It’s kind of amazing how much you can pack on a motorcycle if you have the time to study it and find nooks and crannies to stuff things. On the other hand, I’m fairly meticulous about analyzing what we take along and looking for ways to shrink it, adapt it, or lose it. I spent a lot of time studying other travelers’ gear before leaving on my first trip, and because of that, I didn’t take a lot of unnecessary stuff that I had to ship home (yes, this is a thing).

Much of the gear that I used on my 2015-2016 trip will be used again beginning in 2021, because as they say, “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it”. When you live for a year off of a small motorcycle, you learn what works and what doesn’t, what you need and what you don’t, and what not to carry next time.

In 2015, I packed a lot more spare parts than I actually needed or used. This was primarily due to the fact that I was taking a small, low-horsepower motorcycle on a long trip and focusing on off-road riding for much of it. So I took gaskets, clutch plates, levers (including a brake pedal), cables (everybody does?), brake pads, and lots more.

What I learned was that many of these parts are available in places you might not expect. Yes, I had planned ahead from the beginning, and chose a motorcycle that, although the exact model was not sold in many of the countries I visited, the engine and many of the parts were common to other models that are sold in those countries. This is definitely something to keep in mind when in the early stages of planning. For example, when I needed sprockets and a chain in Argentina, I found that shops in Buenos Aires had sprockets for a YBR250 (a street bike version sold there). Same sprockets. Of course, at the time, I wasn’t aware of that. Now I know.

On the last trip, I was on a much smaller motorcycle, but I went solo, so I only had to pack for one. Adding a passenger and all of her gear drastically increases the load. A lot of thought has to go into this, as the load needs to be balanced as well as possible. We have a lot more on the rear of the motorcycle than I would prefer, but I’ve been able to spread some weight forward by installing my heavy tool pouch to the front of the skid plate similar to last time, and I’ve added the side pouches to carry heavy spare inner tubes, and other supplies.

Do we absolutely need all of this stuff all of the time? No. Some people ship certain parts of their kit between locations during their travels. For example, if you know you won’t be camping in certain countries, it might make sense to ship the camping gear ahead, or home, if you’ve finished that part of your trip.

For the first year or so of this upcoming trip, we will be in developed countries. This changes some of the gear we will carry. Also, there will be some side-trips into other countries on other motorcycles that will be totally different, and for those trips it’s likely that all of the gear we carry will be in a small backpack. More about that when it comes.

For now, here’s a complete list of all gear (subject to change), including the bike, all modifications, and everything we will carry on it and on us. If you want to plan a similar trip, you may find this useful as a starting point to decide what you carry. When you look at the whole list, it seems like “everything but the kitchen sink”, but many people will want to add a lot more. We’ve been there, done that, and found we don’t need it. Others will feel we are carrying a lot of unnecessary stuff. As I’ve said, to each his/her own. Everyone has different priorities. It’s important to have an item or two that makes you happy, even if it seems like excess. Even if you’re not planning a similar trip, it’s amusing (to me, anyway) to scroll down the list and marvel at how much crap is on one motorcycle.

With apologies to the late Tom Petty. I have planned on this second long trip for years. I planned the route. The bike and prep. The shipping. The various legs across different continents, at different seasons, with occasional stops at home now and then.

But nobody planned for COVID. So plans change.

And now we wait…

The ABC’s (and D’s) of Planning a Round-The-World Ride During COVID

We have a Plan A, B, C, and D at this point, all depending on when we can travel abroad. Our Plan A was to leave the US for Europe in May, attend the Isle of Man TT races, and then head to Norway and a big loop of Europe before our Schengen Visa expired (more on that in another post).

Since the 2021 Isle of Man TT races have already been canceled, we don’t have to be there at the end of May. That buys us some time to wait. Those Manx have the island locked down to outsiders, effectively keeping their little slice of heaven safe but severely limiting the national income without tourists. But we still plan to attend the TT in 2022.

Although we have tickets to see Green Day, Weezer and Fallout Boy in concert in the Netherlands at the end of June, we have no idea if that will happen either. So our Plan B is basically just shifting our Plan A European loop to begin around July 15. Assuming, of course, that we can travel internationally by then.

Meanwhile, we have already invited a friend to house-sit for us beginning in May. This is a firm commitment, as she is a “digital nomad”. She works remotely, so as long as she has internet, she can work from just about anywhere. In this case, she will work from our house for six months. This also means that we will be departing in May, regardless. We just aren’t sure where we are headed first at this point. Plan B will send us off to travel in the States, if it is safe to do so at that time, until July 15.

Plan C takes Plan B’s start date even further out, but also because of seasonal conditions, it means we will travel the US from May until mid-September, and our European travel will shift to the southern parts as the temperatures in the north drop.

And Plan D, which is unfortunately looking more and more likely, will keep us in the States for 2021, but we will travel as extensively as possible. This will shift the beginning of our European expedition to early 2022. We are remaining optimistic and hoping that international travel opens up before the end of ’21, but there is plenty to see in our own backyard of the continental US until then.

If all goes fairly well, we have a couple of surprises in store around November.

A lot of planning goes into my long-distance rides. I’m just that kinda guy. I like the adventure, but I like it to go fairly smoothly. I’m not one to just ride off without an idea of where I’m going and what I’m getting into. Perhaps that’s why I love Mexico and Colombia so much. I’m a believer in the “fail to plan, plan to fail” theory.

On the other hand, there are problems with over-planning. Here are the two that I discuss most often with other travelers.

 

The Downsides of Extensive Pre-Planning

First is the idea of “paralysis by analysis”. That is, you over-analyze certain aspects of travel to the point that you are either afraid to launch, or never get to the point of launch. I haven’t had this problem myself, although I have been accused of it, and I may have come close once or twice.

Second is a problem that I did encounter myself during my first trip: I researched where I wanted to go so fully, using the internet and travel guide books, that when I got to those places, I felt like I had already been there and seen it, and it was a bit of a let-down. There is a fine line to knowing where you want to go, and still saving much of the wonder and awe for the experience.

Having said that, I’ve sketched a rough plan of our initial route. It’s always necessary to take into account the weather patterns when planning a long ride, so that’s where I usually start: which hemisphere and how far north or south during which months. I like to try to stay in the early Fall / late Spring climates as much as possible, while avoiding the rainy seasons, especially in tropical climes.

 

More Plan “A” Details

As I mentioned in the last post, our Plan “A” is our “best case scenario” of leaving in May for Europe. Here’s a bit more detail of what we have in mind for the rest of 2021 assuming the world is safe and welcomes travelers (fingers crossed, but not holding our breath):

We’ll ride from Texas to Toronto, Canada, making stops along the way to visit friends. Once in Toronto, we will ship the bike and fly to Dublin, Ireland. As we’ve spent some time in Ireland already and plan to return later, we’ll tour England, Wales and Scotland before heading to Netherlands, hopefully in time to catch the Green Day concert and the Assen MotoGP races.

From there, we’ll head north to Norway, all the way to Nordkapp, which is commonly referred to as the northern-most point in Europe (though technically, it’s not quite). Nordkapp, or North Cape in English, is a typical start/finish point for those doing the “Cape to Cape” route (Nordkapp to Cape Town, South Africa). Then it’s down through Finland to Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania and Poland. At this point, much depends on our timing. We will have been traveling at a pretty good pace, and it will be time to make a hasty exit of the EU due to Schengen limitations.

 

The Schengen Visa

For those of you not familiar with the Schengen Agreement (like me, a short while ago), I’ll try to sum it up in a short explanation, that may not be totally correct, but for our purposes should suffice. There are 26 countries in Europe that are part of this agreement, and a few others which participate in some but not all Schengen rules. This agreement allows for open travel between countries, particularly for EU citizens. If you are not a citizen of an EU country — for example, a US citizen and passport holder — you will get your passport stamped when you enter the first of these countries. That starts a 180 day clock. You are allowed to be in the Schengen countries for a total of 90 days out of every 180 days. They don’t have to be consecutive. So, as an example, let’s say you cross from England (not a Schengen country) to France on January 1, and start your 180 day clock. If you stayed in these 26 countries for 90 days, you would then have to exit around March 31, and stay out until July 1 when your 180 days expired.

Or, say you started on January 1 and after 60 days of traveling around France, Spain, Germany, and Italy, you returned to England on March 3 for 30 days. You now have used 60 of your 90 allowed Schengen days, and 90 of your 180 total clock. So then on April 2 you return to Austria and Switzerland for 30 days. You have now hit your allowed time in the Schengen area, and must leave until July 1 (your 180 day clock runs out).

Confusing? Somewhat. And restrictive. Intentionally so. But for travelers like us, it primarily means that we can’t just spend a year or more exploring Europe. While it is my understanding that it is not strictly enforced, it is frowned upon if you overstay your 180 day limit by a significant amount. And I don’t really want to find out what happens.

 

Schengen Ignorance is No Excuse

I actually encountered — or more accurately, created — this situation in 2016 when I left from Zurich and shipped my 250 back to the States. I had no idea why the Swiss Immigration officer was giving me a hard time about not having a stamp in my passport for when I entered from England. I had never heard of Schengen back then and didn’t stamp in when I crossed from Folkestone to Calais on the Eurotunnel train. I kept telling him that I flew into London and rode my motorcycle to Switzerland. He kept asking me where my stamp was in my passport when I entered France. This made no sense to me because it was an open border; I simply rode off the train and into France and the rest of the EU. Eventually he stamped my passport and allowed me to leave Switzerland, but he told me not to do it again. I never understood my mistake until researching for this upcoming trip. I am thankful in hindsight that he was lenient. I could have spent a lot of time in the Zurich Airport trying to prove when I entered the Schengen area and how long I had been there. I had the receipt from the train, and I had my GPS track showing my route and dates. That’s the best explanation I could have offered. Now I know better.

Another problem with the Schengen 180 day time limitations goes right back to what I mentioned at the beginning of this post: my desire to stay in the moderate climate seasons. If you have a 90-day limit in a 6 month window, it means that if you arrive in late May, you must leave by late August and cannot re-enter until late November. Or Winter, in other words. Which makes planning a motorcycle tour even more difficult.

So, based on this, we have several options for November through late February. But we won’t be done with Europe yet. Even if we leave, the bike probably won’t.

 

Travel Immunization Passports

There’s been a lot of discussion lately regarding what international travel will look like post-COVID. I’ve seen several articles mentioning the concept of “immunization passports”, and a company in Switzerland has been designing a digital version of just such a thing. (This is also not new; Nigeria has had digital “e-Yellow Cards” since 2019).

I’ve also read responses from people online that claim that requiring an immunization in order to travel into another country is somehow a violation of their rights, as if this is a new concept introduced by the current pandemic. I’m not going to get political here, because I tend to avoid that at all costs, but this is not new, and if you haven’t had a “Yellow Card” or International Certificate of Vaccination or Prophylaxis (ICVP) before, then you apparently haven’t traveled as much as you think. The ICVP has been around in one form or another since the 1930s, and has been in its’ current form basically since the 1950s and smallpox. These days it is most often obtained by tourists intending to travel to certain countries where Yellow Fever is prevalent, but is based on a factor of the risk in that country and the country you are coming from. High Risk countries require you to have proof of Yellow Fever vaccination before you can enter, or at least be able to provide proof at the border if asked.

Regardless, we are voluntary travelers. Which means if we want to visit certain places, and those places require us to receive certain vaccines in order to go there, we must make a decision: either we get vaccinated, or we don’t go. We are guests in their country, and we don’t blame them for their decisions. As such, we have weighed the pros and cons, and decided that we will obtain any necessary vaccinations that will allow us to travel the world. This includes Hepatitis A&B, Typhoid, MMR, Shingles (due to our “advanced age”), and a few drugs that we can carry with us. Note that some of these prescription drugs that are considered “typical” in the US can actually be illegal in other countries, so always check the laws in all the places you intend to go.

 

Plan B and Beyond

As I mentioned in the previous post, our Plan B and C is basically just extending the Plan A start until July or later. But if we wait much later — say, September or so — then we will have to change our route, as it will quickly be too late to be as far north as we want to go. Due to weather, we’ll end up along the Mediterranean and further south if it’s October or later. Yes, I know, it’s a terrible conundrum…Portugal? Southern Italy? Greece? Turkey? Tough life.

And then there’s Plan D, which is looking more likely by the day. Plan D will “D-Lay” our European leg until 2022, and we will set off around the continental US. Even though we’ve both seen many national parks, there is something different about being able to do it at a much slower pace, without the worry of an end date. And there are many parks and sights that we haven’t yet seen at all. Of course, in these times of travel restrictions and social distancing, the desire for families to get outside and travel has grown very strong, and RV sales have gone through the roof in the past year. This puts an extra load on campground reservations and park facilities. We have ways around some of that: traveling on a motorcycle with a tent allows us to camp in places that the average family in an RV can’t or doesn’t want to go. We’re okay with remote sites, and we also will take advantage of the kindness of other travelers when the opportunity presents itself, whether that entails sharing a campsite or letting us pitch our tent in their yard.

I think we’ve got it covered pretty well with no need for a Plan E unless the world changes drastically yet again between now and then.

Next up, we’ll talk a bit about how we travel in places like Europe on a small budget.

We had originally planned to begin this trip in May of 2020. Then, of course, came the pandemic. Everything (and I mean everything) got delayed. Many of our reservations for campsites, ferries, and events were canceled, or pushed to May 2021. The world health crisis continued, and it began to look more and more like the world wasn’t going to be ready to open up for tourists and travelers by May of this year either. So we began to look at alternate plans.

Unlike some people, who set a date in the future and say “That’s when we’re leaving”, then keep pushing that date out until they eventually just give up on it, we set our May 2021 date in stone. So we’re going. We’re just not going where we intended or hoped — yet. But there are plenty of opportunities for adventure in our own backyard. So that is where we will begin. And when the world is ready, and everyone feels good (and safe) about inviting others to their neighborhoods, then we will expand our travel.

We recently did a full shakedown ride on the 700. We loaded all of our RTW gear, and headed out for a three day weekend ride. There were several goals for this trip:

1. Check the comfort of the bike for both of us for a full day’s ride.
2. Check the fit and comfort of our new riding gear (Klim Carlsbad for me; Klim Altitude for Diana)
3. Use the majority of our gear, in order to be sure we didn’t miss anything.

Overall it was a very successful ride. The bike performed very well (granted, this trip was almost 100% paved roads). We didn’t find anything that we forgot to pack, but did find that we still had a small amount of room in the panniers in case we wanted to add an item (we both voted for the hammock). And we were a bit surprised at the comfort level of the stock seat, considering the amount of gear we are carrying and available space. I still want to add a Seat Concepts one piece seat before leaving, but it may not be available in time, and may have to wait.

So the countdown continues. Our immediate itinerary has shifted. We have a couple of “detours” planned over the next six months that will make this trip considerably different from my solo, single-bike ride six years ago. The long-term focus is still to ship the 700 to Europe when everyone is ready. In the meantime, we’ll embrace the detour.

Many times I’ve heard people say “I wish I could travel like you”. Often what they really mean is “I want to spend my life traveling the world.” They rarely mean “I want to live in a tent and eat canned beans and pasta cooked over a tiny gas stove in a field next to the highway.” For us, that’s a part of the reality of being able to travel. We aren’t rich, and we don’t stay in five star hotels. This is our lifestyle, not a vacation, so it’s important to be able to sustain it by stretching our money. We are excited to see the wonders of this world, rather than spend our money while our eyes are closed.

In 2015, while planning my first Round-The-World ride, I made an early note: “In order to extend travel time by reducing expenses, it will be necessary to spend less time in the following expensive places:

1. Europe
2. Australia
3. United States”

Most other areas can be considerably less expensive in terms of lodging and food, the two largest expenses while traveling (the third — for me at least — being petrol or fuel). And an added plus is that many of those places that are much cheaper also have a much more “exotic” or “adventurous” feel, not least because English is not their first language.

Even camping in some countries can be expensive, “expensive” being a relative term, of course. “Expensive” to someone from Bolivia or Honduras can mean something totally different than to someone from San Francisco or Tokyo. I’ve seen tent sites range from free to $80 per night or more. For a small square of land large enough for a 2-person tent and my motorcycle. And the next motorcycle and 2-person tent (and loudly snoring occupant) is within reach of my door.

However, it is possible to keep your expenses in check even in these more expensive countries.

Reducing your food expense is fairly simple: don’t eat in restaurants, eat simply, get invited to others’ homes or pot-luck dinners, etc.

I set a goal of averaging not more than $25 to $30 a night for lodging, and I mostly stay far under that. For each night I spend wild camping for free, it increases the amount I have in reserve for a later campground with a shower, a hostel, or a hotel. More importantly, it extends how long and how far I can travel. By using these methods, we have stayed in a number of private castles and other incredible places (for reasonable rates) by saving a few dollars along the way via camping, hostels, and guest housing.

There are many ways to reduce your average weekly or monthly lodging expense. Being a bit of a hermit, my preferred method has always been wild camping. Not only does this add to the “adventure” for me, but it also allows me to be in control of when and where, while not having to worry about reservations in advance. Some countries have specific laws that allow camping on nearly any piece of unfenced land, so long as you are a certain distance from any primary buildings. I love this concept and these places, and people for the most part respect the land and the owners.

There are many web sites these days devoted to finding free campsites, cheap campsites, cheap rooms for rent, etc. A few include Campendium, AirBnB, HipCamp, ADVRider’s Tent Space, couchsurfing.com and Freecampsites.net. Even an Instagram post can result in an invitation to stay and/or dine for free. One of my go-to sites for finding free camping has always been iOverlander.com. You may have to sort through all of the listings for Wal-Mart parking lots and roadside rest areas to find the true gems for tent camping, but there are plenty.

House Sitting

It wasn’t until the very end of my 2016 travels that I learned about house-sitting. I don’t recall who mentioned it, but after visiting a few of the web sites, I was convinced that it is possible to stay in these places and spend a lot less (and live quite well also). If you’re not familiar with these sites, here’s basically how it works:

There are two sides to the site: one for prospective house-sitters, and one for homeowners looking for a sitter. For a fee, you join one or the other group, and can apply to care for someone’s home and pets, or place your home and pets on the site in need of a sitter. Typically, home- and pet-owners are looking for some to care for their pets, home and garden while they travel. This can be anywhere from a weekend to a year. There is usually no charge for staying in a nice home. It’s a win-win for the homeowner and the sitter.

We joined Trustedhousesitters.com and have already cared for the homes and pets of three families. This builds reviews for us, hopefully making it easier to book future sits. The competition for housesitting can be strong, and many homes get multiple applications, so we have to plan a bit in advance, but we are usually looking for sits that are only a few days to a week. This gives us time to relax, recharge, cook and sleep in a real home, and prepare for the next leg of our journey. And a little time spent with fur friends can be a plus also.

We also placed our home on the site. Within 24 hours of listing it, we had two dozen applications from all over the world, and now have a sitter coming to care for our home and pets for the first six months of our travels. The Digital Nomad trend, bolstered by the pandemic shuttering offices, has made it easy for more and more people to work from home, regardless of whose home or where in the world that home may be. Of course, in the last year it has become difficult for Digital Nomads to cross borders easily. This has had the dual effect of increasing national sitters, while creating a backlog of sitters who are chomping at the bit to travel internationally. This will undoubtedly flood the housesitting sites as countries open up again, creating even more competition for the best sits. We will be included in that sparring.

We also believe in “Paying It Forward”. We have hosted many world travelers while home in the States, and believe that ultimately it will come back to us when we are abroad and looking for inexpensive/free lodging.

By using a combination of all of the above, we intend to stretch our time in Europe, Australia, and the United States, as well as our total time traveling, as far as possible. While we intend to practice what we preach with regard to avoiding burnout on the road by returning home once or twice a year, the expense of flying home more often than that can be better put towards touring. Therefore, the ability to settle into a home-away-from-home from time to time can make a big difference, both in budget and mental wellness.

While we wait for the world to open up a bit, I thought I would reflect on some lessons learned from my last Round-The-World ride. These are thoughts and themes that are common to travelers, but may be new to those who are just beginning to think about a long trek.

Today I’m going to discuss the upside and downside to solo travel, at least from my perspective and experience, along with the realities of this type of trip versus what you may see, hear, or read.

Solo Travel

Solo travel is very different from traveling with a companion or a group. It has pros and cons.
Pros:

• You have total freedom. You are not tied to someone else’s time frame or schedule. You can go or stay wherever you want whenever you want, for as long as you want.
• You are much more approachable. When locals see you alone, they are very curious about why, where you have come from, how far and how long you have traveled, and they aren’t afraid to approach you to ask. They don’t feel like they are interfering, as they often do if you are together with others.

Cons:

• It can get lonely. Especially if/when you are in a country where you don’t speak the language and can’t understand the signs. Just finding a place to eat or buy food can be difficult. For some, this isolation can lead to depression, or worse. It’s important to be aware of these feelings, and make adjustments before it affects your happiness. It may require making an extra effort to find people to hang with, whether ex-pats, fellow travelers, or friendly locals that speak your language.
• You may see extraordinary things that you wish you could share with others then and there, rather than only through Instagram, Facebook, or a blog. That sudden “haha, look at that!” feeling that you haven’t had for months. Intrepid UK bicycle tourer Anna McNuff, in her book “50 Shades of the USA: One Woman’s 11,000 mile cycling adventure through eveery state of America”, put it best as she stood alone looking out at Niagara Falls:
  “This was one of the few times on the journey when it felt like a shame to be experiencing the views alone. I didn’t feel that I could accost a stranger and explode into excited chatter about how fabulous a sight of natural wonder it was, so I had to keep all those emotions to myself. All that joy, all that amazement. Surrounded by people sharing the sight together, I noted how their joy seemed to be doubled when shared.”

One sometimes overlooked aspect to solo travel by motorcycle is safety and security. I met many women traveling in pairs (both by motorcycle, and backpacking). Teaming up with another person, even for short distances, can add some sense of security and relaxation, as you get to share experiences. It also has a significant advantage in a couple of specific situations: border crossings and shopping. In certain countries, the process of stamping yourself and your vehicle into a country may require you to leave your bike (and all of your belongings) in a potentially sketchy place (that in itself describes many border areas) in order to enter an office. This process can take anywhere from a few minutes to a few hours, and you may not be able to park the bike where you can keep an eye on it. Having another traveler present to stay with the bikes and gear while one person does the paperwork can definitely ease your mind. Granted, in some cases, it will be necessary for the other person to enter the office to complete their paperwork, so it will take longer, but speed shouldn’t be the driving factor at border crossings. These situations are one reason I chose to use lockable hard panniers on my bike(s) for travel in developing countries, where theft can be problematic. I’ve heard too many stories of people returning to their bike only to find their soft pannier cut open and their gear long gone. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a fan of soft luggage, especially when traveling in safer places.

Having said that, I have to admit that at many borders I crossed — especially in certain parts of Africa and Central America where I had a pre-conceived idea of problems — people were curious, but very respectful, and did not bother my gear. However, it’s easy to get lulled into a false sense of security.

When the Going Gets Rough

When you read travel blogs, books, or watch a show or a movie about travel, it almost never shows the complete picture. People don’t want to watch the negative or down sides of travel. They want to be entertained. So occasionally on a show like “Long Way Round” they will show a breakdown or an accident. At the most, it lasts about two to three minutes on the show. Now, keep in mind that those guys had a large support crew following them, and their focus was to make entertainment. In the real world, for the average person, a breakdown can last days, weeks, or even months, if you are in Mongolia or Chad and need a specialized part. The first days of this can be exciting and upbeat, but it can go downhill if you don’t maintain a positive outlook or plan. In most cases, these instances make for some great tales after the fact, and although it’s hard at the time, it’s better if you can remind yourself of the great “adventure” story you’ll have once you are out of whatever situation you find yourself in.

There are thousands of stories about bodging (inelegant temporary repairs). I’m one of those guys that others tend to refer to as a “McGyver” type, because I can usually find a way to fix something using the least likely but available objects. I will always remember one of my first introductions to round-the-world motorcycle travel, around 1986, when a Danish couple stopped into a motorcycle shop I was working at in South Texas. They had been most of the way around the world already on their 1978 Yamaha XS750, and he told a story of breaking down in remote west Africa. He ended up removing a door hinge from a small hut in the village they were in, and fashioning an internal transmission part from it. That story has always remained in the back of my mind when something goes wrong: “if he could make transmission parts from a door hinge, you can certainly fix this!”

Not Just the Physical Toll of Travel

The old adage of “Fail to plan, Plan to fail” also is true if you don’t consider your mental health on a trip like this. I had read enough and heard enough before leaving on my trip, that I knew burnout was real and would happen if I didn’t plan ahead of it. So before I ever left, I did two things:

First, I made an agreement with myself that I would not travel for more than four days a week. That gave me three days a week to slow down and relax. On those days that I was moving, I tried not to cover more than 150 to 180 miles a day. I wasn’t always successful, but I set that limit as my goal. That may sound like a snail’s pace if you are used to Interstate Highways and averaging 65 to 70 miles per hour, but once you leave the US, you can only average around 35 mph in the places worth seeing.

There is a popular term in general aviation called “get-there-itis”, which leads pilots to make bad decisions that end badly. Rushing on a long journey can not only be dangerous, it can be physically and mentally exhausting, thereby taking a lot of the fun out of what is supposed to be the adventure of a lifetime. Obviously not everyone who sets off on a world journey has an unlimited amount of time; some are simply using their vacation time off work, and thus are more pressed to keep moving. My advice would be to shorten your journey rather than push your limits, so you can slow down, see more, and enjoy it.

The second thing I did before I left in 2015 was to book a month off of my tour and buy a plane ticket home about six months into my travels. That month off was crucial for emotionally and mentally recharging. I have seen many people start off on the trip of their dreams only to get overwhelmed by the cultural differences, and/or burned out and return home early.

Okay. Since I have spent the past few posts on my soap box and talking about travel in general, rather than doing it, it’s time to get this road trip started!

I’ve lost track of all the different scenarios we had gone over depending on if and when various countries opened up. I suppose I could go back and re-read what I’ve already written, but instead I’ll just wing it. We have a semi-plan in place, and it’s starting off a bit different than we originally intended (obviously). We were supposed to be leaving on the first leg of our RTW ride right now, which would have seen us ride to Toronto, fly us and the bike to Dublin, and spend the rest of this year and part of next in Europe before continuing east through Asia. Every day it is sounding more and more like Europe will open this summer, but logistically, for us, it is less likely that we will make it this year, because while Europe may open to American tourists, shipping the motorcycle requires additional coordination and agreements, and not everyone is thrilled with the idea of foreigners showing up in their little villages just yet. We aren’t just tourists, going to Paris and staying in the city. We are travelers. So we’ll go when everyone is ready.

So….Plan C, or D, or whatever: I’m heading east on the little XT250; the same little bike I rode most of the way around the world five years ago. I’m riding to North Carolina, mostly on backroads, and then turn around and ride the Trans America Trail from Cape Hatteras to Oklahoma. For those who aren’t familiar, there are various versions of a mostly-unpaved route across the US, and the one I am riding begins in North Carolina and ends in Oregon. However, it’s a bit early in the season to do the Rocky Mountain passes, and besides, we have other plans for June. I will finish the western half of the Trail later. For the next three weeks, I’ll be riding solo on the 250. Diana will be driving a paved route, and will meet up with me at the end of each day heading west.

Weather permitting, we’re hoping to make it back to the Texas Hill Country before the end of May. And then reload and shift to Plan E.

Now, finally, we are rolling. It feels good to be back on the road.

The sandy, pine forests of East Texas and Louisiana begin to give way as I cross into Natchez, Mississippi. There are still pines, but they are now joined by dogwoods, redbuds and oaks, among others. The scenery is definitely changing. I’m sticking to the back roads on my little 250, maintaining about 60mph where the speed limit is posted at 65. The bike is happy at that speed, and so am I. More time to enjoy the scenery.

Diana meets up with me in Georgia, and the weather catches up with us the next day. Not only does it rain all day, but the muggy 80 degree weather of the past few days is replaced with temperatures in the upper 40s. I layer up, but the chill is enough that I’m happy to have a hotel room in Fayetteville, North Carolina. We have arrived just in time for the Colonial Pipeline hack. The Carolinas, but especially North Carolina, is in a panic. Lines at gas stations are long, and many stations have run out of fuel. (Of course none of them would have if people wouldn’t panic and fill their cars up for no reason; within two days the pipeline is operating again and things are returning to normal). At one station in Washington, NC I wait for over an hour to buy my one-and-a-half gallons of fuel. During my wait, I get to watch a fight break out between a woman and a man who apparently was trying to cut in line. The police arrive, an ambulance arrives, the lines get longer. The stupidity over fuel, which is actually fairly easy to find, gets worse.

We make it to Frisco, at the very bottom of Cape Hatteras on Thursday evening, where we set up camp for two nights. It’s a beautiful campground, and apparently many people have canceled their reservations because of the “fuel crisis”, leaving a nice, quiet seashore and campground to maybe a dozen of us.

The next morning we visit the Wright Brothers National Memorial in Kill Devil Hills. This is an amazing place. It is so simply but well laid out that you feel like you are there on December 17, 1903 when Orville and Wilbur made their first four powered flights. It is humbling to think that within 25 years people would be flying aircraft across the Atlantic and only 65 years after that first flight we would land a man on the moon.

Sometimes you just can’t make this stuff up: We were standing on the south side of the monument atop Kill Devil Hill (the photo above looking over the field is on the north side), and overheard four women talking. One said “I wonder where they actually flew the plane?” Another responded, “I think it was right here”, pointing south toward the town of Nags Head, “but this hill wasn’t here, it was flat then.” We just looked at each other, dumbfounded. These four had to pay to get into the park, then walk past the museum, past the hangar and workshop, past the stone monuments and the launch rail, then climb Kill Devil Hill. All along that route are markers describing what took place here between 1901 and 1903.

In the morning, I will catch the ferry to Ocracoke Island, on to Cedar Island and back to mainland North Carolina, beginning my westward trek on the “Trans America Trail” (really more of a “Trans America Route” at this point, as little or none of it is actually a trail). Diana will backtrack and meet up with me somewhere along tomorrow’s route.

After two days on Cape Hatteras, it’s time to start west. Diana will drive back the way she came, which is sixty miles back up the Cape before crossing several bridges to the mainland. I have a short 5 mile ride to the Hatteras Ferry which will take me to Ocracoke, where I will catch a larger, longer ferry to Cedar Island and onwards across North Carolina on the Trans America Trail.

The first ferry is free and first-come, first-serve. The second ferry only runs three times a day, and requires a reservation. I have a reservation on the 1pm ferry from Ocracoke to Cedar Island. I have to check in about an hour earlier, so I need to be there by noon. To be safe, I decide to try to get on the 9am ferry from Frisco to Ocracoke. Since it’s first-come, I decide to arrive by 8am. As I pull up, they are loading the 8am ferry (it runs every hour or so). Then it sits, fully loaded. Cars arrive and line up for the 9am ferry, but the 8am ferry is still here.

It turns out that there is a large fishing tournament here today, and six of the boats in the tournament have managed to follow each other aground in the Sound, blocking the inlet for the ferries. So we are all stuck at the moment.

Eventually they are able to clear the path, and the ferries depart. On this ferry, motorcycles board last. On the Ocracoke-to-Cedar Island ferry, they board the motorcycles first.

After spending most of the day waiting for, and riding ferries, I arrive in Maysville at White Oak Campground. Tomorrow will hopefully be my first day of more unpaved roads than pavement.