• The Sierra Madre Adventure
• Prepping an R100GS for adventure travel
• GPS use cross country

Mishaps and Lessons 
Table of Contents

• Background
• Mishap #1
• Mishap #2
• Batopilas
• Getting Out, Crossing the Border and Home
• ANALYSIS:   What I think happened
• Specific Problems and Lessons Learned

Introduction

This is the story of the dark and painful side of a November 98 trip into the Sierra Madre and Copper Canyon area of Mexico. (There was a very very positive part of the trip that went well, and that is another story).

It is the story of the same person with two get-offs (me) that ultimately did some fairly serious orthopedic destruction. I wrote it in part as an exercise in self-learning and discovery. You know, I'd be pissed to do the same thing again. Also, one of the great advantages of belonging to a motorcycle club is the opportunity to learn from others mistakes. So that is why this is here.

Yeah, it's probably too long, and there are a number of other shortfalls, but tucked away in here is the opportunity perhaps to learn a little, be smarter than I was and duck the bullet that has your name on it. 

If that doesn't work for you, then you have my blessing to read and feel smug and confident that you are better and you would've avoided this.  Probably so.

Bill Juhl                    January 99

The trip: Sacramento to El Paso Texas. From El Paso joining the Pancho Villa Moto Tour group into the Sierra Madre mountains of Chihuahua Mexico including the trip down into the Copper Canyon to Batopilas at the bottom. And then the return back to El Paso and home again. November 98.

Mishap #1

On day #2 in Mexico , a few hundred kilometers into the interior on a rocky somewhat rutted dirt road, just at the last moment before coming to a halt (perhaps still at 5-10mph) the front wheel stopped rotating and the bike slammed to the ground on its right side. From upright to hard bang on the ground in a nanosecond.  As is likely obvious, I went with it over the high side, still more or less astride the bike. My right shoulder hit the rocky ground hard. So did the bike. My riding companions lifted the bike off of my right leg which was pinned (but unhurt) underneath between the peg and the hard bags.

The bike came down on the jug and the valve cover thereof hit directly on a rock. That put a nickel-sized hole in the valve cover and a small amount (maybe 2-3 ounces) of oil leaked out. The right side front turn signal was smashed up. Otherwise ok.

On rising with some help strong signals of intense pains gave me the clue that all was not good in my right shoulder. We concluded that I had dislocated my right shoulder and with some stretching and flexing it spontaneously relocated itself. The M.D. and Physical Therapist riding companions, without the benefit of x-ray guessed dislocation and probable rotator cuff damage. With their help and a fair supply of pharmaceuticals, I was drugged up with some heavy duty ibuprofen and vicodin pretty quickly.

We had the stuff to fix the bike on the spot and probably would have done just that, except as we were looking at it, a Mexican farmer and his pickup truck came down the road and asked if he could help. As he was headed in the direction of the town and hotel we had just left that was 20km behind us, 6-8 sets of hand hoisted the GS airborne into the truck and the grimacing rider into the passenger seat and off we went to the hotel.

Once there and unloaded, we took the valve cover off of the GS and cleaned it with gas, cleaned out the small amount of gravel that had entered through the hole, and did a repair using J-B KWIK 5-minute metal epoxy. http://www.j-bweldco.com/  WONDERFUL magic stuff.  

We used duct tape as a mold on one side of the valve cover, and filled from the other.   With the valve cover back on, and duct tape holding the turn signal into a functional position, and the GS was ready to go.

Getting back to the hotel, after letting the drugs kick in and working the arm and letting the trauma subside, after about 30 minutes, the shoulder/right arm was more or less bearable as long as I remembered not to elevate it above 90 degrees from vertical.

So with a working bike and a mostly working Bill, we set off again, this time abandoning the dirt road for an alternative route to Madera, longer but paved. The offer was made to put the bike on the trailer of the support vehicle when we caught up to it at the half way point (he was coming back to get me if needed), but the shoulder seemed ok in the riding position with no pain of significance so we kept going and through the rest of the day it was ok.

These were repeated dislocations of the same shoulder that kept occurring when I did minor but wrong moves. The problem was to remember not to elevate my arm. I dislocated 3 more times by doing things like putting on my jacket, leaning on the bike while bending over, etc. Each dislocation spontaneously relocated itself, but brought 15 minutes of tears to my eyes and a half hour of thinking of nothing more than willing the pain to subside. Which it always did. Things returned to fairly normal.

The problem was always off the bike. While riding the vibration and position of riding seemed to relax the arm and make it feel better. The upright sitting position of the GS was undoubtedly a godsend … leaning forward onto the bars as you would have to do on an inclined sport bike sitting position would have been impossible.

Mishap #2
After stopping for a photo opportunity and a looksee down into the canyon, while maneuvering my bike prior to mounting up, I dislocated my shoulder for the fourth time. This time I couldn't hold the bike up, and let it drop into the dust and I rolled out into the road. My riding companions righted the bike … no harm there, and told me for the umpteenth time to ask for help when I needed it. I replied that it was always sort of Monday morning quarterbacking, as I certainly would've asked if I'd known. Grimace, wince, squint, and hold the shoulder tight. The driver of the support vehicle, Rob Swan offered to ride my bike down the rest of the way, and I could drive the 'Suburban. There were several opportunities to avoid disaster in this tale, but this was probably the last and the one where I was most foolish in responding that I still could do this. After all, the challenge of doing the Copper Canyon was what I'd come for.

I waited a few minutes and things sort of went back into normal so I got back into my Aerostich suit, stuck the helmet back on, mounted up and started down. The support vehicle, a Chevy Suburban was behind me by a mile or so, as were 3-4 other riders. The motorcycle trailer had been left at Creel where we'd pick it up again on the return, as the road was too tough to haul an unloaded trailer down and back.

I was riding slow using engine braking in low gear, standing part of the time and peg steering, and using light braking to keep the speed down. I don't remember being in pain, but must've been a part of it at that point. Since the dislocation I had been taking a maximum dose of ibuprofen daily, and after the dislocation at Creel I had also had a vicodin to help as well.

It must've been a dozen or so switchbacks later, on a descending right switchback that one moment I was in the pegs doing a slow   descending turn through rather loose gravel and the next moment I was flying through the air and hitting the rocky ground. Hard. I came to a halt on my back with my feet pointing back up hill toward the switchback, the bike behind me. I must've hit the kill switch when my hand came off the grip as the bike was wheels toward the sky, but the engine was stopped.

Again clearly the front wheel had ceased rotating and had locked and slid out sideways.  The bike went down quick and hard, and I was launched over the high side again.

I remember sliding a little bit on my back and the click of the rocks hitting my helmet and thinking "wow, this thing does what it is supposed to". I could hear the clicks but felt no impact to the head. Laying like a turtle turned upside down, I couldn't get righted. I knew I was in trouble in the right shoulder and arm. There were pretty clear pain signals there that communicated loudly. I started taking inventory though and found that I had two sets of toes and feet that moved, legs that moved, a left arm that moved, and I could lift my head and all those parts seemed to be working fine -- most importantly it seemed that my head and spine had come through ok. Whew! I knew I had riding companions right behind me, so after a couple of painful and unsuccessful attempts to turn over, I waited for them to arrive.

The first on the scene was our one two up rider pair, Steve and Cristina on an R1100GS. I couldn't see them as I was feet uphill and on my back with the helmet blocking my view. Steve and Chris worked with me and we figured out how to roll me over and very slowly get back up.

Damage to the GS was a virtual duplicate to the prior incident: a holed valve cover and banged up turn signal. Being experienced at doing J-B KWIK repairs we got that done smartly and it was good to go again.

Not quite the same case with the rider. This time it was pretty clear from the pains that were not subsiding that I was done riding. If I held my arm against me and didn't move it the pain was largely tolerable. Otherwise it wasn't.

With 40km to go to Batopilas, our night stop, Rob traded his shorts and sandals for a riding suit and helmet and boots and rode my GS the rest of the way. I rode shotgun with English Tourist John driving the Suburban. It was his first experience with a big vehicle, mountains, driving on the right, and dirt roads. It was also his first experience driving with a passenger that screamed periodically on monster bumps. He did well. I did the best I could.

Batopilas

I don't remember all the details of Batopilas. That was the mix of ibuprofen, vicodin, tranquilizers and morphine at work. Wonderful stuff morphine. Saul (M.D. friend) and Paula (Phys Therapist) ganged up on me while I was pretty loopy with the drugs, and put me on a table with my right arm hanging down with a weight in my hand swinging to pull the shoulder down and hopefully back into the socket. After a bit of this, it seemed that the pain subsided a bit, and I looked a little more normal to Saul. I acquiesced to his opinion, as I certainly didn't feel normal. Besides anything that looked like good news was welcome.

Alberto found a source of ice, and with ziplock bags (never, never leave home without your ziplocks and J-B KWIK epoxy), and a towel I had an icepack that helped incredibly. As Paula explained, "ice is nice" with orthopedic injuries. I found I could sleep sitting up in the bed and the night passed slowly.

So there I was, 135 miles from the nearest telephone. I wasn't bleeding. No evidence of internal injuries. No protruding bones. By later that evening and the next day, I was "managing the pain". Our best guess at that point was a substantial dislocation with rotator cuff damage. There was a small pretty limited and primitive clinic with limited facilities, but the consensus between Saul, Paula and myself was that other than using them to get some more morphine, it wasn't a good idea to get into the Mexican medical system, and that as long as my condition didn't worsen, I should be able to make it for the next two days back to the border and a U.S. hospital. Orthopedic injuries are rarely urgent in themselves and immobilization, watching out for numbness (sign of lack of blood flow), and treating pain and swelling are the big issues, and we were doing that. So there didn't seem to be any panic at this point to get to a hospital. The damage was done whatever it was, and a few days delay wouldn't make any difference. (Note: This decision was subsequently validated independently by my orthopedic surgeon).

There were two other options that could've been brought into play if the situation had warranted it. The first was leaving in the support vehicle immediately in a dash for the border and leaving the tour group behind. The other was using the emergency satellite telephone in the village to contact Creel and rent a helicopter and crew to come in and pull me out. We agreed that my condition didn't warrant the latter, and pulling the support vehicle could be dangerous for another rider who might need it worse than I did. So we stayed with the plan to stay another night in Batopilas, and then back up the same route we took in, to Chihuahua for the night and then across the border again at Juarez to El Paso.

Meanwhile, after riding my GS in, Rob said "how have you been staying on this thing?" He said the front suspension was so tight that he could barely control it coming over the cobblestones of Batopilas. When depressing the forks parked the most "dip" that he could force was about 1 inch. We conferred, and it became evident that perhaps in doing the installation of the new Progressive fork springs that I had installed just before leaving on the trip, I had overfilled the forks with oil. Rob and group drained about 100cc of oil out of the forks and pronounced the fork travel "by feel" to be approximately right. Rob was going to ride the GS back up the canyon the next day while I came out via Suburban, English tourist chauffeur, immobilizing straps, and morphine.

Getting Out, Crossing the Border and Home

We made it to the border on the evening of Day 7. Rob got me to Beaumont hospital in El Paso which is an Army hospital, and as it turned out, a teaching hospital with over a dozen orthopedic residents. That night the x-rays and MRI showed the humerus (the bone of the upper arm) and the ball at the end of it to be in a few pieces. Two of the orthopedic surgeons, after seeing the films, ganged up on me to try and relocate the arm and shoulder into the right position. That didn't work. It did however precipitate me losing what little bit of decorum and reserve that I had left.

The surgeons conferred with a cluster of residents around me and told me that given the situation that I was most probably going to have to have the bone replaced with a prosthesis in a shoulder replacement operation. They were ready (eager even) to do it there or it could be delayed to get back to California depending on my desires and situation.

Alberto, the tour leader, told me he was staying there to help me for however long it took and he was there for whatever was necessary. That was one more extended act of compassion that was one of the answers as to how I got through this experience.

The Beaumont docs popped me full of pain killers to help through the night. In the morning I got on the phone with a  respected Sacramento orthopedic surgeon whom fortuitously I'd seen 2 weeks before leaving.   We worked out a referral to his partner who specialized in shoulder replacement surgery. Three landings later Southwest Airlines delivered me back to Sacramento.

Five days later, Dr. Steve Barad performed the surgery. What was hoped for as a 2 hour procedure went over five hours. He removed the upper humerus entirely, replaced it with a titanium prosthesis with a stainless and cobalt ball on the end that fits into my socket which is still me. Bionic man?  Arm of steel? That's me. (no, it does not set off the security alarm in airports … it's not magnetic).

The bone/titanium part is reasonably healed into a structurally sound element. It stays forever. The original bone and ball end were disposed of into the biological waste bin at Methodist Hospital. The muscles and tendons have a long way to go to give me range of motion and strength. I will never have "normal" shoulder and arm use. The major limitation will be in any overhead motion or where strength is needed. For most things with my arms down below the horizon, near normal strength and function can be expected with lots of work over at least a year of physical therapy.  There are no physical reasons that ultimately will interfere with motorcycling.  A career ending injury however if I was an NBA basketball player.

ANALYSIS:  What I think happened

First, no single thing brought me down.

Other than myself of course.

What had to have happened in both dismounts is that the front tire ceased to rotate, skidded slightly to the side, and the bike hit the ground quick. For that to have happened, braking had to be applied to the front wheel. The front tire lost traction with the loose surface and locked.

The braking obviously was coming from my right hand and the brake system (stock rotor setup). And equally obviously, however light and gentle I thought it was, it was in reality excessive to the situation.

The loss of traction I believe was a combo of the rigid front suspension, hard tire, poor tread choice, and tread wear (details below). The rigid front suspension would go airborne over depressions in the road rather than follow them. At higher speeds, the airborne time was microseconds and ok … the tire floated over the holes. At very low speeds however, while braking, the tire had time to come to a stop in the air, and when hitting the other side of the depression wouldn't start rotating again and that was that.

Specific Problems and Lessons Learned

Improper front fork travel. I had installed new Progressive fork springs just before leaving. To this time, I am uncertain how I must have messed up the install, but the instructions didn't have volumes of replacement oil to use in an R100GS, but indicated a method that used oil depth from the top of the fork tubes. Somehow I did it wrong, Then I was too inexperienced in both this bike, and in riding in really rough conditions to realize it was a problem.

Wrong front tire from both wear and tread design. I had Michelin T-66 tires on the bike prior to the trip. The rear tire still had good miles on it, but not enough for the duration of the trip. I checked with local GS riders, listened in on the chats regarding GS tires on the internet BMW-GS mail list, got the advice of PVMT, and installed a new Avon Gripster on the rear before I left Sacramento. The T-66 on the front had probably 4000 plus miles left in it so I left it on. En route, I planned a bike checkin at Deming Cycle, the BMW dealer closest to the departure gateway of El Paso. When we got there the mechanic and I agreed the tire was still good for another 3K or better.  Bad decision. What was omitted was the wear that the rough roads ahead was going to cause. It was going to be shot before returning. Also the T-66 tire design is a hybrid … mostly designed for street with limited off roadability. The large areas of smooth rubber on it leave less ridges to grip into the dirt when braking. This on steep downhills where braking was needed was a problem.

Overinflated front tire. For the run from Sacramento to El Paso, on high speed interstate highways, I deliberately inflated the tires front and rear about 2 lbs. over the suggested pressures for the weight I was carrying with gear and full tank. This practice, at least in theory reduces heat buildup on extended highway runs. Subsequently I never let the air down to recommended pressure, nor did I let out a little air, which would have been appropriate for the dirt and gravel we were running in.

The Consequence. In light of the above, I was riding on a hard suspension that didn't let the front wheel dip into the holes and cross ruts on the road, instead it would have remained airborne and skipped across the holes. Further I was on hard tires, with few ridges, and less tread than was appropriate.

Riding while impaired.  In hindsight it was an exceptionally bad decision to continue riding in pain.  In the first case, it is almost certainly true that the pain and recent trauma affected my riding ability and probably was an element of the cause of the accident. Secondly, it appears that the severity of the damage in the second fall was increased and aggravated by the rotator cuff damage already in place from the first fall.   There were several opportunities to hang it up and quit riding before the last accident that nailed it. Particularly after the last dislocation it was plain stupidity combined with stubbornness that kept me going when there was the opportunity to quit early and avoid the coming disaster.

Making a major mechanical change just before leaving on a trip. This is common wisdom that I thought I was stepping around ok. Because the bike was new to me (previously a K bike owner), I was very concerned to learn as much as possible about its maintenance and operation as I could, and to inspect, service and prep the bike as best as I could to preclude problems on the trip. I talked to all of the usual suspects, and as well, I sought advice from the assembled multitude of experienced GS riders on the internet. The result was a well thought out list of preparations, checks and mods to consider when venturing on a major trip into a remote area south of the border. I worked very hard at being thorough and methodical. I am not a newbie regarding mechanical things. I sought the advice of a wide range of the best people I knew.

The biggest issue was that I was too compressed in time between the planning and the departure date to do everything I had laid out.

The fork spring installation was widely recommended as a good mod for the GS, but there was no problem with the stock setup, and I could have gone the way it was and done the fork spring installation later. Or instead of doing it myself, I might've had my local BMW dealer do it. Later might have meant being less hurried and doing it right.

Lack of training and experience in riding dirt. Two elements of this were my undoing -- excessive use of front brake on dirt at slow speed and a plain lack of skill and experience to enable confidentially executing the techniques to master downhill switchbacks. In preparing for the trip, I sought some instruction (not enough) and did some off road riding in training (again not enough), but switchbacks and hairpins have always been challenging for me and I didn't do the prep to deal with that skill deficiency.

A Few Things Well Done

I've laid bare the significant failings regarding the accident.  there were a few things that I did right in preparing and managing the trip, and as long as we're this far into it, I may as well list those also.

The Bike Preparation.  Excluding the tire and the fork springs, I performed a lot of maintenance and learned a great deal about an Airhead motorcycle in a remarkably short time before I left.   In addition to assuring all of the maintenance items were up to date, I discovered and remedied a number of problems that in at least one case had the ability to have ended the trip for me.  (That was discovering the diode board with two rubber bumpers entirely fractured, and one of the other two cracked most of the way through as well.  I replaced it with solid Motorrad Electrik mounts (see bike prep checklist).  I found missing bolts and nuts, loose bolts, dirty battery terminals, and other things that got fixed in advance.  By torqueing and Locktite'ing the available bolts I arrived back with all bolts still intact.

Included a maintenance stop and last chance checkup before entering Mexico.

Preplanning for Emergencies.  The decision to go with an organized tour was in part recognizing in advance that bad things could happen and that there was a significant advantage in having companions, having local expertise and language skills, and having a support vehicle capable of doing an extraction of a motorcycle if required.  Further, we had brought along spare parts, tools, and some medical supplies that turned out to be very important.  I also knew had addresses and phone numbers of all of the BMW motorcycle dealers along my route.

Rode with some good folks.  The Pancho Villa Tours folks were first class.  The rest of the riders on the tour were great people, any and all of whom I'd be glad to see on any trip again in the future.   That made a lot of difference.  Selecting a doc as a good friend a dozen years ago was a stroke of genius ... he sure comes in handy.