As it was my first adventure, I really had no idea what I might need as to parts for the bike, camping gear and personal stuff. The plastic side cases didn't hold much and aren't waterproof, so tools and clothing were mainly in those, with camping gear and jackets in a yellow duffel and important items in the tail case. Since it was in the 100's already, I chose to carry 2 motorcycle jackets, one which was mesh for hot weather and another that was waterproof and warmer for the mountains. I took one set of armor to swap between jackets to save space and make the unused jacket pack smaller. It is very difficult to gauge what weather and length of time you will experience it. Will it be cold and rainy for days in the mountains? Hot as heck in the valleys?
Luckily, I had some existing backpacking gear to outfit my camping needs, but still needed to assemble parts, tools, clothing and the myriad other things necessary for long term travel, all in as minimal a size as possible. I had a mix of riding gear that had been assembled from clearance racks and Craigslist in a vain attempt to save money in my new hobby. The price of the motorcycle is just the entry ticket, which I knew from previous experience. It was mismatched, but I had chosen not to invest a lot of money into jackets and such until I had enough experience to know what I really needed. This trip would no doubt school me.
Tools and Parts...
Camp gear
Hydration and technology
I'd begun my plan in May, hoping to leave in early June, however it was nearing July before I had it all together and I was feeling pressure to get on the road.
The plan was to leave Monday, June 25 and head north towards Amarillo - a goal since I had no idea how long my butt could last, so I figured if I made Lubbock at 350 miles I’d be happy. On the Friday before, I changed the oil, prepped and washed the bike then took a short ride. The BMW was running good, but the weight and bulkiness of all the extra gear revealed the worn out suspension of the motorcycle.
I spent the next day repacking my gear for the thousandth time and got the bike loaded again. At 5 pm I decided to do a final test ride with my latest iteration of packing and take some pictures of the rig. I slung a leg over, pressed the starter and cranked. It wouldn't start for anything. I tried and cranked and cranked. Nothing. I pulled the spark plug caps to test for spark and found none.
I can't tell you what a confidence killer that incident was. Just when I was ready to take off on the biggest adventure of my life, the motorcycle failed me. It was my biggest and main fear - taking an unproven bike on a long trip. I was sick at my stomach for many reasons. After a bit of moping and complaining, I chose to look at it as a blessing from God because at least it had died in my driveway and not in some godforsaken desert.
The closest repair shops were in San Antonio, an hour from me. The BMW motorcycle dealer was closed on Monday, but I found a listing for an independent auto repair shop, RhineWest BMW, that also listed motorcycle repair. Best of all, they were open on a Monday. I was there at 8 am sharp with the bike on the trailer and a sad story. The resident motorcycle mechanic, Hank, had pity on me and told me he knew what the problem was and had the bike running by 9:30 am. I was dumbstruck! It was a bad Hall Sensor, common for my year, mileage and model bike. They didn't have one in stock, but Hank removed one from another bike and installed it on mine to get me on the road quickly. He said they’d order another one and reinstall it on the donor bike.
While Hank was fixing my beast, I decided to see if I could get a set of Ohlins shocks for the bike before I hit the serious mountain roads in Colorado, Wyoming and Montana. The motorcycle was well-used when I bought it and the suspension was squishy and worn out. For casual riding it had been okay but the extra gear on the bike made it handle ponderously. It would be dangerous with quick maneuvers or on tight, twisty roads.
Rhinewest said they had to be made to order, so I called a couple of Ohlins dealers who said turnaround time was several weeks. My third call to Dan at Kyle Racing was a success. He gave me a good price, bent over backwards on assembling the shocks for my weight and style of riding, then said he could FedEx them ahead of me to Denver... all in just three days. It was another non-Christmas Miracle!
It was a great solution because I was planning on visiting a friend in Denver on the way north. I'd known I needed to replace the expensive suspension at some point, but it wasn't until there was a load on the bike that I realized I had no choice anymore. Now all I had to do was make it to Colorado on the stock shocks, which would be easy since I was basically taking highways and Interstates all the way to Denver.
Having lost a couple of days, the weather had turned crappy and the forecast was for storms the entire week from Texas to Colorado. The weather maps showed a massive rain front that extended from central Texas all the way to Wyoming with the forecast saying it would last for days. I noticed that the stationary storm line was fairly defined, with clear weather behind it. In my case, Junction, Texas, which was an hour west for me was clearing and the line of clear weather ran all the way to Denver. If I could get west of Junction, it looked like I could avoid the biggest rain front seen in decades.
With little sleep the night before from anxiety, I climbed onto the BMW I'd left loaded and pointed up the driveway under my carport. It was raining with heavy mist and I grumbled because I'd never ridden in rain and had I been able to leave the previous day it would have been in sunshine.
The motorcycle started easily, a relief. I looked around at my house, not knowing when or even if I'd ever see it again, then rode out into the rain and mist in a combination of fear and excitement - excitement for what lay ahead, cautiousness about the handling and concerns for the reliability of the bike.
The town of Junction, an hour or so west of Kerrville, Texas was my immediate goal as I hoped to clear the rain line that had formed. I-10 from Kerrville to Junction was wet and rainy, but slowly cleared to light mist and overcast skies. I got into the groove of the handling on the loaded bike and settled into a steady but somewhat ponderous ride. I exited for Hwy 83 in Junction and filled up at a Valero station.
The bike attracted a guy who told me he used to ride dual sport motorcycles and loved to ride in the Big Bend area. We wished each other well and I headed on for Eden where the mist finally let up and the skies began to clear. The little town of Paint Rock was interesting and just north of it I saw a sign pointing to "Indian Heiroglyphics" but didn't want to lose road time. To be honest, I had no idea what my final destination might be, because I didn't know how many miles or hours I could ride in a day, having never done it.
Approaching Ballinger, there was a gigantic steel cross appearing over the landscape. From the road it looked to be 20 stories high, a pure guess, and I was traveling too fast to take the side road that headed off towards it.
Nearing Sweetwater I passed through a huge field of massive wind generators that went from horizon to horizon. Quite an impressive sight to see. When I refueled in Sweetwater, the clerk told me there were several hundred of the wind generators and they were still building more. She shared that many of the locals had been hired and sent to France to be trained on the construction before coming back to assemble them for the company. If I had a cool million, I could have one installed myself, I was informed.
The rain long gone, the weather had gotten hot and I was wishing for the mist I'd ridden in earlier. Only three other motorcycles were seen on the ride, each one waving as they passed on the opposite side. One was a Suzuki V-Strom packed with gear like mine. The wind generators continued to pop up in clusters across the plains between Sweetwater and Lubbock, especially visible on the red dirt mesas.
Somewhere on a long stretch of road a few hours in, the reality of what I was doing hit home. The motorcycle was running like a top and my fears fell away in the wind. I suddenly felt a rush of excitement and joy with a huge smile and a shout following. After all the detailed planning and worries, it was now a reality and I absolutely loved the moment.
As mentioned, I’d wondered how my endurance might be having never ridden for extended distance, but Lubbock was nearing and I felt great. By the time I reached it, I’d have 350 miles under my belt. I’d planned on refueling and eating there, but I-27 from Hwy 87 north had no gas stations or restaurants. I finally found a Fina station in the town of New Deal. The somewhat grubby looking station had a small restaurant in it with great food and motherly attention!
From New Deal to Amarillo was flat slab with only the winds, heat, blue sky and white clouds to accompany me. I was feeling good, better than good actually, because the fears that had plagued my mind had been blown away in the winds and rush of riding. I was really enjoying the ride and incredibly excited to imagine what lay ahead. In fact, I felt so good I decided to get gas in Amarillo, 475 miles from home, stretch a bit and then push on to Clayton, New Mexico for the night. It was probably idealistic since that was still several hours away, but I was living on excitement.
It wasn't long before Amarillo rolled up and with it, a huge black cloud to the north. The Texas Visitors Bureau had free WiFi and I decided to check weather ahead. As I was asking the attendant about travel to Clayton, New Mexico, a weather alert came on warning of severe storms north of Amarillo up to the Clayton area. She told me I better forget traveling and get into a motel, because the storms that blew through the area were very bad. In fact, she told me the year before her brand new car had been totaled by a storm.
In the parking lot, the blackness of the looming cloud reinforced her words and I rode to the other side of the highway, pulling into a trucker's motel and getting a room just as the winds hit. I'd barely gotten off the bike when hard drops of rain began to hit and I shoved it under a staircase to soften any severe hail.
Just as I walked into the room, the severity of the storm hit and it was impressive. Huge winds with horizontal rain and much hail. I was sooooooooo glad I had stopped and gotten a room. I couldn't imagine enduring this on the roadside of the big flat landscape north of Amarillo.
I sat with the door open just watching the event when I heard the faint sound of a Harley, then two rumbled around and parked at the adjacent room. The riders were wearing only jeans, t-shirts and bandanas and were being pummeled by the hailstones and hard rain. I heard shouting and then silence as they slammed the door to their room. I couldn't imagine how much the hail must have hurt with no jacket or helmet.
My first day of travel had been fantastic, though hot, and I was very happy to have ridden 475 miles and still have energy. The rain continued into the night, so I skipped dinner and went to sleep with excitement for New Mexico, the Rockies and Colorado the next day.
