So far I’ve managed to pack my towel. As nice as it is, as functional as it is, there are a few more things that I’ll need to outfit for a trip with no foreseeable ending. There will surely be occasions where I’ll need more than the clothes on my back, not to mention shelter and a computer to write these posts on. At some point the shine may wear off of adding more miles to the odometer, stowing something on which to read a book, headphones and my smartphone are in order. This…and that…and the one thing over there…
When my luggage arrived in five huge boxes last month I was appalled at their cavernous size. Was one really expected to lug around 105 liters of shit on their mind clearing, I’m going to appreciate life again, minimalist adventure? I’ve spent a lot of time around the Mississippi river and I was sure that the bike was going to handle like so many of the other pontoon boats inchworming along at 14 miles per hour up and down the Big Muddy. Where was I going to come up with a muumuu clad wife and a few li’l Ikes that refuse to take their shirts off to go swimming on short notice?
Today is my wake up call. Shock therapy. A quick bash over the head with a beer bottle to liven up the senses. Maybe my mind saw the luggage as 105 gallons, and maybe the real size is 105 liters, but in practice the capacity actually seems to be 105 cups. Is this the challenge I signed up for? Riding Copper Canyon!…the wilds of Alaska!…126 liters of indispensability in 105 liters of space?
On top of that, I’m positive that I’ve not accounted for everything that I really will need, and therefore I must leave some contingency space.
…and it must be done in the next 25 hours and 37 minutes.