This was a longish trip, 4,000 miles from Milwaukee WI to Amado AZ to visit the Overland Expo, put on by Overland Journal. The trip was used as a test trip for my upcoming plan to ride around the planet for a while, and the following was written for a general audience with that in mind.


The whole report is pretty long, and so I will be breaking it up into bits. And I will really, really try to get the whole thing up this weekend. It will also be slow on pics to start out with, but will get better I promise. I took almost 500 pictures on the trip.


I needed a test trip to try out the Ural (named Despair) before the BigTrip, and when listening to Sidestand Up I heard Carla King discussing the Overland Expo. It was the first weekend of April in Amado Az. The distance was about 2000 miles one way, and the weather was marginal for a two wheel trip (Weather in the Midwest in March can be just about anything you can imagine), but Despair, with the sidecar, there wasn't much to worry about.


I put in for two and a half weeks of vacation, and asked right away if it would be approved. The expo wasn't that far away, and I wanted to sign up for the Overland Experience package, which included camping and other things. Since that was $270, I wanted to make sure I would have the time off. My boss approved it with a casual wave of his hand, and I signed up the next day.


After signing up I had the option to pick classes. Experience attendees could register for classes in advance, and had more classes to choose from. In fact the array was intimidating, but reading the descriptions help narrow things down. The Overland Expo is for all overlanders, and many of the classes being offered seemed intended for four wheel travel. Skipping that section I focused on the motorcycle courses, and ignoring the advice to include down time during every day, signed up for everything that interested me.


Alas, or luckily, quite a few of the classes were already full, and so I ended up with most of Friday free, and blocks of time off on other days. Looking at the vendor list I thought I would be able to find things to do with the time.


With my time at the expo blocked off, it was time to figure out how to get there. I wanted to see mountains, and perhaps more importantly learn how Despair did in the mountains. Since I missed my chance to see the Badlands during the day twice now heading west out of Milwaukee, then south to Arizona seemed like it would work. On the ride back I thought it would be good to visit Moonshine, since Terry Hammond passed away last year. The Moonshine Lunch Run was slotted for the weekend after the Overland Expo, so it would a bit of a rush to cross to the country but I thought it would be achievable. A casual conversation brought up the issues of weather, and how it might still be a bit cold in March. I could ride in it, with the sidecar and heated gear, but looking at stuff would be tricky, and camping just about impossible, or at least uncomfortable. I decided to also look into a more southernly route.


While at work one day, one of my bosses asked if I would be able to work with him on opening day of baseball, which is an extremely busy day (working in EMS). I had found about a few days after I was given my vacation that opening day was the monday after the expo, so there was no way I would be able to get there. There is a long standing rule that vacation on days of “Anticipated High Call Volume” would be denied out of hand, and I started to hear through the work grapevine that several people had been denied their vacation for that day. I had tried to keep a long profile with my approved vacation, but now had to point out I wouldn't be working that day. There was a certain amount of drama, but it wasn't my mistake and I pointed about I had already put money down on the expo. I offered to cancel the vacation if work would refund the money (which I said was $300). They said no, and everything was still on.


I made an appointment to get vaccinations before I left for the Expo, a rather long phone conversation where the receptionist seemed confused by the number of countries I was planning to visit. “It's overland to Argentina,” I explained, “I have to go through all the countries between here and there.” While I had origionally planned for the visit Thursday morning she asked me to move it to Wednesday, concerned about how long I would tie up the doctor for I guess.


The last couple of weeks passed by, the date of the trip approaching. The bike got fresh oil and tires. I decided to pack more food and other supplies than usual. I had the space, after all. I did try to keep some sense to what I was packing, mainly adding more consumables. I remembered the HU video pointing out one advantage to sidecar travel was being able to stay away from civilization for longer periods. Three gallons of water, lots of food and different things to cook it in. I was probably able to last 3 or 4 days without resupply (except gas, of course).


My last day of work passed with quiet uneventfulness, which was just how I wanted it. My doctors appointment to get stabbed with needles. I was up just as early as any day I had to go to work, which I found extremely distrubing on the first day of vacation, and showed up at the clinic 15 minutes early. They had emailed me most of the paperwork I was going to need, and I showed up with forms already filled out. If the receptionist appreciated my preparedness she did a good job of hiding it. I was allowed in back right on time, and after a brief exam by a nurse the doctor came in.


She had an impressive stack of papers, which turned out to be descriptions of all the different shots, pills and other medical concerns regarding each country I had listed when I called to set up the appointment, which was just about every country in South America. It was more than a little daunting. We started to chat, and it turned out the only shot I really needed was Yellow Fever, since I already had Hep B, Hep A was only good for six months (and getting it now would mean it was expired by the time I would need it). I would have to take some typhoid pills (the pills are good for 5 years, the shot for only 3. But the pills are more touchy and taking them wrong is the same as doing nothing) before I left, and then bring some pills for malaria along with. I am not a fan of medication, but I am not a fan of malaria either so would have to deal.





The doctor also talked about a rabies vaccine, but talking it over with her it seemed a bit like a waste of money, since I would still have to get shots after any bite, and it wasn't guaranteed effective. At $500 for each of the three shots I would need I decided to pass. This meant I got out of the appointment with only one poke, for Yellow Fever. Both the doctor and nurse warned me I would be get general body aches and generally feel like crap later for the next day or two, which I hoped to skip. I was planning to leave at 1am the next morning.


I stopped for a late breakfast, went home and packed the bike for the trip. I was a little surprised at the amount of stuff I decided to bring with, and how the bike still seemed empty when it was loaded up. I was going to be wearing my cold weather stuff, so that would eventually go into the sidecar, and I have two different mattresses since I couldn't decided which one I liked better. I added some more food, then walked to a local pizza place for lunch, returned home and went to bed.


I never sleep well before a road trip. Its not nerves, I just want to be going, like a child on Christmas eve, knowing I have to sleep before Santa will show up but desperately wanting to go and start opening presents right now. I've learned some meditation techniques and some other tricks to force sleep to come, but it is always short, fitful, and at 11pm, an hour before my alarm went off, I gave up and started to get ready.


It was chilly out, 26 degrees according to my smart phone, no where near the temps that would stop me from riding, though I did decided to put on my heated socks. There had also been some snow to the southwest, it wasn't supposed to have accumulated, but it might be good to have the extra wheel.


I filled up the fuel tank and added some fuel to the gas can I carry. The process is simple, fill the tank then add gas to the can to reach a nice even number ($15 or $20). The can slowly fills up, then when full empty it into the main tank. Alternatively, if I have to cross an area with reduced availablty of gas, then just make sure both are full, and empty it as soon as I can. Gas in the can goes back faster, I think, and leaving it in there for any length of time seems to cause me problems later.


On the road, headed SW towards Rockford, IL, I noticed I wasn't really staying warm. The little lights on the controller for my heated suit were lit up, bright a cheery, but the cold was still creeping in. I had the heat turned all the way up, something I hadn't had to do during the worst of Wisconsin's winter, but now it just wasn't enough. I started stopping more often to warm up. I should have bared up and sorted out what was wrong, but it was still cold out, and I had allowed myself to get cold before stopping to find out what was wrong. I couldn't bring myself to start poking at wiring when my hands were already cold.


As I headed south and west, and the sun started to poke its head over the horizon, I warmed up some (as did the air around me) and I got out the volt meter to see what was going on. I still don't know know, but while 12v were going into the fuse block on the sidecar (Where the heated gear was wired), only 3v were coming out. I moved the wires directly to the battery, and was rewarded by a massive wave of heat when I plugged back in.


The plan had been to eat lunch in Kansas City, then sleep in the area of Wichita. I had spent a lot of time looking at the weather before I left, and had noticed the area of cold in the north more or less ended at the Kansas/Oklahoma border. Sleeping in Wichita meant I would probably be able to camp the next night in Oklahoma, where it was likely to be much warmer overnight. But the heated gear issues had slowed me down, and I was eatting dinner in Kansas City instead of lunch. Worse, I had wanted to go to Masterpiece Barbeque, but it had apparently closed (Poor internet research there, huh?) and was replaced with a Jack Stacks, which isn't bad but is a chain place and not really what I had been looking for. Arthur Bryant's is also in KC, and fantastic, but was on the other side of town and I didn't feel up to downtown at rush hour. So I caved and headed into Jack Stacks.






The food was good, the crowd was upscale downtown. The portion was disappointingly small, but I was full when I left so I guess I can't complain. I decided to take some pictures, and get Blue out of his bag for a couple shots. Then I was back on the bike, pointed for Wichita. I hadn't gone far, though, before hitting a sort of mental wall. It was about 7pm, and I had been riding since about 1230am. It hadn't been easy riding, either. I saw a sign for a historical Santa Fe Trail stagecoach stop, and decided it would be cool to see, found a motel, and called it a day.

__________________
I write books about motorcycle travel. Small, cheap, motorcycle travel. Also superheroes.

I woke up early, well sort of early, to a gray sky and chilly day. The ride to the stagecoach stop was short, and I pulled up just before a bus load of school kids. Just one bus, and the stop was large enough that I didn't notice them. Some of the buildings had activities set up for the kids, and the costumed staff were happy to talk about the location and it's history, as well as the stuff they had for the kids to do. The kids were all excited and seemed to be enjoying themselves, the teachers seemed cold.



That's Blue, my traveling build a bear. After this trip I can joke he's been to more states than some of my friends.

I spent some time there, and learned a lot. Not the least is there are several historical trails across the USA, which I apparently had never learned (or more likely forgot). Too bad, but I will remember it for some future date. I hope, away.



As I continues Southwest, the skies cleared and the weather warmed. I passed north of Wichita, picking up US Hwy 50 and making for something called the Atmosphere and Space Museum of America on my map. It was located in Huchington, KS, and to be honest I had very low expectations about it. I've been to the Smithsonian, and while I don't think of myself as a space geek, and I a fan of a good museum. I was totally unprepared for the awesomeness of what Kansas calls their Cosmosphere.



Walking in the front door you have the immediate urge to dodge the SR-71 (full size, actual plane) swooping down on you. Part of a space shuttle hangs behind it on the wall, and other fighters hang higher up in the lofty lobby.

The gift shop sits off to the side of the ticket counter, and digital signs show the various ticket combinations. I hadn't been expecting anything that needed ticket combinations, so took the simplest, just a tour of the museum itself.

I was impressed. The crowd was light, it was a friday, and even the loud small children couldn't distract from displays a bit further on. The layout involved frequent twists and turns, which gave the feeling of being a maze without allowing you to get lost.

The displays followed the history of spaceflight from the later days of World War II through the space shuttle era. The soviet section was better than anything I had ever seen, with several personal items given to President Eisenhower and donated to the museum for display.


One of the things I that had impressed me about the Smithsonian was items on display were often the actual things, not just a scale model of the X-1, but the actual plane used by Chuck Yeager. Not a model of a Mercury capsule, but the actual Mercury 7 John Glenn used. The scale of the Cosmosphere was smaller, but still impressive, and they did have the actual command module from Apollo 13, made famous by a movie a few years ago. Apparently it was going to just be junked after the cause of the failure was found, but instead obtained and reconstructed by the Cosmosphere.




There's Blue, reading about the success rate of rocket launches before the Mercury program. Could've been better.

A smaller Russian rocket, they kept the same design and just built everything bigger.

A life scale mock up of the US/USSR space docking.

They wouldn't sell the scarf, which is too bad because I think it would really set off Blue's jacket.

I could have spend a day there, but had arrived in the early afternoon and still wanted to get out of Kansas before camping. I had trouble leaving, though, and it was after 6pm when I finally got back on the bike. I only rode another hour or so before finding a camp group in southern Kansas. The weather had been wonderful all afternoon, warm and blue skies, so I decided I was far enough south, pitched my tent as the sun set, and settled in to some ramen. My air pump was broken, so I opted to use a self inflating mattress. I had bought it a few years ago, when I first got the sidecar and realized I could care larger camping items, but it had seen a lot less use recently. It had come along so I could try it again and see if I found it comfortable, since using it meant I wouldn't need the airpump. One less thing to fail, and all that.




Good night.

__________________
I write books about motorcycle travel. Small, cheap, motorcycle travel. Also superheroes.

The camping experience was, simply, awful. I had missed the train tracks, and the trains started coming through around 11pm. Earplugs helped. The temperature plummeted. The wind picked up and my tent developed a decided lean. I have no doubt that I slept, some. The first gray light of dawn found me awake though, huddled inside my sleeping bag (which was quite warm), and dreading the day. There wasn't much for it, though, and I dragged myself up, packed the tent in something I can only call a cold sleet, and then took a 20 minute hot shower before finally hitting the road. I had planned to cook some oatmeal for breakfast, but the drearyness of the morning sent me looking for a diner. A heated diner. At least my heated suit was working again.


I found breakfast, and continued down the road. I was headed in the general direction of Roswell, NM, and already wanted to find a hotel to sleep in, no matter what the temperatures were during the day. My map showed Billy the Kids grave along the way, and when I stopped for gas nearby the attendant gave me directions “It's behind the museum, just drive a couple of miles until you see the big yellow sign.” Sounded easy enough, so I drove a little west, and pulled into the parking lot under the big yellow sign for the Billy the kid Museum.



It was closed.


The area in the back was marked as private property and no tresspassing. I was confused, and after taking the pictures and refilling my water pack I thought some more about the directions. 'A couple of miles,' well I had only gone barely one, so perhaps I had the wrong yellow sign. I decided to give it another 5 minutes down the road, before heading for Roswell, where I was hoping to get lunch.


It was only 2 minutes when I saw the new yellow sign, pointing me to Fort Sumner's Museum, and Billy the Kid's gravesite. The actual ride was about 10 minutes from the Billy the Kid Museum, the Fort Sumner Museum was definitly off the main highway, but there in the back was Billy the Kid's grave, along with some others.



Hi Blue


Reading the signs, it appears the grave stone has been stolen in the past, most recently in the 1980s. Now the stone is shackled to the ground, which interferes somewhat with the viewing.


There is also a museum, which is $4 to get into, and while it contains a lot of history about Fort Sumner, and movie posters from the various films romanticizing Billy's life over the years, left me oddly disappointed. I couldn't quite explain why.




Leaving the museum a couple whizzed by two up on a KTM adventure, the big one, all loaded up. I threw them a wave, and less than a minute later they had looped around and rolled into the parking lot.


They were English, I think his name was Grant and I don't remember hers at all(I wrote it down, somewhere), and traveling north from South America on vacation. They had been to a lot of places I wanted to go, and we chatted about it. They had never seen a Ural in real life before, and I pointed them towards Billy's grave. They had wanted to ride up to Yellowstone, but the weather that far north, and that high up, had convinced them to stay south. They had also heard of the Overland Expo, but weren't going. Too bad, it would've been cool to see them again. They were headed to Texas and a KTM dealer, there was something wrong with the wiring for their fuel pump, causing it to cut out occasionally. I wished them luck, and they rode off one direction while I took the other.


The ride to Roswell was uneventful. The weather was nice, but between lost time looking for Billy the Kid's gravestone and taking to the KTM couple it was looking more like dinner in Roswell than lunch, but that was okay.


Finding the “UFO information and research center” turned out to be pretty easy. It was a converted movie theater and filled with displays about the history of UFO's, UFO investigations, government explanations, debunking the explanations, and (to their credit, I think) the various UFO hoaxes over the years. It was all very serious.




Oddly I wasn't allowed to carry Blue's backpack into the display area, it seems there is a lot of pilferage. Blue himself got a lot of attention, as he usually does. Silly bear. I tried to take a picture of him with some of the stuff animals in the gift shop, but was immediately stopped. The don't want people copying the animals, apparently, and pictures aren't allowed. All and all it was a strange place.



Afterwards I went looking for dinner. The people at the UFO museum recommended (of all things) Applebees. I had my doubts, which were releived somewhat when it appeared all the local police eat there. Unfortunately there was a line out the door, and there wasn't any sign of a hostess to work on getting the line shorter. After ten minutes without sign of an employee I went back to the bike and rode off. There was a wood fired pizza place I had seen, and there had been a fair number of cars in the parking lot, but as it turned out those cars were for sale, and no one was there to eat. I tried one more place, Farley's bar and grill. It was a large place, and the lot was about half full. Inside the place felt empty, but as I ate it rapidly filled up. Guess I was there early. The food was pretty good, better than what I would expect from Applebees anyway, and the décor was a combination of Spaceman Comic and Rustic Frontier. Odd, but Roswell is an odd town.

Chicken Fried Steak - yummy.

There was also a guzzi in the lobby.


It was now getting late, and I was thinking about cancelling my plans to get a hotel and find camping. Lincoln National Forest was just to my west, and I was heading that way, so I got back on the bike and rode on. The sun was setting as I reach Ruidoso, and the bike had started to run badly, 4th gear was basically unusable, and even 3rd was having issues with some of the hills. I was at about 8,000 feet in the Capitan Mountains, and Ruidoso, I noticed, had 5 different auto parts stores. I decided to find a hotel and go looking for a fresh air filter in the morning, to see if that helped with my power.


The motel 6 was expensive, but had wifi, and I uploaded my first batch of road pictures to Smugmug. The shower was nice too. In the morning I got a coupon for breakfast at a local place, and after some careful directions (it was also off the highway), found it and had a delicous morning meal.


Then it was off to find an airfilter.

__________________
I write books about motorcycle travel. Small, cheap, motorcycle travel. Also superheroes.

I went to autozone first, since locally (at least) they seem to be able to best deal with odd things like, “I want a car air filter for my motorcycle.” These guys were singularly not helpful, not just to me but to other who came in with requests that couldn't be met with an parts search. I guess that is the future. O'Rielly, which was the next down the road, got about the same response, so I gave up and headed to the Napa, who I usually have no luck with, but I did have a Napa part number and they had one in stock. Installing it was a bit of a pain, since the Napa filters are rigid making them hard to squeeze into the airbox. I also gave away the gas in my gas can, since I was worried it had water in it. After all this the bike did run a little better, so it wasn't a waste of time, and I had a good breakfast.

It was a late start to the day, and I was heading also due west. I was thinking about White Sands when I saw a sign for “Smokey the Bear National Monument,” and it wasn't much of a decision to head that way. I had read about the monument breifly when doing ride research, but hadn't actually thought about putting it on the route. I was a little further south than I had planned, but I had time and it was right there, so off I went. This meant riding back up into the mountains (The monument is in Capitan, which is the same name as the mountains. That can't be a coincidence), but the bike was running better so off I went.


The monument is small, about the size of a city park. There are two buildings, one part of the forestry service with displays and a video, then a small nature part where the remains of Smoky the actual bear are buried, then a private building which is the gift shop. The gift shop was closed, the rangers in the forestry building said they had staffing issues. In fact, just about everything in Capitan was closed.


The park was dedicated to Smokey the Bear, who was intially created in 1944 for the forest fire posters, after several other animals were tried out (including Bambi, on temporary loan from Disney). The bear was drawn up in 44, and was popular enough he has been the symbol of forest fire prevention ever since. In 1950, a wild fire was raging in Lincoln National Forest (which covers part of the capitan mountains) and a fire crew found a small bear cub clinging to a tree. The cub was badly burned, but was rescued from the fire and flown out to receive medical care and made a full recovery. The cub was named “Smokey” and was soon adopted as the “Living Symbol” of forest fire prevention. He got a spot at the Washington DC zoo, and had his picture taken and was looked at by thousands of school kids until he officially retired at 25 (That would be 70 in bear years, mandatory federal retirement age). He died about 2 years later, and his remains were quietly flow back to Capitan, interned in the small park, and then a public ceremony was held.





There was a second living symbol for a short time, but I guess it just wasn't the same and the living symbol part of the program was discontinued. The memorial park was quiet, I got the impression it was lightly visited.


A family with two small children, along with myself, accounted for the entire list of visitors that day. The kids were more disappointed the gift shop was closed than I was. I got a sticker from the rangers, and headed back onto the road. I was starting to think I could ride up to the Petrified Forest and still make it to Tucson for a day off, but once out of the mountains I was facing 40mph head winds and the bike was struggling in 3rd gear again. I stopped for a burger in Carrizozo (That really is it's name), and decided I didn't want to fight the wind all day, turning towards Alamogordo and White Sands. I was pretty sure I would arrive early enough to visit the New Mexico Space Hall of Fame before looking for a campground.

The Space Hall of Fame was, taken as a whole, disappointing after the Cosmosphere. But Hal, the first space monkey, was buried there (Did you notice a trend of things being buried where I was stopping? It wasn't intentional)

and I enjoyed the air conditioning. I also took in the Hubble Imax movie,

which was interesting and tied in nicely with my space shuttle trip a couple years ago, where I watched the shuttle launch to complete the repair/maintenance mission the Imax film covered.

Some other Hall of Fame pics -


The Space Hall of Fame inductees, they lined the walls.

A small model of the Trinity Site, where the first nuke was set off. The site is open to the public two days a year, neither of which was when I was there.




After the movie I went looking for a campground. My GPS claimed there was a KOA in Alamogordo, though I started to get concerned as I rode past the Public Defenders and Bond insurers. The campground itself looked to be more of the “long term resident” type, and wasn't a KOA anymore. I decided to look elsewhere, and was getting out my maps when someone walked over to look at the bike.

He was from California, and he and his girlfriend, who was a photographer, were travelling and taking pictures. They had been around in Alamogordo for three days, taking pictures in White Sands, and warned me the campground was everything I was afraid it was. He suggested a state park (Oliver Lee), which was south of town. They had passed, since south of town looked flat and uninteresting, and they had been told there were no facilities there. That sounded find to me, and off I went.

It was...odd...to get too. Way off the highway, it was actually at the base of a small string of mountains and served as a starting point for several hiking trails. It did have showers, and a small ranger station. For $10 a tent site it was perfect. I found a spot some distance from the showers, far away from the collection of Rvs but right near the pit toilets which I thought might be useful later. Definitely still up wind.



The tent was up, and I was writing in my journal (whose notes help me with reports like this) when a couple wandered over. They had followed me into the park in their car, and were touring the country full time in an RV towing the car and a Harley. The man (I never got their names, sadly) remarked he never had a motorcycle until all their sons, grown up and moved out, bought them and encouraged him to get one was well. He admitted he liked it, though he thought the Ural was pretty cool. I offered to let his sit on it, but he passed. We chatted as the sun set, then they headed back to their RV while I sat outside and looked at the stars for a while. There were a lot of them. I also realized here that my camera, while pretty nice, doesn't have the ability to keep the shutter open long enough for star field photos. It was a little sad, but I enjoyed the view anyway. You just won't get to, I guess.

__________________
I write books about motorcycle travel. Small, cheap, motorcycle travel. Also superheroes.

Sorry, today was the Slimy Crud Run, and I spend the day on two wheels exploring two lane roads in WI. An extra 20 degrees F would've been nice.

The next morning I packed up, having had an excellent nights sleep. I wanted to go into the ranger building to see who Oliver Lee was, exactly, but despite the sign claiming it was open at 9, and it being 930, there was no sign of anyone. I hung out of a bit before giving up and pressing west.


White Sands National Monument is, as you may or may not know, right in the middle of White Sands Missile Testing Range. Numerous planes were flying overhead as I headed for the park, and there were signs warning visitors not to touch any unusual objects. Good advice, I thought.

I rolled into the visitor's center, which was under construction. The sandy whitness of the dunes were just a bit further up the road, and past a small booth where you have to play $3 to get in. I decided to look around the visitor center first, to find out what exactly I would be riding into. As I was taking off my coat and helmet (It was hot already) I noticed the pusher rim had a 4 or 5 inch crack in it.

Now, with tube tires this isn't automatically bad, but it isn't good either. I muttered a few things, then headed inside. Maybe when I came back out it would be gone.

The inside of the visitor's center was also being redone, with the disappointing result of all the educational parts being gone. There were two gift shops, and I bought a sticker. I also spoke with the rangers, who let me know the road into the dunes was paved for the first few miles, then it was packed sand. Vehicles aren't allowed to leave the road, and once the pavement ran out parts were badly corragated, since the ranger who ran the grader was on vacation.

I refilled my water bottle, and looked again at the pusher rim. It was still cracked. With a sigh I went about removing it. Since the spare was still carrying a knobbie, which wouldn't last the 2000+ miles I still had left, I put it on the sidecar and the sidecar wheel on the pusher. That done, I reloaded the bike and headed off into the dunes.


The dunes aren't actually sand, but salts that are washed off the mountain ranges along each side of the valley containing White Sand and Alamogordo. There isn't drain out of the valley, so the salts just collect, and as the water evaporated they get left behind. The result is a salty desert, which I could taste not long after paying my $3. There were several little signs pointing out features,

and it didn't seem long before the pavement ran out. The road wasn't actually that bad. At the end of the road there was a huge picnic area, and a few family were there sledding down the dunes. Yup, sledding. I like sledding, but as a Midwesterner in March I am ready for spring.

I climbed some dunes, took some pictures,



generally played around some, then headed back out of the park and out of the white sands area. I was starting to think about reaching Tucson and spending two nights in a hotel before the expo, perhaps see a movie and generally relax a little. The bike could use some service as well, but there was also a ghost town marked on my map I wanted to visit. I decided to play it by ear, since I had really enjoyed my night in a tent having another one right away seemed like a good idea. Of course, so did a day completely off the bike.

The ghost town was called Shakespeare, whom I had studied in college and once dreamed of acting in American Players, who did Shakespeare outside in the town of Spring Green, WI. Sadly, perhaps, my life went in a different direction when I decided I liked regular paychecks. When I saw it was on the route I felt like I had to stop and check it out.


It was closed. I mean, all ghost towns are technically closed and I don't really know what I was expecting, but this one was gated and fencing and had signs clearly stating if you wanted in you had to call a number and pay some money.

The road to get there was crappy too, corrugated dirt with bits of decaying pavement.

I took a few pictures, decided I wasn't actually disappointed, and headed back to I-10.

Also along I-10, I stopped to fuel up and decided about camping. The gas station had a small diner inside, and the food looked good so I decided to eat. Really, I was just delaying the camp or Tucson decision, but the burger was actually delicious. Several of the other customers were openly carrying handguns, mostly of the older, wild west revolver type. I was pretty close to the Mexico border, and wondered (To myself) the bag limit on illegals. I also decided to press on to Tucson, mainly so I could do almost nothing the next day. For the past week I had been riding on a schedule and wanted a day off.

The ride into Tucson was uneventful. I saw signs for Tombstone, which I would definitely have stopped at if I wasn't trying to get to a hotel. I found out its a complete tourist trap and missing it was okay. I found a Motel 6 in Tucson with a little kitchen and fridge, and settled in for the two nights I would be there. It was the first time I stayed anywhere more than one night on this trip, and despite the motel, which felt a little sad with older couples sitting outside their doors and dying potted plants in the windows, relaxed a little. I ordered a pizza (which was trickier than I expected, since I had no idea what the motel's actual address was, and just saying 'the Motel 6' wasn't enough), watched some TV, uploaded some pictures to Smugmug, and went to sleep.

120mph!!! Sweet.

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I write books about motorcycle travel. Small, cheap, motorcycle travel. Also superheroes.

The next day, Wednesday, I woke up late, missing my tent. There were a few things the bike needed done, mainly the rear brake was sticking and I wanted to try and fix it. I found a home depot, located conveniently next to a movie theatre, and bought some PB Blaster. Before taking in a movie or two, I called back to Milwaukee to discuss the trip so far with my mechanic back in Milwaukee. Mainly I was concerned with how much I was spending on fuel, and the bike wasn't handling the miles well (The cracked rim, the stuck brake). For the first time we actually talked about the cost of operation of the various bikes and decided, there in the lobby of the movie theater, that I needed to switch my bike plan back to the 250. It was still broken, but the cost of the expo trip so far would've paid for the repairs and I wasn't even home yet. We made plans to talk more when I got back, and I enjoyed a couple films (Paul and Suckerpunch, if you wanted to know).


Back at the motel I took off wheel and carefully lubricated linkages. It didn't seem to help much, and through process of elimination I figured out it was the swivel of the brake pedal itself that was sticking. I couldn't do anything about that without removing the sidecar, which I just didn't feel like doing. The non travel day had made me jittery and I was excited to go to the expo the next day. I in my journal a lot, washed my clothes, and went to bed.


Time zones are a strange thing. I hadn't been paying much attention to the actual time for days (even for the movies), though I did think I knew the local time. I got up, packed the bike leisurely, and filled up the gas tank before the short ride to Amado. I planned to be there around 1130, and was on schedule for that or a little earlier. Enough time to set up my tent and wander around some. I thought registration opened at noon, so it seemed about perfect. But the time zones were out to get me, and I was fully two hours off. So I rolled into the expo at 925am, to find (unsurprisingly) they were still in the early stages of setting up. I got permission to set up my tent and headed off to the camping area, which would later be called the Dust Bowl.

The area was flat, with bare mesquite trees and little or no shade. I picked a tree more or less at random and began setting up. There were several four wheelers already set up in the area, and the group closest to me wandered over the and conversation.

One loaned me a couple tent stakes when the ones I had refused to penetrate the dirt. Once the tent was up we watched a few others roll into the camping area, and shared road stories. There were mountains off to the east, and apparently they had ridden over them on the way into the expo, as part of a group. I was already impressed with the comparative luxury of four wheel travel. They had ice cream in a freezer in the back of their truck.


I wandered back over the expo, (Okay, I rode over there, call me lazy) to take some pictures and get a sense of what was going to be where,

and found the next two riders arriving. Registration was still not open, and on their large BMWs they were having issues on the pea gravel someone (probably a four wheeler) had dumped everywhere. I supposed the gravel did keep the dust down, but it sucks for two wheels. I led the two bikes back to my tent site, and they set up next to my little tree. The four wheelers came over again, with more of course, and we set about getting to know each other more.


Close to noon I headed back over the expo, there to discover Media and Vendors could register, but lowly attendees were supposed to wait until one. Since I still hadn't wandered all over the grounds yet I took this chance to do so.


There still wasn't much to see in the vender area, of course, but the session rooms were all marked and I located the two on-site restaurants. Finally it was close enough to one I felt okay about talking to the already harrassed looking registration people,

who couldn't find any record of my having signed up. Fortunately I had followed the email directions and so had my proof of registration, though everyone seemed laid back enough I wonder if I really needed it. I got a custom name badge (the first custom badge of the Expo, but not the last. My showed the most flair, though) and a bunch of paperwork. I still haven't read all that stuff, most of it was just ads and didn't even make it home.


I opted to carry the stuff back to my tent, and once there chatted for a while with my neighbors. I had been keeping an eye out for riders all day and only seen a couple more trickle in. Back in the camping area though there were bikes everywhere (Well, comparatively).

I spend some time with the first two riders I had met watching people pull into the camping area, set up their tent, then untrailer their bike (usually the fully kitted out BMW type) and park it next to the tent they had just set up. I razed the other two riders about it, and they eventually went and asked someone why they had trailered their bike. “So I have room to buy stuff and bring it home” was the answer, which I thought was actually pretty good, though it didn't explain why he needed all the luggage on the bike.


Everyone got real excited over this red one. No clue why.



The afternoon was ending, so I decided to go looking for dinner. There was a place on the other side of the freeway with a giant cow skull for the door,

and I had to eat there at least once. Once there I was joined by a couple other expo attendees (Say what you will about the Ural, and it's cost to operate and other issues, it does attract notice. I was frequently referred to as “the Ural guy” during the weekend) for dinner. I had lasagna,

which was a bit odd in a mexican restaurant, but it was the special and very good. I left a nice tip and told the manager I was sure I'd see him again before the weekend was over, but I never ate there again. The evening still held events that would shape the rest of my weekend.


I rode back to the Expo, and decided to ride in an take a picture of the Ural with the other bikes near the expo HQ. Mainly the enfield which had ridden around the Grand Canyon. An article about that ride was in the Overland journal included in my expo registration papers. On they way in (As a side note, at this point no attendees were being let in anymore in their vehicles. I don't know why the people at the entrance were still letting me just ride in, though I would guess it had something to do with my being there all day. And, since I didn't know I couldn't until later, I didn't ask. It's always good to look like you know what you are doing) I saw a group of people being led from building to building. I saw Austin Vince in his coveralls first, but Susan and Grant Johnson were also in there and I realized these were the presenters for the weekend. I stopped, whipped out my camera, and snapped a couple photos without even getting off the bike.

Then I headed for the HQ, got my picture with the enfield,


and rode back out to my tent. The four wheelers were cooking, and I declined their offer to join them. A few more riders came in and set up near me, in the end we had a little cluster of seven people who rode in, surrounded by four wheelers and perhaps twice that many other motorcycles (which didn't ride in).


I stayed and chatted for a while, then headed back into the expo. Dark was falling, and I didn't really know what I was expecting. I had actually met Susan and Grant Johnson early that morning and walking back towards the vendor area I saw them sitting on the covered porch of the first restaurant Kristopher's Kitchen. Deciding I would walk up and say 'hi' I stopped on the steps of the porch to let someone pass and found myself face to face with Ted Simon.


I am not usually star struck. I see the occasional famous person at work, and when I do they are rarely at their best. I learned long ago that most people are just people, and if you treat them as such barriers of wealth, class or fame often fade away. But, in this case, I was just completely tongue tied. I mean...Ted Simon. Wow.

(later in the weekend, Blue more interested in Ted's book than the photo op)


Anyway, after I fumbled meeting one of the people I had been dreaming of talking to I decided to wander over to a small pond and journal some. It was quiet there, with just a whisper of conversation coming from the patio of the other restaurant, Amado County Steakhouse, barely audible over the bubbling of water.


After 30 minutes or so I decided to head back to camp. The expo started at 800 in the morning, with opening remarks that were listed as required. On the way I saw Austin Vince, recognizable in the dark by his coveralls, and wandered over. I had just acted star struck with Ted Simon, but I actually had a question for Austin Vince, and this seemed as good a time as ever to ask. He was with Lois Pryce, and Shannon and Mike Mills, who had just ridden from Baja and were also presenting at the expo (S & M Boiler Works).


If you didn't know, Austin Vince is the director of Mondo Enduro and Terra Circa, and more importantly he is the only motorcyclist I know of who, while a small bike advocate, had also done a long-ish trip on a Ural (“only about 6,000 miles,” he qualified quickly when I mentioned it). I wanted to know, if he had to pick a Ural or a little bike, which would choose. Of course, I was already back to planning on a small bike myself, but I still wanted his opinion. He said it was 50/50. He would take either and couldn't, then, offer one as better than the other. I worried briefly he was just being presenter vague, but over the rest of the weekend Austin made his opinions on motorcycle choice for adventure travel well known and I decided he really did just like both the small bike and the Ural equally.


As this conversation was going on, I was introduced to the others, and then to the Mill's dog Ducati (“Mike wanted a Ducati,” Shannon explained, “but didn't specify a model. I wanted a chihuahua.”) They were discussing where to go for dinner, and Ted Simon wandered up to out little group just as the decision was made to walk over to Amado Steakhouse. Ted warned the group the service was very poor, but Austin was in command and we all trouped after him.


The service was very poor, and after being told we had to wait to be seated, and then waiting about 10 minutes in the lobby (By ourselves with the place basically empty apart from the occasional waiter who said they couldn't help us) we all left and headed over to Kristopher's. There we all sat at the same table I had seen Susan and Grant at earlier in the evening while the other five ate and shared stories. I talked some, but mostly listened, and had already eaten so contented myself with a drink. After an hour or more everyone decided it was time for bed, as we all had to get up in the morning. Lois, Austin and Ted well all in the onsite lodge, Shannon, Mike and myself were in the campground. I walked part of the way back with them, wondering if that night was going to be the high point of the whole expo. It wasn't


I could go into massive detail over the seminars, panels, and how to sessions that comprised my next three days, but you need to sign up and go yourself. It will be worth it. Some things I will add, though. I signed up for the adventure package, but apart from the closing BBQ and some drink tickets I didn't see much difference in that and a day pass. Supposedly package people had first shot at all sessions, and some were for package people only, but in practice people just went where ever they wanted. I went to at least one session I was on the waiting list for, and based on the number of people there I wasn't the only one who didn't make the list.


I ran into Shannon, Mike and Ducati constantly all weekend, though I never did see one of their sessions.

They do sustainable travel, taking long vacations instead of giving up their life to see the world. It was working well for them, but I don't know if I could do it. I also met Carla King, who was a joy to be around

(I think, after that first meeting with Ted Simon, my starstruckness was used up, for the rest of the weekend I had no problems walking up to anyone. If you read this, Mr Simon, I apologize for initially being a idiot when we met. Thanks for overlooking it later in the weekend).


I also met the -- well I am not sure what their actual last name is. Sergio and Ruth. I think Sergio would've bought my Ural on the spot, and I can't wait to see them again in Mexico, around September sometime.



As high points, I would say Austin Vince's film festival was high up there on the stuff you could sign up for (and go buy Motosyrberia now - just awesome). The presentations of trips were all entertaining as well.

Now, after the expo is over, I remember more the little events around the classes; Mike falling over an unseen ledge in the dark, after we had been warned to carry flashlights with us (He was okay, mostly), Peach cobbler in the campsite, the married couple argueing after listening to Lois and Austin (rather firm) opinions on packing, luggage, and even what bike to take on an overland journey,

the discussion as they were packing up between my BMW neighbors over whether they should wash the bikes right away or wait until they got home (they were all dusty), finally sitting at the fire after the closing BBQ with Ted Simon and Bill Myers, sharing a bottle of wine and talking about what it meant to travel.

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I write books about motorcycle travel. Small, cheap, motorcycle travel. Also superheroes.

I packed Monday slowly and with reluctance, looking for excuses to delay. Delay was something I couldn't really do, though. I was supposed to head for the Moonshine Lunch Run, in Casey IL the next weekend. The ride to Amado had needed only 200 miles a day, so I had lots of time to stop and see things along the way, the return ride was closer to 400 miles a day, and would be a chore. Putting it off would not help matters, so finally I started the Ural and rode out of the dust.

The ride back was a chore, the rear brake getting worse, and 3rd gear began to slip occasionally while I was in Kansas. I even broke a fuel line, forcing an early stop in Liberal KS, where signs advertise Dorothy's house from the Wizard of Oz.


This turned out to be a rather run down park, the house and gift shop closed. I took a few pictures


and rode on. The distances I wanted to cover, and a feeling of post expo funk dragged at me.

I stayed in Dodge City for a few hours trying to find somewhere to work on the Ural's transmission, but no one seemed interested in helping. Frustrated I left without even going to the tourist area. A few hours later I decided to divert home instead of Moonshine. I was beginning to suspect I'd dogged part of the third gear, and didn't want to push my luck with the extra couple hundred miles.

Once I pointed the bike a little further north the ride went as smooth as you would like, skipping over third as much as possible. I put the bike back into the garage, went inside and tried to sleep. I guess I did, eventually. I had gotten really used to the tent.

The total trip was just under 4000 miles, I cracked a rim, the rear brake pedal was frozen, the cross over fuel line had cracked (and was replaced), and 3rd gear was acting up. So the bike needs some servicing, but I guess that would be expected, huh?

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I write books about motorcycle travel. Small, cheap, motorcycle travel. Also superheroes.