Ride Report: Rocky Mountain High

My ride report -- Canada and back, 5000 miles in ten days! -- is now complete in both the forums and on my website.

Where I've Been Lately (Updated)

My latest adventure added the states of Idaho, Wyoming, Montana, South Dakota, Nebraska, and Kansas (as well as British Columbia and Alberta, Canada) to the list of places where I've recently ridden my motorcycles.

4,874 Miles Later...

...and I'm home again, safe and sound, already dreaming about the next adventure. This is my longest ride ever: nearly five thousand miles in ten days. With my friends Elaine and Greg, I went all the way to Lake Louise in Banff National Park, Canada, with so many stops in between (New Mexico, Colorado, Wyoming, Idaho, Montana, South Dakota, Nebraska, Kansas) that it'll take me a month to get the ride report completed. How cool, though, to have ridden in both Mexico and Canada in the same year!

Except for a wiring problem in a turn signal that I deemed too difficult (but not impossible) to bother fixing on the roadside, the ZZR performed flawlessly, arriving home with over 32,000 miles on her odometer. What a great bike this has been for me: fast, comfortable, reliable. Up in Canada, I got my best gas mileage ever: 45.9 miles to the gallon (12.1 miles per liter, if you're Canadian -- ha!). Nearly 46 mpg on a machine making 160-something horsepower? That's just unbelievable.

Full report to follow. Watch this blog or my website...

Canada or Bust!

Sort through your crayon box ... find just the right one ... yeah, that's it ... the one labeled "gone." Color me gone.

This'll be the first time I've ever ridden with a two-way radio piped into my helmet. I can talk to truckers ("Get the hell outta my way, Road Hog!"), ask about important points of interest ("Where did you say that friggin' cop is hiding?!?!"), and keep in touch with my riding partner ("Greg, I gotta stop to pee!"). It's a Midland 40-channel citizen's band and weather radio combined with a J&M headset. I had some reservations about hacking up the interior of my Scorpion helmet to install the headset, so I went back to the old Shoei that I quit wearing a year or so ago. No worries, though; everything went in just fine despite some insane Styrofoam-hazy moments between me and the Exacto knife. Seems to work like a charm, but this'll be its first true road test. I can use the headset to pipe my iPod tunes into my helmet, too, but I suspect at speed I'll need to switch to my earbuds. Pink Floyd and the drone of hundred mph wind just don't mix all that well.

My friends Greg and Elaine will be on their luxurious new Goldwing, relaxing, playing ping-pong in the rec room, watching satellite television on the bigscreen, and so on. Damn thing probably has a trunk monkey that fixes margaritas and nachos en route. When the ZZR and I are shivering in Glacier National Park, Greg and Elaine will be toasting their fannies on heated seats while the trunk monkey passes them hot chocolate -- complete with those little marshmallows bobbing like exclamation marks on the sea of euphoria that follows a truly epic ride. Some people are just spoiled, I tell ya!

Full ride report when the ZZR and I get back, approximately four thousand miles older and wiser.

"Where have you been lately on your motorcycle..?"

Found this cool website and thought I would share. From TravelBlog, you can generate a map highlighting all the states you've visited. The map below shows all the states in which I've traveled on my motorcycles in the last 3 or 4 years. Click the image to enlarge it, of course.

In the next couple of weeks I'll be adding a large chunk of real estate from the Pacific Northwest.

"Like Sardines in a Can..."

4 bikes. 1 trailer. A shitload of tie-downs. And we're off ... Mexico will never be the same.

"The Road Beckons..."

Seems the Beemer and I are always going through this ... What to take? What to leave behind? Is the bike ready? Am I? As usual, my pool table becomes a staging area.

The forecast calls for rain, both here in Oklahoma and in northwestern Arkansas. On a positive note, it appears we'll have much warmer weather than we usually have for the Hillbilly Dualsport Rally in Eureka Springs. Wasn't it just last year that I awoke to three or four inches of snow on the morning of departure? No snow in the forecast this year. In fact, the weathermen are predicting temps in the low seventies. Best to pack warm gear, though, even if I don't wind up needing it. Even without the threat of rain, there are a lot of water crossings in the Ozarks, and I get cold when I'm wet.

I'll be riding out with my friend Chris Marlow. He'll be on his DR-Z400, so our speeds won't be anything to brag about -- call it a nice, liesurely ride for my 650cc Dakar ... plenty of time to snap some pics and admire the scenery. Both of us are rehearsing for our Copper Canyon run just two weeks away. (We'll only have one weekend to turn around the bikes: oil changes, tires, air filters, any necessary repairs, etc.) Packing is especially critical for Chris because space is at a premium on the little DR-Z. I've got it much easier on the BMW. Even so, I'm carrying things I don't usually take, just to see how well I can pack the bike, things like spare clutch and throttle cables, spare levers, etc -- things that could leave me crippled on the side of the road in Mexico in the event of a failure, at the mercy of los banditos. I'd hoped to have a new battery installed by now, but the one I ordered is still on backorder, as are several trick components from Touratech (folding brake pedal, offroad chain guide, and an oil-type air filter to replace the BMW's paper cartridge). Maybe some of it will arrive before we leave for Mexico. At the very least, I'd like to get rid of the BMW's acid-type battery, which has already boiled over on me once.

Danny will meet us in Arkansas (after trailering up with his wife). He'll be going through the same sort of thing with his XR650L, making sure it's ready for Mexico. The final rider for our Copper Canyon adventure, Rich Desmond, won't be playing with us in Arkansas this time around. He's got something else going on down in Texas with his Concours-riding buddies.

The four of us have been planning this Mexico trip for a long time. I'm glad the departure date is nearly upon us.

But for now ... Arkansas, here we come. David Hemphill, the Kansas rider responsible for this rally, is predicting a record-breaking crowd. Last I heard, there were more than 50 rooms reserved at the primary hotel -- and some riders will undoubtedly choose different digs or camp out.

I look forward to meeting up with old dualsporting friends and making new ones.

"A is for Adventure..."

I’m camped beneath the spillway at Spavinaw State Park in northeastern Oklahoma, lulled to sleep by the sound of all that water pouring over the dam. For the first time, I understand those white noise machines some people use when they sleep. The spillway here is an impressive sight – it’s got to be 300 yards long! – and tonight there’s a lot of water flowing. It’s a relaxing accompaniment to the phantom motion of the motorcycle still moving beneath me: muscle-memory from having flown the twisty stretch of Highway 10 that parallels the banks of the Illinois River earlier in the day.

I’m feeling a bit smug, being the only camper – other than the campground hosts. When I pulled up to the old couple’s RV to ask how much it would cost to pitch my tent for the night, they seemed reluctant to step away from their campfire. After all, the temperature was in the thirties! I think it was the bike that lured the husband away. You don’t see too many Triumph Tigers in Oklahoma, especially one like this, all outfitted for dualsport riding. After inquiring about the bike (“That sure ain’t no Harley!”), the campground host told me that technically Spavinaw State Park wasn’t open, this being the off-season, but that I was welcome to camp anyway … free of charge!

Fifteen minutes later, my tent was up and my sleeping gear arranged. I had 30 minutes to hike around and appreciate the dam and its spillway, then the sun was setting and the temperature was really plunging. I crawled into my North Face mummy bag, comfy and warm, feeling as if everything was right with the world. As always, Mother Nature welcomed me with open arms. Later, it rained, a new music tapped out on my tent. The wind picked up, rattling the barren winter tree limbs and rustling through old piles of oak leaves. Somewhere nearby an owl asked its eternal question and another nocturnal creature used a hollow log to tap out a tempo for nature’s midnight symphony.

I could paint a similar picture for you involving other nights in various state parks and campgrounds throughout Oklahoma. Or write about the rural backroads that led me there, some paved, some not – all of them followed purely for the love of adventure. Where does this go? What interesting thing will I find just around that next bend?




Motorcycling is one of the last freedoms for those who want to experience adventure, meet interesting people, and completely immerse themselves in the environment. Yes, you can hike or bicycle and experience the same things (even more so, some might argue), but on my motorcycle I can cover more ground, thereby seeing and enjoying more in the sparse time that work and family responsibilities allot me. I could do the same thing in an automobile, but then I’d be isolated from the environment, wrapped in a bubble whose primary purpose is to separate me from the very elements I seek; I’d be more like a passenger, rather than a participant in my own motion, losing the interaction that the bike affords me.

The motorcycle is a magnet, always drawing out interesting locals who want to know where you’re going, what you’re riding, and “Hey, aren’t you freezing your ass off on that thing?” At the gas pump, you’re bound to meet the old guy who wants to tell you about the motorcycle he owned 40 years ago, the young guy whose wife won’t let him have one (but he sure does admire yours!), or the attractive middle-aged woman longing to be taken for a ride. The Tiger lured them because it was so unusual. With my BMW, I get the standard “I didn’t even know BMW made motorcycles!” My sport-touring bike, a Kawasaki ZZR1200, generally has folks scratching their heads, having never seen a “crotch-rocket” outfitted with hard bags.

Each of these interactions serves as foundation and fuel for my spirit of adventure, because I can see it in their eyes: they wish they were the one on the bike. Looking at me in my weathered motorcycle gear, bespattered with bugs and stained with miles upon miles of road grime, they see an escape from everything presently gnawing at their soul: the nine-to-five job; the long, boring evenings spent in front of the tube being prompted when to laugh by some inane laugh-track; the Hyundai that gets 40 mpg but accelerates like an arthritic snail in a headwind. I’m the bold adventurer, the tarnished knight off on some glorious quest, the cowboy riding his steel steed off into the sunset. Of course, I’m not about to tell them I’m just an Average Joe, same as them!

A distinct aura of trepidation is often coupled with their longing. These are the people who believe motorcycles are dangerous (and are generally quick to share that opinion with those of us who know and understand motorcycling and its dangers far better than they ever will). These are the people who have weighed the perceived dangers and hardships against the adventure and decided, sadly enough, to remain at home on the couch … but their longing remains. And I believe it eats away at them over the years, slowly but surely.

Monday might find me back at my own arduous nine-to-fiver, but I’ll endure it with a patience and optimism inspired by my recent journeys and the certain knowledge that my bikes and the next weekend are just that close. And I’ll meet the challenges in my life with the knowledge that safety is gained not by avoiding risk and hardship, but rather by embracing the opportunity to rise above those challenges. I understand that safety isn't bought by barring the door and staying at home, but rather by training oneself to face everything the world is capable of throwing at you, by experiencing the fullness of adventure and learning from it.




Leaving Spavinaw in the morning, there’s thick fog, and I head south with an extra measure of caution, watching for critters and ice, both of which seem to have an attraction to Oklahoma’s roadways. The folks at the Denny’s at the junction of Highways 82 and 412 look at me like I’m nuts to be out on a bike in winter, but this is what I love, folks. This is adventure riding.

As I sit there with the heat of the restaurant raising vapors from my cold, wet gear, bacon and eggs never tasted so good. The locals are huddled beneath their woolen caps and up-turned collars, their hands wrapped tightly around steaming mugs of coffee. I can feel their eyes on me. I already know the questions they’re dying to ask.

When the waitress refills my coffee, she takes a long look out the window at the motorcycle and sighs wistfully. “I bet everyone asks you if you’re cold,” she says with a knowing smile and an intelligent laugh that says she already knows I’m not.

I just wink at her.

---

[Notes: (1) I keep writing serious stuff for the print magazine, Ride Oklahoma, and James Pratt keeps tossing it back at me, asking for humor. He doesn't realize I'm really not that funny of a guy. The plus side of it, I guess, is that you get the serious stuff posted here for free ... but then I'm not sure if anybody's actually reading this stuff or not. See that link below for leaving comments? If you're reading these essays, please do say something from time to time ... otherwise, I think I'll just go riding instead of writing. (2) My Tiger's long gone, of course. I do miss it quite often. If you missed the story of its demise, you can read all about that fateful adventure on my website, http://bahwolf.com/. (3) Oklahoma has some really wonderful state parks, Spavinaw included. For more information, a great place to start is http://www.oklahomaparks.com/]

Stranded, "Like a Ship Out Of Water..."

I did exactly 500 miles my first day on the road, departing Oklahoma via the southeast corner, nipping a wee bit of Texas and Arkansas as I worked my way into northern Louisiana. The ZZR was running beautifully, the new chain and sprockets I'd installed last weekend humming along smoothly. (I'd been hearing and feeling quite a bit of crunching and grinding from the old hardware, but what do you expect after 25,000 miles on a sportbike that makes 160-something horsepower? I'd say I got my money's worth out of the original set.) Twilight found me pulling into a Super-8 somewhere along I-20.

I considered rolling the bike into my room, but it's quite a workout muscling the big ZZR through a standard-sized doorway. I settled for rolling it up on the sidewalk and parking it in front of my window. With the blinds partway open, I could keep an eye on it. If anyone messed with it in the middle of the night, I'd hear them. Wish I'd gone ahead and rolled it in the room, however, because my battery -- the original battery, now three and a half years old -- didn't care for the 28 degree low that night. When I tried to start the bike in the morning, I got nothing ... absolutely nothing, not even the clicking of a starter solenoid.

I wandered the parking lot of the hotel for the next hour until I finally found someone with jumper cables. The bike started easily enough using the juice from a good Samaritan's auto. See, cages are good for something after all!

Unfortunately, that was not to be the end of my woes. I blazed out I-20 (my first and only bit of Interstate for this trip), heading for Vicksburg. It had warmed up a bit. About 31 degrees, I think. My carbs were icing: the bike sputtering and stumbling any time I backed off the throttle or went to speed up for a pass. Just across the Mississippi River, I exited on Highway 61. The bike stuttered, tried to die a couple times. I was looking for a place to stop and let the carbs warm up. (To be honest, I kinda needed to warm up too.) There was some construction, and as I pulled in the clutch to downshift around some of those lovely orange cones that always haunt such areas, the bike stalled. Naturally, I immediately dumped the clutch to do a rolling restart. Nothing. I pulled in the clutch and hit the starter button. Nothing. Glanced down at my dash and absolutely nothing was lit, not even the digital clock.

I rolled to the side of the road. Battery again, I thought. The next five cars that came along -- when I waved at their drivers to flag them down and ask about cables and a jump -- sped up and passed me by. Thanks, folks! However, the next guy stopped. Charles didn't have cables, but offered to run down the road to a buddy's auto garage and borrow some for me. Definitely above and beyond! Charles confessed to being a rider himself. Said he had a Harley-Davidson, of course. I think he was getting a kick out of finding a rice-burner broken down alongside the road ("crotch rocket," I think he called it -- or that might have been the cop that came along later and was so concerned about me being stalled in the construction zone). Isn't it the Harleys we always expect to find?

We tried jumping the bike, but it wasn't getting any juice to the starter. I checked everything I knew, even the secret (not included in Kawasaki's wiring diagrams for the bike) 30 amp main fuse hidden down beside the battery well, but my troubleshooting was yielding nada damn thing. The cop wanted to have me towed out of his construction zone. I asked that they try calling any local bike shops, knowing from experience that they'd charge me a lot less than a tow company. They tried three bike shops: all of them were closed until after the first of the year. Crap!

Then Charles remembered an ATV and lawnmower dealership on 61 north of the Interstate. We called them and one of the guys agreed to come get me. He loaded my bike on a trailer and hauled it back to their shop, Magnolia Lawn and Tractor (1029 Hwy 61 North, Vicksburg, MS), where they helped me diagnose the problem. Turned out to be a blown fuse hidden in the connector for the starter solenoid. (Another fuse not shown in the wiring diagrams in Kawasaki's ZZR1200 service manual.) I'd obviously blown the fuse while jump-starting the bike. The bike had run just fine until it stalled, but of course, with the fuse blown it hadn't been charging the battery even when running. They happened to have a brand new battery in stock that fit my bike. The price was reasonable, so I bought it. They charged me just a half hour labor for working on the bike and installing the battery, even though I know I took up at least 2 hours of their time. And the guy who drove his own truck about 10 miles each way to pick me up off the side of the road wouldn't take a dime. Great folks! If you're ever in Vicksburg, stop in and say hello. If you live nearby and need a new mower or a Polaris ATV or work done on something, take your business to them. They certainly saved my bacon.

Having lost more than 3 hours out of my day, I skipped the sightseeing plans I had for the east bank of the Mississippi River. Maybe on the return trip. I pulled into my folks' driveway in Gulfport just shy of 5 p.m.

Gulfport hasn't changed much since my last visit. (For example, the tugboat pictured above is still beached near those railroad tracks, a LONG ways from the water.) Things are still in recovery mode here. Katrina still dominates the local news. Blue tarps still cover an inordinate number of rooves. FEMA trailer parks are still crowded. Insurance companies are doing their best to screw everyone they can. New Orleans gets all the national media attention (and, according to folks I talked to on the way down here, New Orleans gets most of the government money for rebuilding). The Highway 90 span over Bay St Louis is still down, although they have a ferry across the bay now -- something I think the ZZR and I will have to try. With my luck, though, the ferry will probably sink!

I'll write more as I get out and explore a bit.

"All My Bags are Packed and I'm Ready to Go..."

Despite Pratt's teasing about overpacking and overplanning, my bike is loaded with everything I'll need and plenty of room to spare, using nothing more than my Givi sidebags and a small tankbag.

Of course, the friggin' weatherman is predicting a low tonight of 25 degrees! No worries, by the time I hit the road about 8 a.m., the temp will have climbed to at least 28. Piece of cake! (Well, maybe. Last time I started a trip when it was this cold, I had trouble with my carbs icing up. It's not a show stopper, mind you; just means I'll need to stop occasionally and allow the heat of the idling bike to de-ice them. I can hug the headers and de-ice myself at the same time.) As you can tell from the parenthetical, my Kawasaki ZZR1200 won out over the BMW Dakar as to the weapon of choice for this trip. Something about having all that plastic to hide behind and a monstrous alternator (I think it puts out about 640 watts) to run my electric vest, grips, the portable space heater I'll be balancing on my lap, etc.


I'll post more when I have Internet access ... from some warmer clime.

Hope everyone had a merry Christmas!

"Everything But the Kitchen Sink..."

While most of you are enjoying leftovers from the Christmas goose, I'll be hitting the road.

With two weeks of time off from "the dreaded day job" (that dispiriting slice of Hell I endure in order to pay for my motorcycles), I know I'll go apeshit if I stick around the house. Even without the wife's "So, where do you think you'll go while you're off work?" (note she says "where," not "if"), I know she's hoping I'm leaving (without committing the insult of actually saying so) and wondering if she could endure having me at home for that length of time any more than I could endure being here. If Horton hears a Who around my house on the day after Christmas, it'll be the neighbors asking "Who was that masked man who just blazed out of here at 120 miles an hour?" (Actually, scratch that last bit. The neighbors will know good and well who it was.) The wife will tell me how much she's going to miss me, give me a peck on the cheek, and make me promise to be careful, but I know when the garage door drops behind me it'll be masking a huge sigh of relief. Thank God, I won't have to put up with his sorry ass moping around the house! And me, I'm off on another motorcycle adventure, just about the only thing that stirs my tired old soul anymore.

So ... win-win situation all around, right? That's what I tell myself. Such is the state of things when you've been hanging out with the same person for 30 years. But I digress...

The packing for this trip will start several days in advance. I use my pool table as a staging area (my dreams of becoming satisfyingly good at billiards died long ago), slowly gathering all the items I'll need after carefully weighing gear options that vary on my decision about which bike to take, what the weather's going to be like, how long I'll be gone, etc. Over the years, I've built a pretty detailed checklist for my motorcycle traveling. If you haven't started one of your own, you should.

The most obvious place to start is the gear you'll be wearing while riding. Head to toe: helmet, jacket, gloves, riding pants, boots, etc. If I'm going to be out for more than a day or two, I'll wear a do-rag under my helmet, purely in the interest of keeping my helmet liner fresh. I also wear ear plugs when traveling to prevent that annoying ringing at the end of a long day. The type of helmet I take will vary on the type of riding I do: my Scorpion for street, my Arai XD for dualsport, my dirtbike helmet for pure offroad stuff. (Reading this article, you'll discover rather quickly that I'm something of a "gear whore.") If I'm taking my XD or dirtbike helmet, my checklist will remind me to pack my goggles. Since I generally travel with a tinted helmet visor, I'll pack a clear one for those times I'm caught out at night or in a storm.

My jacket and pants decision varies on the type of bike I'm taking, the length of the trip, type of riding I'll be doing, and so forth. Do I want leather or textile? For a spirited sportbike outing, I'm apt to go with leather -- because roadrash really, really sucks and the risk of me acquiring some is higher when chasing some of my crazy friends through the twisties -- but my textile gear is generally better for touring or dualsport rides. If I'm wearing leather, my checklist reminds me to take rain gear. Gloves: I generally take more than one pair. Which ones I choose, again, depends on the type of riding and the weather. Under the category Riding Gear, my checklist also includes a hydration pack and 'cycling shorts -- the padded type that bicyclists wear. These come in pretty handy when you spend the entire day on your rump. Monkeybutt is no laughing matter. (Well, it is, but only if you're talking about someone else's butt.)

Your checklist might start out something like this (as mine does):

• boots
• Camelbac
• clear helmet visor
• 'cycling shorts
• do-rag
• ear plugs
• gloves
• helmet
• jacket
• pants
• rain suit

Yes, it might seem a little silly to have things like riding pants on your checklist -- after all, you're certainly not going to ride off in your underwear, so it's not like you'll forget your pants -- but it helps me make the decisions about my trip when I see such things on my list. And, yeah, you're right, I have become a bit retentive in my old age (which, in case you didn't notice, is the reason the items above are listed in alphabetical order).


To this, we add the usual assortment of socks and underwear and toiletries and so forth. I don't think you need me to go into that stuff. It's more-or-less the same stuff you'd throw in a suitcase for any other type of trip. Don't forget your toothbrush! In the summer, you'll want to remember sunscreen, insect repellent, and your swimsuit. A ball cap will spare your vanity the dreaded condition known as "helmet hair," and if you have no hair, it'll keep you from burning your scalp.

If it's winter, the Winter Only category of my checklist kicks in with:

• balaclava
• electric gloves (never use them, but since I have a pair they haunt my checklist)
  
• electric vest (and the detachable sleeves, even though I rarely use them)
• jacket liner
• stocking cap (for when the helmet comes off and I want my head to stay warm)
  
• sweatshirt (a handy underlayer for when it gets really cold)
  
• thermal underwear
• wool socks (my feet get cold when riding)

If I'll be offroad, I'll augment my gear with the aforementioned goggles, as well as a chest protector (actually my Six Six One body armor), a Buff (you've seen these on the TV show Survivor) for keeping the dust out of my snoot, and my knee/shin guards (I've broken my lower extremities enough times, thank you very much).

The next category on my checklist is for tools, maintenance items, emergency repairs ... that sort of thing.

• air pump (mine plugs into an electrical outlet on my bike, but you can use a hand-pump if you prefer or enough CO2 cartridges to limp to a gas station)
• chain lube
• duct tape (Ask any Bubba: "Don't leave home without it!")
  
• electrical tape
• electrical wire
• first aid kit (in case it's you that needs repaired)
• flashlight
• JB Weld
  
• multi-tool (for those quick jobs when I don't feel like digging out the proper tool -- mine's made by Gerber, but there are a zillion on the market these days)
• rags
• owner's/repair manual (you probably have this stashed under your seat anyway)
• safety wire
• Slime tire sealant (I only carry it for tube-type tires, even though they also make it for tubeless tires)
• spare key (nothing worse than misplacing the key to your bike when you're a thousand miles from home -- if you're traveling with a buddy, trade keys with him; if not, stash yours someplace accessible, separate from the key you're using in the ignition)
  
• spare tire tubes (many folks get by with carrying just one, but I like to carry a spare for both the front and rear of my bike -- naturally, you can leave this off if you're riding on tubeless tires)
• spares (an assortment of things you think you might need for your bike: throttle and/or clutch cables/levers, a quart of oil for your leaky Harley-Davidson, bulbs, spark plugs, etc)
  
• tie-down straps (Even when I have no plans to strap the bike to something, I like to carry a couple of these. First of all, my dualsport bike doesn't have a center stand and there have been times when I've used the straps to winch the bike in the air under a tree while I repaired a flat tire. Second, when your buddy runs out of gas, a couple tie-down straps make a handy tow rope.)
  
• tire gauge
• tire irons (I carry three)
  
• tire repair kit (patches for tubed, plugs for tubeless)
• tool kit (varies with the bike I choose -- most of the time you can get away with the cheapo tools supplied with the bike, but for serious traveling you'd better build your own kit)
• WD-40
• zip ties (you can fix anything with a zip tie)

Of course, navigation is critical (although getting lost can be fun). You might want to carry:

• GPS receiver
• guidebooks
  
• maps
  

Paperwork (the job's not finished until it's done, doncha know):

• calling card (the wife does require me to check in occasionally and I often find myself without a cell phone signal)
  
• cash (money talks!)
• credit card(s)
• id/driver's license/passport
• proof of insurance, title, registration, and other documentation for the bike
  

Electronics, how did we ever survive without them? Just don't forget spare batteries (or the chargers) for these items:

• camera
• cell phone
  
• laptop computer
  
• MP3 player and headphones
  

If I'm camping:

• folding chair
• hatchet (for pounding in stakes and addressing that recalcitrant root poking your back in the middle of the night)
• pillow (I never carry one, not even the inflatable kind, but it's on my checklist just so I can feel macho when I scratch through it with a gruff "Real men don't need a pillow!")
• sleeping bag
• sleeping pad
• tent and footprint (that thing you put under your tent to protect the bottom)

If you're not only camping, but cooking, you'll have a whole list of other things you'll need to carry. I don't cook. Ever. I'd rather do a Euell Gibbons on a pine tree than cook (link provided for the youngsters who don't even know who he was).

Miscellaneous stuff you might also want on your list:

• binoculars
  
• (a good) book*
• bottled water
  
• bungee cords/net
• cable lock (for locking your helmet, jacket, etc to the bike while hiking around in a National Park)
• notepad and pen
  
• rain cover for your tank/tail bag
• reading glasses (unless you're a young whippersnapper and don't need them)
• snacks
  
• sunglasses

And that ought to at least get you started. Naturally, you'll want to tailor my list to make it entirely your own. You might want to organize things in different categories. You might be afraid you'll forget clean underwear if they're not on the list (you know your mother told you to always make sure you're wearing them). And so on.

Stick around and as I pull my gear together for this trip, we'll talk about actually getting it all on the bike. Then, what the heck, I'll see if I can take you along with me via the miracle of the internet. Or, hey, here's an idea. Go load up your own bike and head somewhere fun. South is always good this time of year. That'll be my direction ... soon as I figure out where I put my winter gloves.

Cheers.



* Here's a good one. :)