Author: Mike Huber

El Condor Comida

By Mike Huber

Pinnacles National Park is the 50th National Park I visited. I believe there are 63 National Parks total (National Park Service keeps adding them yearly, so…).  As with all the parks it is rare to be disappointed with a visit to any of them.  In fact, I have visited some of the parks numerous times just to be sure to fully embrace each part of them as many are quite large.

Pinnacles National Park is one of the lesser visited National Parks, which I find refreshing since there are fewer tourists than other National Parks, like Yellowstone and Yosemite where the crowds can be almost overwhelming and detract from the experience. For Pinnacles I had reserved two nights camping so once I arrived late in the day, I could knock out a shorter hike and complete a long hike on the spare day.  The longer hike I chose was to summit the highest peak in the park, Chalone Peak, which reaches 3,304 feet in elevation.  That isn’t that bad because there is only a 2,034-foot elevation gain from the base. This is a 9-mile trail that snakes through beautiful hills. Every turn provided an incredible panoramic view of the fields below and the mountains that stretched to the sky.

Once summitting the peak, it was time to rehydrate and fuel up with lunch for the hike back.  As I sat down, I heard what sounded like someone vomiting.  Looking to my left I saw I was sitting about 25 feet from a California condor.  It was tagged with No. 89.  The National Park Service tags these rare birds to track and follow them at a level not seen since Facebook started tracking me. Having researched No. 89, I learned this guy was born in captivity in Idaho in 2011. There are under 600 of these massive birds remaining in the world. To have the rare opportunity to see one was magical, but to be able to sit next to one for 30 minutes as I ate lunch was something spiritual, equivalent to petting the gray whales in Baja.

As I sat eating my lunch the condor and I constantly exchanged gazes.  Every so often it would spread its wings to show off its true size.  Not only did it not seem bothered by me, it seemed to enjoy my company (I mean, who doesn’t?).  After about 30 minutes I began wrapping up lunch and as I packed up, No. 89 silently turned away, spread its wings, and leapt off the rock like a hang glider sailing down about 100 feet and then turning upward it flew off into the distance.

This magical encounter reinvigorated me for the 4.5-mile hike to the base of the mountain. I had a solid buzz from the encounter for the remainder of the day.  Just like all the close encounters I have had in nature, that buzz never seems to fade and it has me looking forward to National Park Number 51.

Please click on the popup ads!

Never miss an ExNotes blog:

Life as a Digital Nomad: Part 5 (Ecuador)

By Mike Huber

As the plane was race tracking to land in Quito, the capitol of Ecuador, I could see how large the city was and was reassured in the coin toss that had me choose this country.  This would be my third country to call home for the foreseeable future.

Having been in Panama and Nicaragua with such little luggage it was important to keep my packing to a minimum.  This wasn’t very difficult as the countries I had been visiting were tropical and very warm.  I was certain Ecuador would be the same, as Quito was on the equator.  Where could be warmer than the equator.  Well, it turns out a lot of places could be much warmer?  Quito was indeed on the equator but is also nestled in the Andean foothills at an elevation of around 10,000 feet above sea level.  To add to that it was August, so technically it was winter there (although the ambient temperature doesn’t fluctuate very much).

Quito is a beautiful city with even more beautiful people.  As the cab dropped me off, I was still over a mile from the Aparthotel I had booked for the next month.  The issue was it was Sunday and the roads all going into Mariscal Foch (the city center) were closed and open only for bicyclists. Since I had been running almost daily in Nicaragua and had dropped some weight, I slapped one backpack on my back and one on my front and thought I’d just get a nice run in as I made my way towards my Aparthotel.  This would help warm me up, too, since I was only in shorts and a t-shirt. That was another bad idea. I quickly learned that running at 10,000 feet elevation wiped me out quickly.  I think I made it 4 minutes before my hands were on my knees and the packs were sliding off my back.  This I am certain was quite a scene for the locals who were casually riding their bicycles up and down the main street staring at me as I felt like I was about to die.

Once arriving successfully to the Aparthotel I first confirmed the wi-fi to assure this location was suitable for my day job.  The connectivity worked great, but there was just one hitch. The wi-fi knocked you offline every 60 minutes.  To me this was a simple fix of logging off it before each conference call so that it wouldn’t force me off mid-stream during the calls.  That was easy enough and worked perfectly without any problems.

That photo at the top of this blog?  Every Friday night the police held a formation in the central square (Marisol Foch) and I would chat with the moto cops.  It was fun.

Once settled in Quito, a wave of relief fell over me knowing that I could relax and focus fully on work for the next month.  That was important as there had just been a reorganization and I had a new manager.  Three months into traveling through Central and now South America and still no one knew I was anywhere but Boston, nor did they ask.  I was fine with that and made it a point to keep it quiet, but not because I wasn’t performing. I was performing and at an elevated level, but I thought someone might be upset it they knew I was doing this and would put the kybosh on it.  I wasn’t about to let that happen, so I took steps (to include disabling my social media accounts to ensure my secret wouldn’t get out).  I had a peer who was trustworthy so I let him know just in case there was a volcanic eruption or political uprising so they could let my manager know that “Mike may not make it to work today.”  Of course, the chances of that were slim so it was time to settle into a productive routine.  I knew Ecuador might be my new home for longer than I had planned, and I had no problem with that at all.

Help us keep the content coming:  Please click on the popup ads!

Never miss an ExNotes blog:

Life as a Digital Nomad: Part 4 (Panama)

By Mike Huber

Having just left my new home in Nicaragua and boarding a local bus on a 26-hour ride to Panama had me almost second guessing my decision.  The bus was full, and the bathroom already looked like a scene out of Poltergeist.  Now, all this I was able to tolerate, but what really got my goat was that they had TVs every few rows.  You’d think “OK, we’ll watch a few movies to pass the time.”  Not on this bus.  They had a Kirk Cameron movie (Fireproof) on repeat AND in Spanish.  I had never seen this movie and by the 2nd time it rolled on I was ready to just set up camp inside the destroyed bathroom just to get a reprieve from it.

I eventually fell asleep with the help of some Flor de Caña that I smuggled onto the bus. After what felt like forever the bus came to a stop, and I noticed everyone was getting off.  I was still half asleep when I was ushered off the bus.  Still bleary eyed I looked at my watch.  It was 4:00 a.m. We were at the border of Nicaragua and Costa Rica and the border crossing didn’t open until 7:00 a.m.  I was beginning to understand why the bus ride would take 26 hours.  After sitting on the concrete for 3 hours the border finally opened, and we were welcomed into Costa Rica.

Once back on the bus my anxiety increased as we all wondered what type of obstacles we’d have to overcome to enter Panama. Entering through the Panama border was less time consuming but again the bus emptied and everyone was guided into a small room with their luggage, where we all had to open each item as dogs systematically sniffed through all the luggage, piece by piece.  Then, once back on the bus, we continued the journey to Panama City.  Fireproof was probably on its 8th showing.

The further south we traveled the landscape continued to change, as did the neighborhoods.  In Nicaragua the houses were in mostly poor condition but by the time we were in Panama they were more like those you’d find in the United States, modern and well maintained.  This was due to the Panama Canal which draws in an unreal amount of revenue for the country.

As we pulled into the terminal, I was exhausted and ready to exit the bus. Fireproof was still playing on the TVs overhead and I couldn’t leave fast enough.  It was a short taxi ride to the hotel I had picked in downtown Panama City. I quickly learned that in 2012, almost anywhere outside Panama City was difficult to find an affordable place to stay with solid wi-fi to perform my work duties.  This was frustrating as I hit wall after wall, all the while residing in a Marriott, which was not what I envisioned life in Panama would be.

After 3 days of continued failed attempts at finding a suitable home, it was time to decide to move on or return to Nicaragua.  I honestly think the thought of another 26-hour bus ride back to Nicaragua with Fireproof playing nonstop was the key factor in deciding to move onward.  But to where was the question. I was at the end of Central America so this meant I would have to fly to my next destination.  Looking at a map the logical choices were Columbia or Ecuador. I left it up to a coin toss to determine which it would be. The coin landed on heads, so Ecuador it was.  That day I booked a flight to leave in 3 days.

This decision left me with limited time to tour Panama City.  I am not huge on tourist spots but the one place I wanted to see was the Panama Canal.  It didn’t feel right to be there without seeing this engineering marvel, and I am glad I did.  The canal was extremely impressive, and they had grandstands you could sit in to watch the massive ships pass through the initial two steps of the Miraflores Locks.  These two locks manage to raise ships 54 feet higher as they let the water rush in.  The ships traveling through the locks must surrender their boats to a Panamanian captain (to include raising Panamanian Flag on their masts). Many boats were extremely large and had very little leeway on either side as they steered through the canal, so the captain piloting the boats must be certified and skilled in navigating the tight canal locks.

The remainder of the days spent in Panama consisted of getting in some short runs along the waterfront and starting the preparation for the next stop in Quito, Ecuador.  Research showed that the wi-fi in Quito was fast and reliable.  This put me at ease since the pace I was going for was a minimum of one month per country.  This pace would allow me enough time to settle and fully absorb the culture instead of just being in a vacation mode.  I wanted to be immersed in the culture and was determined to stay in Quito for that minimum length of time.  Upon landing in Quito, I instantly knew that a month there wouldn’t be enough and would require me to adjust my schedule yet again.

You know what to do:  Please click on the popup ads!

Life as a Digital Nomad: Part 3 (Nicaragua)

By Mike Huber

My flight that had left Boston landed safely in Managua, Nicaragua and I was ready to begin my next adventure working remotely. To ensure a smooth transition to a new country I took a week of vacation so I could test out the Wi-Fi, adjust to the new environment, and take some time to relax after the whirlwind of tasks that had been completed prior to leaving the United States.  Getting off the wheel that many are trapped in isn’t the easiest or least stressful thing to accomplish.  As I would later learn, it is much easier to re-enter the wheel then it is to exit it.  To clarify when I say “wheel” I am referring to how most live their lives with an apartment, car, routines, etc.  There is nothing wrong with living a life inside the wheel, and I am not one to judge, but for me it just felt wrong living that way.  I am not sure if it was too cookie cutter or that I found it monotonous and unfulfilling.  Either way the wheel wouldn’t be something I had to think about for the foreseeable future.

Upon arriving in the tiny jungle village of El Rosario (a 2-hour mountainous drive from the humidity, crowds, and heat of Managua) I gazed upon my new home with glee.  It was a small 3-bedroom ranch on about 4 acres of land with every plant, vegetable, and fruit you could possibly imagine.  All this beauty was just steps away from my hammock on the front porch where I could relax and gaze out into the lush jungle.

Once my week of vacation was wrapped up, I began my usual work routine but a tad different from that in Boston.  The morning entailed going outside to retrieve eggs from the chickens, coconuts, pineapples, starfruit, dragon fruit, and of course, some hot chillis to add a kick to breakfast.  This area of Nicaragua was very secluded, so it wasn’t long before I realized how much time I was spending working and really beginning to get out of my funk I had been in a few weeks prior.

After my 2nd successful week in El Rosario, I felt this would be my home for the next few months and wanted to add some more character to it.  Running was a big pastime of mine.  This activity helped me meet the locals and build relationships within the community.  One of the neighbors had an amazing property to include a monkey named Paco.  Now Paco was not very friendly, and it seemed after you gave him a couple beers, he got even less friendly, nevertheless this was one of my favorite stops along my run (mainly since the owner would give me a beer or two to rehydrate).  After chatting with him I noticed he owned a couple beautiful Rottweilers and they had recently given birth to six cute little puppies.  That was it: I bought two of the little guys for $30 and brought them back to the ranch.

Now my life in Nicaragua felt complete. I now had two bad ass little puppies that would join me every morning when I went out to gather food for breakfast.  They would also make a great addition to the security of the property.  This was disappointing to the neighbors who had a hole in their fence.  It didn’t take long before they noticed their chickens began to go missing. It seems the chickens had a curiosity of what was on the other side of the fence.  Death.  Death was on the other side of that fence.  As soon as they meandered into the yard there would be a loud squawk followed by an explosion of feathers, and that is how my new pups were fed.  Of course, this only went on a couple weeks until the neighbor became highly motivated to repair the hole in his fence.

After two incredible months of living in Nicaragua working by day and spending the evenings in the hammock with my dogs lying next to me as I drank Flor de Caña rum, I started to think it may be time to move to my next location.  The biggest and possibly only issue I had with living there was the isolation.  I was miles from any town, I didn’t have a car, and I was living essentially on a 4-acre compound.  The property was surrounded by 8-foot walls with concertina wire on top.  Don’t get me wrong.  It was a safe area and I never felt in danger, but the risk of theft or a break-in was always there.  After a week debating whether to move or not, I decided to pack it up and take a 26-hour local bus ride to Panama. Once again, boarding a vehicle to a new destination, I felt stress just as intense as departing Boston. Would Panama work out as well as Nicaragua?

Keep the content coming:  Please click on the popup ads!

Life as a Digital Nomad: Part II (Exiting the Wheel)

By Mike Huber

It was May 2012, Boston was becoming extremely boring, and the thought it might be time to expand my horizons began to grow inside my head.  Still remaining as a “work from home” employee and having traveled throughout most of the United States with not so much as a hiccup in missing calls or people asking “Hey, where are you working from today?”  Most wouldn’t expect any type of a response outside “my living room” or “the kitchen table” since that is what everyone was doing and to think an employee was winding up roads in New England on an Italian sport bike or hanging out in Haight Ashbury in a coffee shop while leading a project team call was unthinkable. Now, many will read this and think I wasn’t working and just touring the country while attending a call here and there.  While that perspective isn’t totally wrong, it isn’t fully accurate, either. My organization was giving me awards every quarter, to include project manager of the year.  While this was all happening, our company was constantly laying people off to the point where morale was extremely low.

Even with my newfound freedom I felt myself being dragged into the depths of depression due to the constant threat of layoffs. It was time to take this working from home to the next level.  That being the “what if I don’t have a home” plan.  It wasn’t much of a plan, but more of an execution of an idea born over a few beers in a dark Boston bar two years earlier.

Want more content?  Please keep us going by clicking on the popup ads!

As with everything in life the first step is the scariest, but also the most critical to set the wheels in motion.  After thinking this over for a bit the most effective way to ensure I followed through with my plan of setting myself free geographically was to rent out my Boston condo.  This was easier than I expected, and had it rented through a management company in under two weeks.  June 1st my new tenant would move in.  This was it.  I was going to not have a home for at least a year. A timeline was now drawn for me to sell everything I owned and find out where my new “home” would be.

Somehow, I knew that returning to Boston wasn’t going to be in the cards.  Having a massive fire sale seemed the best way to clear my life of material possessions that were now just clutter, and there was a lot of clutter to be cleared.  With time being short it was an emotionless task to sell, donate, and give away almost everything.  Paying for a storage unit for an unknown amount of time seemed pointless.

Once everything I owned was condensed into a small box of keepsakes and my travel backpack it was time to decide where to go.  As I looked around the condo (which echoed because it was empty), I was left with the question that I probably should have started with before taking all these drastic actions.  Where the Hell am I going to go?  This is one of those “I may have screwed up” moments.

Originally the semi sorta kinda plan was to just drive around the United States and spend a month or so in each state and see what became of it.  As I was looking at a map figuring out a few first stops on my new journey my phone rang.  It was a 617 Boston number and instantly thought it was a spam call.  Well, this is one call I am glad I didn’t push to voicemail.  It was one of my relatives whom I had gifted a Magic Jack plug a year or so ago.  He was calling to catch up and let me know he was had just moved to a house in the jungles of Nicaragua and had internet service that was just as fast as in the USA.  My jaw dropped and I threw the map of the United States into the trash can that was already overflowing with trinkets and other items that I felt would never be needed again.

Feeling so lost in the United States (on many levels), a new environment would not only be healthy mentally for me but might propel my work motivation (which was currently nonexistent).  Right about this time most of my friends and family were sure I had lost my mind.  Going to Nicaragua on a one-way flight for an undetermined amount of time seemed reckless and a sure way to lose my job (some even felt my life would be in jeopardy).

Having previously traveled much of Central America, I knew most of these concerns were unfounded or pulled from a news article where one person had a bad experience.  The news never really covers the thousands who traveled to this part of the world and had nothing but wonderful things to say about the people, the culture, and the sights that many will never know.  Having grown up in Maine (where for many fear to even venture to Boston) it was incomprehensible for them that I would move to Nicaragua.

As I arrived in Maine, I parked the Ducati in the garage, closed the door, and wondered when I would next see that beautiful machine.  Little did I know that it would be a year and a half before I would hear the magical dry clutch clacking again. Later that day I boarded a flight out of Logan Airport.  With reality setting in I stared out the window.  I was really doing this. Nicaragua was going to be my new home.

Life as a Digital Nomad: Part 1 (Testing the Waters)

By Mike Huber

In 2010 the company I worked for gave me my pink slip due to budgetary cuts.  I was feeling distraught and lost because I had been working there for 8 years. Fortunately, I had a great director who helped by transferring me from a management position into a project manager slot that would be fully remote.

Remote positions at the time were called working from home.  It didn’t take long for me to ask myself a question:  What if I didn’t have a home? This mostly was bar talk amongst friends and I didn’t expect the crazy scenarios we discussed to ever become a reality.  Well…it seems planting those seeds in my mind was all it took for them to nurture, and then to grow into 13 years of almost nonstop travel.

The first two years were mostly spent learning to excel in my new position as a project manager along with clumsily discovering how to adjust my work/life balance in creative ways.  This involved motorcycling throughout New England in between work responsibilities.

Something I learned early is that there are McDonald’s with wi-fi everywhere, and at the time it was one of the better places to stop to respond to emails or for a conference call (this was a life prior to riding a BMW, so I didn’t require Starbucks).  I timed my rides to reach these locations 10 minutes prior to conference calls.  This allowed me time to set up and prepare for them as needed.

The first day as a remote employee I decided to knock out a ride from Boston to Route 17 in northern Vermont.  Route 17 is also known as the “Little Tail of the Dragon.”  It was May and I was literally working off my Ducati Monster M1100 as I tore up Vermont. Since it took so long to reach Route 17 it made sense to ride it twice to ensure the long ride was worth it and regain the curve back in my tires.  It may have been one of the best days I have ever had working and figured this newfound freedom would provide many opportunities to fill in the gaps that I had been missing by going into a regular office day to day.

Riding all the way to Vermont from Boston on your first day in a new position probably was a bit of overkill.  I was missing calls and hadn’t noticed my phone was constantly ringing in my pocket (an easy oversight being so heavily focused on riding).  I was in flight formation and setting the pace for a flock of mallards that happened to be flying down the White River, which ran parallel to Route 100.  Unbeknownst to me the phone continued ringing as the Ducati’s Termignoni exhaust roared through the Green Mountains while I leaned into corners that followed the river.

Shortly after parting ways with the mallards and crossing back into New Hampshire, I saw some lights behind me.  It was a New Hampshire State Trooper.  Dammit! I am sure I was speeding, but the question always is how fast. It was fast. As I began talking to the State Trooper to try to minimize the damage, I could now hear my cell phone ringing.  I picked it up as the Trooper ran my information.  It was my new manager based in Virginia calling to introduce herself and ask if I had noticed that I had missed a call I needed to be on.  I stated I was just out getting a coffee (which was 100% true; it’s just that the coffee was 200 miles away).  This was probably one of my more challenging multitask scenarios (i.e., signing a speeding ticket while on an introductory call with my manager).  To this day I feel I would have been able to get out of that ticket had I not been so distracted by work. Lesson 1 as a remote employee learned.

After that day I knew I should take my work a bit more seriously and slow my pace.  I continued to ride, but always ensured I attended every call (which I did over the next 13 years). My work ethic has always been strong, and I didn’t want to compromise this position and what I could possibly do with it by losing my focus.  Continuing to merge my work responsibilities with riding was something that I honed to an art form.

Once I was comfortable performing my work one or two days a week off the motorcycle, I thought I would step the adventure up a notch: California.  I had relatives in Oakland and there was a Harley rental in San Francisco, a short transit ride away.  It made sense to fly there for two weeks and work remotely in a new environment and time zone to see how I would perform.

The test run couldn’t have gone smoother.  I was on Pacific Time when my team was on Eastern Time.  This ensured that by 1:00 p.m. all my tasks and calls were completed.  Having earlier workdays provided much more time to explore San Francisco and the Bay Area.  A couple of vacation days in the mix allowed time to rent a Harley in San Francisco and take a 3-day trip to Tahoe and Yosemite.  Even though I was on vacation those days I felt obliged to join work calls whenever possible just to stay on top of my projects, while obtaining bonus points from management for doing so on my time off.  I felt this made up for my missed meeting when I had first started this position in New Hampshire.

The California trip had solidified my abilities to work from anywhere.  On the return flight to Boston my thoughts focused on a farfetched mindset:  What if I don’t have a home?  It would take a few months of planning and a solid leap of faith.  As with all leaps of faith you never know where or how it will end, but I felt sure I could make this dream a reality. What I didn’t realize is how far I would take this and the new experiences my decision would deliver.  I turned my life into Ferris Bueller’s Day Off on steroids over the next 13 years.

Fishing the Florida Keys: We’re Gonna Need a Bigger Motorcycle

By Mike Huber

So, I figured using a slightly amended line from the movie Jaws for this title would fit nicely since this story is a step up from fishing off the BMW GS1200.  My friend Sal (who is a new owner of a Can Am) and his brother Mike had just invited me out to go deep sea fishing off the Florida Keys. It was time to take my amateur fishing skills to the next level.  Having been hooked (no pun intended) into fishing last month, this opportunity was timed perfectly and would allow me a chance to catch some really big fish.  Fish large enough that I would need a Can Am to transport them.

One of my objectives in life is to hit all the National Parks and living primarily off my BMW GS1200 has really provided me the opportunity to rack up those numbers.  Florida is just so flat and straight that even the thought of riding to knock out the five National Parks there grew the chicken strips on my tires.  The main focus of this trip would be on relaxation and fishing, so I wasn’t overthinking the National Parks objective.  There will be another trip for those.

Well, it turned out we would be fishing in Everglades National Park. I totally love it when you can combine two objectives into one; it’s probably the project manager in me.  Either way we were on a 21-foot boat westbound out of Islamorada Key. Our first day on the water was pretty impressive, mostly with how the captain yelled at me almost nonstop.  This provided endless entertainment for Sal and Mike.  I think the only reason he yelled at me more is I was catching more fish and was volunteering to help with tasks around the boat, which put me in the spotlight (or I just screwed up a lot).  Either way I got more than one chewing out that day.  For example, the captain wasn’t too thrilled when I tried to wind a 6-foot shark into the boat instead of taking the hook out of its mouth outside the boat. That action racked up my fourth chewing of the day, but who’s counting (Sal and Mike were).

The second day out we each took a chewing but for me it was more personal.  The captain, Mark Gibson, who was former UDT (Navy Underwater Demolitions (SeALs before there were SeALs)) happened to have known my uncle who was also UDT.  So, he took it upon himself to ensure my “Army” ways were wrong every time, even if they weren’t. In between our constant bickering and putting each other down (all with love, of course) and catching fish, he began to explain to me his true passion, which is helping veterans with PTSD.  He runs a nonprofit called Fish With A Hero that takes veterans out on excursions to fish, heal, talk, and, well just be themselves with their brothers and sisters in arms. That day was beautiful.  The company was great, the water was like glass, and there was no wind while we fished Florida’s gin-colored waters. We each caught our trout limit that day and we had several larger fish we couldn’t land.

At the end of each fishing excursion, we took our fish to the Lazy Days Restaurant.  For a small fee they prepared our catch any way we liked. This was a perfect spot to watch the sun setting over the water as we devoured freshly caught fish with a cold beer and joked over the mishaps and successes experienced that day.

Overall, it was a solid week in the Florida Keys, which is a new area of the world for me.  If you like fishing and taking time out from the world this is a perfect place to visit with friendly people in a laid-back environment (outside the fishing captain yelling at me).  As far as purchasing a larger moto to carry an 80-pound shark or a 35-pound hammer jack, I think that may require a Can Am.  It was odd that on this trip Sal received a few prank phone calls about his Can Am.  Somehow, I got blamed for that too, even though I was sitting right next to him when the calls came in. Who knows, maybe a Can Am will be in my distant future to knock out the remaining four National Parks in Florida, and for loading heavy fish for the Lazy Days  cooks.  Until those days arrive, it is back to freshwater fishing in Arizona with the BMW GS1200.

Have you clicked on the popup ads today?

Arizona Moto Camping

By Mike Huber

One of the advantages of living in Arizona most of the year is that you can ride every day, comfortably (I added “comfortably” because I know there is some guy or gal in Maine riding year-round in sub-arctic temps with snow).  We in Arizona can enjoy our passion for camping in all four seasons because of the extreme elevation changes, which allow moving to different climates with a one or two hour drive.

Arizona has an endless amount of camping areas, both dispersed and in formal campgrounds.  I thought highlighting two ends of the spectrum in would be a great way to convey the vast diversity Arizona offers.

Forest Road 300: Mogollon Rim

Forest Road 300 begins in the west off Arizona State Road 260 and ends 42 miles later near Payson’s Arizona State Road 87. The Mogollon Rim is home to the largest ponderosa forest on earth.  Although there are maintained campgrounds along this road, I prefer to disperse camp.  This provides one with the rare opportunity of awaking to an overlook in which you can see for over a hundred miles.  This spectacular view is something that a formal campsite cannot provide.  The road for the most part is in decent shape (excessive rains this year may have changed this however) and can be completed without a 4-wheel drive vehicle.

When traversing the 7,000+ ft elevation of the Mogollon Rim I will usually just ride down the many side roads until I come upon a campsite that isn’t too crowded or exposed, which I can then call home for the evening.  One of the main risks as you are indeed so exposed is that of lightning strike.  You may be able to find a perfect cliffside dispersed campsite but be aware that weather changes frequently and it is never okay to set up camp outside the tree line in this area. In fact, as you scout out your site it is wise to look up at the trees.  If you see many that have been damaged from previous lightning strikes, this is not a location in which you want to camp.

Another benefit to this area is the cooler weather at these elevations, which makes for a perfect Arizona summer trip.  The temperatures can be easily 20 degrees cooler than it is in Payson, which sits at 5,000 feet.  The refreshing temperatures and light breezes in the summer make this a perfect location for spending an evening around a campfire with friends while you enjoy the endless views.

Lake Roosevelt: Cholla Campground

I was hesitant to write about this location as it is my go-to happy place in winter and probably one of my favorite campgrounds in the southwest.  In winter it can be a cold drive if you are in northern Arizona until you drop into Payson, where the temperatures quickly gain 15 to 20 degrees and provide reassurance you’ll experience a perfect lakeside camping night (lakeside camping is a rare treat in Arizona).

Cholla Campground is part of the National Park Service so if you have a Senior or Veterans pass the fee is only $12 ($24 without the pass).  The site provides water, showers, toilets, and a beautiful lakeside view with an abundance of wildlife.  Having an elevation of just over 2,000 feet assures that on most nights, even in winter, it doesn’t get uncomfortably cold.

Another advantage to this campground is there are “tent only” loops so you can distance yourself from those noisy generators and the RV crowd if you choose to.   Choosing these loops provides a quiet night as you watch eagles fly by in the evening with their dinner in their talons while you cook a steak over hot coals while having a 360-degree view of the best sunsets.

Arizona is a much more diverse region than most people think it is.  This unique state isn’t all cactus and barren desert, and the above two locations highlight this diversity.  Motorcycle camping in Arizona can be a year-round pastime without being smothered in heat or waking up with a frozen water bottle (both still seem to happen to me all too frequently).

What are your favorite camp locations in your home state?

Never miss an ExNotes blog:

Have you clicked on the popup ads today?

Please share this blog on your social media!

Gibraltar

By Mike Huber

Needing another vacation and a break from the day-to-day boring humdrum of life (I usually ensure that doesn’t go on for very long) my girlfriend and I decided to head to Portugal and Spain.  It was coming up on my 50th birthday and wanted to do something unique to celebrate this milestone. As we traversed and meandered through both countries I was still trying to come up with that unique idea when a friend had texted me to go to Gibraltar and summit the rock.  That was an outstanding idea. Next stop: Gibraltar!

I Know What I Don’t Know

I only knew two things about Gibraltar: It was an island between Spain and Morocco, and they drive on the opposite side of the road since it is a Territory of Britain.  Both these things I “knew” were incorrect. Gibraltar is a peninsula, not an island, and although it is indeed a British Territory they do not drive on the opposite side of the road as in other British Territories.  The peninsula is just 3 miles long and not even 1 mile wide and most of the peninsula consisted of the giant Gibraltar rock with a lot of narrow winding roads that meander as far as they can go up around that Gibraltar Rock.  Which had me wondering why there was a Ferrari dealership on the peninsula (I am certain it has to do with less taxes there than in their England motherland).

Entering The Territory

Crossing into Gibraltar from Spain was more of a formality and simply consisted of showing our passports at the border, a quick stamp by the immigration officer, and walking into the Territory.  Once leaving immigration we walked across the Gibraltar Airport tarmac. It felt like we were trespassing, other than the traffic lights to alert you when a plane was taking off or landing. Those were not traffic lights you’d want to run.

Once across the tarmac it was a short quarter mile walk to our AirBnB, which happened to be a 30-foot boat in the Gibraltar Marina.  I thought this would be a distinctive place to stay instead of some high-rise hotel where you would be disconnected from the heartbeat of the Territory. This choice turned out to be perfect and we slept great that night with the boat rocking us to sleep in the gentle marina waters.

The Rock

The next day we made our way towards the base of the Gibraltar Rock.  Sadly, you cannot climb to the top of it as it is a military installation.  Disappointed, we took the gondola instead of hiking to the highest point we were allowed to go.

I had read there were some monkeys that lived up on top of the rock that made their way from Morocco via a network of underground caves that went under the Strait of Gibraltar. We were told not to pet or touch them as they are wild animals. Of course, me being one to always follow rules it took under two minutes to befriend one of these little guys and I walked around with him on my shoulder on the observation deck. Clearly, my maturity hadn’t caught up with my now being 50 years old. It didn’t take long before one of the rangers scolded me and stated that they would bite me.  Why would he bite me? We were friends. Ugh. People are always trying to ruin my fun.

We opted to walk down the path instead of taking the gondola back.  This was a wise choice as there were a lot of hidden bunkers from WWI along the way and a really interesting stop called St. Michael’s Cave.  This is a huge, impressive cave that ultimately led down to the Strait.  We only walked in the upper portion of this maze for about 20-minutes since the longer tunnels are closed to the public.  As we toured the cave there was a light and sound show to provide more entertainment and the history of this hidden gem. It was a fun detour to take.

Once we wrapped up the cave experience, we continued down the two-mile path looking over magnificent views as monkeys leaped from trees onto the tops of passing cars to hitch a free ride.  Every time one leaped it would create the loudest “boom” as they carelessly but somehow successfully landed on a car’s roof.  This made for great entertainment for us, but I can’t imagine what the people inside the vehicles thought hearing that noise. Once back at the marina we were hungry and it wasn’t difficult to find a waterside restaurant, an order of fish n’ chips, and a cold beer to wrap the day up in style.

Overall Gibraltar was worth going to visit as we were in the neighborhood.  The territory is more of a winter getaway for the British than a destination one would otherwise visit.  This Territory did indeed make for a fun two days, a unique experience, and a few entertaining stories that I am happy to be sharing with you.

Have you clicked on your popup ads today?

Never miss an ExNotes blog: