EXPOdition

Voyager3

Active member
Well, I'm really sorry I didn't finish my trip report from a couple years ago. You know how life can be.

But things have changed. The trip you missed, which I could still write up, was the catalyst for the way the last couple years have gone. After that my girlfriend and I decided to get a school bus. By the time we made that call and found something that would work for us, we had 4 months to downsize from renting a converted barn in Frederick, Colorado where I had 1900 Sq Ft of garage space (full) to whatever fit in the bus and the Jeep.



It was good for us. We summered at Lake Powell for the first seven months and then moved the bus again to the Oregon coast where we stayed in Waldport for the winter and moved on to Newport for the past year. We went to Iceland twice, Patagonia, and all over the American West. While I haven't had a real job in all this time, (at Powell, I just didn't need to, we were splitting $150 a month rent and full hookups) I've still been busy. Volunteering at Central Coast Fire in Waldport and then Newport Fire,t raining and achieving building entry status as a firefighter, getting my EMR license, my class B commercial driver's license, nearly becoming a part time actual school bus driver, getting trained as a deckhand on a river rescue boat, helping set up a couple fireworks shows, and even a short stint as a stop sign for roadworks. But the most pivotal point in my traveling story was the trip last May to Flagstaff to volunteer at Overland Expo.



That trip really deserves its own thread, and maybe I still will. The plan was really very simple and the results were fantastic. I flew one way to Flagstaff with a day pack. At the time I had a Ducati 916 still in Denver but didn't have a helmet, boots, gloves, or a tent with me. My idea was to find a motorcycle at the Expo and ride it back to Oregon. So, while meeting the staff, other volunteers, and patrons of the show, I would put feelers out and try to make it happen. Well, by the Friday evening happy hour, I was chatting to a couple from New Mexico and they asked what kind of bike I was looking for. When I said, “Oh, a DR650, or something like it.” after only a moment's pause the gentleman said, “We've got one of those. We'll sell it to you.” So there it was, a 2007, just 5200 miles on it, big tank, skid plate, luggage racks. My luggage only ended up being the box my new Alpinestars boots came in strapped to the tail with a strap donated by a Dutch world rider who would eventually become a friend over later Expos.



It was about 2500 miles back to Newport over about 3 weeks out to Death Valley, up through the Sequoias, over to Tahoe, the Alvord and back to the coast. And I suppose the combination of the trip and the story struck something with the Expo staff, so rather unexpectedly I received an email that summer asking me to be a part of the Change Your World Fund Class of 2017. Briefly, it's a grant program for young people to get out and do their first big international overland trip provided it's paired with a humanitarian project. It was formed in honor of a inspiring young man named Alistair Farland who tragically lost his life in a motorcycle accident after leaving Expo East back in 2014 on his way to South America. It was quite an honor and they agreed to let Sam come with me. I mentioned earlier in the abandoned thread she has an international background and loves travel as well. Our mission was to tackle some part of the clean water issues in Central America. We flew into Expo East to learn more and get help planning our project, but the big curve ball came that following December.

Sam moved out.



I won't get too sad right off the bat. Part of what I have been doing to get over the depression of the last 6 months is to try to focus on where I'm going and keep the momentum up. Buslife, for me anyway, was always supposed to be a stepping stone from where we were in Denver to traveling more or less full time. I still want that. And so I will. After the change in my little family, the plan has changed. Now I and my dog Jenson are headed to Alaska AND all the way to Panama picking up, documenting, and drawing attention to the problem of marine debris on beaches across North and Central America. This aligns very closely with my core values as I grew up in south Florida, and have again found myself on the coast, and everywhere I go, I'm picking up trash anyway. So this is an opportunity to make a dent in it myself, organize others to help with cleanups, draw attention to problems, and educate folks on marine debris issues. Overlanding for the health of our oceans, I suppose.

In February I took at trial run again to help me climb out of the residual darkness in my brain and did a loop from Newport through the Alvord and Bonneville to Denver, Death Valley, and up California to Yosemite, hoping to catch the Firefall. No luck on the Firefall, but it was an excellent albeit cold trip. I also very nearly sold the Jeep in Denver and got a Toyota Chinook, and I'm glad I didn't. I found a way to organize it so that it's very cheap and bearable to live out of it, no fancy drawers, no full mattress. But it feels good to still be going with the Jeep that started this whole thing for me way back in Denver. More on the Jeep later.



So where does that leave us now? This May, I again traveled to Expo West in the Jeep with Jenson to work the event as staff setting up and taking down exhibitor stalls. This thread is really for that trip. All told, it was Newport to Flagstaff via the Alvord desert (again, I like the Alvord), down through Nevada over the Duck Creek area into Utah, through White Pocket, and then to Flagstaff. After working the show, north past Powell, Red Canyon, my favorite restaurant, up Utah on any road that looked interesting on a paper map, briefly into Wyoming on my way Northwest from Arizona......oops, and across the middle of Idaho to Oregon. Capped off with the Painted Hills, and Smith Rock. So thank you for bearing with me, let's get into it. New beginnings.

 

Voyager3

Active member
I just had to get out and start moving again. It was still sad leaving and not feeling like I had someone to come back to. It was worse back in February, but the looming idea that it's almost time to leave for real is still making it hard to think about not having Sam and Titus with me to do it. But it'll be good for me, I can't stay in Newport.

The first leg was easy, but long. Because of the miles I had to make in the 4 days I had to get to Flagstaff, the first part of the trip was a little quicker than I like. I left Newport late of course, and tried to make the Alvord as my first stop.

I arrived in total darkness, so I just drove out a ways, made up my little indoor Jeep fort, and awaited daybreak. It did not disappoint. A new beginning I suppose. A morning bike ride with Crazy Bones (He answers not only to Jenson, and this, but also Black and White Dog, Crash, and Little Wolf). We then drove all the way to the top of the lake where we found our first big piece of junk. Crucially though, it was finally an opportunity to use my murder beaver shovel. Once out, now I had a trasharoo too, brilliant.










But we had to keep moving, I knew where I wanted to be for lunch. One of life's great mysteries is why the food in Winnemucca, Nevada is so good.



Every restaurant I've been to there is fantastic. The BBQ, the pizza, the Mexican, all of it. Why have I been to so many you ask? Way back late in 2016 coming from Powell to Oregon, the wheel fell off our bus slightly. Actually completely, but in the best possible way. We were going to stop in Battle Mountain anyway for supplies from the Napa. So we eased off the highway and pulled in. Mind you, I spent a long time racing and instructing and have a high degree of mechanical sympathy. Rev matching the weird 5 speed in the International bus, trying not to cook the drum brakes slowing 8 tons. In the Napa parking lot, just as I stopped there's smoke pouring out of the right front. Sam, who was driving the Jeep behind gets out, points, and asks, “What's that?” Simple question, let's find out. Well, I don't have a picture of what I found because I was too busy running inside to grab a a jack and stands, but the wheel was out 30 or so degrees, the spindle was hanging on the last quarter inch of the bearing race, and the whole thing had been inches from dropping onto the asphalt. Had we kept going on the highway.......I try not to think about what might have happened. Mind you, there was no noise, no shudder, no smoke before hand. It. Just. Fell. Off.



So we spent a long weekend in Winnemucca down the road, ate lots of delicious food, went to the rodeo, and when Point S was done with it, we carried on.

Back to the story. This Carne Asada at Chihuahua's. I would have been satisfied if all I got were the onions on top. Well worth the stop.



So now we had to get down Nevada. Time was still against us, so most of Nevada was seen from fast blacktop. The views sometimes were great, and when finding a place to camp, we still had to get out and find it the old fashioned way.
 

Voyager3

Active member
This road in the Humboldt forest put me up against some old enemies again. Cans and bottles. Coming down from the summit of this road I saw Coors light here, bit of Natty Ice there, Corona. But it was constant. And I felt so bad that I didn't have any bags with me. I knew this was the whole point, but on the way south to Expo, I was unprepared. So at the bottom of the hill I found some maintenance folks at a state park building and asked if they had bags. I told them it was so bad up there I was going back. And in the 4.5 miles from there back to the summit, this is what I found. It wasn't just what I could see before. I would find 2 or 3 more all the time behind bushes, further up the bank. Come to find out later that they don't have recycling bins at their location. Nor are they residents of nearby Ely, so they have to pay to recycle anyway. So rather reluctantly, I had this deposited in a normal dumpster, but better than on the road. I wonder what we can do about our recycling laws and make it actually appealing to do so? There will still be these folks who just chuck what they want where they want. They need an actual attitude adjustment. It's odd though, I'm always sure that where ever they're going, there is somewhere to put it when they arrive.......why ever throw something out a car window? Someone enlighten me.







As I continued south east I was coming down a hill and saw a dually pickup with a trailer stopped on the side of the road and pulled over, as I usually do. Turns out he had accidentally put gasoline in it and had someone on the way. Curiously though he looks at my shirt and says, “Deadman saves huh? Is that referring to ************************?” Confused I looked down and I was wearing my Deadman Offroad shirt. It's a very clever recovery tool like a land anchor but capable of much more in a small lightweight package. I don't have a winch to use one, but I helped the Deadman crew cook bacon at Expo West in 2017 and I like them. The front of the shirt does say Deadman Saves. So I said, “What? No, it's a kind of recovery tool for off roading.” He explained to me that it was, “a little misleading then, isn't it? Because you know Jesus died for our sins and supposedly came back to life.” I would get an eerily similar reaction to it later in Flagstaff buying a sunshade for the Jeep when the parts guy said that there were plenty of people around here who needed it before I explained what it was. I must remember to ask the Deadman folks if this has happened to others.










Anyway, I was headed towards White Pocket. I know if I can't make it for sunset, at least I'll be there for sunrise. I'd been there once before in full light, and while still amazing, I wanted better. The road to White Pocket is easy enough to find, but I'm very selective when it comes to who I tell. It's quiet, well kept, free, and I don't want it to change. If you've been, you know. If it becomes popular enough to be frequented by people who don't really care, then it will lose some of its charm. On the last section through the deep sand, I tend to think I'm on a rally special stage, and I find myself going quite quickly. A perfect chance to test my new Bilsteins, I thought. And it was, right up until the moment my new antenna whipped its set screws out and went skipping across the hood. At least I saw where it happened, if I had mounted it on the roof, I'm not sure I would have even known it had come off.



But anyway, the whole point was to see the natural beauty resolve out of the darkness, so before the sun came up, Jenson and I wandered in and found somewhere to watch it unfold. I'll let the pictures do the talking.
 

Voyager3

Active member
I left early to make sure I had time to get to Flagstaff a little early and take care of some things before Expo. Out through Vermillion Cliffs and across the desert, up the hill into town. I was excited to be there. I was looking forward to see friends who really had become like family, and get to work. The show itself is certainly getting big, Hundreds of exhibitors, and thousands of patrons. I haven't seen numbers yet, but we were expecting maybe as many as 15,000 people over the weekend. I got a few small things I need for the trip, and sat in on some classes. If you haven't been to the show in the West or East, I recommend going at least once. For me it's more about the inspiration, people, and the knowledge than the shopping, but there's certainly something for everyone. There are so many ways to do what we do, and so many kinds of people from all walks of life getting out there however they can, whether it's for a weekend or 15 years.











 

Ace Brown

Retired Ol’ Fart
Enjoyable report, well written. Looking forward to more chapters.


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk
 

Voyager3

Active member
When I left Flagstaff, I passed by a sign for Cinder Hills and over the next few miles I remembered something someone said at the show. When you see a sign for something you wanted to see and you think you should see it, or remember hearing about it and think one day you'll come back through.....stop. Go see it, the odds of coming back around to do it even if you live in the area sometimes aren't that good. So I turned around to play, and I'm glad I did. I was on my way to Lake Powell to meet up with my friend Maggie, who is on her own trip to Alaska, and also part of the Change Your World Fund, follow her on the internets as well. The third is another new friend, Candida who is riding solo from India to Australia. They're on Instagram as @maggiemcdermut and @candidalouis respectively.



The hills in Cinder Hills are made of cinders. I'm sure you're all eager for my travel book to come out now.









It's a curious place that I remembered seeing on an Ultimate Adventure episode on YouTube. It's a sprawling area of black pumice stone, like a big abrasive beach surrounded by forest, and responsible cross country travel is permitted, so you can drive any direction you wish. I headed for some of the hills, but alas, my Jeep is small. I tried, but it just wasn't happening. Too steep, too loose. Reminds me of trying to get up to where Ken Block drove at Factory Butte in February. Another valiant effort.





Lone rock was the only night in the whole 3 weeks I paid for a night to stay somewhere, but it meant I could hang out with Maggie and a couple other
folks at the far end of the beach escaping the crowds. They were kind enough to share their food and after Jenson had chased bugs long enough, I slept out on the sand. It was lovely and probably kick-started the cough I had for over a week and a half after.







An early morning walk for sunrise before the others got up left me with time to stretch, move, and not feel rushed before Maggie and I headed out to find a hike to get the dogs some more exercise. The problem was the heat, and by the time we made it out to House Rock Valley Road, the sand was already too hot for their paws. Enter my awning, see, it was a good buy. It really can be the difference between having a lovely lunch and just caving to oppressive desert conditions. I tested it often the summer I lived in Bullfrog when it was 118 degrees. I could head out, set up, and sit and read while the dogs had a swim. Plus it makes me look overlandy.



 
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Voyager3

Active member
Enjoyable report, well written. Looking forward to more chapters.


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

The good thing for you then is I already wrote all of it, so the same thing wouldn't happen again. But that's probably enough for today, I'm glad you're enjoying it. More to come
 

Voyager3

Active member
Maggie and I had to part ways there as she was headed towards California before making her way north to Alaska, and I was determined to go north through Utah first, find Idaho, and then go west back to the coast. I knew I wanted to head through Boulder Town, so I pointed for Bryce Canyon and on a tip from another friend turned off into Red Canyon and found a nice secluded spot nicely positioned for another early morning walk before it got too warm.



This trail up Casto Canyon was nice, following a wash all the way in.











Jenson only fell off one 8 foot vertical edge of the bank. He looked plenty surprised, but he's tough. The toenail he split at White Pocket wasn't even bothering him. It's a pretty area, and if you're already going to Bryce, amazing though it is, that's also where the people are. And exploring places other than the viewpoints in that amphitheater pay you back. Speaking of Bryce, I skipped it this time because I had been twice before. Once in the Bullfrog summer, and once luckily last February in the snow. That was something.



On the road again, and this time since I didn't have any phone data and hadn't bothered buying a map, I guessed on a way through the forest to Escalante. I guessed wrong. I remembered seeing a road through on some park board and just picked the wrong one. By the time my road had just turned into a walking trail I decided to go back and take the normal paved way.



But it worked out, because off the main road was a sign I had passed so many times before and again always said to myself, “I'll come back to it.” This time I wasn't sure I would. Not any time soon. So I decided to take the gift of another chance for the detour to Kodachrome Basin State park. Not a huge park, but pretty. It's all a drainage and has a very localized feel to it. Much of the desert can be like this, the geology is on full display, and small areas of the landscape can feel very much their own. It's why the starkness and inhospitable nature of the desert for me can be so engaging. It really does change constantly as you travel through it.











And all those washes out here? It's fun finding a way into them.

 

Voyager3

Active member
So why was I headed to Boulder Town? Really just one thing. The chance again to eat at the Burr Trail Grill, one of my favorite restaurants in any place I've ever been. The Sugar Wings are not to be missed. Spicy and sweet, just an amazing dish. My favorite was always their pulled pork sandwich with a tasty chipotle aioli, peppers, and cream cheese, but since I had been there, the menu had changed and I decided to try the enchiladas. They came cooked in this bowl, with a slight crisp on top and bathing in a creamy habanero cheddar sauce. The rice was nicely flavored and cooked to be light and dry, perfect for mixing in the enchiladas. I'm not a food writer, but if you're in the area, please stop in. Malcolm there was a joy and after all the buildup to lunch there after a couple years to experience the food again, it ended with a touching comment about me reminding him of a friend of his. “A good human being,” he said. I like that.







Full and contented, another campsite search was in order. I found a lovely field in some National Forest land and even had time to relax in my hammock. Who doesn't like a hammock in an aspen grove? This was of course after driving clear through the lovely meadow to a steep rocky trail on the other side where I had to turn around, ********** my bike rack on a big rock, and head back to the meadow. But what I ended up with was a campfire near a corral, some deer walking by, Jenson on alert but only watching with a low growl as if to just keep me informed we were not alone, and the sound of the breeze through aspen leaves. I could get used to this.







The next day took me though all kinds of Utah that you might not expect from the sign that just shows Delicate Arch when you come in. The thing is, a lot of the state is mountainous with forests, snow, streams, winding roads and cool temperatures. It is certainly worth finding the wiggly ways from place to place. Even the lady who provided my new paper map of Utah was pretty sure the only way north through Utah was I-15 to Salt Lake. Why would someone go any other way? Well here's a tip for people traveling the United States. Unless you really have to just make time between major cities or something, don't travel by interstate. You don't have to be “Such and Such Expeditions” and only take trips if you can do it all by dirt. For me, there's no shame in having a lot of tarmac miles between cool offroad and camping destinations. But the fizz for me goes away on interstates. You're missing all the good stuff.





Like this FJ40, there will be more roadside 4x4 finds coming, which is going to be your favorite?



The night's camping was farther and farther up this road towards Strawberry Reservoir. There were so many people out. All in their minivans, big chairs and cheap tents. I'm glad they're out enjoying some of it, but I need my solitude when camping. With patience and a desire to go much farther, I did find an area away from any neighbors.



 

Voyager3

Active member
When I headed out of the forest towards Heber City the only thing on the agenda really was laundry. A chance to get stuff clean and reorganized. Make a couple phone calls, look at a map. Again I was determined to avoid population centers and that led me briefly into Wyoming. For those of you following along, I left Flagstaff headed for the Northwest. Wyoming isn't that way. But no matter. Navigating by phone and what's called “the best possible route” never got me to anything like the best possible route. Only perhaps the fastest. And speed isn't everything. In fact, it reminds me of some words written by Henry David Thoreau that were the inspiration for the website domain name where I was supposed to be having my blog and being a successful blogger or whatever. Unhurried and wise. That's what I want to be. So unhurried in fact that a couple years on, the website never really went live. Websites are not my expertise.



“When we are unhurried and wise, we perceive that only great and worthy things have any permanence and absolute existence, that petty fears and petty pleasures are but the shadow of the reality.”

I've calmed down a lot over the last few years.

I used to actually be quite anxious about whether things were turning out correctly or perfectly. With traveling more this way and giving in to the challenges and uncertainties, and even some things with Sam that helped me to realize what truly matters, I'm more collected. I even wrote on that DR650 in sharpie “Nothing Lasts, Nothing is Finished, Nothing is perfect.” I can't tell you how long I was bummed that I hadn't written it completely straight and some of the letters were nearly touching, but that's why we're here. To not be perfect. I'm not sure I will make a website for a little while longer. For now, I'll keep sharing here.

Does this look like a happy dog to you?





Wyoming is roughly between Arizona and Oregon.



A Series II 109 seems like a good vehicle for living a slow paced, interesting life.

 

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