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A Writers Tour
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Big Sur
Jeff Buchanan
05/01/2006
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Photography by Don Williams
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At play we were, making a nimble game of the myriad turns of Highway 1,
snaking up the coast of California, the Pacific Ocean our loyal accomplice,
steadily reeling in our destination: Big Sur. We were aided and abetted in our
escape from the city by two very capable sport touring motorcycles, the Honda
Interceptor and Triumph Sprint ST.
We had decided on an overnight coastal
jaunt to test the two machines in their natural environment. The moderate
distance between Los Angeles and Big Sur, following the serpentine coast road,
would allow us to stretch our legs in a game of cat-and-mouse that would take us
through one of our favorite touring destinations.
Our sojourn had a theme as
well: to visit the homes of two of the Central Coast’s most famous literary
residents, the racy novelist Henry Miller and the meticulous poet Robinson
Jeffers. Interestingly, we couldn’t help but draw parallels (and perpendiculars)
between man and machine. Miller and Jeffers were attracted to this same area by
their mutual appreciation of its inspirational qualities, but contrasted one
another in their individual work in much the same way that these two
motorcycles, though sharing the sport touring moniker, contrast each other with
their own distinct personality.
 Refreshments can be had in Gorda. (Click image to enlarge)
The Honda Interceptor, with its
F/1-influenced VTEC engineering, is sleek and sexy with a refined persona,
reflecting aspects of Robinson Jeffers’ intricate, concise poetry laced with
smooth, subtle power. The Triumph Sprint ST, with its quirky three-cylinder
powerplant and raw demeanor, draws more from the raucous, spontaneous spirit of
Henry Miller. Like the writers, the two machines are inspired, but with two very
different approaches.
Being that it was mid-week, the coast road was
wonderfully uncluttered. We embraced the opportunity with handfuls of throttle
and waltzes through the countless corners. The rocky cliff face on our right was
a blur. To our left, a short stone wall was all that guarded against the
500-foot plunge to the Pacific. The occasional car, with a comparatively
tortoiselike pace, was handily dispatched with a flick of the wrist, reducing it
to a mere apostrophe in the litany of corners that swooped us steadily toward
the Sur and our first stop, the Henry Miller Memorial Library.
Fuel is readily available in Carmel.
The
silky-smooth 781cc, 90-degree V-4 engine cradled in the Honda utilizes VTEC
engineering which transitions from two valves to four at 6500 rpm, capitalizing
on the torque of a two-valve configuration at lower rpms, but then switching to
the performance inherent with the superior gas-flow of four valves. And therein
lies my only minor criticism of the Interceptor. While it is considerably
improved over previous iterations, nevertheless the transition from two- to
four-valve breathing can occasionally produce an unexpected hole in the power
delivery or, conversely, even a slight surge. The Interceptor gives away over
250cc to the Sprint, so true power comparisons are a little unfair. Although the
Honda does not have the instantaneous torque of the Triumph, it does produce
plenty of adrenaline-pumping pull throughout the entire powerband. When the revs
climb above 8,000, it takes on the crisp howl and mechanical sophistication of
an F/1 engine.
By contrast, the Triumph, with its extremely powerful,
triple-cylinder 1050cc motor, borrows not only the DNA of its naked Speed Triple
brother, but some of its rowdy attitude as well. The Sprint ST is an impressive,
visceral machine, with a pleasant vibration ushering from the engine, reminding
you that you are astride a real motorcycle. The mid-range torque is wonderful,
and the seamless fuel injection makes the Triumph truly easy to ride fast.
Growling all the way to its redline of 10,500, the Sprint then issues a
seductively throaty pop-and-crackle from the exhaust when rolling back off the
throttle. The Honda and the Triumph both are happy to be wrung out in the higher
ranges of the tachometer, but also quite content to purr along at a leisurely
pace—a duality that is vital to a sport touring machine.
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