The BMW handlebar risers from Wunderlich raise the handlebar height 1.57 inches.
BMW R 1200/1250 RT sport-tourers, for all their stellar attributes, arrive from the factory with a cramped cockpit, even for height-challenged riders like me. Wunderlich’s BMW Handlebar Risers for water-cooled 2014-current RTs allow the rider to raise the baseline handlebar positioning by 1.57 inches, offering superior ergonomics to riders who prefer higher bars.
The kit arrives with everything required for installation, including the puller tool required to remove the handlebar from its stock position. First, gather your T8, T15, T30, T40, and T50 Torx bits, as well as a small flathead screwdriver, a 13mm wrench or socket, and a torque wrench. A 17-step installation procedure is included with the kit, but Wunderlich’s 20-minute video on the product website is much more useful for the DIYer.
To begin, remove the bar-end weights with the T45 Torx, and then remove the four T30 Torx holding the clutch and brake master cylinders on the handlebars. From there, a series of small Torx screws and tabs which hold the switch control housings in place are removed, the cable connectors are disconnected, and the housings are taken off the handlebar. The handlebar is now exposed and ready for removal via T50 Torx and the included puller tool, which requires the 13mm socket or wrench.
The Wunderlich BMW handlebar risers are then installed in the bar’s former position, and the handlebar is reinstalled onto the risers. To fit inside the risers, the paint needs to be sanded off the 0.5-inch leading edge of the handlebar. I used a bench grinder with a wire wheel attachment, which worked perfectly in under five minutes. Finally, the master cylinders and the switch housings are reassembled back onto the handlebar in reverse order.
Out on the road, it’s apparent that these German-made risers, which are machined out of solid aluminum and anodized to match the OEM finish, are of high quality. The risers themselves rotate on the handlebar, allowing an added measure of fine tuning. The addition of these risers, especially in conjunction with footpeg lowering kits (such as one from Suburban Machinery), allow the rider to really stretch out and sit inside the cockpit rather than on the motorcycle. Taller riders especially will be much more comfortable with this setup as opposed to stock. MSRP for the Wunderlich #31040201 Handlebar Risers is $374.95.
The author and his BMW R 1200 RT at Ledges State Park.
There are some great roads in central Iowa around the town of Boone, which is about 45 miles north of Des Moines. This ride crisscrosses the Des Moines River on a series of county highways and backroads, offering a nice selection of curves and scenery. I’m on a BMW R 1200 RT today, but these roads are friendly for just about any kind of motorcycle. This 124-mile loop minimizes straight sections and takes a few hours, so let’s go!
First things first: this ride is in rural farm country, so be alert for deer, farm equipment, and debris on the road. Our starting point is in downtown Boone. We follow Mamie Eisenhower Avenue (the former First Lady was born here) east to the junction with Highway R27, where we turn south and ride along the west side of Boone Municipal Airport. Like all the roads on this ride, the pavement is in good condition and meanders easily; you can see through the curves, so they’re fun to ride at any pace.
Ledges State Park is named after the sandstone bluffs that run along the Des Moines River. Photo courtesy of Iowa Tourism Office.
We cross U.S. Route 30 and continue south to Highway E52 (250th Street). Turning right (west), we continue to the upper entrance of Ledges State Park, where sandstone ledges tower 100 feet above the Des Moines River. The scenic park offers hiking, picnicking, and camping, and we’ll return to it at the end of the ride.
We backtrack to R27, turn right, and head south again until R27 ends at the junction with Highway E57 (270th Street). We turn right (west) and cross the Des Moines River, enjoying the first of many scenic river views. Past the river is a sign for Camp Mitigwa, and we turn left (south) on R26, also known as Magnolia Road. We follow the twists and turns on excellent pavement down into the Des Moines River valley, and then turn left (east) on Highway E62 (325th Street) and soon arrive at the junction with State Highway 210.
The Des Moines River is a 525-mile tributary of the Mississippi that runs through the heart of Iowa and its namesake city. Crossing and riding along the river gives this ride a curvy character most people don’t associate with the Hawkeye State.
Looking straight ahead, you’ll see the High Trestle Trail Bridge, a former railroad bridge over the Des Moines River that’s now a biking and walking trail. After enjoying the view, we turn around and ride E62 and R26 north again to E57. We turn left (west) on E57, then right (north) on R18 (L Avenue) toward the small town of Moingona.
We cross U.S. Route 30 and turn right (east) on Highway E41 (216th Drive), which is part of the Lincoln Highway Heritage Byway and crosses the Des Moines River. After a twisting climb out of the river valley, we see a strange-looking shale mound on the left, a reminder of Iowa’s once-booming coal industry. We enter Boone again from the west, picking up Mamie Eisenhower Avenue and then turning north on Marion Street.
Part of the route follows the Lincoln Highway Heritage Byway.
After crossing the train tracks, we turn left on Highway E26 (12th Street) and make a few more turns as we follow E26 along curvy pavement and cross back over the Des Moines River. We exit the river valley on a wonderfully smooth and winding stretch of road followed by a short straight section.
We turn right (north) on Highway P70 (H Avenue), which runs along the western edge of Don Williams Recreation Area, which has a lake, camping facilities, and a golf course. We continue north to the junction with Highway E18 (130th Street), and turn right (east) toward Pilot Mound, a small town with a sense of humor that you’ll notice as you ride by. We cross the Des Moines River once again on E18, and then turn left (north) on Highway R21 (Nature Road).
In addition to the scenic, wooded areas along the Des Moines River, there are several nice parks on this route that offer recreational opportunities.
We pass through another very small town, Ridgeport, which isn’t on most maps. We stay on R21, which twists and turns a few times until it becomes first Chase Avenue, then Stagecoach Road, and arrive in Stratford. We turn left (west) on State Highway 175, and quickly turn right (north) onto Highway D54 (Bellville Road), a real treat that heads steeply down into – you guessed it – the Des Moines River valley. There can be a lot of gravel at the bottom of this road, so stay sharp.
A Boone and Scenic Valley Railroad locomotive painted in old Chicago North Western livery. This excursion train and museum is a must-see for railway buffs.
Exiting the river area, the road straightens (and becomes 330th Street) until we take a sweeping left (onto Racine Avenue) into Dayton, a small town with fuel, eateries, and rodeo grounds we see on our right as we leave town heading south. We’re back on Highway 175, which curves to the east and takes us over the Des Moines River, our sixth crossing! When Highway 175 curves north, we continue straight ahead and turn right (south) on Washington Avenue. After an interesting set of curves, we return to R21 (Chase Avenue/Nature Road) and continue south to Boone on Division Street.
A trail bridge in McHose Park on the south side of Boone.
At 10th Street, you can turn left (east) to visit the Boone and Scenic Valley Railroad. This excursion train was started by volunteers and has grown into a fine attraction with an excellent museum. We continue south on Division Street, crossing 3rd Street (Lincoln Highway) and coming to a four-way stop at Park Avenue.
We turn left (east) on Park Avenue and ride through the Honey Creek ravine and enter McHose Park, a great place to stop and stretch your legs. We turn right on Francis Mason Drive and wind our way south through the park, exiting near U.S. Route 30.
A stone bridge built by the Civilian Conservation Corps in Ledges State Park. Photo courtesy of Iowa Tourism Office.
We head east briefly on U.S. 30, then turn right (south) on Oriole Road toward the Boone Speedway. Oriole Road meanders its way toward the Des Moines River and the lower entrance of Ledges State Park. The road is smooth and deceptively fast because, before you know it, the speed limit drops and there’s a chicane to slow you down before entering the park. Check out the sandstone ledges, enjoy the park, and then head back to Boone for fuel, food, or a hotel room. Me? I’m ready to gas up and ride another 120 miles to get back home.
Connecticut Route 43 has new tar, which encourages a pace Muriel would not have preferred. Photos by the author.
She’s taking her first ride on a motorcycle. Posthumously, as it turns out, but my Aunt Muriel is along for the ride, her ashes secretly stowed in my top case.
Muriel had not been a fan of motorcycles. She found them too fast and noisy and their riders too careless and selfish. For decades she lived near the coast in south Florida where a grid of congested, multi-lane streets put motorcycles right next to her. The ones she encountered, at least the fast and loud ones that stood out in her mind, didn’t give her much to like.
East River Road in Riverton, Connecticut, winds along the Farmington River through People’s State Forest. Muriel’s ashes are along for the ride, stowed in my top case.
While she enjoyed hearing stories of my long-distance adventures on motorcycles, she always made one thing quite clear: “You will never get me on a motorcycle!”
Now, as the miles are adding up, a thought keeps bouncing through my brain: Would Muriel have found this ride okay?
Muriel with Steve Efthyvoulou (right) and your humble scribe on one of our two-wheeled visits to her home in the North Carolina mountains.
Her attitude about motorcycles and their riders evolved after she retired and moved to the mountains of western North Carolina – one of the best motorcycling regions anywhere. When Muriel first took up residence in the town of Franklin, my wife, Sheila, and I drove down for a visit. Muriel drove us to lunch at a barbecue place she liked in the town of Highlands.
As we motored south on State Route 28, the road became tremendous, with baby’s-bottom-smooth tar and continuous tight turns, nicely banked. On one side of the road were jagged outcroppings, and on the other a fast-moving river in a rocky ravine. She pulled her car into a lay-by and drove us behind a waterfall.
On U.S. Route 221 west of Blowing Rock, North Carolina, a face seems to be emerging from the mountain.
Muriel was not what you’d call an expert driver, but to her credit, she stayed in her own lane on this intensely curvy road. Sheila was pregnant at the time and sat nervously in the back seat, clutching her rounded belly and hoping our destination was close. In stark contrast, I was thinking how fantastic this road would be on a motorcycle. I mentioned this to Muriel, and she suggested I come back riding one. “Bring a friend,” she said. “More than one if you like.”
This invitation, I later learned, was despite a homeowner association rule that did not allow motorcycles in Muriel’s neighborhood. “I don’t have a motorcycle,” she explained, “but if visitors come to see me and arrive on their cycles, there’s not much I can do about that, is there?” Muriel believed that it is easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.
Our bikes cast early morning shadows on corn ready for harvest in Franklin Township, New Jersey.
Over the next 15 years, I took every opportunity to visit her with one, two, or three friends on motorcycles. We would arrive on quiet Hondas and BMWs, ride slowly through her neighborhood, and offer a friendly wave to anyone we encountered. Forgiveness was never required.
Muriel’s home was on a hilltop, providing an impressive view of the mountains where those roads we came to ride lay waiting. Her neighborhood emptied onto Route 28 (aka Moonshiner 28), and gems like Wayah Road, the Cherohala Skyway, U.S. Route 129 (Tail of the Dragon), and the Blue Ridge Parkway were there to be enjoyed. On every visit we discovered new roads.
Where the Skyline Drive ends, the Blue Ridge Parkway begins.
We’d return from a day’s ride excited and full of stories, then take Muriel out for dinner. Over these meals, she got to know an orthopedic surgeon, a military logistician, a powerplant engineer, a metal fabricator, a warehouse manager, and a truck driver – each a gentleman, a gracious guest, and a motorcyclist.
Steve pilots his Honda ST1300 through a corridor of corn.
One time Muriel casually asked if we’d help her change out the storm windows for screens. “You’ll keep an old lady off a stepladder,” she explained. We installed those screens, and on every subsequent visit we asked for her honey-do list. Leaky faucets, wobbly towel bars, and uncooperative wi-fi never stood a chance. Muriel came to appreciate that not every motorcycle was too fast and noisy, nor every rider too careless and selfish. When talking with her church lady friends, she referred to us as her gentlemen friends on motorcycles.
This Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, Labrador pup approached us in full wag mode but was quickly corralled by his protective mother. (Good dog.)
Now, on a warm Sunday at summer’s end, I depart my home in western Massachusetts and point my BMWR 1200 RT south and west. Weaving through the Berkshire Hills of Connecticut, I seek out places Muriel would have liked: Saville Dam in Barkhamsted, East River Road overlooking the Farmington River, and historic covered Bull’s Bridge across the Housatonic River. At the New York border, the road becomes Dogtail Corners Road … Muriel would have chuckled at the name. She would have been less amused by the 10-mph hairpin turns on Dutchess County Route 22 east of Pleasant Ridge Road, but I lean in to savor them.
Muriel would have chuckled at the other name of Dutchess County Route 22 in New York State.
I curve through the Bear Mountain and Harriman State Parks into scenic northern New Jersey, where Steve Efthyvoulou joins the ride. Over the years, Steve arrived at Muriel’s on a motorcycle more often than anyone except me, and on this ride, he is helping me to fulfill a request: Muriel had directed that her ashes be “scattered in the North Carolina mountains.” No specific location was indicated, so I asked Steve to join me in seeing this through appropriately. He agreed without hesitation.
Amish farms like these present a pastoral landscape in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania.
The next morning, we are rolling at first light. Steve has plotted a route to keep us off main roads, so we’re riding through small New Jersey towns, past fields of corn ready for harvest. We cross into Pennsylvania, and in Lancaster County the distinct sights of Pennsylvania Dutch country abound. Amish farmers with a team of four mules are harvesting the first row of corn, right next to the road. A bonnet-clad teacher is holding class outside as children dressed in homespun clothes sit attentively. Farther on, an older group of boys enjoys recess on a baseball diamond. I’ve been told Monday is laundry day for Amish families, and countless clotheslines brimming with union suits and long-legged underpants offer anecdotal evidence. At an intersection, a young buggy operator struggles with her charge. Steve points out that teenagers aren’t typically the best drivers – even when driving a horse.
As we return north through Virginia, this Blue Ridge Parkway lay-by at 3,700 feet elevation affords a panoramic view of the Arnold Valley.
On Pennsylvania Route 372 we cross the expansive Muddy Run hydro power project, which uses excess power from the grid to pump water from the dammed Susquehanna River into a lake. During peak power demand, water flows down from the lake through turbines that generate electricity. The lake, essentially, is a battery. It’s also the center of an area operated as a park.
Midday finds us in Maryland, and what would a lunch stop in the Free State be without crab cakes? Muriel would have given two claws up. After a brief run through the state of West Virginia, we continue through western Virginia to Harrisonburg for the night.
My bike’s reflection reveals steady rain during a break on the BRP.
In the morning we hop on Skyline Drive to curve through Shenandoah National Park. On a dreary weekday after Labor Day, the few vehicles we encounter are noticeably disregarding the painfully slow 35-mph speed limit. After we join the Blue Ridge Parkway, the rain begins. Beyond Roanoke we shift to U.S. Route 221, and the rain continues to fall hard and steady, but as Steve reminds me, a great road in the rain is still a great road. In the town of Boone, North Carolina, we call it a day. Torrential rain and flash flood warnings will continue through the next 36 hours, so we opt for a rest day in this happening college town in the mountains.
The 35-mph speed limit on Skyline Drive provides all kinds of time to take in the scenery. Muriel would have liked that more than we do!
A day later, morning arrives with brilliant sun and temperatures in the low 40s. With heated gear plugged in, we make an early start. Branches and limbs litter the roads in a testament to the fierce storms that had rolled through. Steve shares warnings of road hazards ahead, a great benefit of bike-to-bike intercom. Especially in this region of Appalachia, the mountains form a creased and crumpled landscape, and the roads built into it twist and turn like a roller-coaster ride that you control. Rock outcroppings are common, and some are fascinating, such as one on U.S. 221, west of Blowing Rock, that looks like a face emerging from the mountain. Beyond North Cove we turn right on State Route 226 and left on State Route 226A to partake in another asphalt masterpiece.
Then, somewhere beyond Little Switzerland, an appropriate spot in the North Carolina mountains reveals itself and Muriel’s final request is fulfilled.
Dense gray clouds signal impending rain on Skyline Drive in Shenandoah National Park, Virginia.
Professionally, Muriel had been a city clerk, certifying elections, officiating weddings, and serving as president of the municipal clerks’ international association. She traveled extensively for work and in retirement. A simple church-going lady, she loved conversation, voiced strongly held opinions, and agreed to disagree (agreeably). One thing Muriel and I disagreed about was motorcycles, though curiously they brought us closer together. She knew how much motorcycles matter to me and that she lived in a special place to enjoy them, so of course I should come visit with friends.
On this trip, I gained the satisfaction of ensuring that Muriel’s wish to find rest in the mountains of North Carolina was met, and in the process Steve and I enjoyed some amazing roads. But there’s no escaping the irony that Muriel’s final ride was also her first ride on a motorcycle.
