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.