In June, I left home in Plano, Texas, for RawHyde Offroad’s Colorado training center. I had enrolled in their Introduction to Adventure training, and I was excited. And nervous. I’d done plenty of motorcycle touring over my 45 years of riding, but virtually all was of the sport-touring and moto-camping variety, and rarely ever off the pavement. I had always been a street rider, and I was going to RawHyde to develop skills, competence, and confidence in offroad riding.

Please know that I am not affiliated with RawHyde Offroad in any way, and that neither RawHyde nor any staff, coaches, or Jim Hyde himself have offered me anything for my comments and narrative here. I’m simply a guy who enrolled in the classes and adventure ride offered, and paid full price. I’ve had my eye on RawHyde’s programs for a good number of years, and this summer was finally able to muster the courage and commitment to get this done. Also know that if you’re an experienced and accomplished trails and adventure rider, this ride report may not be for you; please don’t make fun of my novice mistakes and observations. Finally, I’ll state that these words and pictures are my own; if you, my fellow riders, find yourself recognizable in these photos and would prefer that I remove them from this public forum, please let me know.

With that out of the way...

RawHyde offers a few options with company bikes to ride in their training programs, but I wanted to ride my own 2016 KTM 1290SA and learn with my bike. On the way across Texas, I paused in Vernon for a cold drink and to call and wish my sister Clare a happy birthday.

Whenever I leave my home in Texas (700 feet; for practical purposes, sea level) for the mountains of Colorado and Wyoming, I get as high as possible in altitude that first night to begin my body’s acclimation process. That means camping in south-central Colorado’s Wet Mountains above Colorado City. RawHyde’s Colorado facility is up around 9,600 feet, so it’s important to acclimate well before beginning any strenuous physical or mental activity.

Ophir Creek off CO 165 is my main go-to place for that first night. It’s a beautiful spot, plenty of campsites, close to 9,000 feet in elevation, and an easily-doable 685 miles from home.

I will add that prior to this trip, I purchased the KTM PowerParts Ergo saddle (heated) to replace the stock plank on my 1290, and it makes a HUGE difference for me. I can now easily go gas-stop to gas-stop, 280-320 miles, without getting off the bike or feeling uncomfortable. The Ergo saddle does raise the ride height an additional inch or so, so if you’re already on your toes with the stock seat, be warned.

After a leisurely 100-mile ride the following day, I turned onto CR 53 south of Hartsel and rode south for 12 or so miles down the washboarded but well-maintained gravel road. Not bad. As I turned up Dog Chief Trail, though, it was on! Hardpan with rock outcrops and scattered rocks all across the trail up to the size of baseballs. I negotiated my fully-loaded KTM up the trail, sitting on my butt in the saddle (I didn’t know I was supposed to stand up!), nervously guiding my bike around the biggest rocks. As Dog Chief Trail turned onto Caddo Road, I was back onto a reasonable dirt road, but that would change again – in dramatic fashion – as I turned up Dog Soldier Road for the last mile up to RawHyde’s Colorado HQ: uphill, and bigger rocks! I got the big KTM up the road successfully, but I’m not going to say it wasn’t a white-knuckled ride!

Once at RawHyde’s HQ, Wendy greeted me warmly, gave me a quick tour of the facilities, showed me my accommodations for the weekend, and told me where I could park my bike – which I promptly parked in the wrong place, next to the long lineup of company bikes. Which one is not like the others?

My early impression, reinforced throughout my time there, is that customer service and care of the client are top priorities at RawHyde.

The next person I met was Jim Hyde himself, as he went about the site getting work done. He greeted me warmly, welcomed me to RawHyde, and told me I was in for a challenging weekend. I then went into the office, introduced myself to the always delightful and cheery Madison, checked in, paid my balance due for the Intro class, and signed all the requisite disclosures and releases. Everyone on the RawHyde staff, from Jim and on, expressed to me that if I needed anything or had any questions, to please ask them personally or ask any staff member. My early impression, reinforced throughout my time there, is that customer service and care of the client are top priorities at RawHyde.

The first coach I met that Friday evening was Coach Matt. He, too, greeted me warmly, asked me about my ride up, and noted encouragingly, “If you made it up here on your loaded KTM without incident, you won’t have any problems getting through our Intro course.”

That certainly set my mind at ease.

The rest of the evening was spent meeting other students as they arrived, some on their own bikes, and some on four wheels, to ride company bikes. After dinner (I should note, the food at every meal is fantastic) we all gathered around as Jim Hyde welcomed us to RawHyde, and each of us introduced ourselves to the group with various details such as the bikes we were currently riding, how long we’d been riding, where we were from, our occupations, and what we wanted to get from the training. After those introductions, Jim went over some of the “housekeeping” items and rules of the camp, and told us what to expect over the next two days of instruction.

I’ll add here that the staff there in Colorado did everything reasonable and prudent to keep us all healthy and safe during this COVID issue: wear masks when indoors and in enclosed areas, everyone got temperature scanned before breakfast each morning, hands sanitized with alcohol spray before every meal, we kept to a relatively isolated and assigned seating arrangement, and no one but staff were permitted behind the service desk or to handle the water bottles, utensils, etc. We’re all in a weird time, and this training and this camp are very much a community thing, but Madison, Wendy, and the chef staff handled things very well. I had no qualms about my safety during both weekends I was there, and I heard no negative comments or concerns from my fellow students.

After a fitful night of sleep (nerves), we began training Saturday morning. Jim went over some of the fundamentals, with Coach Matt serving as rider:

Jim introduced his talk with the “hierarchy of competence.” “Right now,” he explained, “you don’t know what you don’t know. You are unconsciously incompetent.”

Of course he meant no disrespect to any of us there; he was laying the foundation for our learning, and challenging us to face and to recognize what we didn’t know.

“By the time you come back to camp for lunch today,” Jim continued, “you will begin to know what you don’t know: conscious incompetence.”

Our goal for the weekend of training was to gain conscious competence; that is, we would have to think to act. As we began to master the skills taught at RawHyde, and with continued frequent and regular practice, we would become unconsciously competent, to act without conscious thought. Jim also stressed to us the need for regular practice, noting that the skills we would learn are perishable, and as with any skill to be learned, mastery and proficiency comes from practice.

Jim also stressed the motorcyclist’s vision: “Look where you want to go. If you look down at the ground in front of you, you and the bike are going to be on the ground. Look up, look ahead, look where you want to go, and you and the bike will get there.” I’ll add another note here: Jim urged us all to “be loose” on the bike, and actively demonstrated reasons why. This thought will come up a bit later.

After some morning stretches, we broke into two teams of fourteen students each, each team led by two instructors. My coaches for Intro were Coach Matt and Coach Mark. Here, Coach Mark demonstrates the proper way to upright a big adventure bike:

Our coaches then demonstrated the two-man lift, which they expected us to use for the weekend.

“We’ve got plenty of riders here. Don’t lift your bike by yourself; get a buddy to help. We’re at 10,000 feet, and if you spend all morning picking up your bike, you’re going to be gassed by lunch.”

I’ll add that the buddy lift also built in us trust and dependence upon each other, upon our fellow riders, and helped us come together as a team.

We all got our turns to do the buddy lift, and then we headed out to the training grounds. Riding back down that rough, rocky Dog Soldier Road, I found I was gripping the bars just as tightly as I had coming in the night before, Jim Hyde’s urging notwithstanding. I simply didn’t trust myself. Yet.

I’m not going to go through every exercise or every reason for doing so; that would take a much, much longer post and narrative. I’ll just give some generalities so you who are interested will know what you might expect and learn.

That morning, we worked on balance, weight shift, clutch control (friction zone), and front and back braking drills under the watchful eyes and guidance of our coaches. We were on dirt roads, with loose dust, rocks, some rutting, and generally unstable yet easily-manageable surfaces for novices in the training, and the drills began to build my confidence. The coaches would often add the “why” to the “what” of the drills, helping us understand why we were doing the things we were doing over and over. Sometimes, though, they would offer simply that when we moved to the next exercises, the “why am I piloting this big bike down a dirt and rocky road, while standing on one side like Valentino Rossi?” would become clear to us. That morning was all about weight shift, moving on the bike, letting the bike move under us, and becoming accustomed and confident with how the man and machine worked together. Note the lead rider is completely on the right side of his bike:

On the road back to camp for lunch that first day, I surprised myself: I rode my big KTM up Dog Soldier Road with my hands softly resting on the grips. I was already getting more at ease and confident with what our coaches were teaching. That afternoon, we began turning drills, negotiating tight slaloms around cones – that the coaches spaced progressively further apart with each turn around the course. Once we had some of the fundamentals – weight shift, knee in the tank, push the bike down into the turn, as soon as you’re pointed to the apex, turn and look to your next turn, and KEEP YOUR EYES UP! – we moved up the hill and did turns on a switchback course, both uphill and downhill.

As we continued to improve on the fundamentals, the coaches then moved us on to sharp off-camber hairpin turns on another, more difficult course, and I suffered my first fall. An “unplanned dismount.” After a buddy helped me upright the bike, a quick inspection revealed that the KTM took a fall with no apparent damage whatsoever, and I got on and kept riding. We did further turning drills, both on the off-camber course and the “infinite-8’s” course.

Late that afternoon, we finished the day with figure-8’s, and one by one, coaches Matt and Mark introduced rider after rider into the rolling figure-8.

“Look through your turns! Keep your eyes up! Watch for your other riders!”

After about four minutes, we had all fourteen of our team riding in a figure 8 like, as one of our students phrased it, circus bears! What a rush! You might be thinking, “That sounds dumb. What’s the point of that?” But the coaches are impressing upon you that the skills you’ve been working on all day, braking, turning, weight shift, clutch control, throttle control, lean, all need to become second nature (remember that unconscious competence?) as you watch the other riders and find your place, because out on the trail, you need all those capabilities while you’re looking through turns for oncoming traffic, for bicyclists, for hazards and obstructions, for finding your line. It all has a reason.

At the end of the day’s training, the coaches took us three or four miles up to a high overlook where we joined the other team and shared stories of our day as well as a great view. Hey, there’s my KTM at center-right; doesn’t look like it’s been on the ground, does it?

After dinner in camp that evening, the coaches took us all through a “high/low” discussion – what was your high for the day, and what was your low. Hearing the comments and dialogue from the other riders was a reinforcing and validating experience: many of our struggles and our triumphs were quite similar. Unfortunately, because of the need to keep everyone safe and “distancing,” we were broken into two groups: one inside the gathering room, and the other in a large army tent outside, but again, RawHyde’s staff and protocols were there to make sure we stayed healthy and conformed to Colorado’s guidelines.

The next day, we continued turn drills and exercises, and added “whoops.” These short hills with sharp inclines and declines reinforced concepts of body position on the bike, throttle control, and braking.

The last thing I wanted to do was work that turn with Coach Matt watching my every move, but that’s what we’re all there for: confront fears, overcome weaknesses, break through walls, and develop skills.

We then returned to the turns courses, flat and off-camber, and did more work on the “infinite-8’s” course. I continued to have problems with confidence and commitment on that uphill, off-camber, rocky right-hand hairpin, and Coach Matt pulled me out of the group.

“Meet me up there at that turn,” he told me. “Let’s get that done.”

I’ll add a couple of things. As motorcyclists, we all have that one turning direction where we’re slightly less confident, less engaged. For me, it’s righthanders. I have no idea why, but during our nightly high/low discussions, our other riders voiced similar concerns. I’ve known for over thirty years on the street that I’m less comfortable testing limits on right turns as opposed to lefts. A left-brain, right-brain thing? I don’t know. The other thing is that RawHyde’s coaches put in the time and the considerable effort to learn each student, our capabilities, our faults, our weaknesses. Our names are on all our windscreens, and these instructors get to know us very well and very quickly. And they are committed to seeing each student succeed.

Well, okay. The last thing I wanted to do was work that turn with Coach Matt watching my every move, but that’s what we’re all there for: confront fears, overcome weaknesses, break through walls, and develop skills. I crashed once, bailed on the turn once (“You had it, and you bailed!” Coach Matt yelled), and finally made it through a couple of times. I still felt tentative and nervous, but I did it. Thanks, Coach!

In the afternoon we moved on to hills, and learned skills for getting up reasonable inclines of loose and unstable rock and dirt. These were fun! The other end of that exercise was to then go down the other side, which involved rolling down a relatively steep decline of single-track rock-strewn dirt, with a slight right turn halfway through. All the fundamentals all over again: friction-zone control, throttle control, a trail-stop at the top, and front brake with engine braking on the downhill.

The part that was more difficult was the hill-restart drill immediately afterward. On the hill, we simulated a stall: stopped a quarter of the way up, so now we had to hold the rear brake, bring the revs up to 3,500-4000, LISTEN to that motor and keep it there while you work the friction-zone to hook up the rear tire, get the bike moving and get up on the pegs as quickly as possible, and launch 800 pounds of man and machine up the loose and rocky incline while looking up at Coach Mark at the top of the hill.

Here, Coach Matt dodges roost as Michael gets moving, with Coach Mark at the top yelling, “LOOK UP AT ME!”

And that’s where I had the hard fall that broke my windscreen. First, I’m an idiot for not taking the windscreen off my bike in the first place; I’d already banged my chest into it when moving on the bike on the whoops earlier that day. On the hill restart, my front dug in and turned the bike, and down I went.

Coach Matt took my picture as I held my shattered windscreen, with Coach Mark giving me two thumbs up for my epic get-off from the top of the hill.

After the hill work, we went back to “infinite-8’s,” and finished the day running the “Gully of Death:”

That evening, we all enjoyed graduation. Behind me are coaches Mark, Matt, Erin, and Trev, with Jim Hyde at right:

I was leaving RawHyde the next morning for my ride back to Texas, and after dinner that evening, I carried my gear to my bike and began the load-out. As I turned westward, I was struck by the serenity of the scene; I walked a bit further up the hill and captured RawHyde Colorado with the mountains and sunset beyond:

On Monday morning, I saw the team off as they headed out to their High Rockies Adventure. I turned south and headed back home, sans windscreen, as you can see; Coach Trev leads Team RawHyde out:

Riding into the southwest hair-dryer wind that seems ever-present during Texas and Oklahoma summers (Raton Pass was closed!) was a chore without that wind protection.

I had already booked my “Next Step” training and High Rockies Adventure ride for August, but family schedules since I’d made those reservations in February made July a much better option. I’d spoken with Coach Matt and other staff about changing my booking, and Jim Hyde advised me, “As soon as you get home, call Stephanie (Hyde), and get on the waiting list. If there’s a cancellation, we’ll get you up here.” I made that call, went through all the particulars with Stephanie, and was quite excited when Stephanie called back two weeks later with the news that I was confirmed for July, for both Next Step training and the High Rockies Adventure!

I didn’t want to ride my motorcycle through the heat of Texas in July (yes, I’d already replaced the windscreen) to get back up to RawHyde for Next Step, so I chose to ride one of the company BMW 1250’s. I had a 2008 R1200GS for nine years before it was totaled out from under me, and I thought it would be interesting to get back on a big boxer for some riding. I headed back to RawHyde on July 9th in the comfort of my air-conditioned F350, and was quite happy with my decision when in the dry hills northwest of Amarillo the temperature reached 110 degrees!

Again, I camped on the way up in the Wet Mountains. Not moto-related, but because I was in the truck, I had more of the comforts of base camping: dry firewood, a comfy camp chair, and a cold beer:

I arrived at RawHyde the following afternoon, checked in, got my necessary gear into the vestibule of my “deluxe” tent, and grabbed a shower. That Friday evening, we went through introductions – some like me were there for Next Step, while others were enrolled in Intro. Our Next Step class had (I believe) fourteen students, and we had four coaches: Lead Coach Kerry, Coach Bob, Coach Jon, and the already-familiar Coach Matt.

We began Saturday with just a brief intro, then moved without further ado to “the Ribbons,” a technical course of turns, whoops, very rocky off-camber downhill turns, and then stopped before riding into an aspen grove. My first thought was, “Don’t these folks have chainsaws??” But that wasn’t the point. One of the main messages of Next Step is precision: do all those things you learned in Intro, but with control and precision. When we did the turns exercises in Intro, we were in the open as you can see from the earlier photo, and there was plenty of run-out space. Here in the Ribbons, there is no run-out; if you miss a turn, you’re into a tree, or onto a deadfall log. Thus, precision, with obstacles just as you’d likely encounter in real trail conditions.

From that difficult assessment on the Ribbons, we moved on to more turns practice on the familiar courses from Intro. More uphill and downhill hairpins, off-cambers, and infinite-8’s. After refreshing our turning skills, we worked on hills. In Intro, we chugged up the hills, but Next Step adds the concepts of speed and momentum. We powered up the hills running high revs in 1st gear, then used the bike’s momentum to roll up the hill in 2nd gear, and performing a trail-stop at the top in both exercises before riding back down.

After lunch, we moved on to the “Valley of Death,” which was a course of rocky and unstable hairpins in a half-pipe valley. This course brought all our skills into play; in previous turns courses, we were usually headed consistently uphill or downhill, thus using careful throttle and clutch control or braking control. The Valley of Death required it all: braking, clutch, and throttle to slow off the turn, then acceleration into the next one.

Adventure riding is a balance between wisdom and ego

After the Valley of Death, we all rode to another area and practiced skid stops, skid turns, and turn-skids. The key with these exercises was control of the bike when suddenly encountering a trail obstacle or an unexpected turn. This was truly fun! Then the day’s instruction was over, and we rolled back toward camp. On the way back, however, our coaches didn’t warn us, but simply guided us all into the “Gully of Death” we were familiar with from Intro! That was surprising and just a blast!

The next day started out with jump and loft instruction: how do you get a big adventure bike up and over an obstacle like a log, a railroad tie, or – in our case – a built-up stack of 2x8’s and 2x10’s roughly nine inches high. This exercise was a thrill, almost like we finally got to let out a bit of the hooligan that’s, admit it, in every rider! I was especially pleased when on one loft over the obstacle uphill, the big BMW got crossways under me on the landing, but I stuck it and rode it out, happy that I committed and didn’t drop it.

From there, we went to an OHV park nearby and did some very rewarding trail riding. The water crossing was a bit deep, but a few of the students took it on. Coach Matt’s bike took on some water and he had to remain behind, pull the plugs and valve covers, and get the water out of his engine before he could continue. Here, Coach Mark (yes, Coach Mark from our Intro class the month before was a student with us in our Next Step class) plows through the water crossing:

Some of us, not wanting to risk hydrolocking our bikes, took the bypass. As Coach Kerry preached many times, “Adventure riding is a balance between wisdom and ego.” Everyone wants to take that risk, to do that adventurous thing, but it must be weighed with wisdom. What could the consequences be if I don’t get this right, or if I don’t get through this?

We stopped at a high overlook for a quick break before lunch while Coach Bob went back to check Coach Matt’s progress with his bike:

After lunch, we went on to a lot of deep, soft sand – tough! I had fun in the long, flat stretches of sand, but one steep uphill in sand with rock outcrops proved enormously difficult. After the sand, it was rock: carefully picking a line and piloting the big bikes down a steep section of rock steps. This was rock that, as a backpacker, I would have paused at the top of to pick a good line of descent so as not to twist an ankle or slip, and we were riding 600-lb adventure bikes down this stuff! I successfully managed the first section, but lost it on the second (Coach Bob: “You were out of control!” He wasn’t wrong!), though fortunately I dumped the bike at the bottom in the soft stuff, and not on the rocky steps themselves.

It was at some point along this trail, and not even a challenging section, that I became a member of the “180 Club.” I rode up onto the left-hand berm to avoid some loose rocks in the center, and the front just slid off, dumping me and turning the bike all the way around, 180 degrees, pointed back the way I came. Trooper Tim was behind me: “I was looking at your license plate, then this big cloud of dust, then your headlight’s pointed at me, and I’m wondering, ‘Where’d Anthony go?’”

Once we got back on the main road, we went to “The Bowl” (38°47’19.5"N 105°57’58.1"W), an OHV playground of sorts, and we had it all to ourselves. “Go play, and watch out for each other,” Coach Kerry urged. After 45 or so minutes of playing, we headed back on dirt and gravel county roads to RawHyde.

That evening, we had graduation ceremonies for both the Intro and Next Step classes. Here is yours truly, with coaches Jon, Kerry, and Matt behind me.

On Monday morning, we began our two-day High Rockies Adventure with more than 20 riders, Coach Matt on point, Coach Trev as sweeper, and Coach Erin as the floater. We did passes on both pavement (Cottonwood, Monarch) and dirt (Cumberland) that first day, and had an absolute blast. The riding was challenging, but nothing beyond the skills we’d developed under the tutelage of our coaches.

At Cottonwood’s summit:

As we turned onto the gravel to go to Tin Cup and over Cumberland Pass, we were pelted by rain and wound up in the middle of a cattle drive! RawHyde meets Rawhide! It was a surreal experience motoring along with easily two thousand head of cattle, carefully negotiating our way through the herd (“Just drive through ‘em!” the cowboy yelled). The rain helped keep the dust down on the hardpack road, and soon enough, we were back into clear weather. But what’s a High Rockies Adventure without getting some rain?

Tin Cup, Colorado:

Cumberland:

On top of Cumberland Pass, we broke for lunch, and I grabbed a pic with two Texas friends, Eddie and Noel. Guys, we will ride together again, and hopefully soon!

After Cumberland Pass, we took an afternoon break in Pitkin, Colorado:

From there, it was up and over the paved Monarch Pass, on to Salida for a gas stop, then back to camp. As we rode back, part of our route took us up washboarded, gravelly, tight turns on a road above Salida, and it was nervous going. But the skills we’d developed served us well – weight shift and control, throttle, clutch, brake, watching out and being alert for our other riders and for oncoming traffic. When we got into the open, I surprised myself as I hung with Coach Matt and the lead pack, flying (mumble) miles-per-hour (45!!) down open gravel roads back to camp. Only a month before, I’d have been terrified, but now I was confident and in control.

The following day as we rode out, the hazards of what we do as riders became painfully apparent. We lost two riders on the descent of that same twisty, gravelly, washboarded road into Salida. Thankfully, both John and Alex were okay, but their rides that day were over, and one bike was totaled after falling sixteen feet into a rocky, boulder-strewn ravine below the road. The entire team then got to see a new level of expertise and capability in our coaches as they quickly took control of the situation: Coach Matt and Coach Erin got all the riders still on two wheels down the hill and in a safe stand-down position, Coach Trev got John to an emergency clinic in town, and Erin and Matt worked with Alex to get a wrecker to pluck his bike from the ravine.

At our high/low discussion at camp that evening, John’s and Alex’s accidents were the obvious lows. But in my experience over decades of riding, we motorcyclists are an introspective bunch. When we have a get-off, we first turn our attention and contemplation to what we could have done differently to avoid or better manage the danger; we don’t point fingers or lay blame, but we assess our skills and capabilities and recognize that we could have had better focus, more attention to hazards we faced or our exposure to them, and applied better road or trail skills to avoid the accident. John and Alex both had that motorcyclist’s introspection, as expected.

Honestly, we would have been fine not having to see our coaches exercise those skills and capabilities in going into emergency mode, and we would have loved to have John and Alex spend the rest of the day with us. But seeing our coaches so expertly handle the situation, get us safe, get the downed riders taken care of, and get the rest of us on to the day’s adventure, was reassuring in the extreme. RawHyde’s coaching staff is prepared for the dangers we take on as adventure riders, and they have the experience and capability to take care of their clients calmly and with authority.

Much of the rest of the day was spent on more dirt and gravel. Marshall Pass was a delightful ride, and we broke for lunch at the top. We then went on to Old Monarch Pass, another delightful ride. At the top of Old Monarch, with Coach Trev:

We began our ride back to camp on pavement, avoiding that tight, twisty road where we’d lost John and Alex, and I, for one, was fine with that. The skies were threatening rain, and we waited out a thunderstorm in Hartsel. We were going to do The Bowl again, but the rain put that off the table. We rode back to RawHyde on squishy mud on CR 53 for the first few miles, but it got clear and dry quickly enough.

Back at camp, we went through our highs and lows for the last time. We would all be leaving the next morning, after four days spent being challenged as motorcyclists, but in surroundings of spectacular scenery and in the company of genuinely wonderful people. My time at RawHyde in Colorado, both in June and July, brought experiences I will never forget. Further, I made some friends there that I absolutely will keep in touch with and ride with again. Just a quick shout-out to a few of them: Jan and Michael from my Intro class; Trooper Tim, who I rode with in both Intro and Next Step, I’ll ride with you anytime; Eddie and Noel, fellow Texas residents, we WILL ride together; Mel, keep climbing those mountains; Dave from Minnesota, thanks much for the kind observations about my road riding; Jack, we all lived vicariously through you as you bombed up that steep, rocky, twisty incline above Cumberland Pass like a boss; Jay, stay cool down there in Key West; Kevin, it’s crazy that we meet each other at RawHyde, and find out we live four houses apart; and last and absolutely not least, Coach Matt: you guided me through both Intro and Next Step, you saw my failures and celebrated my successes, and you are a genuinely warm human being. It is an honor to know you, and I hope we get a chance to ride together again!

I know there are other offroad schools out there, but I can’t say enough good things about the coaches and the instruction at RawHyde, from Jim Hyde, Lead Adventurer, all the way through the ranks: coaches Matt, Trev, Erin, Kerry, Jon, Bob, and Mark – tremendous respect and gratitude to all of you. The staff – Wendy, Madison (I’m sorry I missed saying goodbye!), Chef Terry, and others – took great care of us during a challenging time (COVID). And Barty kept all the bikes running in the middle of the Colorado wilderness and off the grid. The home office – Stephanie Hyde and Rob Glass – always answered any questions I had quickly, shoehorned me into the July class, and provided excellent communication and information. RawHyde really is a top-shelf operation.

I know many of you on ADV Rider are incredibly skilled off-roaders and mad adventure riders, but I wasn’t that guy. After RawHyde’s Introduction to Adventure and Next Step courses, I’m still not that guy, but I’m far more capable, competent, and confident than I was only a month before, and I will continue to practice these skills and get better. The things I did on a motorcycle, and the things I saw from the saddle, would have been inconceivable to me when I first rode my KTM onto the grounds at RawHyde in mid June. As I told the coaching staff at our closing high/low discussion Tuesday evening, “You are changing lives. You’ve changed forever how I can ride a motorcycle, and you’ve changed where I can ride a motorcycle. Thank you.”

As Jim Hyde and the coaches told us, “These skills are perishable. If you do not use them, and often, you will lose them.” I will use them, I’ll continue to improve, and I will ride with RawHyde again. I think the Colorado BDR might be calling my name next summer...

Finally, a postcard from RawHyde Off-Road, Colorado.

Ride well, my friends!