Top-of-the-range adventure bikes go head-to-head; R1200GSA v Tiger 1200 XCA
They’re the last word in trans-continental adventure travel, but has the Brit finally toppled the German?
Bigger has long been championed as better, but can be a doubleedged sword on two wheels, where the endless battle between mass and riding enjoyment are played out over every mile. More of everything is the modern way though. Whether it’s going large at the golden arches, getting that extra one free at the supermarket, or the persistent march of capacity, power, torque, and electronic complexity; we’re gluttons for excess. But this has given us some amazing new adventure bikes. Leading the charge since 1980 has been BMW’s GS; the original bafflingly competent muddy funster. A road bike that could do the A to B as well as many motorcycles designed only for the black stuff, but behaving like
a mountain goat if you nosed it into the dirt. It’s trick has always been its ability to convince you that it’s not doing anything very clever, underpromising and over-delivering with almost British coyness. Updated for 2018 with the same drivetrain mods the non-Adventure got in 2017, the latest GSA TE also benefits from the segment-defining latest-generation Dynamic ESA, and a new Connectivity TFT dash. While the optional flash dash adds a lumpy £595 to the price tag, it transforms every mile, so we expect most bikes to roll out of dealerships with it fitted. Creeping evolution is the GS mantra.
Triumph have launched some admirable salvos into BMW’s territory. The first Explorer made a decent dent in their armour, before being firmly repelled. Their second attack in the form of the Tiger 800 was more impressive and diverted attention from the 1215cc Explorer shuffling away into the shadows. It’s back in the limelight now though, and ready to challenge the GS. This Tiger 1200 XCA is the rangetopping variant on the spoked-rims side of the family, and directly aimed at the GSA. In a spec-to-spec face-off it runs the Beemer to a draw almost everywhere, while beating it on peak power. But there are notable shortfalls; ike its 10-litre smaller fuel tank and lack of connectivity options. While there’s budget space to up-spec the cheaper Tiger to better than GSA level in places, you can’t buy what isn’t available. Climb on board, feet planted on the large clawed footpegs, arms stretched wide to commanding bars, and it’s time to configure your ride. Both offer multiple riding modes and adjustability to suit all on and off-road conditions, enabling a level of inbuilt and programmable control we only dreamt of until recently. The Tiger brims with immediate familiarly and intuitive control. You don’t need to read the manual to fathom how the keyless ignition responds, or how to use the menu functions via the five-way joystick controller. With Track mode selected to deliver the most of everything on offer, we point ourselves at the MCN250 and feel instantly at home. You’re also immediately aware of how tall and top-heavy the Tiger feels. It’s not intimidating, but it is apparent. The riding experience
‘Drive appears in great dollops from all over the rev range’
‘BMW’s GSA feels like a steroid-abusing enduro bike’
is dominated by the grunt-laden creamy-but-visceral inline triple though. Drive appears in great dollops from all over the rev range, allowing rapid progress without stirring the gearbox relentlessly. When you do need to go up and down the ’box, the delightful shiftassist does a great job of showing BMW how it should be done. Upward pressure at any revs is fairly pleasing on both bikes, but the Tiger’s ability to come back down the ’box seamlessly is far greater. Scrubbing off speed is easier on the Tiger, too. Despite both bikes sharing Brembo four-piston calipers and 305mm discs, it’s the Brit that bites harder and with more power.
The Tiger is a comfortable and pleasant place to be. The appalling wind noise and turbulence of the original is replaced with calm serenity on the new XCA and the electronically adjustable screen is near-faultless; although it’d be nice not to have to activate it via the menu functions and joystick. The XCA’s semi-active suspension does a good job, although the front copes better than the rear, which never quite settles or ameliorates the combination of road and rider inputs. That leads to a squidgy sensation from the rear-end that, once you’ve noticed it, is hard to ignore again. It contributes to a vagueness from the front at lean, too, like the tail wagging the dog. While the Tiger feels like a longlegged road bike with Action Man styling, the GSA feels like steroidabusing enduro bike. It’s physically massive, and yet you meld into it with ease, and the low-slung mass means it doesn’t suffer the Tiger’s top-heavy sway. From the moment
the starter catches with a quick side-punch and aural slap, it feels purposeful. The finger-light clutch and throttle help to push its scale further from your perceptions, and even at walking pace it feels amazingly balanced.
On the open road it’s comfortable, calming when you’re tired or pacing yourself, but cheeky and indulgent when if feeling naughty or running late. The Dynamic ESA is astounding, so good that you actually don’t notice it at all. It irons the tarmac smooth beneath your wheels with millisecond-fast accuracy, gifting you unbroken grip and comfort, and reducing fatigue. The boxer twin’s delivery is characterful, but flatter than the Tiger’s. There’s less top-end to play with, but a mid-range punch that really pleases. As with almost every element of the GSA, it’s the lack of any one facet’s dominance that makes it so good. The engine doesn’t overwhelm the chassis, the electronics improve the ride rather than intruding upon it, and the riding position is glove-like.
It’s not without faults, the most glaring being turbulence, which can be hard to dodge (depending on your build), and the adjustable screen’s oddly poor manual adjuster that can’t overcome wind pressure is infuriating. It’s impossible to fully ignore its physical size, too. While it has a negligible impact in motion, it can make it unwieldy for manual handling. But that’s the price you pay for a genuine 300-mile range.