As I write this, the
moon is rising over the end of day fifty-two. Fifty-two days I’ve been doing
this? It doesn’t seem like that long, when I think about it. But then I look at
the map, and that long red line leading from Albuquerque, New Mexico, all the
way down through Baja California, over the Sea of Cortez, down the coast to
Mazatlan, then inland over the Devil’s Backbone to Durango…okay, yeah,
fifty-two days makes sense.
And, with that
realization, I figured it was high time to write something about how I’m doing instead of just what I’m doing. With three thousand
miles behind me, I ought to have something worthwhile to say.
First of all, I need
to admit two huge truths. 1) I am
in way over my head, and 2) I love
it.
I think I can explain
the first one pretty easily. Back in 2006, when I was 21 years old, I travelled
to Africa by myself. (Getting in over my head has been a pattern with me for
quite some time now). While in Kenya, I met a guy, Paul, who was travelling around
on his motorcycle, a Yamaha Tenere 600. I hopped on the back for two months,
and experienced a type of freedom I’d never before known. When I returned home,
I got my license. Five years later I bought a motorcycle, a Yamana XT225, the
little sister of the bike I was on in Africa. Five months after buying that
bike, I drove it away from Albuquerque, on my way south for an independent trip
of many thousands of miles.
I had never changed a
tire on it. I didn’t know how fast it could really go. I couldn’t keep it
upright if I started to drop it. I didn’t know what condition my chain was in.
I was terrified to drive in traffic, on highways, around sharp corners, and on
anything remotely less stable than pavement. Over my head? Little bit.
But I love not always
knowing what I’m doing. It’s exhilarating, it keeps me on my toes, keeps me
guessing. Every day I climb a little bit further up the learning curve, drive
with a little bit more savvy, and feel the tiniest bit better and stronger and
smarter than the day before. Who wouldn’t love that?
But there’s more to it
than those two blanket statements, so here are some specifics:
The bike: She has been dubbed Burrito by the guys, the little mule. She may be
small and slow, but she be stubborn and steadfast, and she’ll get you there in
the end. However, I must admit
that I’m experiencing a little bit of power-envy when I compare my bike to the
bikes the guys are writing. When I first began this trip, I was the limiting
factor, not the bike. Now it’s the other way around: I have the driving
ability, and the lack of chutzpah in the bike holds me back a bit. But despite
that, I know that this is the bike that is good for me right now, the one that
will get me to wherever it is that I’m going. (I’m dreaming of my next bike
already, but don’t tell Burrito!)
Mechanically, she’s
doing quite well. The oil leaks a bit, but I’ve been driving her really hard.
My open-highway cruising speed is 65 mph now, up from the 55 mph I started at.
The engine never seems to get hot any more, and the oil doesn’t leak as much as
it used to, which I take to mean that she’s broken in. Yesterday was my first
day at elevation (about 9,000 ft), and I noticed some hesitation under full
throttle, so it’ll be time to learn about carburetors soon.
One thing that
surprised me at first, is how much time I spend thinking about the bike,
worrying about the bike, fixing the bike, maintaining the bike…she’s really
very needy. A lot of it is my own inexperience; when I notice the bike do
something slightly odd, like hesitate under full throttle or make a weird noise
when climbing hills, I don’t know what it means, and my mind starts running all
over the place, jumping to dire conclusions and fearing my bike is dying. In
reality, it’s an XT225, so nothing should go wrong, and if it does it will be
totally fixable. I just have a hard time remembering that when I’m in the
middle of BFN Mexico, on a desolate stretch of road, with no one in sight and a
new sound coming from the bike.
The maintenance aspect
is something I’ve already come to grips with, although it’s more time intensive
that I’d expected. For instance, the other morning I cleaned and lubed the
chain, adjusted the drive chain slack, checked and topped off the oil, checked
the tire pressure, and checked the tires for thorns and glass, and that was all
before breakfast. That’s a pretty average bike checkup.
The gear: All of my gear is awesome. I love my Kevlar-lined Shift riding jeans,
because they work so well as casual out-on-the-town jeans as well. I still dig
my nerdy dayglo Fieldsheer jacket, my Vega riding boots, and my Sparx helmet.
The Five-Fingers I picked up in Tucson have been awesome, and an excellent
conversation starter as well. I’ve already spent fifteen nights in my Hennessey
Hyperlight Hammock, which means it has already paid for itself. My butt never
hurts even though I forwent the custom Corbin seat for a thick sheepskin
instead. And everything I own still fits into two Happy Trails aluminium panniers,
which are quite possibly my favorite piece of gear of all. When the guys are
worrying about their soft, unsecured luggage, or are spending half an hour
lugging six bags each to and from the hotel room, I’m enjoying a cup of tea and
a chapter of a book. Lovely.
The riding: I’ve gotten considerably better. The guys always laugh when I say that,
though, because I still have so far to go. If only they’d seen me when I was in
New Mexico! My reaction time is much quicker, my ability to control the bike
has improved immensely, I have a much better grasp on what the bike is capable
of, and I’m much more comfortable driving the bike at speed. Looking back at my
starting skill set and comparing it to what I know now, I’m very excited to
discover how much better things will get over the next three thousand miles. I
haven’t ridden offroad since Ensenada, but am excited to get out there and do
it more. After all, that is why I bought an enduro in the first place.
The body: I had no idea this was going to be such a work out! I’m noticing my
body adapting to riding in very odd ways. For instance, whenever I shave my
legs I notice how burly my calves have gotten. Yes, burly, not shapely. Oh
well. But the reason for it is all the tip-toeing as I move the bike around,
and supporting the bike when stopped at lights. It makes sense, but wow, I
never had thought about it before. My shoulders and biceps are becoming much
more toned from holding myself off the handlebars all the time, and my core
strength has skyrocketed: I can now catch my bike if it starts to topple.
I get sore after long
days of riding, but after a mere five minutes off the bike, most of the aches
and pressure points are gone. Mostly I get sore when I get tense, and I get
tense whenever I get worried, and I get worried whenever I don’t know
everything that’s going on with the bike…so I’m sore pretty often. But that’s
my own fault, and I know it will improve.
Keeping my hair in
line is tricky. If I ride at speed for any length of time without my hair in
braids, I have to spend ages brushing out the knots that night. A haircut might
be in the works eventually, but not just yet.
The mind: I’m doing very well. The whole experience is so fun and exhilarating
and freeing, I can’t imagine not loving it. There are worries though, of
course, and not just about the bike. Whenever I’m riding completely by myself,
little insecurities creep in and put a strain on my day. But that too will
improve, as I gain confidence in my abilities as a motorcyclist. I know how to
travel, but the bike definitely adds another dimension.
The future: I didn’t leave on this trip expecting to go to South America. I was
supposed to hit Panama, turn around, and come home. But, as described in an
earlier entry, that’s not the case anymore. In fact, I have booked myself on a
boat crossing from Panama to Columbia on July 27th. Which means I’m
going to South America, which has mountains and snow and wind and cold weather
and serious altitude…so I’m going to have to make some adjustments to my kit
and my bike. I don’t have to worry about that just yet, but the thought is
there.
Another
future-oriented thought is about funding. I saved money for a comfortable
five-month trip, not a multi-year trip. At some point down the road, maybe five
months from now, I’m going to have to figure out how to get more money. Find
work? Sell my car at home? Sell an investment? I don’t yet know. Just another
aspect of the whole in-over-my-head thing.
Alright, I think I
explained a sufficient amount of the how.
Don’t worry, I’ll get back to the what
in the next entry! After all, I still have to tell everyone about the
motorcycle rally in Mazatlan and the glorious ride along the Espinosa del
Diablo!
Until next time,
Sarah
