KTM 1290 Super Adventure S & R
Big Orange Therapy.
There are rides you plan, and rides that simply happen. Ours began in Murrieta, California, when Chris at KTM North America handed us the keys and wished us luck with a grin: “Bring them back in one piece.” Seven days riding Northern California gave us everything we could ask for, heat on the freeways, pine-shaded mountain passes, and backcountry tracks that stretched all the way to Alturas. With the KTM 1290 Super Adventure S and R as our partners, we set out to see what these machines could really do in the Sierra Nevada, where asphalt and dirt meet in equal measure.
The S, with its electronic suspension and road focus, devoured freeway miles and carved mountain corners with surgical precision. The R, raw and rugged, came alive on rocky two-tracks and loose gravel, dancing between our legs like an oversized enduro on steroids. Together, they carried us north through California Backcountry Discovery Route trails, over mountain passes, and back south through wine country.
My teammates at BTA, and long-time friends, Pablo and Philip joined me for this ride. Together we set out for a week of throttle, dust, asphalt, and laughter, discovering what the KTM 1290 Super Adventure S and R really feel like when you live with them. What stayed with us weren’t numbers or specs, but the kind of memories you only make when the road, the bikes, and the people all come together just right.
Part One: Asphalt Dreams
Departure & First Impressions
We rolled out of Murrieta, California, KTM’s North America basecamp, with Chris handing us the keys to two orange monsters that would be our companions for the next week: the 1290 Super Adventure S and the 1290 Super Adventure R. Before we set off, Chris grinned and tossed us a line: “Have fun out there… but not too much. Bring them back in one piece.” The kind of comment that sticks in your helmet and makes you laugh hours later at 70 mph.
Chris had the bikes prepped and waiting. We strapped on the Giant Loop luggage, soft panniers and duffels that swallowed our gear and clipped neatly to the racks, and in no time the 1290s looked ready for a proper expedition. Bags sorted, helmets on, and it was time to roll. And head to toe, Alpinestars had us covered, comfortable enough for long freeway slogs, armored and ready when the trail got sketchy. The kind of gear that lets you focus on the ride, knowing the bases are covered.
The idea for day one was ambitious, make it all the way to Napa in a single push. But like any ride worth remembering, things didn’t go according to plan.
A few delays, a couple of loose ends, and suddenly the day had slipped away. On a motorcycle trip, though, that’s part of the deal: you adapt, adjust, and enjoy what comes. So we decided to roll easy, cover part of the distance, and stop in one of the small towns along the way, saving the full run for the following day with fresh legs and clearer heads.
Both bikes looked stunning. The S carried that road-hungry vibe: cast wheels, 19-inch front and 17-inch rear, two-step seat that made it easy to flat-foot at stops, and a manually adjustable windscreen tall enough to carve a calm bubble on the freeway. The graphics stood out beautifully, light gray, white, the unmissable KTM orange, and black. The kind of bike that makes you want to swing a leg over and just start eating miles.
The R? Whole different character. A beast with enduro DNA on steroids. 21-inch front, 18-inch rear, long-travel ergonomics, and a seat that felt right for the long haul but also let you move naturally when the road turned to dirt. The smaller windscreen did its job on the highway but stayed out of the way when you stood up on the pegs and leaned forward, thighs against the tank, body flowing with the machine.
Freeway Warm-Up
The freeway was the perfect place to get acquainted. Buttons, menus, modes… all surprisingly intuitive. Everything ran from the left switchgear, thumb and index cycling through menus without breaking focus on the road. Phones sat rock-solid on SP Connect mounts, the anti-vibration module keeping cameras safe and the magnetic charger topping us up on the go. With the screens steady and within reach, the bikes’ electronics and our navigation apps blended seamlessly into the ride.
I started on the R, while Pablo took the S and Philip followed on a 2025 790 Adventure, a story for another time.
What surprised me first was the comfort triangle on the R. For a bike that looks so wild, it felt perfectly natural mile after mile. I even stood up on the pegs at highway speed, stretching legs, expecting the wind to yank me backwards. Instead, the bike carried me steady, without needing to wrestle the bars.
Cruise control made things even easier, set the speed with the little +/– paddles, thumb and finger doing all the work without leaving the grip.
And then something I didn’t notice at first, heat. Or rather, the lack of it. Riding through Northern California in August means hot days, engines working hard, fans spinning. Usually that heat finds its way onto your thighs, roasting you alive. Not here. The fans hummed, yes, but the air was directed away, never once cooking my legs. I reached forward with my hand out of curiosity and found the warm flow pushed far enough ahead to disappear before reaching me. Smart design, invisible comfort.
The Mountain Playground
After a first day packed with prep, logistics, heat, and endless freeway, the second day brought us closer to the real goal: the California North Backcountry Discovery Route. But before the gravel came a stretch of asphalt worth every drop of sweat. Between Downieville and Sierra City, Highway 49 twisted through the northern Sierra Nevada like a ribbon laid across the forest. Pines towered above, the Yuba River flashing below, and every curve begged for another lean. That’s where the R started whispering to me: “Hey Mike… let’s enjoy this one to the fullest.” I listened. Switched into Sport mode, cracked the throttle, and the beast came alive. Curve after curve, the 1290 danced from side to side, the Brembos biting hard, power always right there at the twist of the wrist. No need to downshift, but I did anyway, rev-matching, braking late, opening up again and feeling the front wheel float off the ground with every punch of gas. It was raw, pure, a taste of superbike aggression dressed in adventure gear.
All this on Dunlop Trailmax Raid 40% road / 60% off road tires, 21-inch front no less. Who says this setup can’t be fun on tarmac? Grip was solid, transitions smooth, only a bit of hum at higher highway speeds. For the rest, it felt like flicking a 250 supermoto from one side to the other, except this machine weighs nearly 550 pounds (≈ 250 kg). The engineers back in Mattighofen, Austria, must be sorcerers. They’ve managed to make something this big feel like a toy, a therapy session on two wheels where your only job is to string corners together, empty your head, and let joy take over.
And the rider aids? Invisible. Exactly how they should be. Were they even on? I didn’t notice until the moment I went a little too heavy on the gas, the rear sliding out, or entered a curve hotter than planned. That’s when the bike quietly said: “No problema, amigo… I got you.” And just like that, you’re through, looking like a champ.
By the time I pulled over to wait for Pablo and Philip, I was grinning ear to ear. And the thought hit me, we’d be riding back through this stretch tomorrow. Another chance to play in this Magic Kingdom for grown-ups. Even better, tomorrow I’d be on the S… though it might cost me at least a cold beer or two to convince Pablo to hand it over.
Beer Diplomacy and the S’s Revenge
Next morning, after what I’d call successful beer diplomacy, I found myself on the 1290 S, ready for round two. Electronic suspension dialed in, anti-dive armed for late braking, Sport mode engaged. I like to switch off the anti-wheelie though, there’s something beautiful about letting the front tire hover just above the asphalt when you exit a corner on full gas. It feels like unleashing 160 wild horses, each one straining to break free, and it never fails to put a big smile under the helmet.
And wow, did the S deliver. This was her arena, and she knew it. Leaning into corners felt natural, the bike holding its line like it was on rails, suspension adapting seamlessly to every demand from my right hand. On the brakes, the power was immense but never overwhelming, the front end stayed planted, calm, always in control. It felt like driving a go-kart that grew up, stretched, and decided to conquer mountain passes.
At moments I couldn’t help but laugh inside the helmet. Between the precision of the chassis, the grunt of that V-twin, and the confidence dripping from every move, the S made me feel like Valentino Rossi on holiday in the California mountains. If the R had given me a wild luxury ride, the S gave me surgical precision, stable, responsive, and playful enough to keep me giggling like a kid. Another supreme moment of riding, a bike built for exactly this.
Part Two: Dirt Realities
Into the Dust
Later came what we’d been waiting for, the California North Backcountry Discovery Route. We tracked the line on onX Offroad, GPX files loaded and Offline Maps ready; even when cell service vanished deep in the Sierra backcountry, the blue dot kept moving and the route kept us honest. The BDR crew knows how to sniff out the best tracks, and they didn’t disappoint. The tarmac was behind us now. No more Street or Sport mode. Time to click into Off-Road, Rally mode armed and ready.
Rally mode is KTM at its cheekiest. It lets you set the bike to your taste, how much slip you’ll allow, throttle response, even ABS settings. It’s a playground for riders who want to choose how sideways they go. And with the S’s electronic suspension, you can do the same, tweak it on the fly, soften it for rocks, stiffen it for climbs, let the bike adapt with you.
Convincing Pablo to swap again wasn’t easy. The grin plastered across his face said he was falling in love with the R. But after a bit of good-natured begging, he gave in, and I climbed back on the orange beast. Philip, meanwhile, grumbled from behind, he still hadn’t had his turn on the R. “Tomorrow,” I promised, and he reluctantly agreed, though I could hear the sigh through the CARDO Systems intercom.
We dropped into narrow two-tracks around Sierra Buttes, rocky, steep, just wide enough for one vehicle. The kind of trails that make you slow down, breathe, and remember Chris’s parting words back in Murrieta: “Have fun… but bring them back in one piece.” The bikes weren’t afraid of these paths. It was us who had to respect the terrain and keep the fun in check.
Rock Dance
The day turned technical fast. The Sierra Buttes trails threw rocks, roots, and climbs at us, and the 1290s soaked it all up without a hint of complaint. No harsh bottoming, no sense of fighting against their weight, just suspension working like it was born for this.
On the R, I felt completely at home standing on the pegs, body loose, the bike dancing beneath me. For something tipping the scales at 550 pounds (≈ 250 kg), it never felt heavy. It shimmied over rocks, weaved between obstacles, and carried me forward like it had shed half its weight. A proper mountain waltz on two wheels.
By the time we reached Bassett’s Station for fuel and food, Philip’s patience had run dry. His turn on the S couldn’t wait any longer. He climbed aboard grinning like a dog with two tails, though I warned him: the jump from his 790 to the 1290 was going to feel like trading sneakers for rocket boots. Still, within minutes he was settled in, throttle hand under control, well, mostly.
The rest of the afternoon the trails widened, the rocks eased, and we started to play. Philip, now fully at home on the S, didn’t take long before asking over the Cardo: “So… when do I get the R?” I laughed and gave him my best Yoda impression: “Not yet, my young Padawan… too much to learn still you have.”
His laughter came back instantly, echoing through the intercom, and for a moment the Sierra Buttes turned into our own Star Wars stage.
Meanwhile, I kept dialing in Rally mode on the R, sliding the rear just enough before the electronics stepped in. It felt like there was a DJ hidden in the ECU, deciding how wild the party could get. A little more slip, a little more chaos, and then, when things risked going too far, the track cut and the music calmed. With 160 horses and around 102 lb-ft (138 Nm) of torque on tap, that guardian groove is welcome. Full traction control off? That’s a game for the pros. For the rest of us, it’s playtime with a safety net.
Loose Gravel Flow & The Way Back
By the next morning, the terrain changed again. Wide tracks stretched ahead, well maintained but covered in loose gravel that kept the bikes moving beneath us. It was a different dance, less about stepping over rocks, more about letting the bike float and trusting the drift. We aimed north toward Alturas, following the BDR’s backroads to Snag Hill, where a Cal Fire lookout tower kept watch over the forests. The air was crisp, the sky sharp and clean, and the scent of pine rolled through our helmets.
Once we settled into the rhythm, the fun came easy. Gentle slides out of corners, throttle feeding just the right amount of spin, dust hanging thick enough that we spread out to avoid choking each other. Over the Cardo, the soundtrack was laughter, shouts, and Philip’s voice cracking through: “Daaaaaamn, the power on this beast is insane!”
By then, the 1290 felt like an old friend. Confidence was total. The power was intoxicating, the exhaust note booming off the hills every time the throttle cracked. We swapped bikes through the afternoon so everyone got their share. Different rhythms, same outcome, grins under every helmet.
Alturas marked our northernmost point, a milestone before turning south toward Napa and, eventually, Murrieta. The ride back didn’t carry the same drama as the dirt days on the BDR, but that’s the beauty of these Adventure bikes, you can enjoy every kind of terrain. We’d already scratched the itch on rocky two-tracks, forest trails, and fast gravel roads. Now it was time to settle in, let the asphalt roll, and see what else these machines had up their sleeves.
The S’s adaptive cruise control felt like having a mischievous little wizard tucked inside the ECU, pulling strings behind the curtain. I’d slide in behind one of my buddies, and the bike would quietly roll off the throttle, even feather the brakes, keeping the gap perfect. The moment I hit the blinker and eased out to pass, it woke up and surged forward, as if it had read my mind. Pure sorcery woven from silicon and sensors.
Night caught us more than once in the forest, and that’s when the lighting proved itself. KTM’s adaptive LEDs turned black trails into daylight. Lean into a corner, and one lamp lit. Lean deeper, the second came alive, illuminating exactly where you were headed. Add the auxiliary beams, and it felt like you were carrying daylight with you. Hats off to the engineers in Mattighofen for this one.
The rest of the journey back was a blend of freeway miles, windscreen adjustments, and playing with modes just for the fun of it. Street, Sport, Off-Road, the menus were second nature now, buttons clicked without thought. The only thing left was the inevitable: rolling back into KTM’s North America HQ, handing the keys back to Chris. Relief that the bikes were still in one piece, sadness that the adventure had to end.
Looking back, what really stood out? The power, always there, always ready, with torque so wide you rarely need to downshift. The exhaust note too, throaty enough to remind you this is a beast, without being obnoxious. The menus and riding modes were a breeze to navigate, changeable on the fly without fuss.
The Dunlop Trailmax Raids surprised me the most: rock solid on asphalt, whispering confidence in the dirt and over rocks, only humming a bit when we pushed highway speeds. Ergonomics? Spot on, whether seated for long hauls or standing on the pegs, it felt natural, almost enduro-like. And the heat management: in the blazing California summer, not once did the engine roast my legs. That’s genius.
On twisty tarmac, the 1290s flicked from side to side with a grace that made you forget their size. Electronic assists stayed invisible until needed, exactly as they should. The S shone with its adaptive cruise control, like a wizard hidden in the ECU, and its automatic suspension that adjusted seamlessly. Both bikes offered solid wind protection, with windscreens easy to tweak high for the freeway, low for the trails. And the headlights… those night rides through dark forest roads turned into daylight. Hats off to KTM.
As for what I didn’t love? It’s nitpicking, but I’d take a one-piece rally-style seat over the two-piece adjustable option. More personal preference than flaw.
The plastic handguards? Too fragile for a machine of this caliber; I’d swap them for something sturdier with aluminum reinforcement. And the biggest complaint of all? Having to hand the keys back to Chris in Murrieta.
Days on the 1290s leave you with moments that refuse to fade. A ribbon of mountain asphalt, a rocky climb, a fast gravel straight, each one becomes a spark of pure joy. The bike adapts, and all you’re left with is the grin under the helmet and the memory burned in.
If you’ve ridden a stretch like that, full throttle, corners chaining one after the other, you already know exactly what I mean. And if you haven’t yet… what are you waiting for? Find a KTM 1290 Super Adventure, swing a leg over, and let it show you. Just don’t come back blaming me when you realize one ride isn’t enough, and you’re left daydreaming about the next one.
Photos: BTA Magazine Media – Words: Mike de la Torre
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