The psychic divide between the U.S. and Mexico may be at peak pandemonium. Cross-border politics are at a fever pitch. But how much has changed about literal cross-border adventure? As I found out on a recent two-wheeled jaunt to Baja California and back again, that turbulence has added a new intensity to the proceedings, but there’s also something surprisingly quaint about it, too.
These paradoxical feelings remain despite, or maybe because of, the glow of wanderlust that’s lingered since the pandemic. While discretionary spending on escape machines has leveled off in the aftermath of those boomtown days, rides like the new Kawasaki Versys 1100 SE LT ABS, my motorcycle for the trip, hold the line on making long-distance two-wheeled travel eminently doable. This bike can swallow 200 miles for breakfast.
Heightening the cultural contrast between origin and destination, I kicked off from Kawasaki’s HQ in an anodyne corner of Orange County, U.S.A. I geared up for the long haul with an Arai Contour-X helmet, a Cardo Packtalk Edge Bluetooth system for in-helmet music and phone calls, and an Alpinestars touring suit with a Tech-Air upper-body airbag for the unlikely event of a dismount. Packed in the saddlebags were essentials: passport, immigration forms and basic provisions for a quick trip. Cruise control was a bonus (and a given at the $19,499 price point), but I do wish it was adaptive, i.e., capable of maintaining a steady distance from traffic ahead.
Rolling down SoCal super slab, my green and grey steed blended in with its surroundings like an oddly-colored cop bike barreling down the left lane. But at the Mexican border barely 100 miles south, the sea change in sentiment was immediate. Not only were vehicles far more eclectic, but one billboard even announced: “Trump Said Goodbye, We Say Welcome Home.” We’re not in Kansas anymore.
Plenty of Power, But How About Endurance?
Just as much as it blended in seamlessly with Orange County’s oceans of affluence, my Kawasaki popped in the motley blender of Tijuana traffic. I noted that the Kawi’s retail value exceeds the average annual salary south of the border. “Stop completely at every stop sign and don’t speed,” my tour leader instructed, leery of our group’s visibility and the local police’s proclivity for nabbing tourists. I listened, at least until we were out of the city.
One quick refuel and Ensenada’s colorful chaos receded in the mirrors as we headed to the hills. This biggest Versys model gains 56cc of displacement (for a total of 1,099cc) and engine improvements for its 2025 update, a bump that brings 13 more horsepower (to 133 hp) and greater low and midrange torque. This four-cylinder revs to 10,000 rpm; exploiting that breadth on Mexico’s desolate mountain roads revealed a mostly smooth power delivery apart from a vibey spot near redline.
Verge Built a Groundbreaking Motorcycle. Is That What Bikers Want?
Marko Lehtimaki, co-founder of the EV startup, talks about being inspired by Apple and Tesla, expanding interest in motorcycles and completely rethinking bike designLike a lot of premium bikes (and a few affordable ones), the Versys has a quick shifter that enables clutch-free up/down shifting, making it easy to bang through gears smoothly without having to touch the left lever. Revving to redline yields a satisfying rush of power with plenty of torque throughout and more than enough oomph to squirt ahead to the next apex.
For reference, this Kawi’s power-to-weight ratio is on par with that of the fearsome McLaren 750S supercar, which starts at $318,000.
By this point I had been riding for hours, with the saddle feeling stiffer than I’d like for a bike intended for long-distance trips. It’s not the ergonomics — the rider triangle (the relationship between seat, grip, and pegs) is plenty comfortable, with good wind protection and easy-to-reach controls — but the firm saddle starts getting old, a literal sore spot begging for an aftermarket gel solution. Thankfully, my cool morning ride was buffered by grip guards which diverted the flow of air around the hands, an effective windscreen, and heated grips.
The windscreen moves 40mm up and down, too. However, it requires two hands to adjust; it’s tempting to tweak while on the go, but as the safety sticker warns, it’s not recommended. One other niggle is the new USB outlet, a weirdly bulky bolt-on to the otherwise logically designed cockpit. And finally, while the saddlebags are thankfully lockable using the ignition key and can easily be removed, I wish there was a small cubby up front for small item storage like toll payments or a wallet.
Finding the Versys Sweet Spot
Niggles aside, the Kawasaki Versys 1100 SE’s near-$20K sticker price is justified by sophisticated active suspension that links to ride modes that manage power delivery and traction control. The rider can choose between Sport, Road and Rain, or take the reins and individually select front and rear preload suspension settings on a scale from 1 to 5. Switching to pre-assigned modes is easy via buttons on the left handgrip, though scrolling and fine-tuning personalized settings while parked takes a bit more work. Adjust the preload at a stoplight, and you can feel the bike gently rise or drop as it stiffens and softens the rear.
While the soft setting soaked up city potholes and enabled the so-called Skyhook effect to seemingly lift the bike over bumps, the firmer setting suited the mountains that separated Ensenada from my destination, Valle de Guadalupe — Mexico’s wine country. The bike’s 6-axis sensors also managed features like the ABS braking system, wheelie and traction control.
Leaning over and hustling this 571-pound bike like it weighs considerably less, particularly when the adaptive suspension is dialed into its firmer settings, is where I found myself distracted from the stiff saddle and dipping into that elusive feeling of zen every rider chases. For all of motorcycling’s downsides — the discomfort in weather, the exposure to risk — it’s moments like this where riding delivers equal amounts of bliss.
Magical Middle Ground?
We made it to the five-star Banyan Tree Veya Valle de Guadalupe resort a couple hours before sunset, and not a moment too soon. The complex’s minimalist exteriors have a Tatooine-like feel, and the dusky light was the perfect vibe for a quick dip in my bungalow’s private heated plunge pool before dinner. Great food and local wines were salves for a long day on the road, and a healthy breakfast the next morning shored me up for the ride back through the Tecate border crossing and the imminent rain in the forecast.
There was a bit less joy to be had in the return, perhaps because it’s reverse suspense; adventure is now getting swapped with familiarity. When rainfall finally descended on the oil-soaked interstate about an hour away from home, the Kawasaki felt substantial and secure enough to get me back safely — and it did.
The latest Versys occupies a nebulous area above workhorses like the Honda Transalp ($10,000) and Yamaha Tracer 9 ($12,000), and below top-shelf apex predators from BMW and Ducati that can break the $30,000 barrier. Though not without its flaws, this Kawasaki is a capable and versatile companion for the international experience. I’ve since used it within L.A. for all sorts of cross-city errands, squeezing its wide-hipped saddlebags through traffic.
Big and imposing, the Versys feels a touch overqualified for urban duty — just enough to stoke anticipation for the next adventure.
More Like This
This article was featured in the InsideHook newsletter. Sign up now.
