The Gear

AKA an inventory of the shit sprawled across my living room

I thought it would be a good idea to start listing an inventory of the gear I plan on bringing along. It will serve as a checklist before I leave, a starting point for future trips, and will probably also provide a painful reminder, once I'm on the road, of why my bike feels so bogged down. My packing tendencies fall somewhere between ultra-light utilitarian and just on the verge of hoarder. I know some of this stuff is getting the axe. I will be updating the list as I add more things. I haven't added any clothing or toiletries to the list. That will be the toughest part. I need clothes for off road riding, for a potential burning man visit (read: feathers, ruffles, sparkles, LED's, etc)  and I also need to look like a glammed up babe (clothes may overlap with those for burning man) to remind myself on occasion that I am a female and not a stinky she-beast just off the road from 3 days of dust and sweating.
Anyway, here is the list so far, listed in order of appearance on my living room floor:


Bagster tank bag with BMW tank bra
HJC helmet
BMW panniers
Kevlar gloves
Small portable gas tank
Metric socket set
Zip ties
4 ratcheting tie-down straps
Leatherman Wave multitool
Goggles - 1 clear, 1 tinted
Pacific Outdoor Equipment large waterproof duffel bag (for rear rack)
Elastic cargo net
Nikon D300 camera + 60mm macro lens + 12-24mm lens + charger
Aerostich Roadcrafter riding suit
Dual USB charger + pigtail to battery terminal (for charging phone on the road)
iPhone waterproof case with handlebar mount (will sub for a GPS unless I can borrow one)
Crampbuster cruise assist
Klipsch noise cancelling headphones
REI Switchback waterproof gloves
Black Diamond headlamp
Compass
Tire pressure gauge
Jetboil camp stove
French press for Jetboil
WxTex 15L waterproof compression sack
Eagle Creek Pack-It bag containing microfiber cloth and lemon pledge (for de-bugging helmet)
Camelbak Magic hydration pack (this makes it easy to hydrate on long rides--will add ice for the death valley leg)
Microfiber camp towel
Large Sea-to-Summit compression sack
Rain pants
REI quarter dome T2+ tent
10' x 12' tarp (for wet ground or wet skies over campsite)
Polyester twine
LaFuma X950 synthetic 40 degree sleeping bag
Vasque hiking boots
Seal Line waterproof laptop bag
11" Dell Inspiron laptop
Banana protector
6"x9" journal
DeLorme Atlas and Gazetteers for : Northern CA; Oregon
Maps: AZ/NM; SW US; CA; Northern CA; Southern CA; OR/WA; US; Western States; Texas
Small portable gas tank
Silk long johns
Small thermos
First aid kit
Spork
Teeny tiny sewing kit

I have no idea how I'm going to fit all this shit on my bike

My living room will be uninhabitable for a while

The Bike

The Uterus
The original plan was to take my Honda NX 250. Everyone I've talked to (except Frank at Justine's--thanks Frank!) has responded with either laughter or scoffing to my choice of chariot. "A 250!? Are you crazy!?" Yeah, yeah, I know. But that little bike can haul ass. It's a luxurious enduro bike...liquid-cooled, electric start, soon to have a gimbaling coffee mug holder. I painted it burnt orange when I lived in Minnesota. Burnt orange: the color of autumn fashion in Wisconsin woodlands, the color of 1970's interior design, the color of my hair in fluorescent lighting, the color of spray paint at Home Depot that offended my eyes the least, the color that is not too flashy and not too much like urban camouflage...and...the main color of one of the most popular university athletics campaigns, the University of Texas Longhorns. What a coincidence; it's almost like I was meant to move to Austin. After riding the little runt around town and getting strange hand signals (which I later determined had to do with the Longhorns), I decided to roll with it, despite my opinion of sports: a ritual parody of the primate territorial imperative (thank you, Mr. Robbins). Anyway, because I am obviously a lady...well, a female who tries pretty hard sometimes...and because I wanted to deter thieves from stealing my tiny motorcycle (one could practically carry it under one arm)...I decided to do some detailing on the bike, working within the Longhorns theme. I redesigned the Longhorns logo to look more like what I've always thought it looked like: a Uterus. And because I am painfully clever (read: embarrassingly dorky), I rearranged the overlapping UT letters into the word UTerus.

The Uterus will be staying in Austin

Females "get it" right away. Males, especially those that have gone through the Texas public education program, do not know what "those things" look like. So, there is a part of me that wanted to export some Texas pride around the United States (because Texas isn't obnoxious enough as it is). Unfortunately, this bike did not make the cut. Aside from the spookiness of having tube tire and facing the prospect of having to change a tube tire on the side of the road in Death Valley, the bike needed a whole lot of work in order to be road-ready. Plus, it did not have a rack for mounting panniers--nor can one be easily obtained. While I was anticipating having a rack designed and built by the best custom motorcycle shop in Austin (plug: Revival Cycles and Gear), the number of items on the "con" list for the Uterus were starting to add up. My Ducati Monster was out of the question. It is certainly capable of the task and would be a hell of a ride on Hwy 1, but it is built for speed, not for comfort, and I'm just not that much of a hardass. It's fun to ride a rocket around, but it never worked out so well for Wile E. Coyote.

Enter the GS
It was around that time that my friend Alan busted onto the scene with his resourceful connections and super-human powers of persuasion. A custom furniture maker friend of his, Jamey, who lives in Marfa, TX had contacted him wondering if anyone would be interested in a BMW R100GS. Welly welly welly welly well. It had a lot of miles on it but it had been taken care of for most of its life by a mechanic in Tuscon. Alan and Jamey conversed in a strange technical dialect and it was determined that the bike had a clean bill of health. After a bit of creative financing (how the fuck did I get such a good credit rating?), the bike was mine. The GS came with panniers and it is basically ready to hit the road and it rides like a sled dog....if feels like it is anxious to travel a very long way. Perfect. After a new tire and battery, all it needs is to be lowered about a half inch so I can touch the ground with both feet at stops and maybe put the kickstand down while still sitting on the bike. Aside from the panniers, I have a waterproof duffel for the back and a small tank bag for maps. I will talk about gear later. Oh, and the accessories...wait just a minute before you go calling me one of those BMW gear junkies with the dustproof/waterproof CB-radio-receiver/gps/fuzzbuster/camera/video/intercom/satellite radio/coffee warming pad//hula girl combo attached to the handlebars.

Not going to be like this guy

Ok, I am kind of a yuppie. I did wire up a phone charger to the battery and I did buy a handlebar-mounted waterproof iPhone holder. Mom, if you are reading this, I promise not to text while riding. I'm going to use it for navigation and trip tracking (research for future, longer rides!).
Riding a bike with a drive shaft (my first) feels very weird in comparison to riding one with a chain, but I can't quite put my finger on why. I'm getting used to it.

t minus 3 weeks...holy. shit.

Out of the hamster ball...

The City Left Behind
Austin, TX has been an exciting, cruel mistress. Mecca for the creative, the self-made, the self-loathing, the self-gratifying. The place where hipsters and yuppies vacation from the real world. Somehow, without the aid of an underground drug-running monarchy, the mining of some deposit of some mineral crucial to the manufacture of widgets and whathaveyous, or the mother of all trust funds, this beast keeps on churning out tacos at the excruciatingly slow pace of one every 15-minutes. I'm ready to get out. My brain does not deal in the currently that is valued here. I'm too proud, or maybe just too lazy, to start making mustache wind-up toys, eco-friendly flower pots made from PBR cans, or knit iphone covers. Plus, this town is too. damn. small.

"When you have have mountains in the distance or even hills, you have space" - Pirsig (I know, it's pretentious to quote Pirsig in the first post. I'll tone it down a bit.)

The decision was made many months ago; I needed to get away. Needed some time in my own head. Needed space. Needed to get away from my recent past. Needed distance from the expectations I had for my life. I've fucked up so badly in my life as of late...that things can only get better from here on out. I have found that motorcycles are cheaper than therapy anyway.
It's easy to leave a place when you know that there isn't going to be anyone waiting on the front step when you get home, when there are only a handful that will truly miss you, when most will not notice your absence, and when a few would rather you take a long ride on a short pier. It's not quite so sad and pathetic. There are some good folks in Austin and a select few that I genuinely believe to care about me--some that I consider to be my chosen family (as opposed to the one I was born with). But this is a big ol' world with some amazing people and places, just waiting to be explored.
Ok, enough of this flowery bullshit. This is a travel log, not a vision quest journal.

The Trip
The trip was hatched and the direction was decidedly west, but where?. I'd explored the cities along the west coast, but never the infamous scenic highways, parks, and vast stretches of public land. After buying and studying a few DeLorme maps and starting to comprehend the vast amount of public land traversed by forest service roads, it was solidified. Being a botanist and a newly christened urban forester for the City of Austin, my internal nagging to see the big ass trees in California was increasing to fever pitch. And ask previous boyfriends...my nagging could topple an empire if directed squarely. During the cold Austin winter, which lasted about two weeks, I ran my finger along the gazetteers from page to page along Highway 1 and followed it through Big Sur, across the Golden Gate Bridge, along the San Andreas rift zone, an unnecessary number of "drive-thru trees," some intriguing roadside attractions (Samoa Cookhouse Museum, Fairyland Begonia Garden, the Skunk Railroad) that seem like prime bumper sticker dispensaries. By the time I got to the little tree symbol that represented Humbolt Redwoods State Park, I looked at the clock and realized that it was 4 AM. No more trip planning on weeknights before 6:30AM workdays! Speaking of....
More about the bike next.