Days 35 And 36: San Javier To 25 Km Before Highway 52 To Ciudad Constitución

I awoke to a chorus of birds and chickens letting me know the sun had risen, followed shortly by a warm wriggling dog jumping into my hammock and licking my face.  We contemplated kidnapping our awesome watchdog, but she seemed well fed, so we said goodbye and hoped she would not follow us too far out of camp.  Back in town, we stocked up on water and Gonzalo satisfied his craving for pancakes, which were not on the menu, but we noticed that the community store had pancake mix on its meager shelves.

The road to get back to Highway 1 via Highway 52 is a compacted sand and gravel road that passes through town.  It was much more rideable than some of the previous sand and gravel roads we ridden before, in part because it was pretty well compacted, and in part because it's mostly flat or slightly downhill.

Whee, more flooded roads!  We were accosted by a friendly group of Argentine guys in a huge truck here... they were gawking and taking pictures of me walking my bike, then pulled over to ask for proper pictures with each one of them.  We obliged and then as quick as they came, they left (photo credit: Gonzalo).

Some parts of this road get pretty rocky.  This section of road was an awesome test of our Schwalbe Marathon Mondial tires... no flats!

Just one climb... but loved it because of the blissfully empty roads.

There is another cave painting site here... the woman who tends the registry is lovely and let Gonzalo use the bathroom.  She invited us to sit in the shade and rest, and we chatted about the flora and fauna of this area.

Some hills were quite steep and unrideable fully loaded... Gonzalo pushes his steed to the top.

More flooding from the rains in October.

The silver lining was a dip in the water to cool down.

After over seven hours of battling about 47 km of sand and gravel road, we were exhausted.  We had both resigned ourselves to desert camping among the cacti, until Gonzalo spotted some palm trees off the road and a small cattle trail leading off the road.  Gonzalo has a sixth sense about wild camping spots, as we have never had a bad campsite yet, and he hoped the palm trees signified that there would be a spring and some shade.  Sure enough, he was right... we made a beeline for the spring (a bit murky but we didn't care) and jumped in.  We would find out the next day that this was the last little oasis before we would return to pure desert terrain.

A perfect spot near the spring... while the palm trees were too far away for us to throw up our hammocks, we had some nice shade not too far from where we pitched our tents.

Palm trees at sunset.

The next day we had a 25 km bumpy sandy ride, often requiring us to walk our bikes, until we finally got to the glorious pavement of Highway 52.  It was neat to see the landscape change from desert to flat farmland, a bit like going from Colorado to Nebraska.  We took a minute to re-inflate our tires and off we went towards Ciudad Insurgentes and ultimately Ciudad Constitución, where Gonzalo wanted to spend the night in a motel to do a little work.

Sweet sweet pavement.

Sunflower fields off of Highway 52... reminds me so much of Tanzania where sunflowers are prolific due to the popularity of sunflower seed oil.

After checking a few places and asking around, we found that the Hotel Quinta San Jose was the economical hotel of choice, with hot water, air conditioning, and ground level rooms that bike tourists love so much.  It also happened to be right up the street from the best seafood place in town, La Palapa Sinoalense, gorgeous seafood albeit a little pricey.  Be warned that the tostada de ceviche was meal-sized and not appetizer sized like most places.

A few travel notes for cyclists:

• We were informed by Luis that while there is nothing but small ranches on the 72 km ride to Highway 52, the ranchers are quite friendly and can help, in particular the ranch called Las Palmas is American-owned and receptive to travelers.  Once you get to Highway 52, it's only about 10-15 km to the first little town, where there are plenty of markets.  The highway also opens up to become a 4-lane highway all the way to Ciudad Constitución.  The only place to get prepared food is at the Pemex, which had excellent burritos with machaca and potatoes.  After that, there are plenty of places along the way. 

• Ciudad Constitución is quite large and it's outskirts are quite exposed, so plan on biking at least 30 minutes beyond the city in order to be able to find decent wild camping.  Gonzalo recalls the last time he went through this section, they ended up camping amongst quite a bit of trash because he couldn't get out far enough before dark.

• I know some folks don't consider the wrenches used for hub adjustments an essential part of their repair kit, but I've now had both my front and rear hubs need a quick adjustment and am thankful they are a part of my kit.

A quick note about managing a economical bike tour:

Unlike Gonzalo, who has a somewhat steady flow of income, I have a fixed amount saved.  It takes some discipline traveling with someone like Gonzalo, who tends to splurge a lot on food and drink, but I've found a good balance of knowing when it's worth it to splurge and knowing when I won't really feel like I've missed anything.  For example, I opted not to order breakfast in San Javier because I wasn't that hungry and their menu items were things I could get everywhere.  Instead, I ate a banana from our food stash, then bought a bag homemade mango empanadas from Luis and Erika for 20 pesos instead.  For me, it was worth it to splurge on the empanadas to help support Luis and Erika and for a cheap snack for the road, but I didn't want to spend 70 or 80 pesos on a full breakfast with juice.

These little things add up and over the span of a month, doing this saves me at least 1500 pesos (about US$120) and oftentimes more, which gives me what I need to do a nice snorkeling / kayaking / scuba / seafood extravaganza.  I try to stay true to a couple simple rules to keep my costs down.  I only buy a cold drink at a small tienda after we've cycled through the hottest part of the day when I know it will taste like unicorn tears, and try to limit myself to one per day.  I rarely, if ever, buy junk food snacks and try to carry my own... a tortilla smeared with peanut butter or refried beans keeps me going for a long time.  If I do buy snacks, it's usually in the form of a burrito stuffed with homemade goodness.  And each day, I do like to order one meal at a lonchería or restaurant, often a comida corrida which runs around 50 pesos (about US$4) and make that my biggest meal of the day.  Produce is cheap so it's easy to make my own fruit or veggie salads...

I've found that over time, I'm starting to appreciate the little things more.  Splurging on local clams or a lunch out makes each meal feel more satisfying.  I often crave nothing but fruit and veggies anyway after several days on the road, where we are eating mostly canned tuna and pasta dressed up with canned mushrooms.  A simple coffee tastes amazing because I only get it every so often when I've decided to eat breakfast out.

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. 

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.