bs0409-1

Boxer Shorts, September, 2004 - 1 of 4

Alone Again

by Kit Wise

Chace and Kit Last month I reported to you from the road during my 3 week tour to the West and back, and the month before I told the story of my planning for the trip. What I won't do this month is tell you the story of the whole trip. I'm afraid it would end up being just like any other road trip saga. There is one episode that I will get to, but in the mean time I want to share with you what I learned about long tours and about myself.

My biggest concern starting out was that 3 weeks would be too long. I might get bored, or tired, or homesick. Well, I never did get bored; I got tired as hell, but never so tired that I was endangering myself, and never so tired that a good night's sleep didn't completely refresh me; and, yes, I missed Marka and the cats, but 3 weeks is a finite time. I only had a single 15 minute spell, at about the 2 week point, when I imagined that I would rather be somewhere other than I was.

I also worried about plain old physical discomfort. I have a chronic bad back. It did nag me from time to time, but never so badly that it interfered with my enjoyment of the riding. As for the novel upright riding position on the 1150GS (remember that I am used to the 1100S with its low bars), it turned out to be ideal for long days in the saddle, except that the stock saddle was a true pain in the ass. By the end of the sixth day of riding, my butt was really sore, to the point that I could have kissed Irene Boettcher when she turned into a campground much earlier in the afternoon than I had expected her to. A sheepskin pad acquired at the rally in Spokane went a long way to solve that problem.

My final concern was about companionship. Experience tells me that it is great to share a trip with other people, but that it is also easy for members of a group to get cranky with each other, usually over trivial things. I enjoy riding by myself, but the prospect of riding for days alone was daunting. What I discovered was that I could have a very good time whether I was by myself or with others. The five days I rode with Irene and Chace Wessling [pix above] were perfect. The riding pace suited us all, we had no disagreements about stops and routes, and we had great meals and conversations when we were off the bikes. I had a good day riding with Maurice Kornreich, Roy Bertalotto and Jim Budimlya, and great mountain adventure with Rob Nye. I also made a new friend, and possible YB recruit, when I joined up with John Murray, of Hanson, Massachusetts, at Rocky Mountain National Park. In fact, there was only one stretch of 4 consecutive days when I rode and camped by myself. I wasn't lonely. I was accountable to no one, set my own pace and chose my own stops. Solitude has its pleasures.

On the trip I started to fully realize what a great country this is. I know I have to go out there (anywhere) many more times to absorb more of it. What a great prospect - all those future trips! My sense of geography was greatly enhanced. I had never understood that Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons are right next to each other, or what was really meant by "amber waves of grain."

But most importantly I learned that such a trip is basically easy to do. A little preparation and get on the bike and go. This won't be the last one for me. You can do it, too.

Now for my road trip story. On the last leg of the trip I met YB Moose Laramee at his cousin's house in Bismarck, ND. We rode from there up and across Minnesota to International Falls, where we crossed into Ontario. After spending the night in Thunder Bay, we followed TC17 along the top of Lake Superior and Lake Huron. Late in the afternoon, somewhere between Sault Ste. Marie and Sudbury, we stopped for a construction halt and turned off the bikes. When it came time to go again, Moose's Ducati ST3 wouldn't re-start. After a futile hour of fiddling and cell-phone consultation with Moose's Ducati dealer, I looked up to see a van stop. Who should get out of it but YB Alan Reynolds, his wife Bonnie and two kids! They were on their way home from a family reunion in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan when Alan spotted my bike and then me. Kit's luck was holding out, even if Moose's wasn't. Alan very generously offered to tow the Ducati on a trailer, if we could find one to rent. A trailer was found the next morning and the Reynolds, even though they live in Hadley, Massachusetts, towed the lame Duc all the way to Laconia, New Hampshire.

Never was it so meaningful or so lucky to have Yankee Beemers as friends. I rode home the last day and a half, alone again.

Kit Wise

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