Montana Ride 2006 - Conclusions

I had a number of thoughts about this trip which didn't necessarily get expressed in the day-to-day descriptions. This is a collection of them, somewhat at random.

Gear

Some of the stuff I brought on this trip was used every day, many times a day. Other stuff wasn't used at all, and some of it came out a few times. I've noted some of the less obvious things.

The Aerostich

Useful stuff:

• Aerostich Roadcrafter suit - it's pretty much the ultimate touring suit, I was quite happy with it.

• Snow Peak Gigapower stove - this is a tiny, tiny stove, and worked very well. Much easier to use than any other system, and capable of both boiling water and simmering pasta sauce.

• Underarmour HeatGear compression shirt and spandex bicycling shorts

• Olympus DS-330 digital voice recorder - I ended up pulling this thing out many times a day, to take notes on whatever: lunch, fillups, descriptions for pictures, etc. It's really handy to be able to take a note by speaking rather than having to write something down. If I'd rigged a microphone in my helmet, I could have even done it while moving, which would have been useful.

• Canon Digital Elph S410 - this has been my camera of choice for years now (so it's outdated), but it still produces very good pictures. Worked very well on this trip, and the battery even lasted the whole week (I took over 600 MB of pictures).

• Starboard cutting board - I went down to the local plastics shop, and they gave me a few cutoffs of Starboard material, which made an excellent (and free) cutting board. All I did was file down the edges a bit to keep them from being too sharp.

• Ruled notebook - I was glad to have somewhere to record my thoughts which wasn't the voice recorder, since I ended up having a lot of stuff to write down. It would have taken forever to listen to it all, and the information would have been harder to find.

A butte found on the way to Spokane

Some of the more useless stuff, which I ended up wishing I'd left at home:

• Off the Beaten Path: Montana - turns out I didn't crack open this book even once when I was under way. Not an indictment of the book, it just wasn't a good match for what I was doing.

• Extra warm clothes - the temperatures didn't end up varying anywhere near as wildly as I'd feared. I can't say I'd leave the warm clothes behind next time, but I might be even more picky about what I bring.

• Lots of changes of clothes - I was camping, not staying in posh hotels. I didn't have access to a shower, so I didn't really feel like changing clothes too much. I could have easily gotten by with one change of clothes, so that I could wear one, and wash/dry the other.

At Least They're Out There

If you frequent non-Harley motorcycle discussion groups, either online or in person, there's a common assumption: Harley riders are all soft as marshmallows, and trailer their bikes anywhere they want to go. Harleys are all about image and posing.

I'm here to tell you that this makes a poor blanket statement. I passed hundreds of other riders on this trip. Most of them were riding Harleys (or bikes which look sufficiently like Harleys that I can't tell the difference). I saw less than 5 sportbikes. I saw only a few touring bikes, and I think every one of them was a Honda Goldwing.

At least the Harley riders were out there.

Change of Perspective

Not in Kansas anymore

I was wondering, that final night in Bad Medicine, what had changed about me. I mean, taking a week off to ride a small motorcycle through a huge mountainous state, seeing and doing things you've never done before should be at least a marginally life-changing event. I theorized at the time that it might be self-dependence, or re-learning the extent to which I enjoy being by myself or with others.

Not to be found by moping around Seattle

What really changed was my sense of perspective. It's so easy, when you're living in a large city, to come to believe that your city is the entire world. This includes things like distances, political persuasion, environment, etc. I noticed it most strongly on the final day, as I was riding on highway 97 -- here I was taking a 550 mile day by going slowly and enjoying myself. Before this trip, that would have immensely daunted me, and I would have figured out how to get it over with as quickly as possible.

I also noticed it in cultural terms. When I got back into Seattle, it was really glaring to see the tricked out Honda Civics blatting along, or the oblivious SUV drivers yakking on cell phones and wandering dangerously in their lanes. These people are all wrapped up in themselves. I'm not one to provide a shining example of world awareness, but I felt like a glowing bastion of worldliness compared to some of my fellow drivers.

Re-introduction to Camping

Lake Alva's entrance sign

It's been a long time since I was last camping, in any form. I was in my mid-twenties. It was nice to see that I could still do it, even if I was participating in a relatively civilized form of camping. I'd also really hated camping the last time I'd done it, so I was pleased that I could do it again without any of that travail.

And I'd Do It Again

The best indication that I had a good time was that on Saturday, the day after I got back, I still felt a little itch in the back of my mind that said I should be out riding. Even now, more than a week later (it's September 4th as I write this), I still feel that urge to be out exploring and seeing new things rather than sitting in my comfortable little world.

I think I may be up for some more challenges in the near future. I'd like to spend a little more time doing new things and getting off my duff in both a literal and figurative sense. There's more to life than going to work and helping produce theater.

Created by Ian Johnston. Questions? Please mail me at reaper at obairlann dot net.