There is no landscape in the United States that competes with Death Valley, no place as vast or utterly vacant...yet at the same time, breathtakingly scenic and emotionally stirring. No matter how many times you travel there, you are never quite prepared for its foreboding enormity. We decided to test Kawasaki's project turbo-equipped Nomad and the newly upgraded fuel-injected Nomad in Death Valley because it seemed rather apropos—Nomads wandering the deepest stretch of desert in the Western Hemisphere. We were also drawn by the (usually) mild winter temperatures and improbability of rain. But mostly, we just wanted to visit the mysterious void again—and scream across the naked Earth on a cruiser that promised to fly.
You Want to Go Where?
Of course, the folks at Kawasaki probably weren't as eager to see their turbo project or 2001 fuel-injected 1500 Nomad flogged about a desert where dusty, hardpan roads and questionable gasoline were certainties. They bid a reluctant farewell, however, after a parking lot lecture on proper care and feeding of turbocharger systems and a promise we'd bottle-feed their baby octane boost. Even the Nomad FI, which is intended to drink only premium unleaded fuel, would benefit from an additive once name-brand gas stations became mirages.
The turbo system on our 2000-model, carbureted Nomad was a joint venture between Terry Kizer (that's Mr. Turbo to you and me) and some performance-cruiser enthusiasts at Kawasaki. It's actually a kit that is already available to both carbureted and fuel-injected Vulcan 1500 owners for something in the neighborhood of $4000, plus installation. A blow-through turbo such as this one can increase horsepower from 30 to 50 percent, and this bike is claimed to generate approximately 85 ponies at the rear wheel. To say we have been curious about this project, underway since early 1999, is an understatement. We have always appreciated the Nomad as a stately and proficient touring cruiser, but the image of a touring rocket ship tickled us silly. At first glance the thing that stands out about the turbo-equipped Nomad is, well...nothing. If it weren't for the Mr. Turbo logos on the side covers most observers would be unaware of the motor's newfound aptitude. The boosting system has been situated neatly within a hollow of the exhaust system, and even the snake-like intake plumbing running down the left side of the motor is easy to miss. Kizer told us one guy looked at the bike and walked away in disgust saying, "That's a cheap way to advertise—putting stickers on a stock bike!"
It's a sleeper, you could say. A Nomad that bites. As we rode off toward the desert in search of adventure, however, the performance capabilities were immediately evident. This 50-degree V-twin has always had a "girl next door" feel, but today, it was a vamp. And the rattlesnake sound of the turbo channel closing and opening provoked a shot of adrenaline with each shift. This is a full-time turbo, so the boost is there as soon as you touch the throttle. The grunt is amazing, and we could hardly wait to meet the top end.
Standard Nomad Along for the Ride
Kawasaki's stock 2001 fuel-injected Nomad was an eager partner on this adventure. The addition of an injection option last year offered Nomad buyers additional power and range. Fuel injection for Kawasaki's second-generation liquid-cooled V-twin was first introduced on the 1500 Drifter in 1999 and involved new cam timing and compression increase, very befitting for this otherwise sedate V-twin. A more evolved system released on the Nomad in 2000 (and later that year on the Classic FI) features a refined 16-bit processor and upgraded mapping.
We've been lucky enough to spend major seat time on all of the Nomads, since the first carbureted version was introduced in 1998 (as a 1999 model). And while the standard version is a fine touring mount by our comfort, performance and appearance standards, it will only go approximately 120 miles on the 4.2 gallons of fuel it carries before hitting reserve. When you're riding cross-country, or through a desert with more ghost towns than real ones, limited range is a particularly serious detriment, so we were very appreciative of the addition of fuel injection on the Nomad last year, which increased its overall limit by more than 20 miles. This year things are even better for those who are slaves to the open road. The Nomad's 4.2-gallon tank has been replaced by a 5.0-gallon receptacle, further increasing range by approximately 27 miles, to a 193-mile average. A completely new electronic speedometer helped increase the capacity of the tank because it does not extend downward into the tank area. An LCD odometer/tripmeter/clock unit was also fitted this year, and boy, for such a seemingly little convenience, having that timepiece viewable while you're riding is a major plus.
High Desert Humping
The trip from Los Angeles to Death Valley proper eats up most of a day. We made our approach on U.S. Highway 14 via Mojave and Red Rock Canyon. For the first 75 miles, the route is infested with state troopers, but between the smattering of conveniences in Mojave and sprawling Ridgecrest (the last docking station in the real world), you can open it up for the first time. Besides, there are plenty of trucks and recreational vehicles to justify an active throttle hand. The turbo moves the Nomad like a cat on a horse's back, and passing the lines of lumbering vehicles was effortless. The fuel-injected Nomad is no slouch either, and it too can make a quick meal of a motorhome, especially when shifted down for the sprint. But when all is said and passed, any turbo-equipped bike worth its additive is going to make horsepower far above cruiser standards. And yeah, we were giggling all the way.
On the other side of the counterbalancer, the stock fuel-injected Nomad's is smoother—silky, in fact. And that kind of luxury is a valuable feature, especially when you're spending long days in the saddle. The addition of a turbo unit on any engine will produce exaggerated vibration, especially at low and midrange rpm. The counterbalancer can only compensate within realistic parameters. However, we've ridden other turbo-assisted V-twin cruisers that would shake your fillings out in exchange for the fun. This Mr. Turbo application, running a moderate 6.5 pounds of boost, was a kitten in comparison.
We whipped through Ridgecrest without stopping for party favors. It was a race against the arching sun now, since we knew too well how cold the desert could be after dark. Trona, a shabby mill town that harvests salt from the local dry lakebed, is the only semi-civilized outpost before you drop into the breathtaking Panamint Valley and the western border of Death Valley. Trona is a ghost town in progress; its buildings seem to cling to the shoulders of the great, decrepit mill like aphids to a dying rose. It's a fascinating pit, but we didn't have time to wonder out loud why any sane person would choose to live here. At the town's only surviving gas station we splashed the turbo's tank with fuel and chased it with the appropriate dose of octane-boosting additive. Turbocharged engines only thrive on premium fuels, and if you run one with more than 10 pounds of boost, you'll probably need to nurse it with racing fuel. Low-octane gasoline will likely cause premature detonation (or ping), which in turbocharged engines can mean sudden death to piston rings, and eventually the pistons and cylinder walls themselves. Detonation involves the fuel/air mixture exploding before it is ignited by the spark plug; the pressure hammers the piston crown and tries to send it downward before it finishes its upward throw. By boosting whatever gas we could find by five or six octane, we expected to remain in the safety zone. The FI only asked for gas at every other stop, and we wished its rowdy cousin could keep up the pace. Turbocharging can affect fuel mileage positively by more efficiently mixing the incoming fuel and air, but this turbocharged carbureted bike was no match for the FI and its new five-gallon tank.
Getting Down
Undeniably, the Panamints are the most beautiful mountains in Death Valley National Park, which encompasses six ranges in its 3.3 million-acre arrangement (approximately the size of Connecticut). As we crested the rim of the hills above Trona on U.S. Highway 178, these gorgeous mountains to the east were lit like a golden chalice in a cave of villains. Everything else was deeply shadowed, and while the darkness crept up the towering range, we sped across the valley below. Soon Telescope Peak, the highest point in Death Valley at 11,049 feet, flickered like a candle as it finally surrendered to the coming of night. We were already cold...and growing colder just thinking about climbing Towne Pass over the Panamints. We put on an extra layer before turning east on U.S. Highway 190 toward the 5000-foot summit where temperatures can be 30 degrees cooler than on The Valley floor, which at its lowest point rests 282 feet below sea level.
We were thankful for the Nomads' generous windshields on this stretch, and even the small wings mounted on the fork legs were appreciated. This protective arrangement can be suffocating in the warmer riding season, and we've often opted to remove the works (an easy, eight-bolt job) from our previous Nomad test bikes during warm spells. (Or when we have a pang for style, since the bike takes on a husky attitude without the shield.) The large windshield is too tall for some short-waisted riders to easily see over, even when positioned at its lowest setting, but in this kind of chill, every inch was cherished.
The portion of highway leading down from the summit has enough dips to make you swoon, and at our pace, our stomachs were doing a limbo dance. Stovepipe Wells is the first village you come to from this direction, offering travelers a modest motel, so-so grub, questionable fuel and a small gift shop. We fueled here; adding octane boost to both the turbo and the FI since 87 octane was the only flavor available. We sprinted the final 25 miles to the more posh village of Furnace Creek, blind to the towering dunes and feathery washes that surrounded us.