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”
The flight from LAX to Rio de Janeiro (GIG) had been a long one but while tired I was excited to be at last joining the movie company to film on location. I had been hired to train Jaguars and was the only America working for the British film. When I met Gabriel at customs, I soon discovered that I had stepped into a surreal world and time. He stared right through me wearing a sweat-stained t-shirt that read “Kill Them All and Let God Sort them Out.” I could just make out a faded French Foreign Legion logo on a worn canvas bag slung over his shoulder.
In a thick Portuguese accent, he said in rehearsed English, “Welcome to Brazil,” and commenced to orchestrate us through customs. This was the tone that the shooting of this movie would take for the better part of a year. We filmed in fifty-five different locations that year which took us from the coast to deep in the jungles of the Amazon. We were on a golden voyage, a real old school adventure and it was 1984. Each day took us further from what we knew to a world of wild animals, jungle darkness, danger, Voodoo and real outlaws. We were a long way from home.
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”
It’s always the same. Every time I start planning and packing for an adventure, I get so wrapped up, I’m exhausted by the time I throw my leg over the motorcycle and twist the throttle. What’s craziest about all this is I always pack too much which is half the reason I’m tired in the first place. I realize it is not the effort of packing but how all that stuff weighs on the mind not to mention my motorcycle.
I’ve learned from many past adventures, except for emergency gear, if you haven’t used it in first three days, you don’t need it. So, I pack it up and send it home at the first chance. This makes for better traveling; as packing and unpacking gear is faster and less cumbersome when setting up and breaking down camp and it’s just plain easier to find where I stashed something on the motorcycle. Life on the road becomes less cluttered.
Nowadays, it is easier for me to get ready for an adventure because I pack less. And really, I’m down to two pairs of cargo pants that make into shorts, two pairs of underwear, one Jetbol to cook in–you get the picture.
I have slowly grown into to a minimalist on the road and I’m noticing this philosophy has carried over into my life off the road. After several months out, I return needing less, and more importantly, wanting less.
To paraphrase Thoreau, we don’t own things–things own us.
Have any of you found this to be true? Or is it just me?
I will be giving a seminar at BMW Motorcycles of Riverside, on moto camping, March 4th, and 5th if you’d like to spend some time talking about heading down distant, dusty roads toward the empty spots on the map. Oh, and we’ll talk about how to do it without carrying the kitchen sink.
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.
As you may have heard, there is a gasoline strike in Mexico. And based on some media reports, it has gotten quite dodgy in places. Yesterday, after ten wonderful days at our place in Playa de Estero, Baja Norte, my wife (Tammy) and I headed home to Lake Arrowhead, SoCal. Continue reading “Rules to Travel By….”
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”