Ditching the Ducati and getting bouncy
Towards the end of 2021, I swapped my fearsome seven-month-old Ducati Streetfighter V4 S for a Honda Africa Twin Adventure Sports. My little cluster of biking buddies all thought I'd gone slightly mad, with many suggesting some sort of therapy was in order. While I can't necessarily rule out insanity, I don't regret my decision. The Streetfighter was a phenomenal machine; it looked amazing, sounded like thunder and went down the road like a scalded cat shot from a cannon. Its only real problem was the bag of fat and muscle piloting it. I simply wasn't a good enough rider to make the most of it, especially not on public roads. On the other hand, the Africa Twin is a vast, lumbering beast, happy to bounce along the road without goading you into risking your driving licence.
However, since owning it, I've dreamt of a less frantic pace, full of mud, trees and squirrels. I wanted to leave the tarmac behind and find some lanes. In my mind, it sounds ideal; no diesel-splattered roundabouts, no angry drivers in white German saloons, and no van drivers more interested in scrolling through Facebook than paying attention to traffic lights. The reality, however, is a whole new set of obstacles. Nevertheless, I think I'd rather deal with flora and fauna than with Keith the plumber tweeting about his poorly-assembled Bacon McMuffin as he weaves across every lane on the A14.
Of course, you can't just get bored of traffic and decide to ride across any field or piece of woodland you come across. You need to find a suitable byway to explore. Most county councils will have an interactive map on their website showing the location of byways in your area. Cambridgeshire County Council's interactive map is a good example, and it's the map I use to find byways close to home. When you're hunting around, it's important to ensure there are no Traffic Regulation Orders ("TROs") applied to any byways you're thinking of exploring. TROs can restrict certain types of traffic and will typically be applied seasonally, temporarily or permanently. Despite the title of this article, this isn't really off-roading. Byways are a part of the public highway, and the same rules apply; your bike will need to be road-legal, and you'll need to wear a helmet.
The Fear
After finding what appeared to be a suitable byway - and double-checking I was allowed to ride it - I set off to find where it started. Sure enough, it was exactly where the map said it would be. I don't know why I was surprised by this. The byway began at the end of an incredibly bumpy B-road, and a short post bearing a red arrow in a green circle marked the entrance. Everything was going to plan so far. Before venturing forward, I hopped off the bike to see if I could get a better view of what lay ahead. Despite my best efforts, including the use of tip-toes and pro-level squatting, all I could make out was a seemingly unending tunnel of grass, bushes and trees. The ground was dry, hard and unforgiving, marked with the faint tyre tracks of previous adventurers. If I were to proceed, I'd have to follow it through to the end; I really didn't fancy trying to turn around 260kg of Honda on a rutted, narrow track. I clambered back on the bike, and with the suspension in its squishiest mode, I gently rolled forward. This was it.
I had my first nightmarish vision of the future after I'd covered the first ten metres or so. I imagined myself sprawled on the ground, trapped underneath a fat Honda, unable to reach the water and half-melted Twix in my panniers. I'd be trapped there for days before being finally discovered by a dog walker, scraps of grass and leaves around my lips where I'd desperately tried to find sustenance within arm's reach. My eerily lucid vision developed throughout the next couple of minutes, and I think the final version of it ended up with me requiring a penknife and a tourniquet. Ultimately, I decided it was better not to think about self-amputation and concentrate on riding.
Some of you reading this may think I'm a bit of a coward. You're right; I am. I believe the fear came from not knowing what was coming. When riding on the road, you always have some idea of what lies ahead. You have signs telling you there will be a roundabout, a tight bend or a slippery surface. You don't get any of that on a byway. No signs warn you that you'll have to ride over the rotting corpse of a hare or that you're about to be slapped in the face by a low-hanging branch. Nope, it's just you and your senses.
The Enjoyment
I soon settled into a rhythm and started enjoying the ride, standing on the pegs and being sure to either ride in a rut or between the ruts. The Africa Twin felt surprisingly nimble, belying its weight, ploughing on through deep ruts, grassy banks and even over a felled sapling with a satisfying crunch. Everything became easier as I started to relax. Being floppy and allowing my knees to take the strain over larger dips and bumps made all the difference. I started to see why people enjoy greenlaning. I felt like an adventurer exploring new territory, and breaks between hedges and trees treated me to appealing vistas devoid of traffic and chaos. There was no pressure to go quickly and no prize for coming first. I was taking my time, enjoying the scenery, and thinking how lucky I was to be able to enjoy an experience like this.
I was also thankful that several weeks of sunshine had dried out the ground. I imagine it would've been less enjoyable had the byway been a mud bath. I suppose it wouldn't be so bad if I had a significantly lighter bike with significantly more knobbly tyres, but I didn't. I had an Africa Twin Adventure Sports on OEM Bridgestones, weighed down with stuffed panniers and enough camera equipment to make a shot-for-shot remake of Jaws.
After a few miles, civilisation returned to view as I approached the end of the byway. Although part of me was slightly relieved to see tarmac again, I was a bit sad that it had all ended too soon. On the plus side, there was no rain forecast for the following few days, so I managed to do the same route, and an additional bonus route, a few more times that week. I even managed to stop thinking about having to hack off my leg with a penknife.
Lessons Learned
As a rank amateur in these matters, it seems silly to bestow any kind of advice about doing something like this for the first time. However, there are a few points I think I can highlight:
- Know your route: Byways aren't littered with signs telling you which way to go, and you don't want to take a wrong turn and end up riding over private land. Be sure you know where you're going.
- Go steady: Although, by the end of the week, I was confident I could've taken the routes more quickly, it's important to remember that byways are open to all. I encountered dog walkers, families and children on my travels. There's no rush. Take your time and enjoy the view!
- Scope it first: If you have the opportunity, take a walk down your chosen route first. It may help you spot something that might impede your progress when you're on the bike. It wouldn't be much fun to get three-quarters of the way to find a fallen tree or some other impassable obstruction, especially if it's a particularly narrow track.
If you have any other tips for first-timers, feel free to leave them in the comments below - we're all here to learn! Aside from that, enjoy it and have fun!
Gear Used
In case you were wondering, here's a list of the gear I use when adventuring:
- Helmet: Shoei Hornet ADV
- Jacket: Dainese Super Rider D-Dry
- Trousers: Dainese Tonale D-Dry
- Boots: Alpinestars Tech 7 Enduro Drystar
- Gloves: Dainese Druid D1 Long
The team at Bike Stop will be more than happy to help you with gear for your next adventure!
