Frequently Asked Questions (or No, Really, I Did Actually Think This All Out!)

I've gotten used to the incredulous stares and looks of disbelief when I tell people about this trip over the past year.  Usually, the first reaction is "wow, that sounds amazing" or "wow, that sounds crazy and dangerous."  And then the questions come pouring out. 

The Darian Gap

There are those who aren't really interested and snarkily ask me how I'm going to bike across the Darian Gap.  Very funny, guys.  I'm fairly certain my bike would not appreciate trying to cross the Darian Gap by air, so I'm looking forward to a lovely boat ride from Panama City to Cartagena. 

How Long Will That Take?

There are those who aptly realize that Argentina is reaaaaally far away and ask me how long it will take to bike from the U.S. to Argentina.  The answer isn't a simple one.  I could do it in well under a year.  I've seen trip blogs of folks who have done the entire Pan-American from Deadhorse, Alaska to Ushuaia, Argentina in just 9 months.  But I'm approaching this trip with an open mind.  I will have the luxury of time and no itinerary.  The only place I absolutely have to be my brother's wedding sometime in 2014, and that just means I have to visit the U.S., if just for a bit.  I have the complete and utter freedom to stay somewhere I like for a week, a month, or a year.  Conversely, if I decide the wandering lifestyle isn't for me, I can pack up and head home after a couple months. 

How Much Will This Trip Cost?

There are those who respond to my Adventure Cycling Association website advertisement who ask me what my budget is for the subsequently described adventure:

"I'm a 32 year old American woman doing a two-plus-year self-supported bike tour starting in Seattle and going south via the Pacific Coast to Baja California, Central and South America, and possibly to Southeast Asia afterwards, depending on funds. I plan on taking my time and taking smaller dirt roads, and whenever possible, hiking, rafting, climbing, and scuba diving. 50 to 75 miles (75 to 100 km)/day, camping with one to two days/week in hostals.  Plans are flexible and I speak Spanish fluently."

From what I can tell, folks who do long distance bike tours typically fall into two categories: (1) the fresh-faced twenty-somethings in their gap year; or (2) retirees.  The former think they can get by on $10/day.  The retirees may have not even have a budget, or don't have to think in terms of a daily budget because they are living off their retirement.  Mid-career, young-ish, folks like myself seem to be scarce.

One of the first things I had to decide was how much I wanted to have set aside for the trip and how much I wanted to have set aside for "reintegration" back into American society should I choose to do so.  I decided that at a minimum, I would like to have enough money to take at least a year but up to two-years for this trip.  I read a lot of cycling blogs, in particular http://travellingtwo.com/resources/budget, to get an idea of what a reasonable budget would be. 

Ultimately, my budget was somewhat arbitrary and driven by the following conclusions:

1. I needed a nice round number to aim for. 
2. $10,000 per year of travel seemed reasonable and would allow me to do all the things I wanted to do.  It's actually more than I will probably end up spending due to how cheap Latin America is. 
3. I also have the option of finding temporary work along the way to supplement my savings since I have the advantage of speaking Spanish and English. 
4. I did not take this into account while doing my calculations, because even if I may have the option of picking up temporary work along the way, whether its manning the front desk at a hostal, giving salsa lessons, teaching English, or whatever I can muster up, I can't rely on finding that type of work.

This $10,000 number was based at least a little bit on past experience and my research:

1. I calculated that $20/day is reasonable for a solo traveler who camps over half the time, stays in hostals less than half the time, and splurges on a hot shower, beer, and a good meal a fair amount of the time. 
2. When I backpacked through Central America during law school, I managed on $15-$20/day and that was including the cost of public transportation and a bed every night.  Accomodation accounted for over half of my costs.  Camping would allow me to take that extra cash and upgrade my meals and other simple luxuries. 
3. Soooooo $20 x 365 = $7,300 base cost per year. 
4. Then I needed to make sure I budgeted for the fun splurges of rafting, scuba diving, trekking, skydiving, paragliding, or whatever else I felt was once-in-a-lifetime. 
5. $10,000 was an easy number to aim for as far as per year costs went, and made my "fun splurges / repair stuffs / emergencies" fund $225 per month.  And voila!  My minimum was to save $20,000 for the trip.

Deciding on what I felt comfortable with for "reintegration" was hard.  After all, I do have an easily liquidated 401k / IRA that has enough to see me through just about any emergency.  I also have a wonderful network of friends and family who would bail me out if I crashed and burned.  But how much money in the bank would give me ease that I could live off it and find gainful employment and a place to live if I decided to come back?  That's a highly personal analysis.  I decided I should have a $10,000 cushion.  Again, it was a somewhat arbitrary but easy to aim for.

Most people I know are always behind their financial goals.  Somehow, I managed to get ahead of mine, and ended up paying off my student loans a month early.  I recalculated my savings projections today based on the new timing of my departure from work, and somehow I will end up likely having saved enough to take at least four years off.

What Will You Do When You Get Back?

And there are those who can't quite wrap their mind around the fact that I'm willing to leave the rat race and walk away from a six figure job to go on this trip, and all they can think of to ask is what I'm going to do when I get back.  The problem with this question is the faulty premise that I plan on coming back.  Oh, don't get me wrong, I always have a Plan B/C/D/E/F.  Always.

• Plan B:  Take the foreign service exam and become a foreign service officer.
• Plan C:  Take an online TEFL course and teach English abroad.
• Plan D:  Work as a grease monkey in a bike shop.
• Plan E:  Peace Corp.
• Plan F:  Take my 401k / IRA or surplus monies and start a mountain bike hostel in the U.S. / Bolivia / Peru / wherever.
• Plan G:  Become a translator.
• Plan H:  Discover on this trip what I want to do when I grow up and do that.
• Plan I:  Live in the woods of West Virginia.
• If all else fails, go back into law.  Maybe in Alaska.  They like me up there. 

Decision Time: When Does The Byk Ride Start?

Time is a strange thing.  It passes too slowly and altogether too quickly at the same time.  For the vast majority of this year, I have been impatiently waiting and scheming ways to leave DC as quickly as possible, sometimes to the detriment of common sense and smart planning.  Over the summer, my workload at the office had slowed down to the point I had far too much time to think about how much I wanted to leave for my trip, and life and whittled away to waiting for the next paycheck so I could pay off another chunk of my student loans.  I was passing time.  I was not-so-silently hoping to get laid off from my job to give me a reason to leave sooner than later.  And then in a whirlwind of leaves changing color and the weather turning cooler, Autumn brought me back to life. 

Hiking at Great Falls... last remnants of Fall

My work landed a huge project that took me from thumb twiddling and dreaming to working overtime every night.  Fortuitously, this project had a due date of early February, which would allow me the perfect exit from my firm, on good terms.  My lease was up at the end of February.  I also unexpectedly met someone who, like me, had goals that would make setting and keeping roots in DC virtually impossible in the foreseeable future, but who has made this time something I will treasure forever, regardless of whether our paths cross again.  I was free to make the most of the time I had left here and free to leave when the time came.

Of course, this was all too good to be true.

My "perfect" plan started unravelling.  I received a summons to serve a full month of grand jury duty scheduled the latter half of January through the latter half of February.  The court extended the deadline for my huge project to April because of the overwhelming amount of work left to be done, such that giving notice in January would screw my co-workers over.  I realized I might be leaving behind the possibility of "happily ever after."  And I found myself wondering if I really had to leave so soon.  Maybe I could serve my jury duty and stay through the end of the project.  Maybe I owed it to myself to see if there was something worth coming back to DC for.  Maybe I could get LASIK.  Maybe it was worth getting a few extra paychecks.  So many maybes.


ARRRRRGGGHHH! (Photo credit: Angry Little Asian Girl)

I've done a lot of thinking and arguing with myself.  I've talked myself in circles.  Despite all the "what ifs" and "maybes," there are a few certainties: 

1. The status quo is untenable;
2. I cannot stay at this job beyond this project;
3. I need to do trip in some form or another; and
4. No matter what happens, leaving DC is going to result in a mixed bag of emotions, both good and painful.

The solution?  It's not perfect, but I think it's the right one.  I buy myself a little extra time, a little extra money, and I don't burn any bridges at my office. 

I found out that the portion of the project I am involved with will be substantially complete by the end of February.  Even if the project won't have concluded, and even though my co-workers won't like it, I can leave in good conscience at the end of February.  In fact, it's probably for the best.  When this project ends, there will be a vacuum of work for dozens of attorneys, and my departure will provide some relief to management in the long term. 

The lawyer in me was curious about serving on the grand jury, especially when I figured out that it would be the murder and violent crimes section.  So I did what any good citizen would do... I postponed my grand jury duty to April to buy myself some time.  In all likelihood, I will no longer be resident of DC before this date comes up, thus exempting me from service.

So my tentative new schedule is:

January 1, 2013:  Give notice to landlord that we will not renew lease with rent check.

February 1, 2013:  Give notice to work that my last day will be February 28, 2013.

February 28, 2013:  Last day of work and lease expires.

March 1, 2013 - March 8, 2013:  Depart DC for a two-three week cross country trip to Seattle.

Early April:  Start pedalling.

Splurging On My Chariot Of Steel

I've spent more time than I care to admit obsessing over my bike touring set up.  I have the intractible conflict of being a thrifty gearhead, which makes for some interesting mental tug-of-wars.  I was sure, positive, absolutely decided, that I was going to go for a traditional touring setup; something classic like the Surly Long Haul Trucker with the front and rear racks for a full four pannier setup. 

The blog of bikepacker Cass Gilbert changed my whole touring philosophy, including how I wanted to do my own setup.  Who was I to go "classic"?  I wanted to go offroad, rugged, off-the-beaten path, versatile and needed a bike that could handle it all.  And so I  decided to go for the Surly Troll. 

This, of course, created the dilemma of a new setup.  I started drooling over Relevate Designs and Porcelein Rocket bikepacking gear.  The gearhead side of me wanted to buy all the bags!  The thrifty side of me kept reminding me that um... yea... you already bought all the regular panniers...  So I did a test ride from Pittsburgh to DC to figure out what my dream bike touring setup would be.  I mean, thrift is great, I paid off $200,000+ in student loans over 5 years because of my talent for thrift, but if my bike is going to be my home for a year or more, I damn well better love the setup.

Well, I think I've found it.  I'm not so minimalist given the length of this trip that I can bike in a single pair of bike shorts and eat from food stalls every day.  I decided to keep the rear panniers, run a framebag, insulated water bottle holders on the handbars, fuel bottle on the downtube, and Salsa anything cages on the front fork which will hold two Nalgenes in insulated bottle holders.  This required some custom work, including a custom framebag by Porcelein Rocket since framebags are not yet sold retail for my midget-sized Troll.  It also required extra water bottle bosses on the front fork and downtube.  It took some time, but Tom Palermo of Palermo Cycles in Baltimore told me he could do it...


Photo credit: Tom Palermo



Photo credit: Tom Palermo

 

Photo credit: Tom Palermo

I don't regret spending the money.  Not even the thrifty side of me regrets it.  I love my crazy ugly custom bike. 

Thar sheeee iiiiiz!  All done except for the new pedals my parents got me for my birfday!

Fairy Tales, or How I Paid $200,000+ in Student Loan Debt Off In 5 Years

I believe in fairy tales.  I don't believe in the version fed to my generation of women, who were taught that a fairy tale was Richard Gere pulling up to my dingy apartment in a fancy limo and financing my dreams for the rest of my life.  What about the "happily ever after" part?  Surely Julia Roberts died of boredom. 

My life is driven by setting relatively arbitrary goals and working towards them.  It's how I slay the dragons in my mind that constantly seek a reason to stay in bed in the morning.  And I like to choose the hard goals, the ones most people would never consider doing, and that require me to rethink or recreate my day-to-day life.  It's the "newness" of things that keep me going.  My "happily ever after" requires me to have an ever-evolving existence that most people can't keep up with or don't want to keep up with.  It's not the goals themselves that matter, as I was reminded recently of something Bruce Lee once said, "a goal is not always meant to be reached, it often serves simply as something to aim at."  My way of life can be a lonely existence because humans, generally speaking, are complacent creatures.

A good friend of mine recently emailed me to see how I was doing.  I told him about an unexpectedly positive but complicated development in my life, one that has brought me out of plodding slowly and steadily towards the end of this chapter, and back into actively thinking about what this trip means to me, why I am going, and what I really want out of life.  His response to me was:

[A]ll magic is work in progress. The idea of magic happening out of the thin air is an urban (or medieval) legend. The key thing is to have/identify the ingredients/raw material/resources/desire/etc., and take actionable steps to make your magic happen.
But you are no stranger to this are you. Many would say you live a magical life. 

Most people who think I live a magical life they tell me, with a wistful look in their eyes, about how jealous they are of whatever it is I'm doing at the time.  The fact is, if they really wanted it, they would do it.  They like the idea of my fairy tale, but it's not what they really want.  Sometimes, it's because they have different priorities, other times, it's because they choose to believe it is simply too hard.  A life less ordinary isn't an easy one.  What they don't see is how hard I work towards my fairy tale and the actionable steps I take to make it happen.  They don't see the planning, the setbacks, the plan B/C/D/E, the tears of frustration, the guilt when I stray from whatever plan I've made, the uncertainty of each decision, and all of the things that come with daring to think outside the box.  They don't understand the fluid nature of the goals, and that at the end of the day, it's all a form of escapism. 

What do I want out of life?  Maybe this is it.  Maybe this is the human condition, or at least my human condition, to be always searching for that next new thing.  I aim for the ridiculous because my personality and nature push me to do so.  But the thing I ground myself in every day is that I cannot live for some hypothetical tomorrow and blindingly fling myself towards an idea I had long ago if circumstances change.  The beauty of life is that it is unexpected, and how we synthesize changes in circumstances with our goals becomes incredibly important.  Do we compromise one dream for another?  Do we fight to have it all?  I choose not to live in terms of mutual exclusion.  I will take as much of it as I can until the circumstances force me to choose, or the choice is taken away from me. 

But I digress.  This post was really supposed to be how I paid off $200,000+ in student loans in five years. 

I made a promise to myself that when I sold my soul to BigLaw in the face of a deteriorating economy, I would only sell my soul for 5 years or until my student loans were at a "manageable" level, whichever came first.  I thought for a long time that it would be much earlier, especially as the toll of working in BigLaw became almost unbearable.  I spent some time job searching on the West Coast as my post-BigLaw plan A, and had good prospects at the Alaska AG's office which would have allowed me to take maybe 6 months off to do a bike tour.  That didn't seem like enough.  To leave law only to come back didn't feel right.  And it would have left me still saddled with debt.  So in January 2012, I did a budget to see what it would take to be able to take a year off to travel, maybe by bike, maybe by other means.  And that's when I realized that I could actually finish paying them off.  The timing of February 2013 was somewhat random, chosen only by the responsible part of me that recognizes that law will be a good fallback and if I want to waive into other jurisdictions, I needed my last day at the office to be February 5, 2013 or later to qualify for 5 years of practice.  

What were the actionable steps?

• I made a conscious decision in law school to keep open the possibility of working for one of the big law firms.  I knew I wanted to do the "do gooder" work, but I accepted the reality of my decision to attend law school.  I did well, I studied, I got a summer associate position, and I accepted the job offer.  I promised myself five years or when the loans were low enough to get out.
• I also made a conscious decision never to let myself live like I was making top dollar.  For example, I never bought a car and relied on my bicycle to commute.  I shopped for clothes at the Thrift Store.  The only splurges I made were for travel that I knew I would not be able to afford later and I moved into a nicer apartment.  For the most part, I paid double or triple my minimum student loan payments each month, focusing on the loans that had the highest interest rates.  It's slow going at first, but once you finally get into your principal, it goes more quickly.
• When the end was near, I created a budget spreadsheet to see how long it would take to pay off my student loans if I really cracked down on my finances.  Once I saw I was about a year away, I was mentally able to focus and pare down everything that was unnecessary.  I made an end goal of a bike trip to keep me motivated and on the path of minimalism.  At this point, over 50% of my pay was going into my student loans.
• I created a simple spreadsheet into which I forced myself to enter all of my expenditures in real time, with formulas that would automatically recalculate how much money I had left to spend under my budget.  My budget was ruthless.  
• I moved to a cheaper apartment with a friend rather than renting a one-bedroom in a trendy part of town.  We kept utilities low by using space heaters and rarely turning on the heat or air conditioner.
• I cooked all my lunches and making all my meals from scratch.  I often hunted around the break room for leftovers from luncheon meetings and so long as no one else wanted them, I would take enough for several meals.  I stopped shopping at Whole Foods and buying nice wine and made all my meals by couponing and shopping only the sales items.  I even dabbled in dumpster diving for a bit.  I got my grocery budget down to $100 a month.
• I made a rule that I could not go out to eat unless it was comped from working overtime or with friends.  Even then, I usually only ordered an appetizer or a drink and never a full meal.
• I made sure to have a "fun" budget and a "restaurant" budget to make sure I kept my sanity, but I kept them really small.
• I quit my gym and found other ways to maintain my fitness goals using the free gym at my office.
• I learned how to say "no" to weekend trips I normally would have taken. 
• If I overspent in one area, I would have to take it from another or sell something to compensate.  I ended up selling almost everything I owned anyway, but this helped avoid any impulse purchases.

If I had not decided to do this trip, I would never have stuck to my budget and I would not be just one paycheck away from being free and clear.  It could be argued that the trip was just a means to the earlier promise I made to myself.  It gave me the mental fortitude to stay the course.  And that's how I paid off all my student loans in five years.

Geeking Out On Gear

When I first started planning this trip, I threw all of my mental energy into researching and procuring gear, so that basically I had finished pulling everything together oh... in February.  All that's left for me is to pick up the spare parts, tubes, etc. that I will need.  I had assumed from the beginning that I would go with the standard touring set-up -- two front and two rear panniers with a handlebar bag.  After drooling over some of the mountain bikepacking setups, I started thinking about the possibility of doing a framebag and if possible, nix the front panniers, and to run Salsa anything cages on the front fork to carry Nalgenes for extra water storage.  It was brilliant!  Except that while certain framebags were mass produced for other model by Surly, there was no framebag made for my midget-sized Troll. 

Revelate Designs, whose Feed Bags I fell in love with, had promised that they were coming out with framebags for the Troll in the Spring.  Nothing.  Nada.  I can't blame them.  So I looked at custom options... and found Scott Felter of Porcelain Rocket.

But of course, that seemed really pricey at the time, $170+ for a custom framebag, $40 for a pair of Salsa anything cages, $60 to add the extra water bottle boss on the front fork to be able to mount the cages... at least, it seemed pricey back in January, when I was putting together my budget for paying off my student loans, what I could spend on gear, and what I would put away for the trip.  Until one day, I realized I was ahead of my savings plan due to forgetting that I would max out both my 401k andsocial security contribution limits by July.  And so I decided that if I'm going to live on my bike for 2+ years, I better have a set-up I LOVE.  Scott told me he had not done a 14" Troll bag yet, so I had the honor of drawing a pattern for him.  I dropped my bike off at a local bike builder, Tom Palermo of Palermo Bicycles, who would be adding a set of water bottle bosses to the down tube and and the front fork. 

And then, it was time to patiently wait. 

And wait. 

And wait.

And then.... I got an email from Scott... my bag is done!  And for instant gratification... he sent a picture and posted it to his flickr site for all to see.


Photo Credit: Scott Felter of Porcelain Rocket

Slowly, but surely, the clock is counting down.  It's hard to believe looking at my budget spreadsheet how many months have gone by since I sat down and made it in the first place.  It's hard to believe that I have just two more paychecks before I can pay off my student loans in their entirety, my BA, JD, and MA. 

Breaking In The Troll

Every year for the past four years, I have gathered a few of my more intrepid friends to do a short self-contained bike tour in the Washington D.C. area.  It has always been some permutation of the same three friends and some or all of the Great Allegheny Passage and C&O Canal Towpath from McKeesport, Pennsylvania to Washington D.C., which provides over 300 miles of traffic free cycling with great amenities and campsites along the way, and the guides I linked to above makes planning easy.  This year I decided to use the trip as a way to test out my touring set up.


The Troll, Pre-Tree Flinging

After two beautiful days and 132 miles on the GAP with nearly perfect weather, and a third day sweltering through 84 miles on the C&O, we ended up camping out during the biggest storm of the year.  Any "ooh shiny new bike" precautions were thrown to the wind as we spent the fourth day barely cycling and mostly climbing our bikes and gear over 60+ fallen trees.  I may or may not have actually thrown my bike over one tree or ten...

One Of A Gajillion Tree Crossings

But there were many good things that came out of the trip, aside from the generally good time we always have through thick and thin.  I learned:

1. My purchase of Revelate Designs' feed bags and top tube bags were spot on and well worth the high price tag.  Not only did they provide easy and dust/grit/grime-free access to my water bottles, the insulation the bags provided kept my ice water gloriously cold in 100 degree weather for hours.
2. I will probably be able to do this trip without front racks and front panniers and am crossing my fingers hoping I can get brazeons added to the front forks for extra water storage. 
3. A one man tent is space enough for me and two rear panniers, even in history-making storms.
4. The Troll is one solid steel beast.  And I can even lift it fully loaded... multiple times.
5. Jumping logs is interesting with a fully loaded bike.  Although the handling is more squirrely, I had a blast being able to take some bigger stuff with it, including smaller fallen trees.
6. The She Wee is fun.  Giggle-inducingly fun.

Two Birds With One Stone, Or 500 Birds.

I decided rather than trying to ship things across country, or pay for a plane ticket, I would drive cross country in a one-way car rental from Washington DC to Seattle WA where my family lives.  I've always wanted to drive cross country... at least until I discovered bike touring.  Actually, I would have preferred to bike cross country, but I want to leave a couple boxes of the random things that I have decided not to sell or give away (like cold weather gear my folks might mail down to Argentina if I ultimately decide to climb Aconcagua) or that still have too much sentimental value (aaah, Rainbow Brite, the first bike I built and which I still use for commuting).  Not only will I be able to see all my favorite people along the way, but I'll get to abuse my national park pass a little bit and see some new places. 

So here is version 1.0.  It could change, but I think the route I've planned out has a nice balance of catching up with people, seeing new things, and not driving too much all the time over the two weeks I plan this trip to take.

In A Perpetual State Of Waiting

It is June in Washington D.C., which marks hot melting days, and the start of a new season.  One season closer to the big day.  I realized that I've been in a bit of a funk lately, like I'm just waiting for life to begin.  I haven't really felt this since high school when I was waiting to graduate and move on to the next part of my life.  What makes it so hard to simply live in the "now" and get to the "next part" when it happens?  I probably spend a little too much time trying to escape and just let the time pass as quickly as possible rather than actively taking advantage of that time.  I've been feeling a bit lost these days, because I keep telling myself that until I know when exactly I will pay off my student loans, I can't make a concrete decision about when I will leave.  And until I know when I can quit, I will not know where I will start, depending on the seasons, and so route planning seems a bit futile. 

And so I tell myself "self, get off yo' butt and just make a decision, get back to dreaming and planning and doing all those things that give you a reason to wake up every morning."

And so I did.

Today, I decided to stop wavering between different trip routes.  I decided to stop using the unknowns to stop my trip planning.  I decided to make a decision that makes sense to me.  I had an overly idealized idea that I'd start at the end of the world and bike home, wherever that may be, Peru, Bolivia, Seattle.  I liked the idea of plopping myself down to tackle the Andes right away, even though that may mean that I would have to give up my dream (at least for now), of climbing Aconcagua.  But the little nagging voice in my head was telling me I was rushing a little too much, not giving myself enough cushion to save the proper amount of money, not giving my family enough time before I go, not getting the most out of my high powered lawyer salary, requiring a little too much "austerity" for me to appreciate these last months...

So, I find myself envisioning a different start.  A more relaxed start.  A start that I think will make me a better person for it and with a bigger cushion.  Will an extra couple weeks at work be worth the extra couple thousand I can save?  Absolutely.  I'll be thanking myself later when I have no income save the interest on my 401k/IRA.

Instead of trying to rush to leave in January to fly to Ushuaia only to have to race winter North, I decided to not ruin my boss' holidays and give notice after the New Year, get an extra months' salary (which should give me an extra couple months on the road), have time to do my taxes and get my refund (another maybe month on the road worth of monies), live out my lease until the middle of February, and take my time to spend two weeks driving cross-country to visit friends and family and all the national parks in between (instead of giving it just 6 days as originally planned), then spend a week or so visiting with my parents in Richland (instead of a day or two), before heading out to cycle to Seattle to visit my brother and then onward to the Pacific coast to bike it down to Baja California.  And just keep on going south. 

The advantages of doing it this way are endless, I have the flexibility to wait until March 1 to start driving cross-country, so if financial disaster hits, I can put off my trip a bit and still be just fine, I don't have to be in such a goddamn rush all the time, I can really spend some quality time with both my parents and my brother, and I'll be more likely to have U.S.-based friends join me for the first leg of this trip. 

Sooooo, here is my new childlike picture of maybe where my route will take me!

They Call Her Agent Orange

After flip flopping back and forth, I decided finally, after supposedly deciding officially months ago to go with the Surly Long Haul Trucker, to get the Surly Troll as my beast of burden for the trip.  The reason for my big switch was the fact that even though the LHT is the gold standard for affordable touring rigs, my gut was pulling me to the Troll.  I'm not sure if its because I've always toured on mountain bikes, or because I like the idea that this bike can handle all roads, mountain biking singletrack where I can find it (Bolivia!), and the flexibility to swap out the front fork for a suspension fork if and when I get back to the United States to do the Great Divide route from Mexico to Banff or wherever.  All I knew is that it was still calling to me after talking to dozens of people, bike mechanics, and the like.

And so, after a couple weeks of swapping out handlebars, grips, seatpost, trimming cable housing, changing the shifters, pedals, and everything in between, it is done.  Today, I decided to hide out from the rain and adjust all my panniers, make sure my racks were mounted correctly, and get the setup as finalized as my weary brain would allow.  One month until I can take this baby up to Baltimore to get a frame builder to drill in extra brazeons for a bottom side downtube bottle holder for my fuel bottle.  Two months until my 10 day test tour from DC to Pittsburgh and back again.  About seven months until I can give notice to my job.  About eight months until my last effective day.  About nine months until my last official day.  Time is flying... it seems like just yesterday I was lamenting that it would be over a year until I could leave.

Much like my flip flopping on the bike, I have also struggled with where I want to start.  At first, I thought it would be amazing to start in Colombia and work my way south.  Colombia is familiar territory for me, my favorite country, and seemed like a comfortable place to start.  But much like the Troll, my gut kept telling me that it would be amazing to start at the end of the world and start biking home, and maybe I'd get there, wherever "home" is, be that my folks place in Washington State, or a bike shop in Bolivia, I liked the idea of not needing a return ticket.  Although this changed my timing a bit in order to avoid a harsh winter in Patagonia, I realized that with the amount of vacation I had accumulated, I could bump up my last effective day working while still getting paid and being officially on the books for the purposes of preserving the potential to practice law in other jurisdictions should I some day change my mind and want to practice law again if and when I decide to return to the United States. 

The Agonizing Search For The Perfect Bike

After researching nearly every single touring bike manufacturer that the Adventure Cycling Association's 2011 Touring Bike Buying Guide listed, which mind you, is easily 40+ companies, I figured out that only two companies made bikes in my midget-y size of 46cm, in my price range, and with all the features I wanted (steel, disc brakes, 3 connections for water bottle holders, spoke holder, and runs 26" wheels), and only one of those offered a complete bike, which is always cheaper than going custom.  In some ways, this is better.  I love bikes.  Having to put together and build the bike I will be riding for a year or longer is an agonizing decision.  Having fewer choices makes it easier in many ways.

So basically, I had to make a choice between the oh-so-classic Surly Long Haul Trucker (with disc versus cantilever brakes) or the Surly Troll (which could run either or both, but which didn't offer some of the other features).  So I wandered into my local bike shop to chat up some of the mechanics, who love building dream bikes and about 2 hours later, a half dozen jokes about throwing in the $1000 Rohloff hub or a dynohub, had figured out that I should get the Surly Long Haul Trucker with a few upgrades of the stock components to make it bombproof. 

The value of bike geeks excited about helping you build a bike cannot be underestimated.  I learned which things I should upgrade, like the headset, front deraullier, seatpost, and saddle (which I already own), which things can wait, like holding off on replacing the handlebars to see how I like the stock ones, and why its better to go with the Tubus racks instead of the ones Surly designed for the Trucker.  I also learned why its okay to go with mechanical disc brakes instead of cantilever brakes after having offsetting concerns about braking power versus fixability on the road.  Carrying an extra disc and extra disc brake pads weighs very little and I'll appreciate all the braking power I can get in the rain or screaming down the Andes.

Approximate delivery time, mid-March... need to do the following before bike comes:

• Go back to bike shop and wax philosophic about fenders and which Tubus racks to order
• Pull SPDs off full suspension mountain bike and replace with older SPDs, use nice ones for touring bike or consider Ergon pedals

Planning: The Big Picture

Hands down, one of the best resources for bike touring is the website for Travelling Two.  Their survival guides are fantastic and they also provide a wonderful "big picture" planning guide so you don't get overwhelmed all at once trying to make this type of once-in-a-lifetime trip happen.  The good news is that I'm not so off track, that the way I'm doing it, surprise, surprise, is pretty much along the lines of what they had recommended. 

Three Or Four Years Before

• Start saving money (have a goal and a budget): check, well, I already had a pretty hefty savings but I do have a budget to be debt free before I leave.
• Read inspiring books about the journey you want to take: check, this has always been my leisure reading.
• Set a rough departure date: check, well, I had already planned on quitting my job since the moment I got this job... told myself my maximum time would be 5 years to pay off my student loans and then I would be free to do something different, whether it was moving or finding a new job or just walking the earth.

One Year Before (aka, right about now)

• Set a firm departure date:  Check, my lease will end February 24, 2013, and so I will leave Washington D.C. at the latest on February 24, likely in a one-way rented van and drive cross-country to drop off my remaining possessions at my parents house, spend some time with them, and connect with my brother in Seattle who is going to start my trip with me to do some cool jungle-beach camping in Colombia.  I am taking applications for cross-country travel partners who want to drive with me (I'll pay for the van and gas, you pay for your plane ticket back!).  Will consider taking time to really get to see some of small town America along the way.
• Tell friends and family about your plans:  Check, I'm telling everyone except my boss right now.  Ha.
• Research and pick out a bike:  Check, once I get my refund check from the tax man and after I move to my new cheaper rent digs, I'm off to bike shop.  Currently researching different set-ups.
• Start clearing out your stuff:  Check, started last year by selling or giving away over half my worldly possessions.  Now selling anything of worth or that I don't really absolutely need.  Sniffle, goodbye fancy bikes.  Goodbye furniture and kicking bag.

Six to Nine Months Before

• Create a website (if you want one): Check, gotta keep myself accountable even in the planning stages.
• Select the rest of your gear:  Check, created gear list and slowly acquiring looking for used, barter, or good deals.
• Set aside weekends for test runs of your bike and gear
• Research visas you may need en route:  Check, only need a visa for Brazil if I decide to go there.  Will get on trip depending on itinerary.

Three Months Before

• Apply for visas you’ll need early on in your trip
• Visit a doctor and get your vaccinations
• Book flights and renew your passport
• Tell your boss that you’re quitting
• Set up internet banking
• Scan important documents and store them digitally

One Month Before

• Get your bike serviced and pick up any spare parts
• Buy any remaining supplies
• Sell or store any stuff you have left

Just One Week!

• Have a goodbye party
• Pack your bike for the flight
• Try to get some sleep

Why My Family And Friends Are Amazing

I think one of the hardest things about making this type of decision is to convince people this is simply not a pipe dream, that in a few weeks, the excitement of the prospect of this trip will NOT die down and I will not be still sitting here at my desk in three years wondering where the time went.  I've read enough trip blogs to know that the initial barrier of support from family and friends can be in surmountable and frustrating.  And this is why my family and friends are amazing.

I decided to make announce my decision on Facebook.  Oh the irony.  But it seemed like the easiest way to go, rather than having to take the time to tell the same story over and over again and rationalize why I made this decision.  And the response was overwhelmingly... supportive.  Most of my friends weren't surprised.  This was clearly the next step in the craziness that my life has ended up being.  Crazy good, that is.  My best friend's immediate reaction was "do it!"  Others have already told me they will come support me and take part in at least some part of this trip.  One good friend, who came to Cozumel to support me at the Ironman and has always been there to give me words of encouragement as I crashed my mountain bike or worked 90 hours a week, immediately started scheming a way to join me to climb Aconagua.  Another good friend decided to break his lease early so we could move together to a cheaper apartment so I can save money for this trip and has promised to join me at some point in South America, and even possibly by byk.  Others have been sending me links to blogs, gear lists, and "must see" places, trying to connect me with their host families from when they lived in South America.  I'm overwhelmed by the support.

The 3rd Annual Byk Ride Crew aka How LeeAnn Fell In Love With Byk Touring

And my family, who have, despite not quite understanding why I tick the way I do, supported me in all my crazy adventures, were probably the most supportive of all.  My big brother is considering coming down earlier in the trip to do some camping in Colombia with me.  My parents, without batting an eye, also gave me their support.  Not in a "good for you  honey" kind-of-way, but in the "is there anything I can do" and "can we visit you during the trip" kind-of-way.  That, my friends, is unconditional love because I know they have spent the last 10 years of their lives holding their breath while I throw myself out of airplanes, raft down the Peruvian Amazon on a rickety balsa log I made myself, whitewater raft over waterfalls, and everything in between.  They have supported me from the moment I walked away from having a free college education in Michigan to move to Washington, DC for a much more expensive school, to the moment I decided to go to law school, to the moment I decided to attempt an Ironman triathlon injured, and now to this.

A Trip Is Born

The Beginning

After spending the last year trying to use triathlons and races to distract me from my inevitable wanderlust, I realized that I needed to get things going on my "grand plan" that anyone who has known me even for a minute knows is always brewing in my head.  I know I've always told people that I wouldn't be a big firm lawyer forever.  I thought at the most, I'd stay at my firm for 2-3 years before flipping into doing public interest or international development work.  With the job market drying up, and having the blessing of a job that pays well, that only once or twice has become inhumanly busy for extended periods of time, I've managed to find my joy in life in bits in pieces.  And for the last 2 months, I've been floundering, trying to remember the law student who traveled to 20+ countries out of a backpack on $15 a day during law school, struggling with a job that I know has no future for me, job searching in a job market that seems to want to put me into exactly the same position, only somewhere else.  I've been in a mental rut, trying to find the motivation to get out of bed every morning. 

The Decision

Today I officially made the decision that on March 1, 2013, I will quit my job and begin a tour of South America that will have no planned end date, but with the intention of being gone for at least a year, if not more, finances permitting.  After February 5, 2013, I will have been licensed to practice law exactly 5 years, which is exactly the amount of time I need to be able to waive into most other bars to practice law without having to take another bar exam and will give me greater flexibility to move wherever I would like to when I am done with this trip.

The Tentative Itinerary

I had originally planned on trying to start in Mexico and work my way down, but I have traveled to every single country in Central America, some multiple times, and so much of South America is unexplored to me.  And so I tentatively plan to fly into Caracas, Venezuela and work my way west to Colombia, then south to Ecuador, Peru, Bolivia, Paraguay, cut east to Brazil, and then work my way south to Urugay, and back west to Argentina, and fly out of Chile.  I also hope to work in 21 days out of the biking schedule to tackle my second of the 7 summits, Aconagua, but will know more as I put together a tentative itinerary.

My child-like drawing of this itinerary with absolutely no idea if roads exist or what the political situation on any of the border crossing points is as follows:

Join Me

I'm hoping maybe you will want to join me for parts of this trip (preferably the earlier parts as I do not intend to have a firm itinerary per se as my experience has taught me you never know when you will love or hate a place, or when disaster strikes, when you might need to change plans.  Or to tackle Aconcagua which is best summitted after November 15th, and is perfectly timed towards the end of my trip.  Or just let me know if you have contacts, "must see" places, or "must do" things.  I plan on doing some other adventures along the way, trekking, climbing, paragliding, or whatever else crosses my path.

Short Term Action Plan (January - March 2012)

• Advanced Spanish tutor to recover my conversational fluency (paid, start Tuesday January 17)
• Create spreadsheet of all cash and backup funds (saleable items for emergency cash, 401k, IRA), create total trip budget, create personal budget to ensure all student loan balances are paid through the end of 2014 by the time trip starts.
• Move into a new place with roommate (crossing fingers Sr. Alex), rent no more than $1000 per person.
• Create checklist of items I need to acquire for trip
• Create checklist of bike mechanical skills I need to learn
• Maps and possible routes, get general timeframes
• Adventure cycling organization for travel partners