Tim Notier's Blog, page 14
September 21, 2017
Turnarounds
By Tim Notier As a guitarist, some of my favorite lines in 12 bar blues progressions are the turnarounds. Little personal licks of emotion, dirty and gritty as they can be, that lead back to the main rhythm and comforting progression of the song.
Marisa and I have recently experienced moments of our trip that seemed to have led to unknown, improvised directions of dirty, gritty, and truly blues filled trials that have eventually led back into the standard patterns of our trip that we are accustomed to.
Turnarounds, in my attitude, and the outlook of uncomfortable situations, have redirected me to the needed understanding of uncertainty. “Life is Chaos,” or more simply, “Chaos is . . .” I found myself repeating this to myself as if practicing Timism, a lesser known branch of Buddhism (please note this is not true at all). It's an understanding that the world is not out to get me, and that all things seem to settle back to normal if given enough time, attention, or realization that some things just will not change.
We had recently camped at Kolob Reservoir, and it was beautiful. We decided it would be a great place to set up camp and call home for four days.
On the third night we stayed at the reservoir it rained, then it hailed, and it did not stop for 15 straight hours. As we huddled in the tent, hail hammered the rainfly and the ground around us, splashes of water and mud ricocheting onto us from every direction. We were stuck, and filthy, and there was no way I was going to pack up the tent while God’s wrath hailed down on us. The next day the sky retreated its hostile onslaught momentarily, and we seized the opportunity to get the hell out of there. As we packed up our gear, everything was coated in a muddy stew that would dry and add an additional ten pounds to the bike's collective weight. Marisa and I rode out on the road that cut through a canyon just outside of Zion National Park and made it to a town named Hurricane.
We were wet, tired, and just overall miserable. And we needed to wash everything we had, twice. We pulled into a hotel, and at $150 a night we knew that was not an option. A few days prior, we had met a lady named Dana who had invited us into her house, and at the time offered us a hot shower, a hot meal, and a “glamper” to stay in. At the time we had already planned to camp at Kolob Reservoir, and we had yet to accept the hospitality of others as we were proving to be self-sufficient.
But at that moment, we were no longer self-sufficient. We were undeniably in need of assistance. I called Dana trying not to sound as desperate as we were, and as if we were old friends, she gave us an address to meet her at, and we spent the next three days with her and her husband Bill who took on the roll of an aunt and uncle who we had not seen in a couple years.
Dana dubbed her property “Red Hen Gardens", and it was a sanctuary for an open-minded traveler. Great food, conversation, and laughter filled the days as we slowly prepared to move on. I thought to myself: If it wasn't for one completely miserable day, we would have missed out on meeting the most kind, unique, and hospitable people we have met so far.
I find myself very grateful for the short-term misery that led to a lifelong friendship. Going from such a fowl mood, to such a blissful state, I can only hope to remember that the lows that seem to last forever are only small moments that will soon be overwhelmed by the highest highs while we explore the world.
Marisa and I have recently experienced moments of our trip that seemed to have led to unknown, improvised directions of dirty, gritty, and truly blues filled trials that have eventually led back into the standard patterns of our trip that we are accustomed to.
Turnarounds, in my attitude, and the outlook of uncomfortable situations, have redirected me to the needed understanding of uncertainty. “Life is Chaos,” or more simply, “Chaos is . . .” I found myself repeating this to myself as if practicing Timism, a lesser known branch of Buddhism (please note this is not true at all). It's an understanding that the world is not out to get me, and that all things seem to settle back to normal if given enough time, attention, or realization that some things just will not change.
We had recently camped at Kolob Reservoir, and it was beautiful. We decided it would be a great place to set up camp and call home for four days.
On the third night we stayed at the reservoir it rained, then it hailed, and it did not stop for 15 straight hours. As we huddled in the tent, hail hammered the rainfly and the ground around us, splashes of water and mud ricocheting onto us from every direction. We were stuck, and filthy, and there was no way I was going to pack up the tent while God’s wrath hailed down on us. The next day the sky retreated its hostile onslaught momentarily, and we seized the opportunity to get the hell out of there. As we packed up our gear, everything was coated in a muddy stew that would dry and add an additional ten pounds to the bike's collective weight. Marisa and I rode out on the road that cut through a canyon just outside of Zion National Park and made it to a town named Hurricane.
We were wet, tired, and just overall miserable. And we needed to wash everything we had, twice. We pulled into a hotel, and at $150 a night we knew that was not an option. A few days prior, we had met a lady named Dana who had invited us into her house, and at the time offered us a hot shower, a hot meal, and a “glamper” to stay in. At the time we had already planned to camp at Kolob Reservoir, and we had yet to accept the hospitality of others as we were proving to be self-sufficient.
But at that moment, we were no longer self-sufficient. We were undeniably in need of assistance. I called Dana trying not to sound as desperate as we were, and as if we were old friends, she gave us an address to meet her at, and we spent the next three days with her and her husband Bill who took on the roll of an aunt and uncle who we had not seen in a couple years.
Dana dubbed her property “Red Hen Gardens", and it was a sanctuary for an open-minded traveler. Great food, conversation, and laughter filled the days as we slowly prepared to move on. I thought to myself: If it wasn't for one completely miserable day, we would have missed out on meeting the most kind, unique, and hospitable people we have met so far.
I find myself very grateful for the short-term misery that led to a lifelong friendship. Going from such a fowl mood, to such a blissful state, I can only hope to remember that the lows that seem to last forever are only small moments that will soon be overwhelmed by the highest highs while we explore the world.
September 16, 2017
Middle USA - from plains to mountains
By Marisa This is the first part of our USA adventure, making our way from Illinois to Colorado via Missouri, Kansas, and we briefly skimmed Oklahoma and Texas as well.
Below are my personal impressions of a few of these states. Everyone's experience is different, so if you have been to any of these places and have your own thoughts about it, please comment below or through Facebook to further express the many outlooks we have collectively. Missouri
I’m not sure what I thought about Missouri going into it, but the little bit that I’ve seen has made me want to stay.
Cicadas buzz in deciduous forests surrounding trailers and cabins where hunters hang their stuffed prizes on their walls. Quaint homes with blossoming petunias decorate their porches which overlook the rolling green hills where cows roam and grasses whisper in the late summer breezes. Missouri is a hidden gem, but more like a piece of smoky Ozark quartz stuck in the mud, shrouded by the rain, surrounded by moss and insects that fly, crawl, and slither.
Sometimes the place is humming with the wild chorus of a jungle, and sometimes it’s quiet, like lazy summer fields and farms. Peaceful, inviting, its beauty can be found subtly sparkling for those who look for it, while others who just glance, only see the mud. Kansas
Flat and windy, the horizons of Kansas stretch out into the distance as I begin to wonder if the road will ever end, or if around the next hill it will turn into yellow bricks. Of course if it does, I probably won’t notice, having been sucked into a sunflower-studded daze by the monotony of the plains. And yet, there is a certain tranquility where fields of freshly-baled hay lie golden in the setting sun, and between the hills, cattle huddle under the trees for shade. It almost feels like a pastoral painting of a bygone time, maybe painted by Monet, maybe Beethoven is playing in the background, until my imaginings are swept away when we see another oil rig bobbing up and down, or a line of wind turbines crowning fields of soy and corn.
As we set up camp near yet another local high school football field, the local drunk reminisces about his bull-riding days, and glorifies his years working on oil rigs. He wears a blue plaid button-down shirt that may have once looked formal at best, but now is just as dusty and faded as everything else here. I thought because of his spitting that he was chewing tobacco, but then on closer inspection I realize that he’s just spitting, like he walked out of a Clint Eastwood movie.
He plants his hands in his jeans, and claims our motorcycle is just a modern version of his traveling cowboy days. And as we head off again under the cloud-speckled blue sky, our belongings strapped tight to our saddle bags, and the bike struggling to make headway against the incessant wind, I have to agree. Texas: northwest corner near Dalhart
I had never been to Texas, and always wanted to claim that I had, and my single night at a lonesome campground did not disappoint. The winds of the tail end of Hurricane Harvey whipped up the dust to fill the air with flying particles, and the views of the distant horizon became curtained off in a ferocious, yellowish haze. The clouds above shimmered with lightning, and then the gales tried to take away our tent, pick up the bike, and I was afraid for a moment we would be carried along with it all.
So I lay in the tent hoping to hold it down with my weight, but not sure that would work. I was silently praying for the storm to pass, wringing my hands over our phone, and impatiently waiting for the weather page with the doppler to load.
At last it did, and it turned out that we were in a narrow alley between two great arms of torrential fury. The storm passed, we survived the night, and I found that everything certainly is bigger in Texas. Colorado The Switzerland of the United States, Colorado dances to its own tune, always off-step with the rest of the country, or maybe two steps ahead of us, I’m not sure which.
The state has been trademarked and published, as if every road and street sign was carefully planned by a team of expert advertisers. Every little town has been marketed with slogans, logos, stickers, and t-shirts, as if each village is a destination in itself, its trophies are cleverly advertised in billboards and brochures.
And all this marketing must be working, because even in summer off-season, the shops of Telluride are bustling with the blond, rich, and wannabe rich (and wannabe blond) who have traded their down ski jackets for stretch yoga pants and tanning lotion. But these are the foreigners come for envying views and facebook photo-ops. The true people of Colorado are one-of-a-kind, down-to-earth, practical, rooted, and even with their high altitudes and legalized pot, I find their heads are not in the clouds. And though some may be a tad snobby about the glories of their state, maybe they have reason to be.
My relationship of Colorado has been shaped by years of venturing into its valleys and up its peaks, of meeting its unique people, some of whom have become wonderful friends of mine. Though I almost want to hate the state for their clean streets lined with four different types of recycling bins, their perfectly quaint fair-trade coffee shops, their heavenly ranches where grazing horses look just as wild and a part of the landscape as the mountains themselves.
But then we turn a corner and my breath catches in my throat, and I realize that if I lived here, I would be overly-proud, too. Maybe I have also been sucked into the great big commercial that Colorado is, because whatever it is they’re selling, I think I need one.
Below are my personal impressions of a few of these states. Everyone's experience is different, so if you have been to any of these places and have your own thoughts about it, please comment below or through Facebook to further express the many outlooks we have collectively. Missouri
I’m not sure what I thought about Missouri going into it, but the little bit that I’ve seen has made me want to stay.Cicadas buzz in deciduous forests surrounding trailers and cabins where hunters hang their stuffed prizes on their walls. Quaint homes with blossoming petunias decorate their porches which overlook the rolling green hills where cows roam and grasses whisper in the late summer breezes. Missouri is a hidden gem, but more like a piece of smoky Ozark quartz stuck in the mud, shrouded by the rain, surrounded by moss and insects that fly, crawl, and slither.
Sometimes the place is humming with the wild chorus of a jungle, and sometimes it’s quiet, like lazy summer fields and farms. Peaceful, inviting, its beauty can be found subtly sparkling for those who look for it, while others who just glance, only see the mud. Kansas
Flat and windy, the horizons of Kansas stretch out into the distance as I begin to wonder if the road will ever end, or if around the next hill it will turn into yellow bricks. Of course if it does, I probably won’t notice, having been sucked into a sunflower-studded daze by the monotony of the plains. And yet, there is a certain tranquility where fields of freshly-baled hay lie golden in the setting sun, and between the hills, cattle huddle under the trees for shade. It almost feels like a pastoral painting of a bygone time, maybe painted by Monet, maybe Beethoven is playing in the background, until my imaginings are swept away when we see another oil rig bobbing up and down, or a line of wind turbines crowning fields of soy and corn.As we set up camp near yet another local high school football field, the local drunk reminisces about his bull-riding days, and glorifies his years working on oil rigs. He wears a blue plaid button-down shirt that may have once looked formal at best, but now is just as dusty and faded as everything else here. I thought because of his spitting that he was chewing tobacco, but then on closer inspection I realize that he’s just spitting, like he walked out of a Clint Eastwood movie.
He plants his hands in his jeans, and claims our motorcycle is just a modern version of his traveling cowboy days. And as we head off again under the cloud-speckled blue sky, our belongings strapped tight to our saddle bags, and the bike struggling to make headway against the incessant wind, I have to agree. Texas: northwest corner near Dalhart
I had never been to Texas, and always wanted to claim that I had, and my single night at a lonesome campground did not disappoint. The winds of the tail end of Hurricane Harvey whipped up the dust to fill the air with flying particles, and the views of the distant horizon became curtained off in a ferocious, yellowish haze. The clouds above shimmered with lightning, and then the gales tried to take away our tent, pick up the bike, and I was afraid for a moment we would be carried along with it all.So I lay in the tent hoping to hold it down with my weight, but not sure that would work. I was silently praying for the storm to pass, wringing my hands over our phone, and impatiently waiting for the weather page with the doppler to load.
At last it did, and it turned out that we were in a narrow alley between two great arms of torrential fury. The storm passed, we survived the night, and I found that everything certainly is bigger in Texas. Colorado The Switzerland of the United States, Colorado dances to its own tune, always off-step with the rest of the country, or maybe two steps ahead of us, I’m not sure which.
The state has been trademarked and published, as if every road and street sign was carefully planned by a team of expert advertisers. Every little town has been marketed with slogans, logos, stickers, and t-shirts, as if each village is a destination in itself, its trophies are cleverly advertised in billboards and brochures.
And all this marketing must be working, because even in summer off-season, the shops of Telluride are bustling with the blond, rich, and wannabe rich (and wannabe blond) who have traded their down ski jackets for stretch yoga pants and tanning lotion. But these are the foreigners come for envying views and facebook photo-ops. The true people of Colorado are one-of-a-kind, down-to-earth, practical, rooted, and even with their high altitudes and legalized pot, I find their heads are not in the clouds. And though some may be a tad snobby about the glories of their state, maybe they have reason to be.
My relationship of Colorado has been shaped by years of venturing into its valleys and up its peaks, of meeting its unique people, some of whom have become wonderful friends of mine. Though I almost want to hate the state for their clean streets lined with four different types of recycling bins, their perfectly quaint fair-trade coffee shops, their heavenly ranches where grazing horses look just as wild and a part of the landscape as the mountains themselves.
But then we turn a corner and my breath catches in my throat, and I realize that if I lived here, I would be overly-proud, too. Maybe I have also been sucked into the great big commercial that Colorado is, because whatever it is they’re selling, I think I need one.
September 6, 2017
Positives
By Tim Notier The last couple posts have illuminated the struggles we have had, but every problem has led to a better understanding on how to solve them as a team. We will be the only two members of this team for a very long time, and hopefully every so often be assisted by the generosity of others.
Problem: Started the trip without a driver’s license.
Resolution: Because the residents of the place I used as my mailing address were out of town, the neighbors watched the mail until it arrived, and mailed it directly to me. I am forever indebted to them, because starting a round-the-world trip on a motorcycle without a driver's license is not recommended.
P: My external hard drive crashed prior to leaving.
R: Bought a solid state external drive and was able to hack into the old one and transfer all my files.
P: The general inspection of my bike was taking a week longer than told, biting into our timeline.
R: Got the bike back with the limited amount of work that they were able to do and moved on (this did lead to other problems that I am currently trying to resolve).
There is a list of minor things that just weren’t going my way that seemed to add to the stress of the larger problems at hand. Luckily, most of the major problems/strings of bad luck have been solved prior to us leaving the States.
I hope no one thinks I am not appreciating this trip as the incredible gift it is. Yes, there are nightmare situations, but they are only brief moments in the dream we are participating in on a daily basis.
Highlights as of today:Seeing the solar eclipse in all of its glory on a clear day while spending time with my brother and his family.Watching Marisa read a book by a campfire while I lay in a hammock.Drinking coffee on the bank of the Rio Grande observing a family of otters play.Listening to Guns n Roses and Nine Inch Nails (which I haven’t done in 15 years) while driving through amazing scenery.Seeing the look in Marisa’s eyes when we visit sites like Mesa Verde, the Taos Pueblos, or spotting Bighorn Sheep within 20 feet as we hiked.Waking up every day knowing Marisa and I will experience magnificent things that will strengthen us as a team, and give us a new outlook of the places we visit.
Through our own teamwork, and with the assistance of strangers and friends, we have tackled every problem successfully we have come across. I hope this trend continues as more problems will inevitably arise.
Problem: Started the trip without a driver’s license.
Resolution: Because the residents of the place I used as my mailing address were out of town, the neighbors watched the mail until it arrived, and mailed it directly to me. I am forever indebted to them, because starting a round-the-world trip on a motorcycle without a driver's license is not recommended.
P: My external hard drive crashed prior to leaving.
R: Bought a solid state external drive and was able to hack into the old one and transfer all my files.
P: The general inspection of my bike was taking a week longer than told, biting into our timeline.
R: Got the bike back with the limited amount of work that they were able to do and moved on (this did lead to other problems that I am currently trying to resolve).
There is a list of minor things that just weren’t going my way that seemed to add to the stress of the larger problems at hand. Luckily, most of the major problems/strings of bad luck have been solved prior to us leaving the States.
I hope no one thinks I am not appreciating this trip as the incredible gift it is. Yes, there are nightmare situations, but they are only brief moments in the dream we are participating in on a daily basis.Highlights as of today:Seeing the solar eclipse in all of its glory on a clear day while spending time with my brother and his family.Watching Marisa read a book by a campfire while I lay in a hammock.Drinking coffee on the bank of the Rio Grande observing a family of otters play.Listening to Guns n Roses and Nine Inch Nails (which I haven’t done in 15 years) while driving through amazing scenery.Seeing the look in Marisa’s eyes when we visit sites like Mesa Verde, the Taos Pueblos, or spotting Bighorn Sheep within 20 feet as we hiked.Waking up every day knowing Marisa and I will experience magnificent things that will strengthen us as a team, and give us a new outlook of the places we visit.
Through our own teamwork, and with the assistance of strangers and friends, we have tackled every problem successfully we have come across. I hope this trend continues as more problems will inevitably arise.
August 29, 2017
Deal or No Dealer: 99 Problems Part 2
By Tim Notier Marisa and I have had a lovely time traveling through Missouri, Kansas, Oklahoma, Texas, Colorado, and New Mexico. In our short time on the road we have experienced near tornado-like conditions, rain and hail while riding down a mountain road that had more wet clay to it than gravel, and fire ants and roly-polies continuously getting into our helmets which meant Marisa freaking out... the stuff adventures are made of.
We worked as a team in all of the above scenarios, except for the roly-polies in Marisa's helmet, that was her battle. But on only the third day did we hit our first “oh-no" moment.
We were in Meade, Kansas on a Sunday afternoon for a lunch stop, and I was doing my standard walk around of the bike to be sure nothing was blatantly wrong. But something was blatantly wrong.
“We have a problem,” I told Marisa. She jumped off the phone and came running over.
I pointed to where the chain had been eating into the rear tire on the bike, leaving long sweeping gouges in the sidewall of the tire. I stared at it for half an hour as different friendly folk would walk up wondering what I was doing. The chain did not align with the guide from the sprocket, and kept wanting to pull right, into the tire.
One of the onlookers (Tracy, I am forever grateful for your assistance) stated he thought the sprocket was installed on the wrong side of the assembly.
That couldn't be it, I thought. It was just installed by a KTM dealership two weeks before. Maybe it was the lack of a spacer, or worn bearings... or the axle wasn't tightened all the way. I wasn't sure.
Luckily, I had downloaded the schematics/repair manual as a PDF on my computer prior to leaving. I looked at the breakdown of the sprocket assembly, and sure enough, the bastards installed it on the wrong side of the hub. A KTM dealer! A place of business that specifies in the functionality and repair of the very bike I own.
I am aware that mistakes happen, humans do stupid things, but the whole experience with this particular dealership was bad from the moment I said hello. They didn't stock anything, so it was a 3 week lead time to get the OEM chain and sprocket assembly. I bought one online instead, and it arrived in 3 days. Finally, the new chain guide, sprocket, and chain were all assembled by the dealership as new, and I rode away excited to be rid of their poor customer service or understanding of what I wished to be done to the bike. And I assumed the services they did provide were performed correctly.
Of course, I was wrong.
It turned out that they stock no goods, and the service was potentially life-threatening.
“Gross negligence, incompetence, and the endangerment of our lives," were the words I so elegantly told the mechanic over the phone. I didn't mean to overreact, but I am not sure what would have happened if the chain ate through the sidewall of the tire while riding 65mph fully loaded, and two up. In fact, I don't want to think about it.
I am currently in an email war with the dealership, pictures have been sent, details of how it was installed vs. how it should have been, a clear and cut case that should have immediately ended in an, “Oh my God, we are so sorry Mr. Notier” is now being stretched out with a lack of any ownership or resolution.
But overall, great trip so far. I am glad that Marisa and I have been able to get ourselves out of some pretty crappy situations. We fixed a broken chair, cleaned and reassembled our stove when it acted funny, and most importantly, had the tools and references to fix a potentially trip-ending mechanical error.
And I give many thanks to the kindness of strangers: Tracy, who let us use his driveway for repairs, in much needed shade, while his wife offered us ice water and good conversation. Tracy got his hands just as greasy and grimy as mine while helping me correct the issue at hand.
It has only been around a week's worth of travel, but it has proved we can pass certain tests, as small as most of them have been, and it proves we will be an unbeatable team when life throws a wrench (or a sprocket) at us.
We worked as a team in all of the above scenarios, except for the roly-polies in Marisa's helmet, that was her battle. But on only the third day did we hit our first “oh-no" moment.
We were in Meade, Kansas on a Sunday afternoon for a lunch stop, and I was doing my standard walk around of the bike to be sure nothing was blatantly wrong. But something was blatantly wrong.
“We have a problem,” I told Marisa. She jumped off the phone and came running over.
I pointed to where the chain had been eating into the rear tire on the bike, leaving long sweeping gouges in the sidewall of the tire. I stared at it for half an hour as different friendly folk would walk up wondering what I was doing. The chain did not align with the guide from the sprocket, and kept wanting to pull right, into the tire.
One of the onlookers (Tracy, I am forever grateful for your assistance) stated he thought the sprocket was installed on the wrong side of the assembly.That couldn't be it, I thought. It was just installed by a KTM dealership two weeks before. Maybe it was the lack of a spacer, or worn bearings... or the axle wasn't tightened all the way. I wasn't sure.
Luckily, I had downloaded the schematics/repair manual as a PDF on my computer prior to leaving. I looked at the breakdown of the sprocket assembly, and sure enough, the bastards installed it on the wrong side of the hub. A KTM dealer! A place of business that specifies in the functionality and repair of the very bike I own.
I am aware that mistakes happen, humans do stupid things, but the whole experience with this particular dealership was bad from the moment I said hello. They didn't stock anything, so it was a 3 week lead time to get the OEM chain and sprocket assembly. I bought one online instead, and it arrived in 3 days. Finally, the new chain guide, sprocket, and chain were all assembled by the dealership as new, and I rode away excited to be rid of their poor customer service or understanding of what I wished to be done to the bike. And I assumed the services they did provide were performed correctly.
Of course, I was wrong.
It turned out that they stock no goods, and the service was potentially life-threatening.
“Gross negligence, incompetence, and the endangerment of our lives," were the words I so elegantly told the mechanic over the phone. I didn't mean to overreact, but I am not sure what would have happened if the chain ate through the sidewall of the tire while riding 65mph fully loaded, and two up. In fact, I don't want to think about it.
I am currently in an email war with the dealership, pictures have been sent, details of how it was installed vs. how it should have been, a clear and cut case that should have immediately ended in an, “Oh my God, we are so sorry Mr. Notier” is now being stretched out with a lack of any ownership or resolution.
But overall, great trip so far. I am glad that Marisa and I have been able to get ourselves out of some pretty crappy situations. We fixed a broken chair, cleaned and reassembled our stove when it acted funny, and most importantly, had the tools and references to fix a potentially trip-ending mechanical error.
And I give many thanks to the kindness of strangers: Tracy, who let us use his driveway for repairs, in much needed shade, while his wife offered us ice water and good conversation. Tracy got his hands just as greasy and grimy as mine while helping me correct the issue at hand.
It has only been around a week's worth of travel, but it has proved we can pass certain tests, as small as most of them have been, and it proves we will be an unbeatable team when life throws a wrench (or a sprocket) at us.
August 22, 2017
99 Problems and My Bike is One
By Tim Notier Hit me. Our grand adventure is about to begin. In preparation, I gave us five weeks to get the final arrangements in order. We needed to accomplish a small list before we could hit the open road.Marisa and I needed to transfer the title of our bike from Arkansas and get licenses and state IDs to reflect Illinois as our “legal residence” even though we were technically homeless. I needed to take my bike to the dealership. There were 25k miles on its current chain and sprockets, and something weird was happening around 4500rpm in third, forth, and fifth gear. The bike seemed to choke up and struggle to accelerate, not very awesome when merging from an on-ramp into fast moving traffic. I also noticed what seemed to be oil gathering around a gasket on the engine.We had to transfer our money to debit accounts that would be accepted world-wide.
Then the flood gates of problems opened.
I had to use the house we rented to Marisa's parents as our residence, as it was the only address that had my name attached to it in Illinois. The documents were old, but with a little photoshop, I made all the dates current. The people at the DMV told me my IDs and title would be sent there in two to three weeks. Plenty of time, right?
With one task in motion, I called the local KTM dealership and explained my wish list for a bike check-up. They stated they couldn't get me in for two weeks. Nothing I could do about that, so I had them put me in the books.
In the following two weeks, we set up our new bank accounts that would best fit our travels, put a sum of money into CDs that would mature in a year, and I changed the fuel filter in the fuel pump, hoping that might have been a factor in the engine struggling to fly through the gears like I was used to. Most importantly, we were able to spend some quality time with family and friends.
Finally it was the day to bring my motorcycle into KTM, and they informed me the OEM chain was on backorder for three more weeks. I was frustrated, I had waited two weeks to find out I had to wait three additional weeks with no notification. I told them to run down the rest of the list, and I ordered my own OEM chain online so that it would arrive in under a week.
Now I started to get nervous about my driver's license, IDs, and bike title coming in the mail because it had been three weeks. Marisa had already received her identification, but she was listed as a male on her driver’s license. Awesome…
The Secretary of State’s website confirmed that an attempted delivery had been made, but then returned to sender. I didn’t understand why because I had updated my permanent address on USPS.com to reflect our house. A quick call to the local post office stated I failed to inform them on a local level, and that they still had on file to forward and return mail to the sender from when I moved to Arkansas two years ago. Apparently, I did not directly inform Bob, the neighborhood carrier.
So that meant my drivers license, state ID, the title to the bike, and my bank cards were all returned to sender.
The issue was corrected, and the same documents would be mailed out between two and three weeks. That timeframe was cutting into our departure date. The total solar eclipse that marked our journey’s official start date on August 21st was a week and a half away. Now I realized it was time to start worrying.
I received the OEM chain and sprocket set, so I headed back to KTM. I dropped the parts off only to find out they had not ordered the chain guide as of yet, and it would be another week until they received it in. They had also not looked at the bike for her “bill of health”.
This was particularly disconcerting because at that moment I did not have a license nor a motorcycle, and we were just around a week away from our scheduled riding around the world on a motorcycle departure date. We were running out of time.
It had been an entire month of daily frustration, disappointments, and false promises that ate away at me while neglecting to reflect on the big picture. I was pissy and stubborn to Marisa, I acted like a child who did not get what he wanted that very second. The whole month I was surrounded by love and support, friendships and family, but chose to focus only on the seemingly never-ending relentless attacks against me and my personal goals.
Marisa not only dealt with me, but was the guiding light to get me back on track to the reality of what we were about to do and how lucky we truly were. I would complain that nothing was going as it should as she calmly explained that we would have to adapt and figure out problems on-the-fly.
“You’re going to do great, love,” she said with a smile. “My mom just texted me, still no mail for you.”
“Big picture, Tim,” I said to myself aloud.
. . . To Be Continued . . .
Then the flood gates of problems opened.
I had to use the house we rented to Marisa's parents as our residence, as it was the only address that had my name attached to it in Illinois. The documents were old, but with a little photoshop, I made all the dates current. The people at the DMV told me my IDs and title would be sent there in two to three weeks. Plenty of time, right?With one task in motion, I called the local KTM dealership and explained my wish list for a bike check-up. They stated they couldn't get me in for two weeks. Nothing I could do about that, so I had them put me in the books.
In the following two weeks, we set up our new bank accounts that would best fit our travels, put a sum of money into CDs that would mature in a year, and I changed the fuel filter in the fuel pump, hoping that might have been a factor in the engine struggling to fly through the gears like I was used to. Most importantly, we were able to spend some quality time with family and friends.
Finally it was the day to bring my motorcycle into KTM, and they informed me the OEM chain was on backorder for three more weeks. I was frustrated, I had waited two weeks to find out I had to wait three additional weeks with no notification. I told them to run down the rest of the list, and I ordered my own OEM chain online so that it would arrive in under a week.
Now I started to get nervous about my driver's license, IDs, and bike title coming in the mail because it had been three weeks. Marisa had already received her identification, but she was listed as a male on her driver’s license. Awesome…
The Secretary of State’s website confirmed that an attempted delivery had been made, but then returned to sender. I didn’t understand why because I had updated my permanent address on USPS.com to reflect our house. A quick call to the local post office stated I failed to inform them on a local level, and that they still had on file to forward and return mail to the sender from when I moved to Arkansas two years ago. Apparently, I did not directly inform Bob, the neighborhood carrier.
So that meant my drivers license, state ID, the title to the bike, and my bank cards were all returned to sender.
The issue was corrected, and the same documents would be mailed out between two and three weeks. That timeframe was cutting into our departure date. The total solar eclipse that marked our journey’s official start date on August 21st was a week and a half away. Now I realized it was time to start worrying.
I received the OEM chain and sprocket set, so I headed back to KTM. I dropped the parts off only to find out they had not ordered the chain guide as of yet, and it would be another week until they received it in. They had also not looked at the bike for her “bill of health”.
This was particularly disconcerting because at that moment I did not have a license nor a motorcycle, and we were just around a week away from our scheduled riding around the world on a motorcycle departure date. We were running out of time.
It had been an entire month of daily frustration, disappointments, and false promises that ate away at me while neglecting to reflect on the big picture. I was pissy and stubborn to Marisa, I acted like a child who did not get what he wanted that very second. The whole month I was surrounded by love and support, friendships and family, but chose to focus only on the seemingly never-ending relentless attacks against me and my personal goals.
Marisa not only dealt with me, but was the guiding light to get me back on track to the reality of what we were about to do and how lucky we truly were. I would complain that nothing was going as it should as she calmly explained that we would have to adapt and figure out problems on-the-fly.
“You’re going to do great, love,” she said with a smile. “My mom just texted me, still no mail for you.”
“Big picture, Tim,” I said to myself aloud.
. . . To Be Continued . . .
July 24, 2017
Test-Run Around Lake Michigan
By Tim Notier It only took two weeks on the bike around Lake Michigan to figure out that we need to lose a lot of gear. It's one thing to go through your belongings and think about what you'll need on a three-year trip around the world, and it's another thing to actually pack it all on and ride around. The bike becomes heavy and unmanageable, especially on rough roads, and the gas mileage drastically worsens. But that was why we took this test-run trip, to figure out what we need to add or lose (more like lose) for our real journey. The trip was incredible, and full of swimming, camping, and fires on the beach with friends. We had a wonderful time, and learned a valuable lesson, and will now be heading off into the unknown a little smarter than we were before. Our main problem was we were top heavy. All of our gear had a perfect place to fit, accessibility was based on its priority to us. Our Pelican case was weather resistant and lockable to store our electronics, but it elevated our main bag 8". It was hard to say we needed to get rid it of because of the security from both the weather and would-be thieves, but, it elevated the weight of our other gear and seemed to double the weight of our main bag because of its height.
Gear will now need to be reduced and relocated to new permanent homes, but the standard picture that comes to mind of Adv bikes having a rear bag, two panniers, and two dry bags on top of each pannier will be the set-up we will try next. It seems the reason we saw so many pictures of adventure motorcycles set up in this way is because it makes the best balance between storage and weight distribution.
We will be making the proper adjustments and hope that our adjustments will be just right for the real trip. We better get it right now, because this is our last chance. We will be setting off in three weeks!
Gear will now need to be reduced and relocated to new permanent homes, but the standard picture that comes to mind of Adv bikes having a rear bag, two panniers, and two dry bags on top of each pannier will be the set-up we will try next. It seems the reason we saw so many pictures of adventure motorcycles set up in this way is because it makes the best balance between storage and weight distribution.
We will be making the proper adjustments and hope that our adjustments will be just right for the real trip. We better get it right now, because this is our last chance. We will be setting off in three weeks!
June 13, 2017
5 Rules for Rough Camping Successfully
By Marisa 
Tim and I went camping in the Ouachita National Forest to put our new gear to the test. We had a newly purchased Nemo tent, air pad mattresses, and a water purifier pump to get down and dirty with. We also wanted to test Tim's never-ending improvements to the way he packs everything onto the bike.
So we headed out with just the gear on the bike, and found the most amazing spot in the mountains complete with a cave and a nearby stream.
I have rough camped in all sorts of places, but each and every time is a new experience. So I wanted to be sure we would have the proper equipment to do this in, and to start building the expertise to be confident we would survive the elements once we are out in the true wilds of the world, not just an hour from home.
While testing our gear, I came up with a short check list that Tim and I should go through while on the road. 1) Do Your Research (when available) What I mean by this is first, figure out the laws concerning camping in the area you wish to go to, and make sure it's legal before you get out there. We never want to wake up to police writing us a citation, or a farmer with a shotgun yelling, Y'all best be moving along down the road now, ya hear?
Second, check the weather. This may seem obvious, but mother nature can either make or break sections of the trip, and you don't want to assume anything.
The first time I'd ever camped without a tent was in the sand dunes of Wadi Araba in Jordan. I remember wrapping myself in my blanket (it was actually a donkey saddle pad with a nice odor to it), looking up at the stars thinking, Ah, it's so nice there's no rain in the desert. But of course it rained on me that night, not terribly hard, but enough to make me think twice about my assumptions of weather. So never think you know, and look up the weather before you go. Delaying the next leg of the trip by a day or two may lead to a much more enjoyable continuation to the journey.
And finally, check and double check your GPS and maps on where you're going. You don't want to turn your camping weekend into a camping month when you can't find your way out of there.
2) Worry about Water Before you go, purchase a water purifying pump, and then if at all possible, try to set up camp with a stream or spring nearby so that you'll have a constant supply of drinking water. And keep in mind that water is necessary not just for drinking, but also cooking, washing your hands, doing dishes, brushing your teeth... the cleaner you can stay while camping, the better you'll feel when there.
If you're going to be in a place with no surface water, then you'll have to haul in your own. They say to bring at least eight liters of water per person per day, and from my own experience, this is no joke nor an exaggeration. Because in the right climate, such as a dry hot desert, I've gone through that in less than a day and felt I would die of thirst without more. And a lack of water is statistically the quickest way to die in the wilderness.
Extra Tips: Drinking all your water at once will actually sustain you longer than taking little sips. Most lost hikers who die from thirst are found with a little water left in their canteens. To conserve water, travel at night, not day, and cover up when in the sun. 3) Plan Your Meals
Unless you're a world champ fisherman, you may want to pack some food for your trip. And even if you are Garth the Gatherer, packing emergency reserves is wise, since I've heard horror stories about people who thought they'd catch what they needed, and then just ended up starving for two weeks in the woods. Very unwise.
Dehydrated foods and MRE's are great and pack light. Rice, pasta, beans, and other dried foods can also be good, but just take into account the amount of water and fuel needed to cook them. Everyone loves a good hotdog roasted over the fire, but meats are only good for so long without refrigeration. I like to buy frozen foods in the morning, and usually they'll be thawed and perfect for cooking by dinner, but that's only good for day one.
Other thoughts about food: pots and pans are huge, but a roll of tin foil and a few potatoes can go a long way. Any food and other smelly items (such as toothpaste, deodorant, soap) should be tied up in a tree at night to keep safe from raccoons and bears. So don't forget your twine or rope, and make sure the tree is far from your tent so you're not in a predator's way. 4) Think About Fuel for Fire
No camping trip would be complete without a campfire. The majority of the time when in the wild, purchasing firewood will not be an option, so you'll be scrounging from the landscape. And if you're not in the right environment, your firewood foraging could add to the destruction of the nature that you're there for.
What's worse, if it's too dry out, campfires can cause wilderness fires which are dangerous and may completely destroy vast sections of forest. You don't want to be the person on the nightly news who burnt down the park. Plus, you can be fined or even arrested for breaking a burn ban. So check those burn warnings before heading out, and bring what you need while keeping your fires cozy and small. 5) Learn How to Poop in the Woods Tim's biggest fear: pooping in the woods, and sorry, I don't really have a picture to show for this one. There is this myth and fear that Westerners who are used to toilets cannot poop while squatting. I had been told this before my first sojourn into the woods, and on the first night on the Appalachian Trail (which actually has some outhouses, but I didn't know at the time), I found a log, sat over it, and made a big mess of everything. Then I learned how to squat and the world was right once more.
If you've never squatted in the woods before, practice at home by squatting with your feet flat (not baseball catcher style on your toes). But unless you have some squat toilet in your house or hole in the backyard you'd like to try out, the real deal is very hard to practice. But if you can muster the courage to squat while out in the wilderness, bring some toilet paper, and bring water and soap if you'd like, and you may find it's not so bad after all. Not nearly as bad as some bathrooms you've been in, I'm sure.
Shovels are useful because nothing's worse than the smell of human feces. Plus, burying it feels a bit like flushing. Also if you can, try to burn your toilet paper, because as I found in the outback of Australia, every night dingoes would dig up our excrement-covered toilet paper and drag it all around camp, I have no idea why. And don't forget that you may pee at the same time as doing number two, so be prepared for that.
I successfully potty trained Tim while in the woods, using the same encouraging words you would to a three year old. "Good job!" and "Did you remember to burry it?" and "I am so proud of you!" There are few things on this earth more stubborn than Tim, so if he can do it, the rest of you are a sure bet.
Those were my 5 most important tips for successfully rough camping. Please leave your comments below, tell us your mistakes, successes, and horror stories, and let me know if you have any more words of advice.
Happy camping! Check out our short video highlighting the water and nature of our latest camping trip: roughing it in the Ouachita Mountains of Arkansas.
Tim and I went camping in the Ouachita National Forest to put our new gear to the test. We had a newly purchased Nemo tent, air pad mattresses, and a water purifier pump to get down and dirty with. We also wanted to test Tim's never-ending improvements to the way he packs everything onto the bike.So we headed out with just the gear on the bike, and found the most amazing spot in the mountains complete with a cave and a nearby stream.
I have rough camped in all sorts of places, but each and every time is a new experience. So I wanted to be sure we would have the proper equipment to do this in, and to start building the expertise to be confident we would survive the elements once we are out in the true wilds of the world, not just an hour from home.
While testing our gear, I came up with a short check list that Tim and I should go through while on the road. 1) Do Your Research (when available) What I mean by this is first, figure out the laws concerning camping in the area you wish to go to, and make sure it's legal before you get out there. We never want to wake up to police writing us a citation, or a farmer with a shotgun yelling, Y'all best be moving along down the road now, ya hear?
Second, check the weather. This may seem obvious, but mother nature can either make or break sections of the trip, and you don't want to assume anything.
The first time I'd ever camped without a tent was in the sand dunes of Wadi Araba in Jordan. I remember wrapping myself in my blanket (it was actually a donkey saddle pad with a nice odor to it), looking up at the stars thinking, Ah, it's so nice there's no rain in the desert. But of course it rained on me that night, not terribly hard, but enough to make me think twice about my assumptions of weather. So never think you know, and look up the weather before you go. Delaying the next leg of the trip by a day or two may lead to a much more enjoyable continuation to the journey.
And finally, check and double check your GPS and maps on where you're going. You don't want to turn your camping weekend into a camping month when you can't find your way out of there.
2) Worry about Water Before you go, purchase a water purifying pump, and then if at all possible, try to set up camp with a stream or spring nearby so that you'll have a constant supply of drinking water. And keep in mind that water is necessary not just for drinking, but also cooking, washing your hands, doing dishes, brushing your teeth... the cleaner you can stay while camping, the better you'll feel when there.If you're going to be in a place with no surface water, then you'll have to haul in your own. They say to bring at least eight liters of water per person per day, and from my own experience, this is no joke nor an exaggeration. Because in the right climate, such as a dry hot desert, I've gone through that in less than a day and felt I would die of thirst without more. And a lack of water is statistically the quickest way to die in the wilderness.
Extra Tips: Drinking all your water at once will actually sustain you longer than taking little sips. Most lost hikers who die from thirst are found with a little water left in their canteens. To conserve water, travel at night, not day, and cover up when in the sun. 3) Plan Your Meals
Unless you're a world champ fisherman, you may want to pack some food for your trip. And even if you are Garth the Gatherer, packing emergency reserves is wise, since I've heard horror stories about people who thought they'd catch what they needed, and then just ended up starving for two weeks in the woods. Very unwise.Dehydrated foods and MRE's are great and pack light. Rice, pasta, beans, and other dried foods can also be good, but just take into account the amount of water and fuel needed to cook them. Everyone loves a good hotdog roasted over the fire, but meats are only good for so long without refrigeration. I like to buy frozen foods in the morning, and usually they'll be thawed and perfect for cooking by dinner, but that's only good for day one.
Other thoughts about food: pots and pans are huge, but a roll of tin foil and a few potatoes can go a long way. Any food and other smelly items (such as toothpaste, deodorant, soap) should be tied up in a tree at night to keep safe from raccoons and bears. So don't forget your twine or rope, and make sure the tree is far from your tent so you're not in a predator's way. 4) Think About Fuel for Fire
No camping trip would be complete without a campfire. The majority of the time when in the wild, purchasing firewood will not be an option, so you'll be scrounging from the landscape. And if you're not in the right environment, your firewood foraging could add to the destruction of the nature that you're there for. What's worse, if it's too dry out, campfires can cause wilderness fires which are dangerous and may completely destroy vast sections of forest. You don't want to be the person on the nightly news who burnt down the park. Plus, you can be fined or even arrested for breaking a burn ban. So check those burn warnings before heading out, and bring what you need while keeping your fires cozy and small. 5) Learn How to Poop in the Woods Tim's biggest fear: pooping in the woods, and sorry, I don't really have a picture to show for this one. There is this myth and fear that Westerners who are used to toilets cannot poop while squatting. I had been told this before my first sojourn into the woods, and on the first night on the Appalachian Trail (which actually has some outhouses, but I didn't know at the time), I found a log, sat over it, and made a big mess of everything. Then I learned how to squat and the world was right once more.
If you've never squatted in the woods before, practice at home by squatting with your feet flat (not baseball catcher style on your toes). But unless you have some squat toilet in your house or hole in the backyard you'd like to try out, the real deal is very hard to practice. But if you can muster the courage to squat while out in the wilderness, bring some toilet paper, and bring water and soap if you'd like, and you may find it's not so bad after all. Not nearly as bad as some bathrooms you've been in, I'm sure.
Shovels are useful because nothing's worse than the smell of human feces. Plus, burying it feels a bit like flushing. Also if you can, try to burn your toilet paper, because as I found in the outback of Australia, every night dingoes would dig up our excrement-covered toilet paper and drag it all around camp, I have no idea why. And don't forget that you may pee at the same time as doing number two, so be prepared for that.
I successfully potty trained Tim while in the woods, using the same encouraging words you would to a three year old. "Good job!" and "Did you remember to burry it?" and "I am so proud of you!" There are few things on this earth more stubborn than Tim, so if he can do it, the rest of you are a sure bet.
Those were my 5 most important tips for successfully rough camping. Please leave your comments below, tell us your mistakes, successes, and horror stories, and let me know if you have any more words of advice.Happy camping! Check out our short video highlighting the water and nature of our latest camping trip: roughing it in the Ouachita Mountains of Arkansas.
