Woodstock - Big BMWs offroad: 450 X, F800 GS & R1200 GS

Apparently, size is everything. I don’t completely buy into this myth because if it was the case, then being obscenely fat would be cool – and it quite obviously isn’t. But in terms of machinery, it’s hard to refute that really big shit is difficult to ignore. Oil tankers, 747s, Humvees, aircraft carriers – the bigger the better. What’s that in my rear view mirror? A Challenger tank, you say? I’ll pull over. And it’s the same with motorbikes.

My former-longterm R1200 GS Adventure is the size of a Mini and I can drive directly at London buses when filtering through traffic to make them stop so I can make a gap. People notice the big Beemer, it casts a gigantic footprint in every way, and sometimes I even venture off-road on it. If you manhandle it properly and don’t get overly ambitious, it’s amazing what you can get up to on the giant overlander.

But – and here’s the rub – you could be getting up to so much more on a 450X, BMW’s lightweight enduro tool. Dave Knight didn’t like it much but for normal people like us it’s punchy, usable and eminently capable in mud. Wouldn’t be much bloody use at commuting up to the city every day though, would it? Which opens the case for the F800 GS, BMW’s midrange model which packs serious capability on-road and surprising amounts off it, too. Three bikes from one manufacturer at opposing corners of the dual-purpose graph.

You’d be forgiven for thinking there’s simply no need for a road-registered dirtbike in the South of England anymore. For while it’s true that the evil Ramblers Association have had their way of closure with some trails, and that West Sussex is now largely shut to vehicular traffic, venture over to Surrey and Hampshire and there’s still plenty of rat-runs and muddy climbs disappearing off into the woods and vales.

Our guides for the day were venerable photographer Oli Tennent (born 1963) and Alistair Walker (1971), who’s director of BMW dealership Bahnstormer just outside of Alton. Selected especially for the ride due to his fearful bad-temper and unique ability to take everything far too seriously was Richard Hallet (begat 1960), the oldest goat on the test but easily the fittest given his position of editor of the website RoadcyclingUK.com. And then there was me, born 1970 and getting crinklier and grumpier by the minute.

We meet at Oli’s house for 10am and the grumbling begins almost immediately. “I saw two people on extremely expensive push-bikes crash at the weekend,” says Richard. “They’d spent £4,000 on carbon-fibre bikes, went hacking into a corner with no control and piled straight into a kerb. Damn born-again cyclists are everywhere.” I suggest that motorcycling isn’t so much different and there’s much nodding of heads and mumbles of affirmation. Suitably intoxicated by our own wisdom, we head off into the Shires.