Out & about
Is the new BMW R1300RT just too plain massive for nadgery Peak District lanes? John Westlake finds out
With a day off ahead, the weather map looks diabolical. The North York Moors, Lincolnshire Wolds and Cotswolds sit below a triple whammy of monsoons, and though the Peak District is a non-moist oasis, the route from my midlands gaff is barred by a band of torrential rain 60 miles wide. Darn it. My shoulders slump; I can’t face arriving in the Peaks soaked to the arse. DIY it is. Then I remember there’s an R1300RT in the shed and that usual motorcycling rules do not apply. Yay.
I hit the rain almost immediately and adjust the electric screen to get the perfect angle where most water goes over my head, and my visor is blown clear of the rest. An hour of proper deluge later and I’m just south of Nottingham when the rain abates. Sitrep: torso, hands, knees and feet are completely dry – as in, no water has touched them – with just the outside of my legs getting sprayed.
All RTs are good at this aerodynamic wizardry, but it’s what happens approaching Matlock Bath that elevates the new one. Switching from Road to Dynamic Pro mode on the A6 doesn’t just firm up both damping and spring rates (a neat trick in itself), it also lifts the rear of the bike to reduce the steering head angle, giving the RT a decidedly perkier feel.
From tourer to sports
From being a pleasingly stable, steady tourer, it becomes noticeably keener to dive into corners. Don’t believe BMW’s hype about it feeling sporty or agile – it’s a 281kg motorcycle for gawd’s sake – but it handles ridiculously well for something of yacht proportions, and better than any RT before.
Some BMW owners have complained that the new RS has become too sporty, but I can see why it has – if BMW hadn’t sharpened it up, the RT in Dynamic Pro mode would have whooped its ass.
It’s that good. God forbid they give any to traffic cops because we’ll need bloody MotoGP bikes to get away.
Fizzed up by some fast A6 buffoonery, I forgo a tea and a go on the slot machines and ride straight through Matlock Bath – the Blackpool of the Peaks – heading roughly north-west towards the Snake Pass. There’s no sign of the sun, but I much prefer this to August – the tourists have cleared off, leaving the gorgeous B5056 to me and a few locals piloting 1950s agricultural machinery, one of whom leaves his historic device casually parked across the entire road. The RT stomps onward, wooing me with its combination of massive low and midrange torque with a 140bhp top end that rewards idiocy on the occasional straight.
The brainy centrestand is beginning to annoy me though. The idea is that it can detect when you’re deploying it, at which point the RT helpfully lifts itself upwards to the top of its springs so hoiking it onto the stand is easier. And it works – provided the ignition is on of course.
However, should you happen to be proceeding briskly down a Peaks B-road, the combination of firm suspension and significant tarmac degradation is enough to momentarily jolt the stand loose from its sensor, at which point a massive brown sign appears on the dash telling you the stand isn’t stowed correctly and that you should sort it out immediately.
Even more curiously, when I trickle to a halt in one village, the bike starts lifting itself up so high I can barely touch the floor – I’d gone over a bump that had obviously been big enough to jolt the centrestand and it thinks I need some help. Unsettling for me, disastrous for anyone shorter.
‘If BMW hadn’t sharpened up the RS, this new RT would have whooped its ass’
Method to the hefty madness
The rest of the day is a blur of corners, giggling, tea shops and toasted sandwiches. The new RT is remarkable, extracting fun from every type of road I throw at it. Obviously it’s masterfully composed on the faster stuff – the Telelever front end is brilliantly resolute once you’re used to it – but it even manages to hide its weight when I accidentally discover some tiny single-track lanes, complete with hairpins like U-turns and dozens of gravelly treats.
As I head down the A6 towards home, I admit to myself that amazing though the RT is, it isn’t the perfect tool for the Peaks. A Triumph Street Triple 765 or even a BMW F900GS would be more fun. But if I’d had one of those, I would definitely have spent the day doing DIY, occasionally staring wistfully out of the window at the drizzle.
Instead, I’m in a cocoon of still air, my hands and arse are being warmed by the RT’s gizmos, and the radar cruise control is locked onto a Golf GTi that’s kindly clearing dawdlers out of the fast lane while I reflect on a life-affirming day’s ride.
Of course, the RT is breathtakingly expensive – £25,580 in the spec I’m testing – but in a country that isn’t averse to a weather system, it makes good sense for all-year riders who still want some thrills. Plus of course, it’s not too shabby at touring…
JW
Best Peak roads?
The Snake Pass (A57) is the famous one, but for me it’s no longer a highlight thanks to 50mph limits and plenty of cameras. Even if you choose to press on regardless, there’s so much slow-moving traffic it can still be frustrating. I prefer to ricochet around the area to the south, taking in Edale, Winnats Pass and the numerous B-roads sprouting from the A623 or A6187 – just pick one and see what happens. Sometimes it’ll turn into a gorgeous thirdgear howler (eg, the B6049); other times it’ll be a single-track wiggler delivering jaw-dropping views (eg, pretty much every road without a number). You can spend a superb day getting blissfully lost amid spectacular geology before reluctantly switching the satnav back on and heading home.