Trip - Day 1

It's finally time! After months and months of prep work, reviewing equipment,  spending thousands on gear, planning routes and training for off road riding it's finally time to set off on our very first adventure! My riding partner trailered down his rig the night before and spent the day loading gear and making final preparations. Unfortunately I don't get enough time off from work (as if there was such a thing) so I carefully meter my time by working a half-day. This should afford plenty of time to make our intended destination and setup camp for the first night. My riding partner pairs up our intercoms, we check and re-check our gear, saddle up, hit the road and, shortly after 12-noon, start the trek westbound.

Range until empty: 4

While we could have opted for the interstate we instead headed for the nearest backroads and strung a network of county roads and highways together as we wove our way towards our waypoint. As we leave the confines of home the central Oklahoma landscape offers up vast views of gently rolling hills with lush treelines and sporadic greenbelts edging the fields of a variety of crops through which our highway path crosses. Before long the greenery becomes sparse and the temperature climbs well into the afternoon. We skip through dusty town after dusty town as the network of farm roads and county highways weave its way towards the OK-TX border. The pace of our journey today keeps us at a steady 60-70 mph on the barren stretches of street that link adjacent towns. The temperature climbs further as our fuel gauges gradually decline. Keeping a close eye on the range of our mighty machines becomes key as opportunities for fuel (let alone 91 octane) become more and more sparse as we push deeper into the Texas panhandle. Before long it becomes blatantly apparent that my compatriate's ride has a leg-up on fuel range; a result of being able to store away a full gallon more than my meager machine. His superiority in this regard means that, while we consume about the same amount of juice per mile, mine is surely to be sucked dry long before his so my attention to the friendly fuel light is paramount. In addition we also learn that the POI data in our GPS isn't as complete as that of more mainstream maps such as Google so finding fill-up stations does take some coordination and searching. At the end of my first full tank we do the math and calculate a necessary stop with around 15 miles of buffer. As we press on I find the range tends to decrease slightly faster than the miles traveled and by the time we reach the first service station my dashboard shows a mere 4 miles until empty. Not being one to tempt fate we pull off and quench the thirst of both our bikes and ourselves.

Topped off and break-time over we resume the ride. The scenery of farmland from Oklahoma gives way to grasslands of Texas as the arid region of the state rarely sees rain. There's little variation in the view but the contrast of colors between the big blue sky, puffy white clouds and the endless mix of gold, tan and brown from the grasslands - with little more than a worn out strip of pavement to breakup the sea of nature - provides a serenity and a unique beauty to this area of the country. The only upsets in the horizon are from made-made obstructions; trains of tanker cars strung together as far as the eye can see and fields of windmills are of the few icons that become discernible dozens of miles before they come into close proximity. 

Tanker cars strung together as far as the eye can see

Windmills and grasslands are all that are visible for miles

We press on with little variation in scenery and eventually make it to our final pitstop of the day. We fill the bikes and find a place for a cool refreshing drink before plotting the final leg of the day's journey. As we eat up the final few miles the landscape becomes devoid of anything but tarmac and grasslands. The street surface is well worn cold-pack, rough with pebbles barely clinging to the pitch beneath. Tar strips are slung across the cracks like black snakes weaving their way into our narrow lane. As we ride a thunderstorm teases the horizon as dark clouds slowly stack up.

A storm appears on the horizon

Mountain House

As the GPS clicks down the distance to the destination an oasis of old-growth trees appears; our destination is upon us, a state campground just a few miles from the TX-NM border, in a remote and desolate corner of the panhandle. We dismount and read the warning signs related to the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic. The site is open but fires are banned and regular service is suspended. The campground is small; at most a couple hundred feet long with maybe a dozen sites but only one other vehicle is present so space abounds. The sites are small but are well appointed with beefy concrete picnic tables (some on concrete pads) but the steel fire pits and BBQ grills are cordoned off due to the fire-ban. The soil supports clumpy grass which has been mowed regularly and remains short. By this time the temperature is starting to cool. It's barely 80 but the flies flock to our site at the prospect of food and water and eagerly gather up every drop we leave behind. We wave off swarms as we unpack our equipment but are fortunate that they mostly keep a short-distance as we move about. Before long our tents are set and we're working on dinner. From my previous experience it was clear that MRE's would be impractical on longer rides so this time we opt for Mountain House adventure meals. With the aid of my camp stove I have spaghetti and meat sauce ready in mere minutes. The meal is hearty, cleanup is easy and before long the majority of my kitchen gear is tucked away neatly in the panniers.

At the campsite for night 1

All setup

It's Tradition

As the evening winds down we open up the traditional bottle of scotch and sit peacefully as the sun dips beyond the horizon. The temperature begins to fall and a light haze falls over the wild field behind us, catching the warm glow of the setting sun. The scene is picturesque and I regret not having more than a phone camera to capture the moment; a DSLR would struggle to seize the scene, let alone my 5-year-old iPhone. To the north the thunderstorm intensifies and begins to spark violently among the darkening clouds. The temperature drops quickly as dusk falls upon the campsite and the cold-front from the storm whips the wind into light gusts pushing all the flies and other bugs into safe cover. We chit-chat quietly about tomorrow's plans as we stare, fixated on the storm as it roils in the distance. The moment is peaceful, relaxing, calm, almost trans-like; my stress-level fades as we enjoy the warm, earthy aroma of our dram of liquor. This is the moment - the point which I have looked forward to for so many months. Gone are the troubles of corporate life, gone are my chores and to-do lists, gone are the ever looming deadlines and gone is the chaos of socialization. For the moment it's just me, one of my best friends, a great glass of my favorite adult beverage and a chance to enjoy the simplicity of nature. The storm, off in the distance, continues to skirt the horizon on it's path eastward. It gains strength and rages its furry on the earth below, almost in an erie representation of my life: a whirlwind of chaos and anxiety. I know it's there but, for the moment, it can't touch me as I sit in peace and watch it run away without me. Who would have thought that such a tiny patch of land, like an oasis among the otherwise vast and arid grasslands of the panhandle, could showcase such a beautiful scene. Finally, I'm at peace, if only for a moment.

Mist over the field during sunset

Thunderstorm on the horizon

As dusk turns to night we retire to our tents. The adjustments that I made as a result of the trial-night have worked their magic: the sleeping pad is quiet and the rest of the gear suits their purpose well. As the moon continues its path across the night sky the temperature continues to dip; well into the 50's, possibly breaking into the 40's but this time I'm well equipped. The down-filled bag is toasty; so much so that I have to open it up in the middle of the night to keep from drowning in sweat. The ear plugs isolate the noises of nature and I'm left with only my own thoughts as I renumerate on past 8 hours. Maybe I'm weary from the day's ride or maybe the tranquil surroundings put me at peace: I can't be certain but I toss and turn very little tonight and fall into a well-earned deep sleep. It's been a good day. No, actually, it's been a great day!

Stay tuned for more - things start to heat-up on day 2!

Waiting for dinner to cook - night 1