A weekend racer learns to love ADV riding at Get On! Adventure Fest

My husband, Jeff, and I had loaded our adventure bikes — one 2021 Yamaha Ténéré 700 and one 2015 Suzuki DR650 — in the rented van and headed West toward Sturgis, South Dakota, for RevZilla’s Get On! Adventure Fest. We'd be there just about a week before thousands would descend on Sturgis for the larger rally. I'd heard countless stories about Sturgis and its motorcycle scene, and as our rattling van pulled into town, sleepy businesses and bars were preparing to reopen in anticipation of the rally. We drove past the enormous J&P Cycles store, stopped in for some coffee at the Sturgis Coffee Company, and then headed up the ridge to the famous Buffalo Chip Campground, our digs for the week.

Editor's note: Get On! Adventure Fest is back for a second run in the Black Hills this year, July 14 through 17. Click here for more information and to buy tickets.

My husband is Comoto's Senior Director of Construction and Facilities. Though he doesn't have one of Comoto's public-facing motorcycle jobs, he's very much a part of the Philadelphia RevZilla community of riders, especially the dirt-riding community. He was tapped to help pre-ride the event and serve as a trail ambassador alongside Comoto's media team and other dirt-riding employees — Spurgeon Dunbar, Brandon Wise, Patrick Garvin, Jen Dunstan, and Stevan Popovich — and I happily tagged along.

Our setup was modest, but functional, and unintentionally picturesque. We pulled our bikes out of the back of our rental van and set up two cots and sleeping bags side-by-side inside. No frills, but when we got out of bed in the morning, we would open the sliding side door of the van to expose the beautiful Black Hills. Misty in the morning, stormy in the afternoons, and then a deep, dark sky and brilliant stars after sunset.

A racer learns the joys of adventure riding

I'm thoroughly infected by the dirt-riding bug, but my personal trajectory was aimed toward smaller, race-tuned bikes. I mean, I had a deposit down on a 2022 KTM 300 two-stroke TPI. I was halfway through our East Coast Enduro Association enduro season, headed for a second-place overall finish. Most of my off-road rides were fraught with nerves and adrenaline, that go-go-go pace, that not-quite-fun-during-but-definitely-fun-after feeling of racing. And I loved it.

But here, in the vastness of the Black Hills, I was about to experience a very different kind of riding, and not just because I was on a bike that felt like an unhurried tractor instead of a flickable, buzzing, race machine.

Our group set out to pre-ride the routes for the event published on Rever, starting with the A-level, or most advanced trail. Our group consisted of Spurg on a borrowed BMW F850 GS, Stevan on his KTM 890, Jeff on his Ténéré, Patrick on a Kawasaki KLX450, and me on my DR650. The route started with a steep, loose, rocky climb, opened up to a beautiful vista and then dipped into some ATV trails with their share of planted, rocky step-ups. We really enjoyed the route, decided that skilled riders on the right mid-sized bikes with off-road tires would be appropriately challenged, and returned back to camp for some steak tips and beers, excited for what tomorrow's B-level route would bring.

For our second pre-riding day, we headed out on an intermediate B-level route called the Rapid City Loop. This one headed south on the highway toward Rapid City before dipping into the Black Hills. And this is the route that made me truly fall in love with adventure riding.

We pulled off of the pavement onto rocky two-track and climbed through lush, green pines and dug into soft, red dirt, and crested a hill to expose a wide-open sky dotted with enormous clouds, a field exploding with wildflowers, and in the distance, this winding trail skirting along the ridge. Time stopped. It was truly the most beautiful trail I'd ever ridden. And there was no go-go-go in it. Instead, we were all bursting with the timelessness of the moment. It felt lavish, to be surrounded by all of this beauty with truly nothing to do except keep riding on.

We stopped to open and pass through some gates, careful to lock them again. We greeted a few grazing cows. We worked our way around a detour. We were totally in the moment, skating around deeper puddles, catching air off of water bars, our knobby tires grabbing the loose, rocky dirt.

And then that other part of adventure riding happened. The adventure.

We had just closed a cattle gate and were heading into one of the last sections of the 130-mile route. Stevan took the lead on his KTM 890. And then, all of a sudden, our entire convoy stopped dead in our tracks. Jeff put down his kickstand and hopped off of the bike to grab something in the middle of the trail. It was all twisted metal and plastic. A footpeg and its entire assembly, from Stevan's brand new 890.

To be fair, that planted dinosaur rock came out of nowhere, truly.

We were all checking out Stevan's bike, trying to determine what we could use from each of our tool packs to get him comfortably back on the trail. We laughed at the absurdity of coming down hard enough on an obstacle to rip the entire assembly clean off. We checked the Rever map and discovered we weren't too far from a road back to camp, and decided we should probably just head home. And that's when we saw it — the dark oil oozing from a crack in the pan that we couldn't even see.

We all hightailed it to a KTM dealership outside of Sturgis, but didn't quite make it before closing time. So we popped his keys into the key drop, left a voicemail, and shimmied back to town, with me two-up on Jeff's Ténéré and Stevan on my DR650. My only regret is offering up my DR650 for Stevan to ride instead of letting Stevan ride two-up with Jeff on the Ténéré, especially after he dogged the DR hard when we got back to camp. At least mine had all its oil!

Over the next few days, we continued to pre-ride sans the 890, which unfortunately ended up needing major work. Brandon Wise joined us on a KTM 350 EXC-F, and then on an amazingly impractical Ducati Scrambler. Jen Dunstan joined on a BMW G 310 GS. And then it was time for the event to start for real.

Return to the Rapid City Loop

Riders descended onto camp. Demo rides and training camps were all set up, tents dotted the field. Bikes of every make and displacement littered the parking lot. Riders of all disciplines and skill levels lined up to download the Rever routes and ask questions about what to expect out there. And we trail ambassadors, despite the misadventures of one 890, couldn't shake that amazing feeling we had riding the Rapid City Loop, and encouraged almost every participant to take that loop on the first day as a barometer ride. After all, it really was the perfect middle ground, a relatively mild B-level trail.

Except, we hadn't finished the route. On our fateful scouting day, the 890's demise meant that we skipped out before completing that last section.

And here we all were back on the route again, this time riding alongside all of the participants. We scooped up quite a few riders along the way, and ended up with a group that included Shawn Thomas and Louise Powers two-up on an enormous BMW R 1250 GS, BMW GS Trophy Team member Kandi Spangler, two brothers on KTM 690s, and a few others. And despite this super diverse group of riders, we were riding well and sticking together, as adventure riders do.

Still, the last section proved challenging for our group. In just the last 10 miles, I learned just how many people it takes to stand a Ténéré 700 up on its end to drain a flooded exhaust, and turn around a Honda Africa Twin on an impossibly steep, rocky climb. Again, it's not an adventure until…

And like adventure riders do, we all made sure each of us made it back to camp safely. The Ténéré sputtered back to life after its little drink, and we scouted a road that went around and avoided the steep climb for the Africa Twin.

We pulled into camp covered in mud and dead tired. The beers were exceptionally cold that night.

An adventure-riding convert

I loved experiencing this other side of the dirt-riding coin at the Get On! Adventure Fest.

There's something special about how the adventure community both appreciates the beauty of the ride and tackles misadventure. I've raced in some beautiful places, but the beauty is on the periphery and my sights are intensely focused on the trail ahead.

I've also encountered misadventure on the race course. Buried my rear wheel axle-deep in mud, punctured my front tire, cracked a radiator hose. But those misadventures largely ended my chances of being competitive in that particular race, and the focus became limping my bike across the finish line, a slow, frustrating slog to the end.

On the rides at Get On! Adventure Fest I was breathing in the scenery, rather than it barely registering and the misadventures are just part of the whole experience, rather than detracting from it. I can't wait to get back out there again this year and I hope you join me. Just make sure you're ready to help me bump start my DR650, and I'll be sure to pack a few extra spares in my tool kit for you.