Swift - Starting the New Year training with Swift 1/7/13 - A long read...

Yeah that is a nice area for sure. At one time I was planning on attending a school up there that loves the color orange. I would drive the 6 hours up to visit and explore. Great area. They seem to get a ton of snow there as well. I like upstate NY. It funny when you mention NY the first thing everyone thinks is of NYC, not realizing there is a whole big state north of the city that is completely different, country, agricultural, ski mountains and scenic.

Up there is true "upstate". However, when I lived in Jersey City and used to drive a box truck delivering furniture, anything north of Westchester County was considered "upstate", although it hardly was.

 

Decatur, GA terminal, waiting on my New China Express General Tso's chicken to arrive.

Snowy Pennsylvania and wine...

I'm on my way to Laredo and I hope to find a good taco truck and make up for some lost Mexican food dining. I took the load of wine from upstate NY down to Danville, VA making that live unload this morning. The snow got worse as I made my way out of NY but it didn't get bad until I got into Pennsylvania. By the time I stopped for the night in Carlisle, PA the roads were miserable. They were sloppy and slippery everywhere although I didn't see any accidents from the snow in either NY or PA. They can drive it the stuff. Even the interstates were in bad shape in PA so I was happy to find a parking spot at the huge Petro in Carlisle. I didn't chance the WAlmart there after my newbie mistake a year or two ago when Carl, Erkel's dad, came up and ticketed me while I was buying a tv and bluray player and then came out to have me towed out of that Walmart. That won't happen again.

The next day I woke up in Pennsylvania to sunny skies, snow falling off semi trailers as it melted and roads drying quickly. The rest of the way through on I-81, the 15 minutes cutting through Maryland, the 45 minutes cutting through West Virginia and the rest of the way through Virginia were easy going.

Hit the live unload in Danville this morning, got rid of the wine with no damages (comments had stated that any damage would be a full load refusal - no partial load refusal) and headed 50 miles into N. Carolina to get live loaded with my current load. Heavy load at something like 77,500 gross, I had to move the trailer back three holes to the 9th hole to get it legal. I was surprised I was over on the tandems since the load was favored towards the front of the trailer. But I got it straight and there's no 40' or similar restriction in the states I will be traveling through from here to Laredo. So it's set.


Friends in low places - by low I mean "south" of here...

I have a few friends that I met on my trip that I keep in touch with and follow on Facebook. I see their adventures or the preparation of it often and I'm restless. And I just got back to work again. I love my job. I love driving. But I love riding to places on my motorcycle more. So it's time to start planning and budgeting for something off in the distant future to keep myself focused on something other than professional goals.

I have an Australian friend "Spoons" that is traveling to the tip of S. America in a highly modified Mercedes overlander. It is a one of a kind vehicle that is modified for extended, self-sufficient travel. He picked up this vehicle in Reno from a lady that got it from the Rolling Stones sound guy. Something like that. He picked it up, moved his stuff in it and is driving it down to Ushuaia in Argentina, where the road ends and the only thing separating him and his steroid Mercedes delivery van from Antarctica is a cold body of water and further intentions.

Spoons just attended Carnival in Rio and he is another new friend I'm living through vicariously while my own dreams are put on hold. Just the pictures alone of the samba women in costume during Carnival has me wanting to go.


I met Spoons by chance. I was riding with Canadian Patrick and it was our second day in Guatemala. Patrick wanted to check out a house for rent on Lake Atitlan and I was going along with him for the ride. Things were going well that day until he got pissed about me taking pictures of the indigeneous people while we were riding. I disagreed with his take on it. He didn't like it and when I stopped he continued on down the mountain towards the Lake. When I got to the first town and approached the police/toll takers that wait outside some of the towns along the lake, Patrick was no where to be found. I didn't mind as I get lost everyday and my Spanish was good enough to get me around and get me what I needed. Patrick, on the other hand, knows no Spanish and bumps and bangs his way around these Spanish-speaking countries with simple hand gestures and shrugs of the shoulders. So I paid the toll to the police (this was a somewhat legimate toll charged to everyone but the actual residents) and I rode into a small town called San Marcos.

I noticed another dualsport bike, a Kawasaki KLR, parked in front of a restaurant and as I was checking it out the owner, a younger guy from Colorado, came out. We talked and I found out that he was on his own motorcycle adventure down to Panama when he came upon San Marcos, this tiny town on Lake Atitlan in Guatemala. He never made it further than San Marcos as he fell in love with the place. That was 4 years ago. He earns his money in the U.S. still, working remoted on his laptop from Guatemala. I asked about a place to stay in town and he recommended "Del Lago". He said I couldn't miss it. Go this way and that way and look for the big wooden gate out front.

"Oh, and when you go you gotta check out this Aussie's rig. It is unbelievable. The guy parked this Mercedes truck inside the gates. You can't miss it". That was Spoons truck and now I was curious.

Del Lago.
I found the gate. It was large enough to get a larger SUV or something similar through it and it had a man door built into it. I reserved myself one of the two rooms in sort of a grass roofed hut that shared one other room adjacent to it, rode my bike down the path wobbling from the weight and slow speed and unpacked the bike. The smaller compound was basically a narrow winding dirt trail through what felt like a jungle terminating at the lake's edge. On both sides of the trail, interspersed between dense patches of jungle foliage, were grass huts, most of which were 5 - 6 person dorms. A few of them had private rooms like similar to mine. Del Lago was the place to be in town and it was somewhat described to me by the ex-Coloradoan rider as hippy, new age and chill. Not really the type of place I would seek out but if it was the place to be in town, I wouldn't pass it up. I walked back up the path that I had come down, earlier being deep in concentration trying to keep the bike upright, and I saw Spoon's truck. But I wouldn't meet him until the next day. Instead that night I sat at a wooden picnic table near the rustic bar and talked to the Coloradoan that had directed me earlier to this place and that had now showed up to meet some other U.S. expats.

At the end of this path in Del Lago, right before the lake, is the common area and meeting place that contains the bar, the restaurant, dance floor/stage all balled up together in a mix match of wood furniture, wood plank flooring and thatched roof. No walls. Past this common area was a pagoda looking structure that was used for mediation. Just past that was a dock jutting out onto the lake, the lake ringed by active volcanoes. It was an incredible setting and nothing like I have ever seen.

The next morning I ate breakfast in the common area and on the way back up towards my room, with no real plans ahead of me, I heard a "G'day" in a strong Australian accent up ahead. Spoons. He was approaching me and asking me about my bike that was parked just outside the door of my room. We got talking about my trip and his and decided to grab lunch. Some Gallo beers later and we were heading back from town to the Del Lago for a night of getting properly pissed, as he would say. Spoons is originally from England but has lived for a time in Australia so although his accent was distinctly Aussie, his mannerisms and the phrases he uses are a mix of Queen's English slang and Aussie phraseology. An interesting guy and by far the only person that I've known that not only visited the town of underground Aussie dwellers called Coober Petey, but actually got evicted and a police escort of out Coober Petey. Hilarious.

The next day he gave me a tour of his rig. Reverse osmosis filtration system, solar panels on top to recharge batteries, security doors to separate cab from living quarters - it was originally a delivery van since converted to a locking hubbed, 4x4 go-anywhere RV. I took pics, asked a lot of questions and stood in awe. This would be Spoon's home for months to come as he made his way to the farthest stretch of earth south of here.

The next day we exchanged emails, facebook info, had more drinks and parted ways.

A week later I was in Panajachel, another town on the lake, opposite San Marcos and it was mid morning. I had just spent the greater part of that morning pacing four guys on modified Big Wheels, similar to the three-wheeled conveyance we rode in the 1970's, filming them as they drifted down the mountain in traffic on their big wheels, me on my bike behind them filming them with my GoPro mounted on my helmet. We had just set up for a group picture, made plans to meet up in an hour back at the tattoo shop where I was scheduled to get my epic tattoo, when I heard a voice call from across and down the street...

"Hey mate!"

It was Spoons. He had read my Facebook post that explained that I was scheduled to get a tattoo done by one of the Big Wheelers after a drifting session. We had talked about looking for a tattoo guy when we were back in San Marcos and so here he was. Spoons had left his rig back at San Marcos and took the ferry over to Panajachel to see about getting a tattoo as well. And here he was, by chance actually seeing me as we had just finished filming the big wheel drifting. And from there we spent the next week in Panajachel, planning our respective tattoos, getting them drafted and revised, getting drunk at night and having a smashing time all in all. Spoons words.

 

I agree completely. Much different than the overstressed city folks.

 

Free WiFi here at the rest area under the Atchafalaya Bridge in Louisiana. Nice place to take a 10. Something like 550 miles today and about the same remaining for my delivery Thursday morning.

Hoping they keep me rolling after this drop.