Tag: Camping

Does the WSJ Follow ExNotes?

By Joe Berk

I think the Wall Street Journal is getting its story ideas from ExhaustNotes. Very recently, I wrote about that fine newspaper discovering the Mo Gao archeological digs in China’s Gobi Desert, something we wrote about years ago (we had better photos).  Yesterday, I read the WSJ at breakfast and I was enjoying a story about a woman hiking Spain’s Camino de Santiago trail.  I realized Bobbie Surber wrote that same story right here on ExNotes.  Seriously.  We scooped ’em again.  Take a look…

By Bobbie Surber

The Camino de Santiago, also known as the Way of St. James, is a network of pilgrimage routes that lead to the shrine of the apostle Saint James the Great in the cathedral of Santiago de Compostela in Galicia, Spain. The Camino has been a popular destination for Christian pilgrims for more than a thousand years, and it is now visited by people of all faiths and backgrounds from around the world.

There are several routes of the Camino de Santiago, including the Camino Frances (French Way), which is the most popular, and the Camino Portugués (Portuguese Way), which starts in Lisbon or begins in Porto for a two-week shorter Camino. The Camino de Santiago is a long-distance walk or hike that typically takes 30-40 days to complete, depending on the route and the pace of the individual pilgrim.

Along the way, pilgrims stay in Albergues (pilgrim hostels) or other types of accommodation and follow the yellow arrows and shells which mark the way. The Camino de Santiago offers a unique opportunity to experience the beauty of the Spanish landscape and culture and to challenge oneself physically and spiritually.

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I walked seven different Camino Routes with my first Camino in 2012 and the last in September 2021. My last walk found me starting in Pamplona, Spain, a vibrant city never lacking a reason for a fiesta, a city known worldwide for the Running of the Bulls every July.  I ended my journey in Leon, Spain. With my added side trips, I walked over 300 miles, experiencing high desert plateaus, the Rioja wine region, the blissful Logrono’s tapas, the magnificent Burgos Cathedral, the Meseta’s emptiness, and the joy of Leon.

I was on a multi-month motorcycle/camping trip through Arizona, Utah, Colorado, Wyoming, and Montana. When riding, there are times when every part of your brain is laser-focused on the road ahead of you and who might try to run you over from the back or side, but every now and then, the ride is so peaceful that you have time to turn a portion of your brain to the gift of “I wonder.” This led me to reminisce over my six prior walks along different Camino routes in Spain, Portugal, and France. Once released, an avalanche of memories and images flowed to the point that I knew I would be booking my flight to Europe as soon as I stopped my ride for the day.

A quick Google Flights search gave me what I needed, and I soon had a ticket. This was another solo walk, my favorite way for most hikes. My arrival in Pamplona was early enough that I decided to start my Camino right from the Pamplona Airport, bypassing one of my favorite cities in Spain.

The morning had the hope of the fall weather yet to come as I headed slowly up the first of several foothills with the goal of a 10-mile walk for my first day. The gravel crunched satisfactorily underfoot as I quickly adjusted my backstraps to climb up to an iconic ridge that all pilgrims look forward to, the Alto del Perdón, a mountain pass in the province of Navarra in northern Spain, about 12 miles outside of Pamplona. I had returned to the Camino Frances trail after nine-year of absence, taking in beautiful views of the surrounding landscape and a chance to rest and recharge. The mountain pass is named after a sculpture of the Virgin Mary and the phrases “Señora del Camino” (Lady of the Way) and “Perdón” (Forgiveness), which are inscribed on the base of the sculpture. The windswept ridge and the massive wind turbines in the background contrast the sculptures that represent a pilgrimage from the Middle Ages. I took my first full breath after 18 hours of travel and an excellent 8-mile walk to this point. I thought about my intentions for this walk, what I hoped to gain and whom I would miss in the coming weeks of a long walk across most of Spain.

Reluctantly leaving the ridge late afternoon, I knew it would be challenging to reach my Albergue for the night. The steep loose gravel trail reminds me that my knees are not what they used to be, and motorcycle riding for the prior months did little to prepare me for the rigors of this walk. Soon the village of Uterga appeared with another climb up to her main street. My arrival timed perfectly to watch the evening stroll of the locals begin, kids running in the square, little old ladies with perfectly quaffed hair and well-put-together outfits ambling in deep conversations. Adults were sitting in outdoor cafes having a drink, visiting each other, and enjoying the last dregs of daylight. I wanted to plop my disheveled self within their mist and order my first long-awaited glass of Vino Tinto, but I pulled myself together and made the last of my walk to my Albergue in short order.

This first night’s stay found me in a dorm room in a private Albergue with its small restaurant and bar. After showing my pilgrims pass (issued to show you are walking the Camino) and paying 12 Euros for my place in the dorm room, I quickly dumped my backpack on my bed, looked in the mirror, confirmed I looked like a wreck, dashed for the bar, and ordered my first of many good Rioja wines. Settling in, I met my first group of fellow pilgrims. A portly German fellow in his mid-fifties that I would painfully learn would serenade us throughout the night with his epic snoring. Also, a group of Italian bicycle riders. They were loud, and all were talking at once with what would become the usual question:  Why is an American woman walking the Camino alone?  Well, that’s a question for another day! I order my second glass of wine and move into the restaurant for the start of the evening’s Pilgrim meal, an inexpensive three-course meal with portions that could feed a small family, and your choice of bottled water or a bottle of wine, Good God, man, why would you order the water?  I certainly did not.

I had equal feelings of contentment and joy seeping in as German, Italian, and Spanish conversations swirled around me—fellow pilgrims sharing their day’s success and physical hardships. Many of the pilgrims had started 60 miles back on the French side of the Pyrenees, had survived the celebrations of Pamplona, and were still in high spirits so early in their walk. I listened to their stories and their countless toasts made in several languages. I left the room while the wave of conversation and laughter reminded me of how lucky I was to be on this walk for a 7th time. This surely was the beginning of an epic adventure and the hope of what Spain had in store for me.

I can see it now.  Maybe the next Wall Street Journal article will have a feature on the Datil Moto Guzzi Rally in New Mexico, or something on 9mm pistols.  We’ll be watching for it.

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Storm at Marie Lake

By Bobbie Surber

Six days into the John Muir Trail, solo from Yosemite to Whitney, the sun finally came out.

After days of cold rain, wet gear, and afternoon storms, Marie Lake at 10,551 feet felt like permission to stop. People were swimming, drying gear on the granite, stretched out in the sun like nobody wanted to move again.

I swam. Then I fell asleep on the rocks.

While I slept, the Sierra changed its mind.

When I woke up, everyone was gone.

Marie Lake, August 8, 2014.

The granite still held the afternoon warmth, but the sky had changed. The harmless white clouds over Selden Pass had darkened and lowered, moving fast across the ridge. I sat up too quickly, disoriented, alone at 10,551 feet with my boots still off and my gear scattered around me.

I knew better than to cross a Sierra pass in the afternoon in August. I had done it anyway.

The people I had been walking with that day were already gone. Two siblings and a father-daughter team. I still chuckle at the memory of them giving up their camp stove for camp chairs, living off bars and no-cook food the whole way. The daughter longing for a hot meal. You meet people like that on long trails. When you are lucky, they become part of your trail family.

Trail family on the JMT. Two siblings and a father and daughter, strangers who became familiar faces over days of shared miles. I am on the right with the maroon pack.

But they were gone now.

I packed up quickly and started up Selden Pass.

Marie Lake, 1:42 p.m. The storm was already building.

The last of the small trees gave way to open granite as the storm hit full force. Hail came first, then lightning, the kind that doesn’t stay in the sky.

Hiking poles went aside; metal in a lightning storm above tree line is an invitation. Crouching on top of my pack in lightning position, making myself as small as possible as hail drove into my shoulders and arms. Tank top and shorts. Nothing else.

There was nowhere to hide.

Terrified of the lightning and praying to angels or whatever was listening: just get me over the pass. Just get me through this.

Somehow, I made it to the top. The storm was still building.

I ran four to five miles down toward the tree line, alone, above 10,000 feet, with hail and lightning, barely dressed against the storm. I don’t remember most of it, only the granite slick under my feet. Moving and not stopping because stopping was not an option.

Orange through the trees pulled me toward it. A group of men camped just inside the tree line. They saw me come in, and one of them took charge immediately.

He tried to help me take off my backpack. I fought him. I was being difficult, argumentative, insisting I could do it myself. What I didn’t know was that hypothermia had already taken my hands. My coordination. My judgment. I didn’t understand why the buckles wouldn’t work. I didn’t understand why I couldn’t make my fingers do what I was telling them to do.

He knew. He stopped asking and just did it, manhandled the pack off me, got me into a tent, and used his own body heat to warm me while the others set up my tent and got my gear inside.

I don’t remember his name. I never saw any of them again on the trail.

Camp at Sallie Keyes Lake.

I slept.

When I woke up, the light was going gold through the trees. I walked down to Sallie Keyes Lake and watched the sun set. The sky was doing what Sierra skies do after a storm, going pink and soft over the water.

As I sat in the lake’s peace, I felt a growing frustration with my own stupidity for getting into that situation. Then gratitude so large I didn’t know what to do with it. And then, quietly, as the last light went off the water, I came apart. I cried for a long time. Not the kind that passes quickly. I genuinely believed I didn’t have what it took to finish the trail alone.

The next morning, the trail was still there. And so was I. The same thing that would carry me over Muir Pass three days later was already at work. Not courage. Just an inability to stop.

Sallie Keyes Lake, 7:57 p.m., August 8, 2014.

I have thought about that afternoon many times since. About what fear actually does when it settles into your chest at 10,000 feet, in hail and lightning, with no one coming.

Fear wasn’t something I overcame.

I moved through it, because stopping was never an option.

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A Summer Road Trip: Part II

By Bobbie Surber

I think the lucky amongst us are born with a lust for nature and a deep-seated bug to get to as many National Parks as possible. Out of 63 National Parks, I’ve been to 41 so I’ve still got some work to do. I’m not helping with this road trip as it is a return to some of my favorites.

In Part I, we visited Mesa Verde National Park then made our way to Ouray, Colorado. That’s where I will pick up my story.

Tom is a late riser; I’m up before sunrise whether I’ve gone to bed with the sunset or stayed up past midnight. This morning was no different, and yet it was. Right before dawn, I awoke to a single gunshot, adrenaline pumping, I waited for another shot or noise from the distant camper. Drifting back to sleep I wondered what had warranted the single shot? Mystery solved, a camper nearby forgot and left out his cooler, along comes mama bear with two cubs in tow. Let me tell you, once a bear is in your cooler they are not leaving until they have finished with everything you got! Well, a good story for the camper and a reminder that a bear that interacts with humans is often a dead bear so keep your campsite tight!

Finally crawling out of the tent just as the sky started to lighten, I brewed a cup of coffee with my AeroPress and built my last fire in Colorado. Taking some time to watch the sun start to light up the tips of the peaks above our steep and narrow valley floor, thinking about the day to come.

Coffee consumed and the fire dying down I got to work packing up the camp, leaving only the tent with a lightly snoring man to complete the breakdown. Tom eventually made it out of the tent with the promise of hot coffee and cold juice to get his day rolling.

While a bit sad to leave the alpine world of Ouray, we had the promise of a hotel room to wash off the stench of five nights camping and hiking to keep us motivated to knock out this day of driving to Utah. We drove out of Ouray on the last of the Million Dollar Highway, Route 550 towards Ridgway picking, up Route 50 through Fruita and on to Route 139 to our destination of Vernal, Utah.

A shower along with another fine dinner of enchiladas and the most powerful margarita I’ve ever had, made for a great evening in this little town. If you ever find yourself in Vernal, well I assume you are lost or really like dinosaur tracks but hey, if you do stay there the nicest staff is at the Wyndham Micro Hotel and if you love authentic Mexican food, then I highly recommend a visit to Plaza Mexicana on Main Street. Don’t forget to take your picture with the giant pink dinosaur before leaving town!

After a restful night and a full stomach, we continued north toward Pinedale, Wyoming, planning to camp before hitting the Tetons. This would set us up for an early arrival to Grand Tetons the next morning, allowing an extra few hours in the day to explore the park.

We pulled into Pinedale, stopping to restock our wine supply and invest in a decent bottle of single malt Scotch with the good luck of having a ranger station next door. The first ranger, an older woman, said no way will we find a campsite, but a younger gal told us to ride up the road to Lake Fremont Campground.

Score! This place has earned a spot on my list to return to. Perched in a shaded camp spot overlooking the lake we had a lazy afternoon watching the clouds move across the foothills, threatening a rain that never came.
With the Tetons looming ahead and Yellowstone just a drive away, we settled in for the night—excited for what the next day would reveal. More on that in Part III.

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Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area

By Joe Berk

Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area is an interesting spot located just west of Las Vegas.  During our recent visit to Death Valley, we rode to the Red Rock Canyon area after stopping for lunch at Mom’s (a great restaurant) in Pahrump.

Pahrump is 30 miles northwest of Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area on Highway 160; Las Vegas is 17 miles to the east.

The Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area has a good plan for managing visitors.  You have to make an online reservation that slots you into 15-minute arrival intervals.   There’s $16 entrance fee (I guess it’s per vehicle), but when we arrived the park ranger didn’t even look at my senior citizen lifetime pass.  He just waived us in.  That’s happened to me a few times at National Parks.  Maybe I just look old.

We took Highway 160 east from Pahrump and it was a pleasant ride.  As we approached Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area, the Spring Mountains on our left (north of Highway 160) had brilliant burgundy horizontal rock layers.  The red is caused by iron oxide.  We weren’t even in the Park yet, and the views were already stunning.  It really is something to see.

Once we entered Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area, we explored the Visitor Center and four interpretive exhibits accessible via a walkway outside.  After that, we started the 13-mile one-way ride through the park.  There are many stops offering different views of the mountains and rock formations.   Motorcycles are fine on this road, and we also saw people riding bicycles.  I’d like to do the ride on a bicycle someday.  It looked like fun.

Desert tortoises live here and there are exhibits that provide information about them.   The tortoises live near Visitor Center paths, but we didn’t see them while we were there.  That’s okay; I’ve seen desert tortoises out and about on previous treks.  As an aside, if you happen to see one, don’t pick it up.  Doing so will frighten the tortoise and literally scare the pee out of it, which can induce dehydration and kill the tortoise.  The desert tortoise is a protected species, so leave them alone.

You can hike and camp in Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area.  When I read that I immediately thought of Mike Huber, who is wheeling and camping his way around New Zealand as I write this.

Although I’ve been to Las Vegas many times, I had never visited Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area.  It’s about as different from Las Vegas as a place can be, and in my opinion that’s a good thing.  If you’re ever in this part of the world, Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area is worth a stop.

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Packing for a Long-Distance Motorcycle Trip

By Mike Huber 

It feels like the perfect time to do a write up on packing for a long-distance motorcycle trip.  I left Sedona, Arizona, two weeks ago for a motorcycle journey to British Columbia on my BMW GS1200.  I didn’t quite pack everything I own, but close to it.  Having recently taken a hiatus from my day job there is no time frame for returning to Arizona other than when the weather changes in the Fall. With this being the case packing had to be tight, yet diverse enough for every possible type of weather that I may encounter.

My philosophy has always been less is better. This holds even more true when you have such minimal storage space on a motorcycle.  There is no need to have every centimeter packed to the gills.  Having a bit of remaining space allocated is important in the event you need to add gear or choose to pack sloppily after camping in the rain.  That buffer space should be held sacred. So, here is everything I am bringing along this journey.

      • Kelty 1-person Tent
      • Enu 2-person hammock (I like a larger hammock so I can wrap up if it’s cold)
      • Big Agnes sleeping bag (15 degree rated)
      • Laptop bag with chargers and backup portable battery
      • Luci Llight
      • Hiking boots
      • Stool
      • Cooking pot, cup, utensil, propane
      • Towel
      • Portable grill (for throwing a steak or freshly caught fish on top of some coals)
      • 25ft of paracord (usually for additional hammock straps as needed)
      • Day pack for hiking
      • Tire repair kit
      • Compressor
      • Fishing gear
      • Jumpmaster knife
      • Hatchet
      • Air mattress
      • Air pillow
      • Raingear (top and bottom)
      • Leatherman
      • SpotGen3 GPS (My Mom likes to know I made it to camp alive)
      • Headlamp
      • 3-liter expandable water blivit
      • Swimsuit
      • 2 pairs of pants
      • 3 pairs of socks
      • 3 pairs of underwear
      • 3 t-shirts
      • 1 pair of shorts
      • Duct tape
      • Electrical tape
      • Sweatshirt
      • Baseball hat
      • Riding jacket
      • Lambykins
      • Military side pack (for all fishing gear)
      • Winter hat (my Mom knitted)

Currently 10 days into this trip with 8 nights of camping in numerous weather conditions and I have remained quite comfortable.  Another barometer of success is when someone walks by my campsite as I am laying in my hammock reading a book and they comment “WOW, you fit ALL that on your motorcycle?”

I just smile and reply with a “yup.” I am now in northern California and will start hitting possibly more wet and cold weather so I will see how my gear continues to stack up against the elements as I travel further north with no real itinerary.  The main objective of this trip is to slow down, enjoy the moment, be present, and meet up with old and new friends along the ride.

Let me know if there is a piece of gear you feel I am missing or that you hold close during your long-distance motorcycle trips. I am always interested in improving my packing and living conditions while on the motorcycle.

Hey, a quick photo from this trip…there are two Joes, a deer, and two wild turkeys in the picture below.

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Wildlife in The Southwest: Javelina

By Mike Huber

Having grown up in Maine I spent most of my childhood experiencing life up close with nature. I have always been drawn to the unique wildlife in different regions of our country.  In the Southwest this is especially true as the terrain is so different than Maine, or really anywhere else I have traveled.  Many people think desert and cactus, sand, maybe an old cow skull on a fence post and envision a region void of life.  This couldn’t be further from the truth.  Once you get out exploring this fragile ecosystem it’s easy to see and hear how much life there is in this harsh environment.

One of the coolest animals I have seen along my travels is the javelina.  These beady eyed little critters look very similar to boars or wild pigs but are actually in the rodent family.  If you are in the desert during a full moon and the wind is just right, and if you are lucky, you can hear a pack of these little guys chomping up prickly pear cactus and tearing up people’s lawns.  They are a little local gang of hoodlums causing mischief throughout the neighborhood and then disappearing into the thick desert underbrush as quickly as they appeared from it.

The first time I saw javelina was while camping along the Arizona and Mexican border.  Sleeping in a tiny one-man tent I woke up to what I thought were wild horses munching on some leaves.  The sound got louder and closer as whatever it was moved in on my position. I wasn’t quite sure what to do but wanted to be certain I wasn’t trampled by horses in my tent (that’s one way to end the story). I popped out of my tent and flicked my flashlight on.  What I saw was about 10 pairs of beady little eyes staring back at me and snouts wiggling in all directions.  Not having any idea what these things were and not being armed I began shouting at them “Quit screwing around!”  Little did I know that is the exact command they understood and followed.  After a few moments of a harrowing standoff, they took the hint and went around my tent without missing one leaf. The strange-looking beasts made their way into the rugged desert terrain as I stood outside my tent still trying to figure out what had just marched through my campsite.

Frequently wintering in the southwest I am now very accustomed to these little troublemakers, and it always brings me great joy in seeing them marching across the street like the Beatles on the Abbey Road Album cover.  On more then one occasion when I see them in the backyard, I will close the gate and jokingly say “We got us a petting zoo!”  In my experience the javelina are pretty focused on obtaining food and don’t pay much attention to us humans being near them. except if you move quickly, make loud noises, or they have babies in their herd.

So, whether these little Star Wars looking creatures are hanging out around my campsite in the middle of the desert or foraging through the neighbors’ yards, they are a pleasant reminder that the environments I travel through change in many ways. The javelina are a vital part of the desert’s fragile ecosystem that we are guests in to enjoy and embrace.

Disclaimer: Opening a javelina petting zoo is a foolish thing to do. Do not attempt to pet, embrace, or feed them either as they can turn on you and attack.

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Three Steps to Ease into Moto Camping

By Mike Huber

I know many people on this page camp and ride, but some have yet to dive into mixing these two great passions.  My objective in this article is to help you bridge riding and camping, alleviate any concerns on this topic, and build a foundation of knowledge for those new to motorcycle camping. In doing so you will discover a deeper level of motorcycling that many riders experience.

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Start with Less

With all the social media posts of riders from around the world sharing their epic adventures and providing reviews of the gear they use can cause anxiety.  Intimidation from the expense and amount of equipment people use for moto camping can become overwhelming when starting this hobby.  I’m not saying any of these riders are wrong in the gear (or the amount) they use, but my philosophy while motorcycle camping is less gear is much more efficient and cheaper. My first time moto camping I had nothing other than a one-person Kelty tent (which I still use), a sleeping bag, and a small personal hygiene kit.  I planned to give moto camping a shot and figured I could survive one night out on Washington’s Olympic peninsula even if I was a bit uncomfortable.

I wasn’t uncomfortable at all.  In fact, other than adding a 6-pack of beer and a crushed Subway sandwich my gear didn’t grow or change for the next 8 more years (even after “maturing” from a Ducati Monster M1100 to a BMW GS1200).  Would I have been more comfortable with a sleeping pad, cooking set up, and maybe even a chair?  Yes, but that came years later after learning from others (I am a bit set in my ways even if they force me to be uncomfortable). Starting from such a minimalist perspective and adding gear slowly allowed me to tailor my equipment perfectly.  You will find everyone has a “better” way of doing things; you might want to learn what works best for you and expand slowly.

Start in a Familiar Location

Roaring through the dense rainforest of the Olympic Peninsula on my Ducati Monster I was excited to be camping with my motorcycle for the first time.  In hindsight this choice was probably a further and more isolated location than I should have started with, but it worked for the most part. I had ridden the road several times, I was comfortable with the distance, and I was aware of the ever-changing weather conditions.  Being new to this I didn’t pack rain gear and of course it rained heavily that night (I was forced into my tent by the weather by 7:00 p.m.).  You must pack raingear if you want to ensure it never rains on your moto camping trip.   But even with the weather not cooperating it was a fun first night and it was enough to get me hooked on the lifestyle.

Looking back, a more comfortable way to experience my first moto camping adventure would have been a more controlled environment.  Even for those well-seasoned campers, testing new gear in your home or backyard to learn how to set up, adjust, and break down the equipment makes for a less stressful time in a real-world environment. Purchasing lots of expensive gear, not testing it, and going on a multi-state tour can be a painful way to learn the gear isn’t right for you or the climate.  Another way to learn your equipment and build experience is at a state park close to your home or a KOA.  Even if you have to retreat to the KOA store or end up back inside your house, don’t be discouraged.   That’s what this step is for.  Take notes on what worked and what didn’t, and build off that until you are comfortable with the next step, which can be dispersed camping or a longer distance ride.  It is better to learn in this semi-controlled environment than to have a horrific night with improper gear in poor weather and become completely deterred from ever moto camping again.

Learn From Experience

Having completed a successful test runs with your gear it is now time to begin learning how to increase your confidence in harsher and more remote environments. This point in your experience level is also the perfect time to make gear adjustments based on your notes.  With a few nights camping under your belt you can seek advice and learn from others, including their set up tricks and in what type of climate they moto camp.  In doing so you will fine tune your camping outfit so that it is perfect for you, your motorcycle, and the climate.

During this phase it is important to remain open minded.  Everyone has a method that works best for them.  For some it is a half shelter at a roadside pullout, for others it can be as elaborate as a 6-man tent with copious gear that requires 2 hours to pack.  Normally when I travel and moto camp it isn’t for just one night.   I’m on the road for two to three months at a time with Airbnbs or hotels as resting points or for working.  Even though I am comfortable with my moto camping equipment it’s always fun to chat up other motorcyclists. In most cases, even if their set up is completely different there is usually one or two takeaways I learn from conversing with them.

Conclusions

Moto camping is an easy and inexpensive way to escape the rat race with less effort than many would think.  These experiences and the people I meet along the journey are some of the most best I have had.  Being so removed from everything as you sit relaxing in the glow of a warm campfire reflecting off your moto is a fulfilling feeling that few venture to achieve.

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5 Weeks, 30 States, and 9000 Miles!

Good buddy Peter and I go back about 40 years now.  That’s hard to believe when I think about it….he must be pretty old now.  We grew up together in the So Cal aerospace industry, chasing each other across companies that made bombs, aerial refueling equipment, helicopter blades, and more.  We’re both retired now, and we’re both enjoying life.  Peter and I have a lot in common (you might remember him as Python Pete), including an interest in guns, motorcycles (Peter bought one of the first RX3 motorcycles to arrive in America), photography, and travel.  Peter and his wife recently wrapped up an epic road trip in the starship Wingnutz (it’s the roadburner you see above), and he wrote a guest blog for us showing just a few of the highlights.  Here you go, folks…it’s a great read.  Enjoy!

My wife, Sasi, and I went on an epic road trip a couple of months ago. The impetus for this trip was our nephew’s wedding in Massachusetts. We figured this was the perfect opportunity to camp our way across America (and get the hell out of California for a while). The vehicle for this journey was a 2019 Ford Transit van that we had converted into a 4×4 camper van. This van is pretty much self-contained and we can live off the grid for three or four days before we have to resupply the water tank. With this setup we can choose not to stay in campgrounds thereby avoiding other cranky people.

Map showing the general route we took.

Starting in So Cal we drove north through Nevada. At our first campsite in Nevada at Pahranagat National Wildlife Refuge, we watched in utter amazement one evening as a hawk used its talons to snatch a bat right out of the air mid-flight no more than 15 feet directly in front of us. Never saw that before.

We continued north into Idaho and Montana enjoying the spectacular scenery of the Sawtooth and Bitterroot Mountains. One day we drove a measly 50 miles because we just kept finding fantastic sights and places to camp. Our campsites in this area were usually way up dirt roads next to streams (with very cold, invigorating water…like 44 °F cold.) and a couple of times at altitudes exceeding 8,000 feet. We thought we were gonna see and smell a lot of smoke from all the fires in the Pacific Northwest, but nada. This is definitely an area we are going back to in order to explore more extensively. We spent too much time in this area jeopardizing an on time arrival to the wedding.

So, we quickly made up time heading east across the Northern Plains to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. You don’t wanna see people? The UP is one place to do that as it’s pretty sparsely populated and very heavily forested. The few locals we encountered were extremely friendly and helpful. Sasi was excited to be able to pick wild blackberries at our campsite which was just off a snowmobile trail. There was no snow as it was late August and nobody else was crazy enough to drive something other than a snowmobile on this trail. Solitude is great as it gives you the opportunity to observe and listen to the wildlife (the forest kind of wildlife as opposed to the city kind).

The Mackinac Bridge, five miles long connecting the UP to the rest of Michigan

Next significant stop was Niagara Falls which was one of the highlights for Sasi. It was her first visit and she was absolutely overwhelmed as was I even though I’ve visited before. We walked to all the scenic overlooks and did the Maid of the Mist boat tour (worth it). Joe spoke previously of these electric motor driven boats. They are indeed quite quiet; however, the falling water is not. Our campsite in this area was on Lake Ontario and in the evening, we could see the sparkling lights of Toronto across the lake. Unfortunately, we could not visit the Canucks because of crazy COVID-related border rules.

Sunset over Lake Ontario

Off to the wedding in the Boston area. It was nice.

The next highpoint of the trip was to eat live Maine lobster in Bar Harbor, Maine. This is a beautiful island and although there were way too many tourists visiting, we managed to get a table in an otherwise deserted restaurant overlooking the water. The lobster has a better, fresher taste in Maine than the so-called live Maine lobster we get in California. The food was amazing and so was the scenery as we drove around the island after lunch.

Sasi’s live Maine lobster, finally!

I wanted to go see the northern parts of Maine because the maps show hardly any roads in that area. Hell, we have a 4×4 so who needs roads, right? “Wrong!” said the boss/copilot/navigator/cook/wife. Never piss off any of those people or you will regret it many times over (I keep learning). So, we headed west into New Hampshire and Vermont and bought copious amounts of locally sourced maple syrup.

We followed the Appalachian Mountains south all the way to the Smokey Mountains in Tennessee. We did not see Dolly Parton but did find great places to camp including one place where we met a couple from Spain who are five years into traversing a good part of the world in their custom RV that looks more like a military vehicle than an RV. See www.erg-adventure.com.

One beast of an RV Carlos and Magy are using to see the world

We then meandered kind of Northwest and finally just west across the very flat Great Plains stopping for a few days in Colorado to visit family we had not seen in two years. A few more incredible campsites came our way in the Rockies. The Forest Rangers here were super nice in guiding us to the out of the way camping spots we prefer.

Hell yes, lets go!
Aspen trees changing color on our type of road

We finally made it home after five weeks, 30 states and 9,000 spectacular miles. Don’t ask about fuel economy because a 4×4 van does not understand economy. However, you can’t put a price on the sights and experiences we enjoyed on this trip!

That’s an awesome story, Peter, and it looks like you and Sasi had an amazing adventure.  Thanks very much for sharing it with us!

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4 Things You Need To Survive Motorcycle Touring With Covid-19

With the advent of a killer virus sweeping the nation, traveling long distance by motorcycle has become more complicated. We used to hop on our motorcycles, ride all day and then in the evening get a room at the cheapest motel we could find. Those days are over. Don’t get me wrong; motels are still an option, much like Russian roulette is a fun parlor game. Go ahead, pull back those sheets and crawl inside. Did the maid really disinfect the room? Was the last traveler teeming with the virus, coughing and spitting his way to sleep? What can you touch and what can’t you touch?

Nowadays to go anywhere far on a motorcycle you’ll need to be able to camp, and not at commercial campgrounds either. Campground bathhouses were never a sterile environment in the first place, now they seem like a damp Club Med for viruses. I’ll take my chances with the bears, you know? I’m talking rough camping: riding into a National Forest, finding an out of the way spot with nice soft grass and bedding down for the night.

The first thing you’ll need is a tent. In my younger days I spent many uncomfortable nights sleeping out in the open. I’d pull over, toss a plastic tarp on the ground and just lay down. That was the full extent of my camping preparation. I’ve since learned that biting bugs, rain and animals make having a tent the way to go. I bought this small, old school style pup tent because I’m done setting up the flex-pole igloo type tents. Small pup tents are smaller and lighter than igloos and there are too many stressed elements in an igloo. Every Igloo tent I’ve owned ended up tearing.

I’m going to assume you already own a sleeping bag (everyone should). In addition to the sleeping bag an air mattress will drastically improve your chances of falling asleep inside that claustrophobic pup tent. If you’re 20 years old you could probably forgo the air mattress. I’m using one with a built in pump instead of the self-inflating type for two reasons. Number one is an inflatable packs down much smaller than a self-inflating type. Number two is the self-inflating pads compress and after a few minutes you’re on the ground anyway. The need to keep the size and weight of your camping gear to a minimum will become apparent when you start loading your motorcycle.

Hard-core riders can get away without a camp stove but I’m not a hard-core rider. I need my coffee in the morning or a can of warm soup in the evening. Unfortunately, while the burner itself is tiny, carrying one of these small, gas-powered stoves requires a bunch of other gear. I have one pot to boil water or soup, extra water to clean up the mess and then there’s the gas bottle, which is like three times the size of the camp stove. Not to mention the stuff you are going to cook. It’s a space and weight commitment you may not want to make. Plain old water and candy bars will work fine if it’s only a one-night road trip.

Now we are getting into purely luxury items. When you rough camp in the forest there are never picnic tables, benches, fire rings or screaming children. This type of folding camp chair can really make a campsite feel like home. There are two basic styles of small camp chairs, the tripod type and the X type. I prefer the X-type because they are less prone to sink into soft ground…like the ground you find in a forest. The tripod type is much easier to fold up so you’ll have to make your choice based on terrain and patience level.

All the gear in this story can be purchased for less than one night’s stay at a motel so there’s the cost savings to be considered. I can pack everything in one medium-sized stuff bag and bungee the mess to my motorcycle. It’s not an easy way to travel for sure but with many national and state parks closed now it’s about the only way to travel. I’ve recently purchased all the camping gear you see above attempting to make my pack smaller and lighter. And I’ve succeeded: It’s easily half the size and weight of my old camping gear. I’ve yet to use it in anger but that will change soon. My riding buddy Mike and I are going on a several day ride and since we are old, lung impaired and clinging to life by a thread we both feel like rough camping is the safest option Covid-wise.

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