What ADV Boots Do Pros Actually Use?
Scott Arkon, Matt Bayer, Keith Dishong • January 24, 2026
The boots we use and recommend for ADV riding...

There are so many opinions on adventure motorcycle boots floating around the internet that I wondered if writing out ours was even helpful. But every training we teach and every tour we lead, the “Best Gear” conversation will eventually come up. I’ll assume you’re looking for something the gear sales websites and "sponsored" influencers can’t give you: unbiased preferences from guys who spend a lot of time in their boots.
Our trio consists of three guys who professionally ride motorcycles for a living. We spend more time in the saddle than most riders, averaging about 30K miles per year on the road - or off-road. And over the years we’d be embarrassed to tell you how much money we’ve spent finding the right boots.
The interesting part? We rarely agree on gear, and this is no exception.
We have varying levels of technical riding skill, different weights of bikes, and we’re comfortable at different speeds. Even our risk assessments - the internal voice that tells you whether to send it or scout it - are different too.
Because we are so different as riders, we look for different things in our gear. The following is our collective list of boots that have earned full-time status in our garage:
SCOTT
Stats: 6’2 260lbs: Mid-life crisis Dad-bod. Boot Size:13 | Off Road Riding Style: Technical trails, rocky and loose with a higher risk threshold. Tends to end up on the worst line and just plows through it - don’t follow him; 2025 Tenere 700 | On Road Riding Style: Long distance touring, 12+ hour days; 2018 Honda Goldwing
Recommended Offroad Boot: Alpinestars Tech 7 Enduro
Why:
For off road my priorities are full coverage… but i won’t give up comfort. I used to wear a low boot by Forma, which I liked, but as my skills improved so did my speeds - that increases risk - I wanted something stiffer, with an ankle hinge to help offset that. I really like the boot’s shape over the boots with Goodyear Welted soles. The Tech 7s have a more narrow toe box design (shaped more like a shoe than a fat round boot) that allows me to fit my size 13 under the shifter more easily. The first time I tried them on in store, they had an instant secure but comfortable feel; they felt broken-in out of the box and got better after a day of riding.
A couple months back I got reminded how heavy a motorcycle can be. When I crashed, the bike landed right on my ankle. I was limping for a few days and had moderate swelling, but the Tech 7s did their job. That, 100% would have been a break, in a less protective boot.
Recommended On-Road Boot: Sidi Adventure 2 Low
Why:
I was always a motorcycle shoe guy on road. I love the look of Icon. They’re comfortable, waterproof, all-day walkable, and no one stares at you if you wear them to work. Several years back I learned that the number one injury in moto-crash statistics are feet/ankles and it got me thinking… Maybe I need more protection. After several purchases of low boots that got close but didn’t nail it, I landed on the Sidi Adventure 2 Lows. They run more narrow than big rounded tow American-style boots (Forma); which fit my feet perfectly. That profile feels like a normal work boot on my foot. But, I get a fully protected hinged ankle and even with the buckles (instead of laces), they fit under riding pants or straight leg riding jeans. The Sidis are comfortable enough to walk around in at stops and even short hikes if you choose. And they’re waterproof; simple, classic and top quality.
MATT
Stats: 5’9” Walrus-like - numbers aren’t important are they? Boot Size: 10.5 Wide. | Riding Style: Primary Sweep Rider, 12+ hour tour days, high speeds on groomed dirt, smart and calculating line choice when things get technical. Riding a 2019 BMW R1250GS, 2024 Yamaha Tenere 700, 2013 Honda Forza.
Recommended Boot For Everything: Forma Terra Evo Low
Why:
I know that there are many boots out there that are definitely more protective. You can hear most of them as riders get off of their bikes and walk anywhere! The squeak, squeak noise draws attention to them as they walk like they just took their skis off and are going into the lodge for a cup of hot chocolate. I have no doubt that in a serious crash with broken bones, they will have much prettier ankles than I will, but if you do any crash stat research, the advancement of better riding boots didn’t eliminate lower leg injuries, but rather shifted the injury up the leg.
The Forma fits my wide-ass caveman feet. I tried the Forma Adventures and they may as well have been sneakers masquerading as an ADV boot. My ankle had WAY too much movement and I got tired quickly standing on the pegs because there was no stiffness to the sole. When moving to the Terra Evos I found them to have almost the same comfort while walking.
As an overthinker, I focus on realistic, daily use scenarios. As far as comfort, I could ride to an event like Sturgis or Daytona and walk around in them most of the day. If I have a flat tire and have to walk… I can walk to a main road without needing 2 extra gallons of water because I’m working super hard to walk in stiff boots. The most likely scenario is that I wanted to ride out to an old cemetery I found on a map, and come to find out, it’s a quarter mile up a steep hill to hike there. When it comes to comfort, the Terra Evo Low works for me.
As for safety, they have enough ankle and foot protection that, at the speeds that I tackle the challenging lines, my ankle will be okay. I have crashed several times in the sand and ruts with loose rocks, and the speeds were appropriate for my age. I am not a “when in doubt, throttle out” kind of guy. I practice, I calculate my lines and I challenge myself. That’s not to say that I never ride fast, I do, but when I dump the bike because I ran out of talent, it has been at slower speeds. My favorite safety feature is the mid-sole steel shank because it takes a lot of pressure off of my feet when I’m standing on the pegs. This allows me to ride longer through the day without getting as tired and that is a feature of boots that most riders don’t recognize. We make better decisions when we’re less fatigued (we can all agree), and your boots play a huge role in that equation.
KEITH
Stats: 5’11” 230lbs: Ragnar the viking if he let himself go in his later years. Boot Size: 11 | I’ve owned and ridden most of the ADV bikes out there. Currently on a T7. Riding Style: Lead Guide, always willing to push the pace and ride whatever line it takes to get the job done. Currently #1 in Rever Pass Climber Challenge.
Recommended Boot For Everything: SIDI Adventure 2
Why:
I’ve spent the most time in the Alpinestars Tech 8s as my primary boot. They offered good protection but I wasn’t a fan of the inner bootie design and steel toe cap. I tried the Forma Adventure because it’s apparently mandated by the Geneva Convention for ADV riders. But they felt like they had the protective properties of an al dente lasagna noodle. After that I fumbled through a host of short lived, completely inadequate offerings. Seriously, the money i’ve lost on sub-par boots…
I eventually found the SIDI Adventure 2 (tall). I’m an endorser of the inner and outer solid hinge design. This provides plenty of toe up and down movement for shifting and even walking without allowing hyperextension in either direction. It eliminates side to side rolling motion completely. They are waterproof and easy to get in and out of with the two buckles and velcro closure. Are they as protective as a full motocross style boot? I would say better than the cheap motocross boots but not as good as the top-shelf ones. But they check all the boxes I need. I like them so much I found them on sale and have three pairs waiting in the closet for the current pair to wear out. Also, they last a long time. I get several seasons out of each pair.
Think of the foot like an airplane in flight (obviously because ADV riders are bad-ass, mine is a fighter jet); with pitch, roll and yaw. No boot protects you from yawning motion - that’s why tib/fib fractures are so common off-road. But, you want a boot that allows plenty of pitch movement while protecting from hyperextension and completely locks down roll movement.

In the heart of the Superior Arizona, landscape, two geological giants stand as silent sentinels of the past: Picketpost Mountain and Apache Leap. If you’ve ever driven US-60 between Phoenix and Globe, you’ve seen them - one a solitary, flat-topped butte that looks like a fortress, the other a massive, jagged escarpment that glows deep crimson at sunset. These are not just beautiful formations for hikers to conquer; they are sites steeped in a complex, tragic history where Native American endurance, military strategy, and mining booms collided. The Sentinel: Picketpost Mountain Picketpost Mountain is an unmistakable landmark. Rising 4,375 feet above the desert floor, it looks like a natural castle guarding the town of Superior. Long before it was Picketpost, Spanish and Mexican explorers called it Tordillo (Grey Spotted) Mountain. Its current name was born from the Apache Wars of the 1870s. General George Stoneman, a prominent military figure (and later the Governor of California), established an infantry camp at the mountain’s base in 1870. The mountain served as a "picket post" - a military term for a sentinel or lookout position. Soldiers were stationed on the broad, flat summit to signal movements across the desert below. Because of its height, it later became a vital link in the heliograph network, a communication system that used mirrors to flash Morse code across Arizona’s mountain peaks. A Volcanic Giant Geologically, Picketpost is the remnant of a massive volcanic vent. Over millions of years, the surrounding softer rock eroded away, leaving behind the hardened "latite" lava that forms the mountain's formidable cliffs. This geological "hard-headedness" is what gives Picketpost its iconic, impregnable look. The Legend: Apache Leap - The Leap of Honor Directly to the east of Superior lies Apache Leap, a stunning vertical cliff that forms the edge of the Galiuro and Superstition transition. Its beauty, however, is inseparable from a haunting oral tradition. According to the legend, in the early 1870s, a group of Pinal Apache warriors were surprised by U.S. Cavalry troops in a pre-dawn raid. Outnumbered and backed toward the edge of the sheer 1,000-foot precipice, the warriors faced a grim choice: surrender and face life in captivity, or die on their own terms. The legend says that nearly 75 warriors chose to leap to their deaths from the summit. It is a story of profound sacrifice and refusal to yield. The Apache Tears Local lore links this tragedy to a unique geological feature of the area: Apache Tears. These are small, translucent pebbles of black obsidian found in the perlite deposits at the base of the mountain. The story goes that the wives and families of the fallen warriors gathered at the base of the cliff to mourn. Their grief was so great that the Great Father embedded their tears into the earth as black stones. When held up to the light, these "tears" are clear, representing the sorrow and the spirit of those lost. Superior: The Town Caught in the Middle The presence of Picketpost and Apache Leap defined the fate of the town of Superior. In 1875, silver was discovered at the foot of Picketpost Mountain, leading to the creation of the Silver King Mine - the richest silver strike in Arizona history. The boom town of Pinal City sprang up at the mountain's base, housing figures like Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday. When the silver eventually ran out, the focus shifted to the copper veins beneath Apache Leap, giving rise to the Magma Mine and the modern-day town of Superior. Today, these landmarks are at a crossroads. The proposed Resolution Copper mine project aims to tap into a massive copper deposit nearly 7,000 feet beneath the Apache Leap area. This has sparked a deep conflict between the economic potential of the mine and the cultural sanctity of a site that many Apache tribes consider sacred ground. Whether you see these mountains as sources of mineral wealth, military history, or spiritual significance, there is no denying their power. Standing in the shadow of Picketpost as the sun sets behind Apache Leap, you can almost hear the echoes of the "picket" guards and the mournful winds of the legends that define this rugged corner of Arizona.

Tired of riding the same routes each month? Get out and explore Arizona's rich history with our series of Historical Sites for ADV Bikes! Getting to Sunnyside we'd rate at a 2 out of 5 difficulty rating. It's a great offroad section that easy enough for beginners with one mild technical dry creek crossing. The road is big bike friendly. If you continue past Sunnyside, you'll run into slightly more technical terrain, but again, nothing we'd consider difficult, even on the largest ADV bikes. Enjoy the history: In the rugged, pine-scented folds of the Huachuca Mountains in Cochise County, Arizona, lies a history that reads more like a screenplay than a municipal record. Long before the suburbs of Tucson adopted the name "Sunnyside," a different community by that name thrived in a remote canyon, born from the spiritual fervor of a reformed sailor and sustained by the "common purse" of a communal mining experiment. The story of Sunnyside, Cochise County, is a tale of religious zeal, copper dreams, and a specific brand of frontier socialism that existed nowhere else in the Wild West. The Founding: Samuel Donnelly’s Revelation The origin of Sunnyside is inseparable from its founder, Samuel Donnelly. Born in Scotland in 1852, Donnelly was a man of extremes. He spent his youth as a merchant seaman, allegedly living a life of "worldly" vices before a transformative experience at a Salvation Army meeting in San Francisco. Donnelly became a "two-fisted preacher," a charismatic figure who believed that the corruptions of the city were the greatest threat to a Christian life. In the mid-1880s, looking for a place to establish a utopian community, Donnelly turned his eyes toward the newly opened territories of Arizona. He wasn't just looking for a pulpit; he was looking for a livelihood. Donnelly acquired an interest in a mining claim on the western slopes of the Huachuca Mountains. By 1888, he had led a small band of followers—later dubbed the "Donnellites" by outsiders—into Sunnyside Canyon to build a town where work was worship and wealth was shared. Operation: The Donnellites and the Communal Mine Unlike the lawless mining camps of nearby Tombstone or Bisbee, Sunnyside was a model of sobriety and order. The town’s operation was built on three core pillars: mining, communalism, and strict moral discipline. The Copper Glance Mine: The economic heart of Sunnyside was the Copper Glance Mine. While many residents also worked at the nearby Lone Star Mine, the Copper Glance was the community’s project. Every man in the camp worked the mines or the sawmill. There were no private accounts. The profits from the ore were placed into a "common purse" used to provide for everyone’s needs, regardless of their specific job or status. Social Life in the Canyon: At its peak, Sunnyside housed between 80 and 100 residents. Life was simple but surprisingly rich in culture.Most meals were eaten together in a large tent or timber-framed dining hall. This fostered a sense of kinship that was rare in the highly individualistic West. Donnelly forbade saloons, gambling halls, and "camp followers" (prostitutes). To those living in the violent shadow of the O.K. Corral era, Sunnyside was a peaceful anomaly. Despite the remote location, the community valued refinement. Families owned instruments—including at least one rosewood piano hauled up the mountain—and children attended a one-room schoolhouse that doubled as a chapel. Religious Structure: The Donnellites practiced a form of "Primitive Christianity." There was no formal church building; instead, the canyon itself was the sanctuary. Donnelly preached daily, emphasizing that the physical labor of clearing rock and timber was a spiritual duty. The Collapse: Floods and Failing Health The fragility of a utopian community often lies in its dependence on a single leader or a single resource. Sunnyside had both vulnerabilities. In 1898, a catastrophe struck the Copper Glance. Miners accidentally breached an underground aquifer, causing a massive influx of water that flooded the shafts. In an era before high-powered electric pumps, the mine became a watery tomb for the community's primary source of income. Without the "common purse" to sustain them, the Donnellites began to drift away. The final blow came in April 1901, when Samuel Donnelly died of Bright’s disease. Without his charismatic leadership to hold the commune together, the religious experiment effectively ended. By 1903, the town was nearly a ghost town. The Second Life: Ranching and the CCC Sunnyside didn't disappear immediately. In the 1910s and 20s, the area saw a small revival as a ranching community. A post office was established in 1914 and operated until 1934, serving the rugged homesteaders of the San Rafael Valley. During the Great Depression, the area's operation shifted again. The Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) established a camp nearby in 1933. These young men built the roads and fire lookouts that still exist in the Huachucas today, living in the same canyon where the Donnellites had once sung hymns. Sunnyside Today: A Modern Ghost Town Today, Sunnyside is located within the Coronado National Forest. While most of the timber structures have rotted away, the stone foundations and the ruins of the "Hot House" remain as silent witnesses to Donnelly’s dream.The town remains a destination for hikers and history buffs, particularly those trekking the Arizona Trail, which passes near the site. It stands as a reminder that the history of Cochise County is more than just gunfights and outlaws—it was also a laboratory for those trying to build a better world in the middle of the desert.

Tired of riding the same routes each month? Get out and explore Arizona's rich history with our series of Historical Sites for ADV Bikes! Getting to Mount Lemmon Prison Camp we'd rate at a 1 out of 5 difficulty rating if you only take the highway up and down. With 26 miles of curves each way; it's the perfect summer ride in Southern Arizona because of the massive drop in temperature towards the top. The prison camp is at mile marker 7 as you ascend the highway and is a great place to camp if your planning an overnighter. Weekends get busy on the mountain, as you might expect, and slower moving traffic doesn't seem to recognize what the multiple pull-outs along the highway were designed for most of the time. For maximum enjoyment, we recommend riding Mt Lemmon on weekdays. To make this ride dirty, ride the offroad section on the backside of Mt Lemmon from Oracle! Maps call it the Arizona National Scenic Trail. Difficulty peaks at a 3.5 out of 5 and we recommend you be an intermediate rider or better if you're attempting it on a big ADV bike. Most of the way up the mountain it's an easy, well groomed, road but as you start climbing in elevation the road turns rocky and loose in sections. Riding this road up or down the mountain is spectacular but this road does close for the winter months so check with locals for when the gates open/close. May to October it's usually open. Enjoy the history:

Tired of riding the same routes each month? Get out and explore Arizona's rich history with our series of Historical Sites for ADV Bikes! Reaching Lochiel ranks a 1 out of 5 difficulty rating unless it's rained and made a mess of the road... then it becomes a 2; still beginner friendly just be vigilant. After leaving Patagonia, pavement fades fast, replaced by wide dirt roads, washboard, loose rock, and the occasional sandy section; making it ideal for riders who like their scenery remote. The route flows through open ranch land and high-desert grasslands with long sightlines, minimal traffic, and plenty of free-range cattle that couldn’t care less about your travel plans. It’s not a technical beatdown, but it’s remote, quiet, and unforgiving if you’re unprepared, ending at the eerie border ghost town of Lochiel where history, isolation, and a strong “don’t break down here” energy collide. Enjoy the history:

