There's something you should know about me, if you don't already. Although I've been riding motorcycles for close to 20 years, my riding has probably been about 99% street.
While some might find weaving through the traffic at night on the crowded streets of Bangkok insane, I didn't find it quite as intimidating as I expected. Why? Because I've been riding in congested urban environments for literally my entire riding career.
Sure, Chicago traffic and Bangkok traffic are decidedly not the same, but the sheer number of people out and about in (and on) vehicles, all trying to occupy the same few feet of space at the same time? That's something that's been baked into me from the beginning, since practically as soon as I learned to walk.
However, that's not dirt; nor is it dirt riding.
I've done precious little trail riding in my time on two wheels. Maybe slightly more on a bicycle than on anything with a motor, but not very much on a pedal bike, either. Though I've been getting a little more adventurous with the e-bike I've been riding with slightly knobbly tires. It's cool, but it's not how (or where) I grew up.
As such, I've had a minimal amount of trail training, though I did the first level MSF DirtBike School course a few years back (mostly on grass, up at beautiful Road America). While I greatly admire people who can ride through sand and rocks and up mountains and lose grip in their back tires while simultaneously not completely losing their minds, I'm not one of those people.
And the thing is, even though I hope to improve my skills with further training, I honestly don't know if I ever will be one of those people. I expect that I'll improve somewhat, but as to how quickly/much, that's another matter entirely.
But after spending a day riding on all kinds of roads with the 2025 Can-Am Canyon XT—in less than ideal weather conditions—I think that I might be exactly who BRP's latest trike is built for. And I also say that after having ridden both the Spyder RT and the Ryker Rally. Different strokes for different folks and all that, but in my humble opinion, those two trikes could never do what we did with those Canyons.
And that's a good thing, because if you're wondering what the difference is between the Canyon and its older siblings in Can-Am's three-wheeler lineup, I'm going to type a whole lot of words to tell you all about it. Also, I'm going to make you look at photos. And probably also watch videos, which will be coming soon to RideApart's YouTube and social media channels.
A Quick and Dirty Can-Am Canyon Rundown
2025 marks the first model year of the Can-Am Canyon. It's powered by the same Rotax 1330 Ace 3-cylinder engine that you'll find in the Spyder and the Ryker, making the same peak 115 horsepower and 96 lb-ft of torque. It has a 6-speed semi-automatic gearbox that you operate with a finger-thumb shifter on the left handlebar (very similar to Yamaha's Y-AMT control, only Can-Am's been doing it this way on its three-wheelers for several years).
Why semi-automatic? There's no clutch; you just shift up or down with your left hand. While you do have to upshift (hit the Plus sign on the paddle shifter), the Canyon will downshift for you when your speed drops. If you prefer, you can manually downshift by hitting the Minus sign on the paddle shifter at your leisure; it's all up to you.
The Canyon is sadly not three-wheel drive, though it would be excellent if Can-Am did a 3WD version in the future. (Pretty please, guys?) However, the very nice and inspiring Brembo brakes are linked, and you operate them using the brake pedal located in front of the right foot peg. There's no clutch lever and no brake lever to concern yourself with when you're operating any variety of Canyon.
Speaking of which, there are three versions of the Canyon. The base Canyon has no luggage and a standard suspension, though it does still have greater ground clearance and suspension travel than any Spyder or Ryker. Sachs Big Bore shocks grace the front, and there's a swingarm setup in the rear. Ground clearance is 6.3 inches; nearly two more than the Spyder RT.
Move up to the Canyon XT or Redrock and you get a capacious top box and two hard aluminum side cases. On the XT, it's all a nice raw aluminum look; on the Redrock, it's color-matched and looks quite nice on the matte green color currently used for that trim level in 2025. The XT gets the same suspension as the base Canyon, while the Redrock adds a semi-active KYB suspension that I'm told is slightly plusher than the XT I spent the day riding.
But I didn't really have any complaints about the XT's ride qualities, even bouncing over some pretty washboard-esque dirt roads. Two other key changes on the Canyon as compared to the Spyder and Ryker lineups are the nice, chunky anti-slip enduro foot pegs and the bar riser. Both of these things make it super easy and comfy to stand up as you like when going over bumpy or sketchy terrain, and I can tell you it almost felt like second nature ergonomically. I am also quite short at 5'3" with a 27-inch inseam, so please also take that into account.
Which brings me to my next point about Can-Am's positioning of the Canyon, and who it's for.
According to the team, the Canyon is not meant as a true off-road vehicle. In fact, if you try to go rock crawling or go into deep sand with it, the phrase "you will get stuck" did actually come out of an engineer's mouth. Instead, Can-Am says that it's meant as an "all-road" vehicle. Meaning: Dirt roads, gravel roads, fire roads, and of course places where the signs warn you of "primitive roads" that you'll be riding at your own risk, like some of the ones we tackled during our testing day. Rain or shine, and plenty of rain and mud, in my case.
Paved Roads, Dirt Roads, and Slippery Mud
Going over the route we'd be traveling ahead of time, we were told that we'd be riding a mix of surfaces during our outing. Although everyone hoped the weather would clear up, there was also a distinct chance of rain, including possible thunderstorms in the forecast.
Since years of street riding meant that I check the forecast ahead of time (and multiple times while packing for a trip), I'd packed my rain gear in the hopes that it would ward off the conditions that might call for it.
It didn't. Not even a little bit.
But with proper rain gear, coupled with the very nice five-level heated grips that come standard on all Can-Am Canyons, I stayed dry, warm, and comfy all day. The group simultaneously got absolutely filthy in the rain, dirt, and mud, but your perspective about having to clean all that up later on tends to be a lot better when you aren't also soaked and shivering all day long.
Our day started with a rollout from the hotel, onto the roads of historic downtown Prescott, Arizona. Located at around 5,300 feet, some in our party were still adjusting to the altitude, and it's the kind of place where the paved roads can also be hilly.
The drizzle was steady as we left, and had been falling for some time prior to our departure. That meant the roads were already quite damp, but the Can-Am Canyons absolutely didn't care. Can-Am's Vehicle Stability System combination of IMU-linked electronic rider aids was absolutely fine with the rainy road conditions, as were the Brembo brakes and XPS Adventure tires.
Having previously ridden the Spyder and Ryker, it didn't take long at all for me to acclimate to the cockpit of the Canyon. It also didn't take long for me to notice that the shifter felt much more responsive on the Canyon than it had on the Spyder I'd previously ridden.
I asked about that feeling at lunch, and was told they hadn't changed the shifter between the two. So it's possible that it was just the specific test unit that I rode last year, which had quite a few miles on it by the time it got to me. Meaning, it had clearly seen a lot of use by the time I got my hands on it.
The first part of our ride consisted of a lot of broad, sweeping highway riding as we proceeded to the trail head into the Prescott National Forest. There was a stark, bleak sort of prettiness through the gray skies and seemingly endless drizzle, but it wasn't really anything compared to what we were about to experience once we got off the highway.
And, I mean, isn't that why you get off the highway in the first place? To see things you wouldn't see otherwise?
One by one, we left the highway and turned off into the forest, with truly impressive trees towering all around us. There's a heady mix of trees in the area; primarily composed of Utah juniper and Ponderosa pine, with a mix of other pines, oaks, mesquite, juniper, maple, and more spread amongst the 1,238,803 acres that comprise the Prescott National Forest.
I couldn't help but think about some of the cacti in the area, that I'd just learned grow only an inch every year, and how some of the tallest trees around us must compare as we went zooming past them.
As a person who hasn't ridden much dirt, transitions from pavement onto dirt usually make me far more nervous on a motorbike than they probably should. The logical part of my brain knows this, of course; but try telling that to the rest of my brain (and good luck to you).
On the Canyon, though? It's fine. Absolutely no worries; totally surefooted. Later in the day, when we proceeded up some twisty mountain "primitive roads" on the way to Jerome, the back end was slipping and sliding and got pretty squirrely—but in a fun way. Not a terrifying way, though once or twice it felt a little hairy in the way that only gorgeous mountain roads and their particular threat of impending mortality can do.
I stood up a lot of the time, and the enduro pegs were just as anti-slip as they claimed. Granted, my boots have anti-slip soles as well, so I do suspect it was a cooperative effort between the two things. But even through the mud and the muck and the rain, I had zero instances where my feet slid at any point. Whether I was standing up or sitting down, at no point did the Canyon's handling lead me to anything approaching panic.
Instead, it was exhilarating in a way I don't think that I've felt before.
The whole way up, I kept thinking to myself that I honestly don't know if I'd ever be riding these roads if it wasn't for the Canyon. I mean, even if I do improve my dirt skills on two wheels (which I'm sincerely hoping to do), how long would it realistically take before I was good enough to tackle roads like these and not be terrified?
Pretty much everyone else in my group had far more off-road motorcycle experience than I do, and even some of those more experienced folks were remarking on how sketchy this situation might be on two wheels. In a way, I was relieved to hear them say this, because it wasn't just me and my total beginner brain staring wide-eyed through the fog.
But on three wheels, with appropriate tires, and with electronic rider aids that offer an appropriate (read: reassuring, but neither obtrusive nor intrusive) amount of intervention? Honestly, it was a treat.
I felt like I finally got it. Adventure, I mean. In a way you absolutely can't do through a screen. You can take the girl out of the city, but you can't take the city out of the girl, you know? Or something like that.
Over the course of the day, my confidence only grew. It faltered slightly in the mud, I'll be honest; at one point, I muttered inside my helmet that I was feeling like a bumblebee with how much I was wiggling my back end. But it wasn't ever worrying; just asking me to attenuate my control inputs, keep a loose grip on the Canyon's handlebars so it could track where it needed to go, and put my faith in the vehicle's composition to power through.
At one point in the mud, I should mention that the Canyon's Vehicle Stability System (VSS) gave me a Fault error. The alert beeped at me and a warning showed up onscreen, but it kept operating and didn't seem to be acting any differently as I proceeded up the mountain. When we pulled over for a stop toward the top, one of the Can-Am folks swapped Canyons with me, as I was the only person in our group who had a VSS fault occur. He was able to successfully reset it, and neither I nor anyone else had any similar issues the rest of the day.
By the time we got back down the mountain on the other side and found our way to pavement, I found it pretty second-nature to fling it through corners. In case you wondered, trail braking works pretty well on the Canyon. I wasn't sure how it would work with three wheels, but I found it to be pretty effective here.
On the way back, we rode through a particularly windy valley that just about dried us all off after all the rain we'd been riding through all day. Totally filthy, blessedly warm and dry, and utterly exhilarated at the end of it all. I can't tell you what I expected the Canyon to be like, but I can tell you that it's easily my favorite Can-Am three-wheeler, hands down.
If you're after trying a Canyon for yourself, you can find the base 2025 Can-Am Canyon, Canyon XT, and Canyon Redrock at your local authorized Can-Am dealer. All three are built in Quebec, and pricing (not including accessories or other extras) starts at US $25,299. I should mention also that the entire Canyon range can also take a passenger if you want to share the fun.
