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These “one tank of gas” articles are supposed to serve as a quick second take on a bike we’ve already reported on. Log some miles, gather some impressions, get the fuel light to turn on, then write an alternative review for the Common Tread audience. Easy enough, right?
Well, one tank of gas means different things for different bikes, and when you put the Honda CRF450RL in the steeper and gnarlier terrain of its intended environments, burning through 2.0 gallons can soak up an entire day and leave you utterly exhausted.
That was the case with my seven-hour, 78-mile enduro excursion, a ride that stretched from the suburbs at the eastern end of the Los Angeles Basin up into the conifer forests of the San Bernardino Mountains.
To be fair, a more skilled off-road rider likely would have covered the distance more quickly, or at least had a better estimate of how long such a ride would take. In my inexperience and ignorance, though, I expected to grab lunch and gas in Big Bear and be back where we started by mid-afternoon. Ha! Instead, we turned around 25 miles short of food and fuel, at 2:30 pm, and barely made it back before dark with what turned out to be less than an ounce of gas left in the CRF’s tank.
Yeah, it was an adventure, which, ultimately, is what the CRF450RL was designed to facilitate, and exactly what I was hoping this one-tank ride would be.
Since our last visit
This is more or less the same dirt bike with lights our resident off-road expert Spurgeon reviewed when the model was launched in 2018, but since we last visited the 450L it has had an “R” added to its name, flag-style handguards added to the handlebar, some 1s and 0s manipulated in its ECU, and a few hundred dollars deducted from its price.
That’s right, the CRF450RL finally has hand protection, received revised mapping to help address low-rpm fueling issues, and had its MSRP reduced from $10,399 to $9,999. A price decrease, in this economy? Amazing.
Other than those changes (and bold new graphics), we’re looking at the same do-it-all dual-sport as before, with a 449.7 cc Unicam engine, aluminum twin-spar frame, and about a foot of adjustable Showa suspension travel front and rear. The CRF450RL is the sole street-legal model in the 450 lineup and compared to its competition-only siblings it has a milder cam, wide-ratio six-speed transmission, and heavier crankshaft to help temper the bike’s behavior.
Even if the CRF450RL is tamer than its stablemates, compared to the CRF300L (and CRF300L Rally) and the living dinosaur that is the XR650L, it’s ready for Dakar. The CRF450RL is as slanted toward dirt as the 300s and 650 are toward pavement. Other than a balance shaft to take the edge off engine vibes, the CRF450RL makes no concessions toward comfort, and just enough road-going capability to allow you to get out to the trails without using a pickup truck.
Escape from L.A.
That being said, I did use a truck to get to the trailhead, because even though the CRF450RL will sprint along at 75 or even 80 mph easily enough, it would have had to sustain that speed for over an hour to get to the good riding. That’s just life in L.A. Also, slabbing it would have tortured the Michelin Enduro knobbies I’d had put on in place of the OE, road-biased IRCs. Another thing that would have been tortured? My backside. The CRF’s seat is shaped like a wooden beam and is about as pliable.
Speaking of the seat, Spurgeon suggested that its 37.1-inch height doesn’t seem that tall. That’s easy for a tall person to say. At five feet, 10 inches, I couldn’t quite flatfoot it, which led to a few awkward tipovers on the trail when I needed to dab and the ground was out of reach.
Thankfully, there were no tumbles during the initial part of the ride, which began in unseasonably hot weather (85 degrees by 10 a.m.!) with a switch-backed fire-road climb up the mountainside. Within a few miles, friend and photographer Nathan May and I had gained several thousand feet of elevation and an expansive view of the valley below. I was excited to escape the urban sprawl and the heat, and perhaps a little clumsy with the controls in my stiff boots, body armor, and overstuffed backpack. In typical Honda fashion, the CRF made up for my lack of finesse with engineered refinement.
The transmission is perfect, as far as I can tell, and while the clutch is heavy it has a broad and progressive friction point. With roughly 12 inches of suspension travel, even huge hits melt under your wheels, and it took me a while to get used to cruising over stuff that you’d have to tiptoe around on a full-size ADV. I’ve seen the CRF’s steering criticized for being slower than race-focused machines, but I appreciated how consistently the bike tracked over the bowling-ball-sized stones that made up long stretches of the fire road on the mountain’s southern flank.
One area that still lacks refinement is low-rpm fueling. Even after Honda implemented ECU changes in 2021 the on/off and off/on transition is still abrupt in the lower gears. If the terrain allows it, I’d suggest short shifting and lugging the engine, which quells the abruptness and leaves you in the meat of the CRF’s grunty low end, ready to hoist a wheelie or spin tire out of a turn. In tighter single-track that calls for first or second gear where the abruptness is worst, you’ll learn to fan the clutch as you roll on and off the gas to take the sharpness off the throttle response’s edge.
Rolling into the conifer groves of the San Bernardino National Forest, the ride was starting to feel like a proper adventure. At 5,300 feet of elevation, there was a chill to the air and snow lingered in the places the sun didn’t penetrate. I oscillated between riding gently and savoring the sights and smells of the forest, and putting the hammer down and riding fast on the smoother, more flowing high-mountain roads. In both scenarios, I was grateful for the stock exhaust. As heavy and restrictive as it may be, it’s wonderfully quiet. A loud pipe would have been vulgar in such serene surroundings.
Descending toward Silverwood Lake, I finally needed to slow down with enough urgency to really bear down on the front brake. What feels soft and underpowered on pavement is ideal on loose terrain where traction is limited. The setup has a gentle bite and progressive engagement that provides a lot of feel and control.
With Highway 138 visible through the trees below us, we turned right on another forest road for a few fast and flowy miles before crossing the pavement at Miller Canyon Staging Area. From there, a network of OHV trails stretch to the far end of the National Forest at the edge of the Colorado Desert, some 50 miles to the east. It’s a maze of truck trails and single-track that traverse wildly different landscapes and ecosystems, and every mile of it is open to you if you’re on a plated bike like the CRF450RL.
After riding through a wooded valley complete with creek crossings, then climbing up onto a sandy truck trail along a ridge, we entered the forest near Lake Arrowhead and got our first taste of technical single-track. It was blissful. The trails flowed and wound through the woods, the CRF gobbling up every yard and thrilling me with wheelies over crests and smooth power slides through bermed corners. A few switchbacks revealed the slower steering that Spurgeon noticed during his first ride, and the snippy throttle response in first gear kept my clutch hand busy, but I was loving every moment of it.
Paradoxically, winter is when the flora grows in California, so there was no shortage of shrubs and tree limbs reaching into the trail. This highlighted the value of the handguards, which will keep your knuckles from getting bashed, but won't defend the clutch and brake lever from damage in a real tumble. Consider upgrading to aluminum wrap-around handguards for better protection.
Nearly three hours into the ride I had put just 30 miles on the CRF’s little LCD dash. It felt like our pace was decent — we were working hard and rarely not sweating and standing on the pegs — but between stopping to navigate and stopping to take pictures, we were burning daylight. Luckily, the remaining 35 miles to Big Bear could be ridden exclusively on truck trails, which we assumed would be smooth and fast. Boy, was that a miscalculation.
Hello, hard enduro
A few miles later, the terrain literally reared up on us. I’m very eager to see the “trucks” capable of traversing what Nathan and I struggled through for the next hour and a half. The road had eroded into a labyrinth of sandstone steps, boulders, and deep ruts that slowed us to a walking pace, literally. Maybe an expert hard enduro racer could have hopped and skipped up the face of it, but we had to spin, slide, fall over, and flail our way through.
It wasn’t pretty, but it was fun, up until a point. I was soaked with sweat and the CRF’s radiator fan was running steadily as I punished the clutch. This is where my lack of leg reach — and a lack of talent — put me on the ground a few times. The bike also deserves some blame, since it developed a tendency to pop-stall once the engine was hot. At 291 pounds the CRF is on the heavier side for a street-legal dirt bike and picking it up was wearing me out.
Some 20 minutes later, I had only added a few tenths of a mile to the trip meter. We’d made it through one stretch of the maze, but there was another one around every corner. Each time we conquered an edifice, Nathan and I would stop to catch our breath and discuss our situation, which was becoming dire.
We were hours behind schedule, and running low on energy, gas, and daylight. It was 2:30, and we hadn’t stopped for a proper break or consumed anything but water, so we sprawled out by the side of the trail, munched on crackers and peanut butter, and bravely decided to give up and turn back.
Retracing our tracks
Making an about face with just 38 miles on the trip meter felt pathetic, but then again my arms felt like they were going to fall off. It had been an exhilarating and challenging ride, and hey, we still had over 30 miles to go to get out!
Now that we were retracing our tracks instead of navigating unknown territory, my opinion of the CRF450RL began to coalesce.
There’s no doubt this is a terrific vehicle for getting out into the woods. Perhaps I’ve spent too much time off-road on overweight ADVs, but the CRF felt unstoppable. I loved the engine’s spread of power, and the fact that it was strong and punchy without being overwhelming like a purebred 450 can be. I know a better rider would find the bike’s limits (likely something to do with bottoming the suspension) and have more to criticize, but I didn’t, and other than the punishing seat, heavy clutch, and low-rpm fueling issues, I don’t.
That being said, the clutch pull really was an issue, since it fatigued my hand and meant I lost all finesse. The engagement point also migrated based on how hot the clutch pack got, and while the slack is easy enough to adjust, a hydraulic setup would A) self adjust, and B) offer a lighter pull. I’m pretty sure I’d be investigating a Magura Hymec hydraulic clutch conversion if I added a CRF450RL to my garage.
Maybe you can chalk my clutch complaint up to a weak grip. Fine. The fueling foible is something everyone is going to experience though, and I hope Honda (or the aftermarket) finds a solution. I know EFI bikes often suffer in this area, which just adds ammo to Lemmy’s argument that carburetors are better.
The bike worked well enough in single-track and other technical stuff, but felt best bombing along fire roads in second or third gear, where I could stay seated and ride it like a flat-tracker. Beyond that, I found the handlebar a little high while standing on the pegs, and the shifter tab a little shorter than I prefer, but those are minor complaints.
Then, at mile 51, the fuel light came on, and I got scared. Range is going to vary wildly depending on how you ride the CRF450RL, but any way you slice it you’ve only got 2.0 gallons to work with. Or do you? I actually had a 1.5-liter (0.4-gallon) fuel bottle in my bag, because only having 2.0 gallons made me nervous. I would have preferred to have been carrying a foot-long Italian sub in my pack and let the tank hold the extra gas, but that’s not what Honda set me up for. So I suppose if I bought a CRF I’d be looking at a 3.0-gallon tank from IMS as well.
Thankfully, we made it back to the trucks, just as the sun was setting over the sprawl of urban San Bernardino. I’d spent a fair amount of time coasting with the engine off on long descents, just to preserve gas, and I’m glad I did. When I finally got the bike to a gas station and filled the tank, it took 1.99 gallons.
One tank of gas indeed.
| 2022 Honda CRF450RL | |
|---|---|
| Price (MSRP) | $9,999 |
| Engine | 449.7 cc, liquid-cooled, four-valve, single |
|
Transmission, final drive |
Six-speed, chain |
| Claimed horsepower | NA |
| Claimed torque | NA |
| Frame | Aluminum twin-spar |
| Front suspension | Showa fork, adjustable for rebound and compression damping; 12.0 inches of travel |
| Rear suspension | Showa shock, adjustable for preload, rebound and high- and low-speed compression damping; 12.4 inches of travel |
| Front brake | Two-piston caliper hydraulic; single 260 mm disc |
| Rear brake | Single-piston caliper hydraulic; single 240 mm disc |
| Rake, trail | 28.0 degrees, 4.6 inches |
| Wheelbase | 58.9 inches |
| Seat height | 37.1 inches |
| Fuel capacity | 2.0 gallons |
| Tires | IRC GP21 80/100-21 front; IRC GP22 120/80-18 rear |
| Measured weight | 291 pounds |
| Available | Now |
| Warranty | 12 months |
| More info | powersports.honda.com |
