Riding a BMW 1200 GS off-road as a beginner.

My journey from bottling a simple green lane, to doing some training, cruising over huge mounds of earth, my first minor drop, to my first scary crash, to my first injury. Read on to find out what the first month of riding an R1200gs off-road as a complete beginner has been like for me. (Eventful to say the least) 

First, some background. 

I’m 36. I got my license just after my 30th birthday. In the early days, I rode my bike any chance I could get, back when popping to the shops on two wheels rather than 4 was still exciting enough to outway the complete impracticalities.

In that 6 years of riding experience, the frequency of my riding has changed, as has the growing need to go further and do more exciting things on two wheels. I’d say at this stage in my riding career, I’m a fairly confident rider. I make progress, but I’m not fast by most riders’ standards. I generally ride on my own within 10 (or so) mph of the speed limit. No one in my existing circle of friends rides a bike, and my experience so far of riding with people in a similar or younger age bracket to me generally means having to ride at speeds above where I want to be riding – not from an ability perspective, more just from an I don’t want to lose my license and/or die perspective.

I’ve completed the IAM advance riding course, passing with a first, and started to get involved with a local ROSPA group, really just because why not see if there is something else to learn from them too.

When I bought my own r1200gs in November last year, I bought it because I wanted more comfort on my rides. After doing the North coast 500 in 2021on on my Yamaha xj6 Diversion I decided long-distance touring and adventures were what I wanted from my motorcycling life.

Fast forward 6 months later, and I’m yet to go on a meaningful tour on the bike, there’s been a couple of overnight trips to wales, and long day rides here and there, but no multi-day rides as was my intention. What I have spent a disproportionate amount of time doing is watching people travel around the world on motorbikes on youtube.

The thing these YouTubers generally have in common (the ones that seem to be having the most fun) is that they tend to take the path less travelled. The unpaved roads away from civilisation. The roads to adventures that are just for them.

Endless days wasted on youtube have created in me this all-encompassing obsession with learning to ride a bike off-road.

Enter the BMW R1200gs.

Now. All the common wisdom says the best bikes for off-road riding are small capacity, lightweight bikes.

But then,  I’m thinking, why do we have all these adventure bikes on the market with knobby tyres, comfy seats and ample luggage carrying capacity?

Well, turns out you can actually ride a big adventure bike off-road, and lots of people do… very well, and they have a great time doing it.

So, I have a bike that, in theory, can go off-road. That seems to be all you should need, right?

Green lane fail.

So, a couple hundred more youtube videos later, I reckon it’s time for me to give it a go. I do a bunch of googling for green lanes in my local area, I find one 15 minutes away from my house – ‘bonus’ I think. ‘Today, I shall be an adventure rider!’

So off I pop. All my usual road riding gear, and no idea. I mean, I don’t have anything else, so that’ll have to do. I stick the go-pro on ready to share with the world how adventurous I am, and this epic new lifestyle I have crafted for myself.

Let’s say my ambition outweighed my talent by a significant margin.

I got away without dropping my bike, but that’s purely down to having bottled it not more than about 10 metres from the tarmac.

Cruising into the ‘unsuitable for motor’s section of the byway, sitting down on my GS, no real plan for how I was going to tackle it, bumping up and down over the undulations in what at the time felt like the world’s largest rut, carved out by some monster trucks tyres, It very quickly dawned on me that I was well out of my depth with no clue how to swim.

It felt awkward. It felt horrible. I instantly felt every kilogram of this big, heavy bike. The weight that was usually so well hidden when riding on the road and along with it I felt every pound I had spent to buy my precious dream bike.

I stopped for a moment, confirmed to myself this was a stupid idea and started to try and recall whether I’d watched a youtube video called ‘How to turn a GS around on a road you don’t belong on when you’ve been a total numpty’. After a bit of heroic clutch work, and too many stalls to count, I get the bike turned around back on the tarmac without dropping it and head off to Koti Autotalli to do what a 1200 GS is really intended for – transport to a location at which you can buy a decent latte.

Help required.

So back to youtube I go. The solution will be on youtube. It always is.

Although briefly disheartened by my failure to instantly be an adventure riding expert, as I had rightly expected to be, I wasn’t completely deterred from the idea.

The key issue being: how to learn how to do this thing without f*****g up my nice shiny bike.

Enter BMW off-road skills. Then – swiftly exit BMW offroad skills.

This is one of a few really golden twists of fate sent my way throughout my life. I don’t know if this is something other people experience but it takes me a long time to decide to do something. Even when I know it’s something I desperately want to do. And let’s face it, you don’t get a lot of change from £600 to do level 1 of the off-road skills course, and that purchase, for me anyway, warrants a few weeks of self-torture, obsession and introspection before I can bring myself to go for it.

Of course, by the time I go to book it, all of the courses that were open when I first looked are now booked up until autumn.

Feck.

What this does for me, however, is absolutely cement how much I wanted to do this thing. So off I go to do some research and find myself the excellent Adventure Bike Training, based in Norfolk. For more or less a similar amount of money, instead of being one of many people on an extremely structured course, you get one-to-one bespoke training based on exactly your level and ability. Perfect, for me and my introverted nature, where the smaller the number of people the better (Unfortunately for the rest of you, Kevin and his wife are off travelling, and have now shut up shop. Wounder.)

Day 1: Adventure bike hero. 

Day 1 of my training with Kevin is epic. A bit of how to pick up your bike, and balance it stuff that we don’t waste too much time on and then quickly onto standing up on the bike, slaloms and tight u-turns, how to use your brakes properly all learnt and, if I do say so myself, smashed out of the park.

We then get into some really fun stuff learning how to use momentum to get up, what to me were enormous, dirt mounts and down the other side. The green lane I had previously bailed on, now looks like not much more than a couple of molehills on a flat grass playing field.

In the afternoon we head out to tackle some real green lanes around Norfolk, and it’s fantastic.

And NOT.A.SINGLE.DROP. All-day. Every exercise. F*****g nailed it mate.

At the end of the day, I’d achieved far more than I’d imagined would be possible in one, or even the two days I was there, and it felt amazing.

Over confidently cruising into my glampsite that evening, for a hard-earned kip in my glamping pod, standing up on the pegs of course because, as you’ll remember, I’m an expert adventure rider now –  I forget to sit down in time when I come to a stop and promptly drop my bike. Numpty.

The evening is naturally spent on youtube researching adventure boots, wide footpegs,  beefier crash bars and how to get to Morocco.

Day 2: Adventure bike crasher.

On day 2, things got a little real for me.

We start out with some of the same from the day before. A few more technical exercises to start with. Over some sleepers, over some undulating sections and some ramped log sections. All awesome fun.

A couple of minor drops today to start with, no biggy, things are a little trickier today and it’s all part of the process.

Then we get to the crater. Now. This thing is quite big. Let’s remember that 48 hours ago I was the kind of rider that was humbled by the slightest bump. Over the past few days, we’d been going up the sides of this thing, and around the ridge all without issue. The task right now is to go down into the middle of it, up the other side, and then down a sharp drop on the other side.

My first run is fine. A few scuffles as the bike slips a bit more getting up to the top, but up and over the top, nice and controlled going down the other side. Nailed it. A couple more runs, not too bad.

Maybe run 3 or 4, the bike skips out to the side just as I’m getting to the top, I’m over the top but not where I’d planned to be and definitely not on the carved-out trail down the other side. By luck more than skill I get down the other side, bumbling over a lumpy grassy patch down the hill – I see Kevin shooting over on his bike to see if I’d made it – he gives me a relieved thumbs up, which confirms, along with a sharp shot of adrenaline, that I got away with more than perhaps I should have on that run.

Faceplant.

Final run. I don’t give it enough from the bottom of the hill to have the momentum I need. As I reach the middle of the hill, I over-egg the throttle in a last-minute attempt to recover and get the speed I need – I lose traction and my bike skirts over to the right – I am no longer in control of the situation. The bike regains traction, now with way too much throttle on and I’m shot over the top of the hill – the braking I’ve been using to control the descent on the other side is instinctive but ineffective. The front-wheel wipes out, the bike dives into the hill, and I do some sort of cartwheel off the bike down the other side of the hill.

Bruised and dazed, I chill for a bit while the bits of plastic are gathered, and either cable-tied back on the bike or discarded, and a nice lady on the 1250 Rallye’s SOS function gives me a call to see if I’m okay.

Ego wounded and a bit achy, I’m back on the bike after a short period and we’re doing some other bits and pieces again. We don’t try that obstacle again. I’m ok with it.

Ruts are fun. 

Figuring out the practice ruts in the training area was actually something I really enjoyed. Starting out with a straight line, it was actually far easier than I thought it was going to be and I cruise straight through. Then we’re onto a curved rut, I have a couple of dismounts on this one, but after getting through with a couple of dabs, and then getting all the way through the rut with no feet down, I was super chuffed.

Ruts are bulls**t. 

When you’re in a predictable controlled environment, and you’ve just watched someone else do something, it’s easy to have faith that it’s possible. Later that day when we’re out on the lanes Kevin warns me about a section coming up that will have some ruts.

The section combines our rut practice, with another obstacle called the ‘little dipper’ where you roll the clutch and power on and off as you go up and down as a series of undulations.

Not too long into the section and one of the ‘down’ sections swallows my front wheel and promptly bolls me into a hedge. A much more light-hearted off, I laugh this one off pretty easily, get the bike back up and muddle the bike through the rest of the rut.

Ruts are really hard, ok. And once it goes wrong, it seems to go wrong very quickly, there’s no hold on and hope, physics takes over, over the bike goes, and off you f***k. More on that later.

Sobered.

At the end of day 2, I had mixed feelings. I’d had such an awesome time when it was going well – but had been admittedly a bit shaken by my crash on the crater – I finished my 2-day course very aware that things weren’t always going to go to plan with off-road riding.

Back to reality. 

Back to work then. Absolutely knackered, bruises down my legs distracting me from my work but also weirdly enjoying the reminder of the awesome adventure my colleagues had no idea I’d experienced at the weekend.

Time for some new tyres and boots me thinks.

Out on my own. 

The goal: Tackle the green lane I’d bottled. With some 80/20 tyres installed (Not ready to commit by bike to full 50/50 knobby tyres and the road compromise that goes with it) I’m off to tackle the green lane that beat me before.

Road closed.

Feck.

Not to be defeated, I travel around the road closure to the other end of the same lane and tackle it that way. Cruising up the lane, stood on my pegs I’m getting into the flow, remembering what I’d been taught, and carefully but surely making my way up a green lane on my GS. Until….Mud.

We didn’t cover mud. Balls. 

In front of me lies a boggy quagmire. I had great weather on my trip to Norfolk, which was lovely. What it also meant was that I hadn’t come across any mud. I have no skills or strategies for this situation. I take a pause planning my route through, fairly sure that my 80/20 tyres will become slicks as soon as I stick my bike in that mess. I contemplate whether I’m about to get my bike stuck and live out all the fears I have of trying to do this thing on my own bike.

In the midst of my existential crisis – a young kid cruises past in the other direction on some lightweight dual-sport, skips through the mud, looks at me wondering what I’m fannying about out, says hello and carries on his way.

Ok. We’re going to give this a go. That didn’t look too bad. 2 metres. Slip. Splat. Mud everywhere.

I laugh it off, get the bike back up, and waddle myself and the bike through the mud to the other side. Survived it I guess. Didn’t get stuck. Also – Shouldn’t have come in my leather jacket. What a latte-drinking, mud-covered tit I must look.

Nonetheless, I had done my first independent green lane, and aside from a glob of rancid mud stuck around my cylinder head and crash bars, and having to explain the same glob of mud to my partner once jet washed onto our back garden patio,  nothing particularly bad happened.

Living the dream. 

With a semi-successful, albeit short-lived, green lane under my belt, I’m fueled to try this some more.

With a bit of research, I find an ‘ABR beginners route’ in the Cotswolds. Sounds perfect. So off I go – and for the most part, it was absolutely excellent. No mud to speak of – winner – no massive crater to fall off and destroy my bike – winner. I’m living the dream gently travelling gently down some green lanes,  shutting my engine off for passing horse riders, who thank me with a gleaming smile.

Ruts are bulls***t.

Towards the end of my ride – there are some smallish ruts up ahead. ‘Excellent’ I think – remembering back to how satisfying it was to get around the much deeper ruts in the training area on my course a couple of weeks back. Revelling in the opportunity to practice something a bit more technical – I press on.

It’s in this section I experience my first off-roading injury.  Maybe I was just going too slow, but it’s not long into this section that I get into a wobble, and as has been my experience with failed ruts so far, off the bike I go. This time though I don’t just roll out of it, I land on my thumb.  I am very grateful for my quick shifter on the ride home as I avoid using my clutch hand as much as possible.

And that’s where you find me today. Typing this blog with a compression bandage around my hand, and a swollen sprained thumb that I can’t move properly. Researching where I might go on my next green laning trip.