The Pie Ride / Palomar Mountain and Julian, CA on a KTM 1290 Super Adventure R

My review ride on the new Husqvarna Norden 901 was over, but due to a scheduling quirk, I had a full day to kill in sunny and warm Southern California before I had to return to Portland, where it was 39 degrees, and raining. And raining and raining and raining. Would I be interested in taking the 901 back out for the day for some solo ride time—or perhaps the new 2022 KTM 1290 Super Adventure R, which had recently returned from a press trip? Let me think that over for about .002 seconds.

Following a short tour of the Perier Mobility Group‘s KTM/Husqvarna/GasGas U.S. headquarters complex, where motocross legend Roger De Coster (36 500cc Grand Prix victories, AMA HoF, now Senior Motorsports Director at KTM Group USA) just happened to be working, I folded up the kickstand on the 1290 and headed for the literal hills. Quickly.

Roger (De Coster) and me. I wish some of his amazing riding skills could permeate me by virtue of proximity osmosis. Photo: KTM

Someone (OK, several people) recommended I head southeast down winding Highway 79 out of Murrieta to the tiny town of Julian, once a Gold Rush mecca but now quite famous for a new kind of gold, pies, and more specifically, apple pies, seeing how the burg is ensconced in an alpine valley brimming with acres of apple trees.

The KTM 1290 Super Adventure R features big power, tons of tech and that… interesting front fairing. Photo: Bill Roberson

As I noted in my review, the new Norden 901 is a well-balance, comfortable and capable machine. The $19,499 1290 SA-R is a barely tamed beast of a bike in comparison. I started out riding in Sport mode unawares, and after cresting 80 mph in a 35 zone in a few eye blinks pulling away from a stoplight in Murrieta, I discovered my ride mode oversight and decided dialing down the output to Street mode was likely the more prudent choice both in terms of safety and avoiding possible law enforcement interventions. Gads, what a monster!

Sun dipping down, I wandered down this small road for miles. I never saw another vehicle. Photo: Bill Roberson

However, as Siri pumped audio directions into my Bluetooth helmet (GPS on the 1290’s big 7-inch LCD display had been disabled on this particular press bike), I noticed I was heading west, not east, and was unintentionally touring the suburban paradise of Temecula instead of blasting down a curving scenic mountain highway. I pulled over to check my phone to discover that due to some tech gremlin I was heading for Highway 76, not 79.

The 76 also eventually led to Julian, but it ran more through the populated flatlands, not the wilds of the mountains. I was almost on top of Highway 76 by that point, so the thought of picking my way back through dozens of urban stoplights to the 79 seemed like an odyssey of frustration. I wondered if there was anything interesting down the 76 en route to Julian and of course there is: Palomar Mountain, where Caltech operates one of those really, really big telescopes. The road to get there looks like this:

Definitely more fun to go UP this route than down it. Image: Google Maps

And off I went.

Thankfully, the highway out of Temecula that eventually meets up with the 76 became a writhing squiggle of switchbacks, cliffs and 15 mph corners, and the 1290 Super Adventure R, even though it’s more off-road biased than the S model and on DOT knobbies, strafed the cliff-shouldered curves with confidence, especially after I dialed in a bit of rear shock preload and dialed out some front-end rebound damping, both quickly adjusted with handy tool-less controls. After traipsing past near-endless groves of well-coiffed orange trees heavy with fruit, I exited the 76 and began the rollercoaster climb up to Palomar

Seeing how it was early Wednesday afternoon, traffic was light as the road climbed through 4,000 and then 5,000 feet in elevation. Snow drifts began to appear on the shoulders of the road, and the temperature dropped.

The Palomar Observatory dome (and the telescope inside it) is huge. I tried for some scale in this photo and failed miserably. It’s BIG. Photo: Bill Roberson

After scrubbing down the edges of the tires. I arrived at the Death Star-sized dome. I snapped a few photos before being shooed away by a man-bunned professor type who chastised me for not heeding the many “Observatory Closed” signs over the last 20-odd miles. Well, sir, the gate was open, I explained, and I wasn’t trying to get into the building anyway, I just wanted a couple of photos. He was not amused, and refused my request to take my photo with the iconic observatory in the background. Fine, then, I hope a fly lands on your CCD sensor while imaging the Crab(by) Nebula (not really).

When things get curvy, the 1290 is happy to play. Photo: Bill Roberson

I slithered back down the hill to rejoin Highway 76 via the curvaceous and undulating S7/East Grade Road, and the 76 eventually connected to the 79, which guided me to the pie mecca of Julian.

Julian was founded in the 1800s and boomed when gold was found. Now, it’s delicious golden crust paying the bills. Photo: Bill Roberson

Julian is cute as a button and chock full of charming wallet-emptying stores and more pie-serving establishments than you can shake an apple tree limb at. After a quick walking tour and bathroom search, I finally settled in at Julian Pie Company, a generationally woman-owned spot where you can get a slice or whole pies. And while I had the Caramel Dutch Apple drizzled with extra caramel (*chef’s kiss*), you’d be hard pressed to go wrong with any of the dozen or so variants on hand. Enjoy.

It’s not the sight of the pies that sells them, it’s the smell. Worth the trip. Photo: Bill Roberson

After shopping for a few knick-knacks to bring home to the family, I retraced Highway 79 a short way back to the 76/79 junction, and then headed east on the 79 into the mountains. The sun was beginning to dip towards the ocean but I had faith in the 1290’s tribal mask of quad LED headlights, so I made a quick side trip down San Filipe Road/S2 towards Borrego Springs. But as I wound down the tiny byway looking for photo ops, I noticed it was windy—and the wind was at my back. The further I went, the less headwind I was encountering and the more the trees were bending to nature’s will. Daylight quickly fading, I stopped for a quick water break and spun the 1290 down some two-track before pointing it back towards the 79—and into the teeth of a 40 mph headwind. I twisted the 1290’s small windscreen to maximum height, which isn’t very high at all, but it made a definite difference as I bucked the gale back to the intersection.

Once you leave cities and towns, places like this remind you that for the most part, California is still largely open country. Photo: Bill Roberson

Heading north again, the 79 threaded through occasional small burgs and hamlets, and on a long, empty straight past an airfield full of sailplanes tied down to prevent their escape, I slipped the 1290 back into Sport mode, rolled open the loud handle and clicked up through the new Pankl gearbox quick shifter until the knobby tires began to lose their confidence well into triple digits. The big 320mm Brembo triple discs eased me back into sub-light speed as more turns approached, and Street mode sufficed as I caught up to traffic heading back to civilization.

Just like you, this is where I love to be. Photo: Bill Roberson

Short passing zones were all that was needed for the 1290-R to easily zap past cagers, RVs and delivery vans, and the LED high beams lit up the road well ahead of the 21-inch front wheel. Onward into the darkness I went until the low fuel warning ticked on and I paused to tank up, at $6.29/gallon. The pump clicked off at four gallons while a local in a large diesel pickup truck at the next pump over looked to be in physical pain as his total hit $125 and spiraled upwards. He shot me a quick look as I hung up the hose on my $25 purchase and I said “sorry man, I feel your pain,” as I also have a turbo-diesel pickup which, fortunately, I’m able to keep parked most days. Thank goodness for motorcycles.

Thank you for your sacrifice, Mr. Pacheco. Clearly, you are well-remembered and respected. Photo: Bill Roberson

Back in Murrieta, where KTM’s US headquarters are located, I slogged along with the crush of evening traffic until I remembered lane splitting is legal in the Golden State— officially legal!

I’m used to waiting in Portland traffic (no filtering here, sadly), but at a few stoplights I gingerly glided past the long lines of cars to the front, and at one long light, a well-weathered local in a beat-up 1980s pickup with the windows down and the volume up on the stereo fairly lit up as I stopped next to him. “Oh man, what a bike!” he gushed, taking in the thrumming 1290. “I had a Honda 500 years ago, wish I still had it! What kind of power does that thing have?” I said “over 150 horsepower” and his eyes got big in disbelief. I pointed to the 1290 on the tank and said “1,300cc V-Twin,” and he broke into a loud cigarette-coarsened laugh. “I’d die on that thing in about 10 seconds,” he bellowed. We did a quick fist bump as the light turned green and I blasted across the intersection well ahead of the gaggle of cars and scanned the endless mini-malls for a local-owned restaurant.

Back at the hotel, the 1290 ticked down in the cooling night air, a sturdy steed ready for any adventure I could likely throw at it. Here’s hoping for much more than just a day’s ride the next time we cross paths.