I was asked by Cee Cee Broughton to share my rules to follow when traveling in third world countries. It’s really quite simple and has worked for me for over 60 years. Respect the culture; remember you’re a guest; leave entitlement at home; listen more than speak; show admiration, gratitude and humility to your hosts; smile and greet people with kindness, no matter the situation; remain calm and act with confidence and assurance; always move slowly and think before you speak; and most importantly, smile. Actually, that works everywhere. Remember, if nothing goes wrong, it’s not an adventure.
I have to confess, these rules work me for simply living.
Here is a link to Greg Rossler’s recent trip report to Baja: Click Here! Greg is a close friend and fellow rider. He and his brother, Dave, are worldclass riders and adventures. Thanks Greg for letting me share this great adventure.
As summer approaches and many riders are getting ready to head out on the roads and trails, I thought I would make available a reprint of my July 2017 article on motorcycle camping. Please click the link for my full article with strategies and lists of everything about motorcycle camping: CampingFeature copy. I hope you enjoy it!
In case you were wondering why I spend so much time down in Baja. Here are some clips from the famous Baja 1000 a few years ago. Thanks to my friend and fellow rider Tanner Jett of Herwaldt Motorsports in Fresno, CA. for providing the clip.
Sometimes the stars and moon line up just right and the perfect adventure unfolds. An adventure that can never quit be repeated and is fondly remembered for the rest of your life. That was the case back in the late eighties when a group of us camping in Playa de Estero decided to head further south, down the Baja Peninsula, to the legendary fishing holes surrounding Abreojos. Continue reading “Lessons from the Road: One Good Turn Deserves Another”
Tammy and I had just come out of a long ride on backcountry dirt trails in the Big Horn Mountains of Wyoming when I first noticed a fog of oil wetting the dusty surface of the rear drive on my BMW R1200GSA adventure motorcycle. Clearly, my outer seal was failing.
I was so intent on running a mental inventory of tools and parts needed for the repair that I had not noticed the man standing beside me. Apparently, he had come out of the RV, with a BMW motorcycle in tow, parked at the pump in front of me. Almost on cue, just as I had come to the realization I didn’t have the parts to make the repair, the man said, shaking his head, “That’s not good—You won’t get very far with that. Do you have the part?” Continue reading “Pay It Forward”
About this time every year, I like to retell a story about my best friend, Fritz. It has been several years ago since he passed. But, like with all those we love who pass, it seems like just yesterday. He left, but not before he taught me one last lesson. Fritz was a big, larger than […]
About this time every year, I like to retell a story about my best friend, Fritz.
It has been several years ago since he passed. But, like with all those we love who pass, it seems like just yesterday. He left, but not before he taught me one last lesson.
Sometimes the stars and moon line up just right and the perfect adventure unfolds. An adventure that can never quit be repeated and is fondly remembered for the rest of your life. That was the case back in the late 80s when a group of us camping in Playa de Estero decided to head further south, down the Baja Peninsula, to the legendary fishing holes surrounding Abreojos. Continue reading “Lessons from the Road: One Good Turn Deserves Another”
Fritz Hoffmeister and two halibut – Playa de Estero, Baja Norte, Mx
About this time every year, I like to retell a story about my best friend, Fritz.
It has been several years ago since he passed. But, like with all those we love who pass, it seems like just yesterday. He left, but not before he taught me one last lesson.
Fritz was a big, larger than life man who lived life to the fullest. I have often said, it is harder to find a good fishing buddy than it is, a good wife. And, Fritz was the best fishing buddy I ever had.
He was a man of many contradictions. He lived modestly, but was a millionaire. He was a tall Viking, but was the softest touch I ever met. He was the most successful contractor in our valley. He was a man’s man, and my friend.
Now, to the story. We were planning a fishing adventure down to Costa Rica. The motos were ready, the packing was done, and the dates were set. It was all we talked about for months. I poured over every route and studied all the possible tide charts and camping areas along the way.
I thought the day we would leave would never come. Finally, the day of our departure was near. I was so excited that my friends were tired of hearing about our plans.
But a few days before we were actually scheduled to head out, Fritz called me, and said he could not make it. He said that a job had come up that he could not pass up. I was livid and we argued. He said he had doubled his bid but still got the project. He paused and said, “Kenny. We can always go next year.”
I postponed Costa Rica and left on a long moto trip that stretched into months. We didn’t talk much during the time as I was traveling to the white spots on the map where there was no connectivity. I was unplugged. When I finally got back, there were several messages on the phone from Fritz’s daughter that said my friend was ill and I should come right away to see him.
Fritz had contracted cancer. What he had thought was a bad virus before I left had turned out to be lung cancer. Immediately, I went to see him.
He was frail and ill. He was weak and barely had the strength to speak above a whisper. We talked long into the evening. He weakly laughed, as we recalled all the adventures we had been on and all the great times we had had.
I looked around his richly appointed house where we had spent so many evenings planning our adventures and realized all his stuff and money did not really count for much, now. All we were talking about were the good times and adventures we had shared.
As though he had read my mind, he squeezed my hand firmly, eyes welling up, and said, “Kenny, we should have gone to Costa Rica.”
