’s right next door). It didn’t look as if there was much there; it was all housed in a very small building. I took a picture of an old Chevy, an old fuel pump, and a bit of junk in front of the museum. I’m guessing the museum used to be a gas station. I’ll bet Charlie Brown owned it.

Tecopa Springs

Tecopa Springs is short drive east of Shoshone on Highway 178. We went there twice. We saw quite a few RVs but we only saw a few people in front of Tecopa’s two restaurants. A young fellow we spoke to at the Crowbar the previous night told us he lived in Tecopa for six months each year and worked remotely (he was a digital nomad like Mike Huber). I imagine he spent winters in Tecopa and found someplace cooler in the summer. He said he came into Shoshone once a week for dinner because he wanted fried food and he couldn’t make fried food in his RV.

The two restaurants in Tecopa are a barbeque place and a combined bar and pizza place. The digital nomad we spoke with in the Crowbar said Wednesday (the day we rolled into Tecopa for dinner) was the best night at the barbeque place, but that restaurant was closed when we rode by. We rode on to the beer and pizza palace. When we entered, I asked the guy at the bar about the dark beer I’d had the night before in Shoshone (which was made in Tecopa), but they didn’t serve that brew there. He gave me a small sample of their dark beer (also brewed in Tecopa). It had kind of a peanut flavor to it and I thought it was okay, but the beer the previous night was better. The bar only had two seats; there were other people drinking and smoking at tables outside the restaurant.

When I asked about their dark beer, the one guy who was seated at the bar told me,”it’s this one…the dick.” I wasn’t sure I heard him correctly until I looked at the tap (which I hadn’t noticed). It was, indeed, a dick. I had to grab a photo.

We ordered a pizza that seemed to take forever. When the guy finally brought it out, it was cold. It had probably sat for a while. Trust me on this: You wouldn’t want to make the trip to Tecopa for the pizza. Maybe the photo ops, but not the pizza.

There’s also a date farm somewhere beyond Tecopa. Sue and I rode out there after dinner, but it closed at 5:00 p.m. and we were too late. They had date shakes and I was looking forward to one, but that will have to wait until my next visit.

The Amargosa Opera House

After poking around a bit more on the Internet, I read about the Amargosa Opera House in Death Valley Junction. It was 50 miles north of Shoshone. The pictures on the Internet looked like the Opera House theatre’s interior would make for an interesting photo stop, so I called a couple of days before. I mentioned that I was doing this for the ExhaustNotes website and possibly, a travel article for Motorcycle Classics magazine.

A young lady answered the phone and told me I needed to email their Director of Operations. She promised he would get back to me that day. That sounded like a plan and the Director of Operations did indeed get back to me with this message: I could take their daily tour (at a cost of $15 per person) or I could pay $500 for one hour to photograph the theatre. Gulp. I can’t remember ever paying anyone anything for something like this.

Sue and I rode to Death Valley Junction anyway, and I grabbed a few photos from the outside. When we first saw the place, it looked run down. It’s hard to believe anyone would stay their hotel, but I guess people do. A few photos and a $500 savings later, we were back on the road.

Pahrump

After spending another half day in Death Valley National Park, we decided to head over to Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area. That’s near Las Vegas. On the way over, we crossed into Nevada and entered Pahrump. Pahrump is a much bigger town than anything around Death Valley. It has been one of the fastest growing towns in the entire U.S., with 15% year-over-year population growth for each of the last several years. We thought Pahrump would be a good place to have lunch, and we were right.

Sue found a place called Mom’s on her cell phone, it had great reviews, and we had to wait a few minutes to get in (which is always a good sign). Trust me on this: If you ever find yourself in Pahrump, Mom’s is where you want to eat.

As I mentioned above, we went through Pahrump on our way to the Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area. I was going to squeeze that in here, too, but this blog is getting a little long. I’ll save Red Rock for another blog.

On the ride out of town on our way back to Shoshone, we stopped for gas in Pahrump. It was $3.68 per gallon. That’s a good two bucks cheaper than what we pay in California. After filling up and on the way out of town, we saw a gun store creatively named Pahrump Guns and Ammo. Sue won’t let me drive past a gun store without stopping, so we did. It was a small place and we had a nice visit with the two guys who worked there. I told them we were from California and we were collecting campaign contributions for Hillary Clinton. We had a good laugh. People in Pahrump have a sense of humor.

Barstow’s Del Taco Restaurants

You probably think I’m crazy including the Barstow Del Taco restaurants in this blog. I’m listing it here because if you’re going to Death Valley from southern California, it’s a safe bet you’re going to pass through Barstow, and if you’re going to pass through Barstow, you need to stop at one of the three Del Tacos there.

There’s a story behind this. About 15 years ago I had a bad motorcycle crash and I had to spend a month in the hospital. One of the guys I shared a room with was the son of Ed Hackbarth, the entrepreneur who founded the Del Taco restaurant chain.

Ed Hackbarth is a real prince of a guy. He started Del Taco in Barstow, the restaurant chain was riotously successful, and it spread all over the U.S. Ed sold the Del Taco chain way back in 1976 to a group of investors and it continues to thrive.But there’s a big difference between the rest of the Del Taco empire and the three Del Tacos in Barstow. When Ed sold Del Taco, part of the deal was that he kept the original three Barstow Del Tacos. Ed would continue to use the Del Taco name on those three restaurants, but he didn’t have to use the Del Taco menu and he could serve food the way he wanted. And that’s what Ed does. The portions are bigger (they’re huge, actually), everything is fresh (nothing is ever frozen), the restaurants are immaculate, and the staff is super friendly. The Barstow Del Tacos have some of the best tacos and burritos I’ve ever had. We won’t drive through Barstow without stopping at one of Ed’s three Del Tacos, and there’s been times we’ve made the 80-mile trek from my home to Barstow just for a taco. You should try one. You can thank me later.

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