This is the second part of a 3-part series detailing motorcycle adventures in Baja. Check out part one here and stay tuned for part three (the gear) on Oct. 2.
Back in 2015, on my first real Baja trip, I was climbing a hill outside Santo Tomas that my friends and I call Beer Mountain. I was on a mostly stock Suzuki DRZ400S with a duffel bag lashed to the rear fender. Halfway up that hill is a rock garden, and just past the last of the rocks, a snake was crossing the track. I slowed for it.
When I slowed, I felt oil spraying onto my boot. Not what you want mid-hill climb. I killed the bike immediately, before any long-term damage was done. A rock had ripped a bolt clean out of my case.
We rigged a tow strap out of webbing, and my buddy towed me 6 miles back to the highway, and then another 20 into Ensenada. This all happened because I didn’t have any JB Weld with me — a rookie mistake, and one I’ve never made again.
In town, I patched the case with a peso coin laid over the hole and enough JB Weld packed over the top to seal it. Once it dried, I filled the bike with oil and rode it back to Tecate.
Sure, it makes for a good story now, but the truth is that I got lucky that it happened a relatively short distance from town. If that bolt had let go deep on the peninsula, that stock DRZ and I would have been in real trouble. At best, the trip would have been over.
That day taught me the first thing I still believe about building a Baja bike: a proper build needs a baseline of protection. If I had spent money on that instead of a new muffler and a carburetor re-jet, I wouldn’t have been stranded.
Every refinement I’ve bolted onto a bike since then traces back to a moment like that one, something that broke, or nearly did, a long way from help. What follows is 10 years of problems, each with a solution bolted to the bike.
Building the Baja Bike
The Platform
For my 40th birthday this past May, I wanted the most fun, most demanding line I could stitch together over six riding days, and a bike that solved every problem I’d faced. The starting point was my 2017 KTM 500 EXC-F with around 100 hours on it.
Picking the right bike for a trip really depends on the trip you’re taking. If you want to pick apart the tight single-track around El Rosario, bring a smaller two-stroke. If your only goal is Cabo as fast as possible, get on a big adventure bike like a BMW GS.
But for a dirt-focused trip that asks for everything from technical single-track to 100mph dry lake bed runs, nothing touches the power-to-weight ratio of a 450cc or 500cc single-cylinder four-stroke engine, which is why they tend to dominate SCORE races like the Baja 1000 year after year.
The KTM 500 EXC-F, and its GasGas and Husqvarna siblings, is a true dual-sport motorcycle. It’s street legal and plated from the factory, so you can legally link dirt sections with tarmac transfers, cross the border under your own power, and fuel up at any regular gas station without a second thought. Get a tank big enough (more on this later), and the accessories dialed, and it does it all.
So if the KTM is so good, why modify it at all? Why not just ride it stock? Because Baja can be brutal and asks for everything from bike and rider all at once. The terrain swings from beach sand to rock gardens to blown-out whoops to technical single-track to unexpected G-outs.
There are few places on earth that ask more of a motorcycle. The heat there is real, and it can easily cook a big thumper (aka single-cylinder engine) working that hard.
The fuel quality south of the border is a genuine question mark on any given day. And you’re doing all of it for 8–12 hours in the saddle, day after day. This finds every weakness in a bike and a rider both, and no manufacturer can account for all that.
Here’s how I built my KTM, and why each part I added earned its spot.
Protection
I won’t ride to Baja with someone who doesn’t have hand guards, radiator protection, case protection, a skid plate, and tire mousses (these are nitrogen-filled foam donuts that replace traditional inner tubes for increased puncture resistance). Those five things are absolutely non-negotiable, full stop. I consider them the floor for anyone pointing a bike south of the border.
The Molecule Moto skid plate is made from billet UHMW (ultra-high molecular weight) plastic, which is self-lubricating and easily slides over rocks and ledges better than anything I’ve run. It also doesn’t clang like an aluminum skid plate; it doesn’t bend, and it wraps further up the sides than most, which matters for the water pump on the clutch side of the case on my bike.
I paired it with their fork lug guards, chain guide, and wrap-around handguards. You are going to drop your bike in Baja, and a lighter, stronger guard that keeps your clutch and brake levers intact is cheap insurance against a very bad day. They also cover your hands from the endless cactus lining every trail down there, and they look sharp.
Protecting the most vulnerable parts of the case matters as much as the skid plate underneath: the Boyesen Works clutch cover guards the clutch side, and the Trailjammer stator guard protects the ignition cover on the other. Both have been on every bike I’ve taken to Baja since my first trip.
System Tech Racing rounds out the bike’s impact protection. I’ve seen a stock rear brake pedal bent or snapped off in a crash, which can end a day fast.
The System Tech replacement is larger and shaped to slide in a crash instead of catching. The front and rear rotor guards System Tech offers combine carbon fiber with UHMW for a package that’s very light and very tough. Both have taken major hits, including on my most recent trip in May, and come out just fine.
The P3 Carbon header guard wraps the exhaust pipe that comes out of the head in a carbon–fiberglass composite that keeps that superheated pipe from melting your boots and pants. It also shrugs off dents and dings that a bare header can pick up in the desert.
Bullet Proof Designs radiator guards have been indestructible over years of abuse, and they’re my choice on any build where I’m running a smaller tank without the extra shrouding that a desert tank provides. It doesn’t take much to put a hole in a radiator, and that’s a pretty quick trip-ender, so a guard is definitely worth it.
Acerbis covers two odd but worthwhile jobs. Their swing-arm guards are a lot cheaper than a new swing arm, and I like the way the guards mount because it’s easily removable when I’m washing the bike.
Mud gaiters might sound strange for Baja, given that it’s a desert. I thought so too initially, but after countless testimonials from Baja experts at Taco Moto about how well they protect fork seals, they became cheap insurance, especially sitting on top of an expensive custom Kreft suspension — an investment I’d really rather not have to pay for twice.
Suspension and Handlebars
The Kreft suspension revalve is the single most transformative thing I did to this bike. It wasn’t cheap, but Baja earns that investment more than almost anywhere I’ve ridden.
A single day can throw wildly different terrain at you, and each type wants a different suspension setup. I’ve ridden the stock KTM 500 suspension in Baja and had a great time, but asking a factory setup to handle that range, loaded with luggage, fuel, and a rider in full gear, is a lot to ask.
Kreft rebuilt both the front and rear suspension with stiffer springs and revalved internals dialed for my weight on a loaded bike at speed. What mattered as much as the parts was the process. Kreft is owned by a former Baja racer, and the in-depth phone consultation we had before they built anything showed it.
We talked through my weight, riding style, and what I wanted out of the bike, and the baseline settings that came back were dialed in enough that I never touched an adjuster all week. That’s the real win. The system lets you adjust compression on the fly with no tools, which is impressive, but the fact that I never needed to is exactly why you go to a shop like Kreft in the first place.
My handlebar setup works as one system: Fasst Company Flexx bars with their brass inserts, a Scotts steering stabilizer, and a BRP rubber sub-mount, all tuned for a front end that’s responsive but heavily damped. High-frequency vibration is the tax you pay for a big thumper, and it’s real: I’ve needed cortisone shots in my clutch hand from past trips.
Several guys on this trip finished days with numb hands. I didn’t have a single moment of hand pain all week, and I’m fairly sure the Flexx bars saved me from a broken wrist after I misread a line and hit a rock ledge midway through a climb. Rounding out the bars is my Midwest Mountain Engineering easy-pull clutch lever that pays for itself after the first ride.
The Seat Concepts Comfort XL sells itself the moment you’ve tried to spend an 8-hour day on a stock seat. I also run Motion Factory adventure drop pegs, which lower and articulate the footpeg to open the knee angle and cut fatigue on long days. These were a game-changer for me.
The comfort was obvious, but what won me over was how they stood up to a week of abuse without a hint of slop in the articulation. No gimmicks, just a well-made part that does exactly what it claims.
Wheels and Tires
The Warp 9 Elite wheelset looks incredible, comes fully customizable, and costs a fraction of what boutique wheels run. More than once this May, I was sure I’d bent or cracked a rim on a rocky descent. Every time, I’d stop at the bottom and find nothing but scratches.
They’re essentially bombproof. I run their rear cush drive hub as well, which matters on a 500 specifically: the engine’s torque hammers the driveline, and the cush hub’s rubber dampers help to absorb that shock, smoothing power to the ground and taking abuse off the hub, spokes, and chain.
For rubber, Dunlop front and rear. AT82 (90/100-21) up front and D739 (110/100-18) in back, a combo well known for its durability and popularity in the Baja 1000, run with FM21L and FM18C mousses front and rear. These tires have won plenty of Baja 500s, 1000s, and 250s, and the whole group fell in love with them. They hook up on loose rocky climbs and still find drive in deep sand, which is a lot to ask of one tire.
The mousses are the non-negotiable part south of El Rosario. On the northern end of the peninsula, you can get away with ultra-heavy-duty inner tubes, but once you drop into the central spine of Baja, running tubes means spending your trip changing tubes instead of actually riding. I learned that one the hard way too.
Drivetrain
Dirt Tricks builds my favorite drivetrain setup. Their Elite Kit pairs upgraded front and rear sprockets with an ERVT X-Ring chain, and the upgraded dome washer on the front sprocket solves a common annoyance on the 500 platform.
Specifically, the OEM washer deforms the first time it’s compressed and won’t spring back, loosening the whole countershaft stack (bolt, washer, spacer, O-ring, and bearing race) until, eventually, oil can start weeping out around the front sprocket. Dirt Tricks’ tool-steel version holds its preload and keeps its spring, so the stack stays tight.
Engine and Fueling
This is the section I obsess over, because the one truly serious mechanical failure I’ve had on a big trip was a fuel problem. On a long ride in Africa, a clogged fuel pump nearly ended things, and the fix was to run the pump backward while feeding it fuel cut with a little brake fluid to break down the clog. It worked. I never want to improvise that again, so I built this bike to eat whatever bad Baja gas throws at it.
The Vortex X10 ECU is the foundation. It solves the lean fueling that plagues the stock 500 and many street-legal bikes trying to meet emissions, and unlocks quick shifting (clutchless shifting), traction control, and two selectable throttle maps: a standard map for good fuel and a low-octane map for questionable Baja gas.
Other mods include a Pro-Moto Billet exhaust end cap that opens the exhaust so the Vortex can do its job while keeping the durable stock muffler body. The Boyesen Supercooler, a high-flow water pump kit, earned its keep this May: My radiator fan kicked on far less than on past trips, despite more time in slow, technical single-track that usually cooks a 500.
Fuel and oil are obviously critical, so get their own line of defense. The IMS 4.5-gallon desert gas tank carries a full day of fuel with a margin of safety, and it exists because of a night I don’t want to repeat.
On a past trip, we ran dry a few miles short of where we meant to sleep, and spent a cold night in a sandy wash with a fire going to stay warm until we could sort fuel in the morning. The bigger tank makes that particular mistake impossible, and it adds a layer of radiator protection on top.
Even if you have fuel, it might be dirty or old. A Taco Moto 3,000-hour fuel pump motor and fresh in-tank filters, a Taco Moto Sidewinder fuel line, and a Golan Super Mini inline fuel filter act as the last line of defense before entering the fuel injectors.
On the oil side, Taco Moto’s Mother of All Oil Filters is a paperless, magnetic filter that captures both ferrous and non-ferrous (thanks to something called static adhesion) particles; Taco Moto’s own testing shows you can push the change interval well past KTM’s schedule, which means no mid-ride oil change, as long as it’s paired with a PC Racing air filter gasket and oil filter skins. I’ve run Funnel Web air filters happily for years.
I didn’t figure any of this fueling philosophy out alone, and honestly, I didn’t figure most of the bike out alone either. Mike and the crew at Taco Moto have been my north star on this build. They build these bikes for a living, and they’ve talked me through mechanical problems south of the border more than once.
Navigation
I’ve tried most navigation options over the years: all generations of Garmin Zumos and basically every phone mount option, too. The build quality on the Zumos is excellent, but when you’re on an international trip and want to quickly update your track or route for the day, it’s cumbersome at best.
The Chigee AIO-6 Max matches that toughness through rain, heat, and hard crashes, runs CarPlay off my phone, and stays brighter than a phone without overheating in the sun. It’s removable, so it comes inside at night and swaps easily between bikes.
This trip was my first on onX Offroad instead of Gaia after more than a decade, and I’m glad I switched. onX’s navigation inside CarPlay reliably tracks your direction of travel; Gaia does this too, but glitches and sometimes gets stuck locked on north. Pushing route updates to a shared onX folder meant a change reached the whole group at once.
One morning near the Bay of LA, we dropped our luggage and rode a single-track line purely on the strength of onX’s crowd-sourced routes, comments, and rider photos from people who’d actually ridden it, and it was exactly as advertised.
MotoMinded makes 3D-printed solutions to the small annoyances that add up on a bike: their dash relocates the key somewhere you can reach and adds a USB port, their Super Mount provides a rigid mount for the light and wiring to the triple clamp, and their Flexx-bar mount held the Chigee with ease. Paired with Taco Moto’s Rally Brake Cable guide, my cockpit was dialed and tidy through the bumps.
I ran MotoMinded’s Ruby R7 light kit. Their kits are plug-and-play and their grab-and-aim mount makes dialing in your beam on the fly super straightforward. The R7 is, by wide agreement, the best all-around light for the 500.
A light rated past 50 mph makes night riding safe, and the yellow cover doubles as rock and dust protection while reducing glare. I’ve been caught out at night with stock lighting, and it can get pretty hairy. Never again, thanks.
Luggage, Graphics, Tools, and Spares
I’ve spent 16 years living off motorcycles on four continents, and Mosko Moto builds the most durable, most thoughtfully designed moto luggage I’ve used. On this trip, the bike wore the Gnome tank bag for quick-grab essentials and the Reckless Trail 16 with the Gnoblin mount, the perfect size for a motel-based trip.
It’s bombproof, and the zippers kept working even caked in days of dust, which is a first for me across a lot of luggage brands. My luggage is rounded out by the Wildcat 12 backpack.
For graphics, ERA Moto has an excellent design tool on its site, great customer service, and graphics that go on easily and hold up. I was thrilled with how mine turned out; they’ve survived all kinds of abuse, and I won’t buy graphics anywhere else now.
All of this is great, but you have to be able to fix your bike when it inevitably breaks, and the CruzTOOLS RoadTech KT1 is the basis for that, built specifically around the fastener sizes on KTM and Husqvarna motorcycles rather than a generic set. It has all the hand tools you’d need and also includes baling wire, duct tape, and thread locker.
On top of the kit, we bring JB Weld putty, a wire repair kit with butt connectors, wire splice taps, electrical tape, spare fuses and spark plugs, a tow strap, extra zip ties, giant zip ties in case a bead breaks, and spare clutch and brake levers.
Most importantly: prep starts before you leave home, so ideally, you don’t need to use your tools. We torque every bolt on the bike to spec, get routine maintenance current, put fresh fluids in everything, install rim locks with the tire mousses, and everyone has an SAE power lead installed so we can jump-start off any bike in the group.
My Dream Bike
I’ve ridden stock bikes, or bikes held together with aftermarket parts that wouldn’t be considered upgrades, for most of my life, including on my longest adventures. It was a stock Royal Enfield Himalayan 411 across most of Africa and a barely held-together Honda XLR250 Baja Edition on my first overnight moto trips in Uganda, years before I ever set a tire in actual Baja.
I’m a believer that almost any motorcycle can be the right motorcycle. There’s a purity to that, throwing a leg over whatever you’ve got and pointing it at the horizon. But the chance to build out my dream bike for my favorite place on earth opened my eyes to what’s possible when you have the time and the resources to truly invest in a platform.
Every part on this bike is an answer to a problem that a decade of Baja trips has handed me, and riding a machine where all those answers are working together seamlessly provided me with about the most fun I’ve ever had on a motorcycle.
This is Part 2 of a three-part series. Part 1 explains why Baja is worth it and how to pull off the trip. Part 3 covers the gear I wear and pack.
