As a new immigrant to Canada about half a lifetime ago, one of the first places I lived was a tiny hamlet about forty miles east of Sault Ste. Marie in northern Ontario. Virtually all the roads to the north of my little shack were gravel. I soon found out that even on four wheels, one had to drive with care to avoid sudden and expensive contact with rock-cuts and ditches, so imagine my surprise when, almost every day, a pair of Harleys would roar past. People ride motorbikes on those roads? How? And more to the point, why?

I had grown up riding in the UK where even the tiniest and most remote roads are paved, and the only gravel I ever saw was the loose and scrunchy beach-pebble driveways at the houses of my most affluent paper route customers. Those were murder on a bicycle. The surfaces were loose with no integrity at all. On a motorbike, at speed, they would be virtually unrideable. So how come the ‘drunk riders’, as we christened the two Harley guys, since they were always on their way too or from the local hotel bar, could stay upright on Ontario’s treacherous gravel surfaces? It would be years until I found out for myself; now, many years later, I often ride gravel roads by choice. Why the switch?

As I was able to observe later, there was nothing special about those riders’ bikes. They were typical Shovelheads of the time: long and low, with wide street tires, and other than a healthy coating of road dust, had nothing to indicate the use to which they were put. No modifications. No special bits. As for the riders, whom I subsequently met at a rather drunken and disreputable party, they had no extraordinary skills or riding techniques as far as I could tell.

当我开始探索加拿大我自己的自行车,我quickly discovered the gravel roads roads that look best and are scrupulously maintained are actually the worst, and the roads that look forgotten by the grader are usually the best. That nice, smooth surface that the grader left looking like a Japanese karesansui garden is really treacherously loose, and may hide rocks and sand traps. That ragged-looking road, with bare, hard-packed areas, a bit of washboard, a few visible rocks and some loose piles in the corners is infinitely more pleasureable to ride, and far easier to read.

Reading the road – not the kind of bike and not the type of tires – is the key to riding gravel roads without disaster. Oh yes, and keeping that throttle hand under control helps too. With its 18-inch wheels front and back and cheapo Duro tires (Dunlop K70 knock-offs), my old Guzzi Eldorado felt surprisingly stable and safe. The more I rode on gravel, the more I liked it, but the question which kept forcing itself into my prefrontal cortext was, why? What was it about riding on unpaved roads which sent me searching maps for places where the pavement ends?

我来到了一个简单的方法r: Gravel roads mean adventure. Riding on an unpredictable surface requires attention, demands engagement. There’s no room for cruise control or daydreaming. Every mile has to be won through concentration, careful planning and judicious use of the throttle and brakes. The front wheel squirms around finding its own path. It can be unnerving until you learn to relax and let it squirm.

Gravel roads generally lead to places away from the hubbub of modern urban life, where one can experience the illusion of wilderness. The big, long, northern gravel highways like the Dempster or the Trans-Taiga were mostly built to serve industry or infrastructure – any aesthetic appeal they have is purely secondary, although many traverse wonderfully remote and inspiring scenery. Smaller unpaved roads tend to link minor communities, follow early and subsequently un-adopted back-country routes, or provide access to current or past logging areas. But whether deep in the Yukon wilds or closer to home, once you’re off the pavement, it feels like adventure. Stop for a moment, and before the blackflies and mosquitoes descend, listen to the silence. Such silences are rare in our busy world. We should cherish them.

Sadly, each time I turn around, yet another gravel road or highway has been paved. When I rode Quebec’s Highway 389 and the Trans-Labrador Highway from Baie Comeau to the Newfoundland Ferry at Blanc Sablon in 2012, the whole thing was a big, dusty gravel road apart from a few short sections. It felt wild. It felt epic. If I stopped, once the dust settled, it really communicated the sense that I was on a tiny gravel strip through a vast wilderness.

I did the same trip in reverse in 2018. To my dismay, I found huge sections now had a perfect tarmac surface. Only a few short portions of gravel road remained, and it was clear that they too would be gone within a couple of seasons. It felt denatured and sterile. The only challenge was whether the small tank on the Suzuki Burgman scooter I was riding would make the distance between gas stops, or whether I’d have to resort to using the ten liters in the jug on the passenger seat. Gone was the need to read the road ahead for the best line to avoid the loose patches. I can’t recall a single pucker moment.

Ironically, just as we’re losing them in droves, gravel road exploration has become the flavor of the decade. ADV bikes are everywhere. They’ve become the ‘standard’ bike, the do-it-all. The two-wheeled SUV. I’ve seen countless adverts on motorcycle for-sale sites, where people were looking to sell their cruiser because they “wanted to get into ADV riding.” Nothing wrong with that, and nothing beats a bit of a change to keep your riding pleasure fresh.

Then, just the other day I saw something that really saddened me. It was an advertisement on TV by one of the major Japanese car companies, suggesting that if you buy their vehicle, you need no longer fear unpaved roads and can boldly venture into the wilds. The ad features some soggy suburbanites with the requisite two-point-five children and a Labradoodle (not really), heading down some cottage road. The implication is that their new vehicle will let you to release your inner explorer in a way that your sensible Corolla or Civic would never allow. They actually mention gravel roads. It made me gag.

Fortunately, it’s not all doom and gloom. There are still countless miles of unpaved road threading through the more remote parts of North America – and, I suspect, in many other parts of the world too. Even in the relatively civilized portion of Eastern Ontario where I live, there are still miles of narrow gravel back roads threading through the bush. For as long as I am able I’ll be searching them out. They may not lead anywhere spectacular or be particularly challenging to ride, but as long as I can get that sense of being ‘out there’, even if it’s mostly in my own mind, I’ll keep riding on gravel.