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A Tale of FrankenTravel
There are lots of different ways to get your travel on, are there not?
Earlier this year, I embraced the coddiwomple: purposeful yet unstructured travel. I’ve always liked that concept but didn’t know it had a name. And last fall, I talked about the challenges of what I called travel whiplash—disjointed back-to-back trips with brief stops back at home in between. I’ve also talked in the past about tying events together to smooth out that kind of travel struggle.
My most recent southeast adventure put all of these travel skills to the test. I managed to combine coddiwompling in the midst of yo-yo-ing in and out of Roswell in order to tie a bunch of events together. I’ve dubbed it Frankentravel—a trip hacked together from inelegant bits.
These two are quite symbolic of this adventure’s Frankentravel nature.
The bits and pieces
This tale of Frankentravel arose when I needed to be in the southeast for several very different events spread out over three weeks. It began with my Tremont photography workshop in Tennessee, followed by taking George to Virginia for a cubing competition, returning to Atlanta to close the sale of my loft, and rounded out to a finish with Fred’s graduation, Mother’s Day, and Fred’s 18th birthday on three consecutive days.
There wasn’t enough time to return home to Nevada in between each event and I could not skip any of them. So it would have to be a three-week trip that I would piece together like Victor Frankenstein’s creation.
You know that I greatly prefer coddiwomple-style travel—loose and flexible. But this trip? I had to plan it in detail. It was a beast to put all the pieces together. It actually took me many weeks in mad-travel-scientist-mode to figure it all out. Why? Unlike my usual independent travel, this trip involved a lot of people! Friends, family, real estate agents—a huge cast of characters were on this playbill. This is also the first time I returned to Atlanta with no home base to use as a basecamp.
And if you follow my newsletter, you know that the whole thing almost came unraveled after I mostly had everything in place. I got called for jury duty in Nevada during the time I was supposed to be leaving Tremont and going to Roswell to pick up George. Imagine my dismay when I opened the summons! Frantic calls to the county clerk to find out how I could fix the problem quickly followed.
Fortunately the judge took pity on me and excused my summons but it took some time to get that sorted. That meant I was dead in the water to be able to finish up complicated plans until I knew if I could even be in the southeast to begin with. The delay sent flight reservations into the crapper, leaving me to pick from the available dregs at the last minute. That forced me to fly into Atlanta and drive to the workshop instead of flying directly into Knoxville, the closest airport to Tremont and the start of the trip.
One of the many components of this trip was selling the loft and finally ending my time as a Georgia resident.
Execution
With that adjustment in place, I made the commute to Atlanta, hopped in a rental car and high-tailed it to Tennessee. The effort was well worth time with my fabulous Tremont family in the Smokies. After five days there for a vigorous workshop, it was time to race back to Roswell to pick up George.
Since there were several days between Tremont and George’s competition in Virginia, we were able to take our time getting there. We stuck to backroads as much as we could—a sort of mini coddiwomple in the chaos. Even with a leisurely drive, we still gave ourselves a day to explore Richmond a little. The following day was spent at his competition where he achieved his first podium finish in a particularly challenging contest.
With no time to spare, we bolted back south immediately afterward facing one of the toughest time constraints of this trip: I had to pick up my dear man at the airport the next evening. Here’s how this played out—I had to get from Richmond to Roswell, drop off George, run the gauntlet of Atlanta traffic to the airport on the south side of the city, then do it again to get back to the north side where closing on the loft would be the next morning. And all of that had to happen in about 24 hours.
There were infinite opportunities for that plan to go sideways. I was painfully aware there was no room for errors or delays. I pulled it off, though, and the loft closed seamlessly. We celebrated in fabulous fashion with friends in Decatur, I showed my dear man around my former stomping grounds, and found some closure with saying a sort of goodbye to Georgia. Not that I won’t ever be back but it’s different now.
The next stage of my Frankentravel was what to do with the few days between the loft closing and Fred’s graduation. I opted to show my dear western man around the southeast. We embraced the mini-coddiwomple yet again, wandering through north Georgia, and into western North Carolina. We meandered through small towns, not covering much distance but taking advantage of the slow pace to explore local restaurants, breweries, and lush southern spring scenery.
Once we were back in Roswell, we caught up with my parents who had flown in for the weekend. I rented an AirBnb in Roswell as a base for those several days of events since I no longer had my groovy loft to return to. It was a gauntlet of activity. Fred graduated on Saturday, Mother’s Day was Sunday, and Fred’s birthday was Monday. All of that was filled with family, friends, and chaos. Fun but exhausting for an introvert like me.
We flew out the next day to return home to Nevada and catch our breath. I think I slept for three days when I got home!
Lots of great friends and family celebrating Fred’s 18th birthday.
Post-mortem
As I am wont to do, I always look back on trips to see what I did well and what needs improving. I think I cobbled this trip together pretty well with all of the moving parts and cast of characters. It wasn’t pretty but it worked.
Of course, in the midst of all that, life continues. When you’re on the road for that long, every day can’t be a vacation. Work has to happen and life tasks still need tending. You can’t just check out. So I had to find time to get life tended to; a bit of a struggle under the circumstances. I did a good job of maintaining my physical therapy routine so I was pleased with that. I was disappointed in my work productivity, though. That’s a glaring problem I need to address for future trips.
One of the things I considered in the planning stages of this trip was renting motorcycles for the North Carolina section of the adventure. I grudgingly had to acknowledge that the added expense and complication to an already overly complicated trip was too much. I needed to honor personal limitations for what one person can do in a short time.
The thought of not riding for three weeks was heartbreaking though. Trust me, I fought that. I even considered riding to the southeast from Nevada and back so I wouldn’t be off the bike that long. But time constraints were in play and I didn’t want to feel like I needed to Iron Butt a cross-country trip. Painful but the right choice.
Overall, I’d call it a successful trip but it took a lot of orchestration. I’m not sure I would change much if I find myself in a similar situation in the future other than trying to avoid that situation to begin with.
So there you have it, complicated but successful Frankentravel. Now back to traveling my way.
Until next time, here are some random shots from my Frankentravel excursion.
June 12, 2018
Embracing Community with Horizons Unlimited
When I attended my first Horizons Unlimited Travellers meeting in April of last year, I didn’t know what to expect. It ended up being a delightful feast of adventurous souls, practical knowledge, and the beginning of beautiful friendships.
It was a no-brainer then, to dart off to to the Horizons Unlimited North Carolina event last October. Held at the Iron Horse Motorcycle Lodge near Stecoah, I set out with the promise of connecting with many more experienced adventure travelers and seeing what I could learn.
The cozy grounds of the Iron Horse Motorcycle Lodge lend themselves to relaxing.
The North Carolina travellers meeting proved to be surprisingly different from my first experience in Virginia and equally delightful. The venue is smaller so there aren’t as many presentations or attendees but connecting with other travelers is more intimate.
As I grasped how varied these get togethers could be, I realized that’s the joy of them. They’re held all over the world and each one has its own flavor. Reports from friends who’ve attended other travellers meetings confirm that it’s never the same experience twice. Different places, different attendees, different presenters, and different organizers make each one unique but still under the umbrella of the larger motorcycling community.
Camping at the Iron Horse Motorcycle Lodge.
In the end, that’s what this is about — community centered on a common passion. This is where we can share our triumphs and challenges with people who understand. It’s where we can talk shop with people who care about motorcycle travel as much as we do ourselves. It’s about focused time with your tribe.
And that’s why I’m heading back to the Virginia meeting this month. Since I’ve attended at that location before, I know there will be the comfort of familiar friends but also the intrigue of the new and unexpected. And I actually get to ride this time! Which is awesome. 🙂
Sam Manicom had us enthralled with his tales of travel in Africa.
Shared tales of travelers are part of the connection at Horizons Unlimited.
Making the connection…
Looking for a meeting near you? Head over to the Horizons Unlimited site. Don’t see one nearby? Then make it an adventure and go to one far away. Or start one in your area!
For more images from my time at Horizons Unlimited travellers meetings, check out my Flickr album.
Adventure on, friends!
And now for your moment of green…
Cruising my way through North Carolina with a smile on my face.

April 13, 2016
Overland Expo East 2015
Even for adventure travelers, the conditions were somewhat daunting for this year’s Overland Expo East event in North Carolina. The rain and winds were the courtesy of Hurricane Joaquin. At our location near Asheville, we were on the outskirts of the storm but the impacts were still significant. It had many of us longing for the less-challenging conditions of Overland Expo West AKA “Snoverland Expo” back in May. That’s saying something.
My soggy entrance to North Carolina was only the beginning.
The Venue…
The stunning Taylor Ranch played host to Overland Expo East. With a lake, pavillions, and sprawling grounds, the location is well-suited for a gathering of overlanders. I’m afraid to think of what it looks like after we left, though. Massive four-wheel-drive vehicles churned up the turf and even small cars simply slid downhill as the grass sheared off of the saturated substrate.
In spite of the challenges, I felt the staff and facilities handled the situation well as could be expected. Some driving and riding sessions had to be cancelled due to safety issues but most sessions went on as scheduled. There were a few who were put out that they’d “come all this way” to not be able to get the hands-on training they’d anticipated. That’s the situation when you simply stare at them slack-jawed. Apparently they missed the memo that there is a hurricane, flooding, and a state of emergency. South Carolina was nearly washed off the continent so get over yourself.
Throughout the event, organizers asked for cooperation and flexibility. It seemed to me that most attendees embraced a healthy attitude, understanding weather is entirely out of their control. The biggest complaint from other attendees was the “lockdown” that was put in place to preserve the ranch grounds. The organizers were trying to mitigate the damage by minimizing traffic so if you left, you were not allowed to return. It’s not an ideal scenario by any means but I’m sure there were many considerations that went into that decision. It didn’t impact me because I had no intention of going anywhere. In fact, I wasn’t quite sure how I would get my bike out once, much less multiple times. So I had no problem staying put.
Overall I would say most of us laughed about the situation with the “That’s adventure travel!” mantra we often use when things go sideways. Then we went about our business connecting with and learning from our fellow travelers.
Vendors and campers across the picturesque grounds of Taylor Ranch.
My tent proved unable to withstand many days of constant rain. My Eno hammock tarp saved the day(s), though.
Presentations and vendors…
Much like my experience at Overland Expo West this year, I didn’t make it to all of the sessions I intended to. Slogging through the mud and rain on Frankenleg once again proved exhausting to the point of not being able to do what I wanted.
I did manage a good bit, though, and had the privilege of talking with experienced overlanding families, meeting Sam Manicom, chatting at length with Ted Simon, and partaking of in-depth discussions with other travelers. When you immerse yourself in a community like this, it’s a feast of inspiration and information.
In between downpours, I hobbled my way through the mud to check out the vendors. I didn’t make it to all but there are a couple that are now very much on my radar as a result. Getting the chance to speak with representatives in person is one of the benefits of attending an event. In fact, a lengthy discussion with the DeLorme reps has me making some changes in my gear. Stay tuned for more on that in the coming weeks.
Conversations with Ted… sometimes they include knot-tying.
I got to hang out with fantastic presenter and all-around groovy guy, Sam Manicom.
The offerings for junior overlanders has increased over the last few years. All kinds of awesome, yes?
Ingress…
My current running joke is that I need a shirt that says I survived Overland Expo East and West this year. While I do like a good adventure, day-after-day of rain while living out of a small tent will start to wear on you.
When I rolled into Overland Expo East, I knew I was going to have issues exiting. But my first order of business was simply to get the bike in. When I paused at the beginning of the road into the campground, one of the marshalls looked at my bike, then back at me questioningly. The exchange went something like this:
- Him: “That’s not an off-road bike.”
- Me: “No, no it isn’t.”
- Him: “How are you on this stuff?”
- Me: *grimace* “Well, it’s Overland Expo. If I have a problem, there’s lots of help to be had.”
- Him: “Yep. And you wouldn’t be the first person to dump it today.”
- Me: “Ok, then. Time to get to it.”
No one ever wants to dump their bike but we always know it can happen. Unfortunately, I’m all-too-aware of the need to protect Frankenleg. Bike damage is such a distant concern compared to that. It adds a different kind of stress to a challenging situation.
In the end, I managed the ingress part well enough through the mud and ruts. I even got to test out Nina’s ABS and traction control as I slid slightly sideways on the downhill slope into my chosen camping spot in the wet grass. It took some effort to get her settled in the mushy, wet turf in a way I was fairly certain she wouldn’t take a nap.
I knew I wouldn’t be moving her until it was time to leave but throughout the weekend, passers-by looked at my street tires and, often with raised eyebrows, asked me how I was going to get the bike out. Three more days of churned up mud, gravel, and turf before I would leave meant a daunting exit was ahead. I told them I’d figure that out when the time came but, in truth, the matter was on my mind all weekend.
Shawn extracting Nina through the ruts and mud.
And egress…
By Sunday, I was wiped out. I’d intended to stay through Monday, but the weather and stumbling through the mud on Frankenleg for three days took everything out of me. My leg was fatigued and stiff. And because of the challenging weather, most people were leaving on Sunday, which meant most of my help was leaving. So I had to alter my plans.
On my best day, the exit scenario was beyond my skills as a rider. And I was nowhere near my best. The likelihood of a spill and more damage to a still-recovering leg was too high. I had a couple of options though:
1. Have someone ride her to the road and take it from there OR
2. Put her in back of my buddy Shawn’s truck to get her to Greenville and ride from there.
Most of the weekend I thought my biggest issue would simply be getting out of the ranch. As I watched the news about flooding and other damage from the storm, I knew the entire ride home would be a challenge. So I went through Door Number 2, knowing the weather would be clearing and a good night’s sleep in a bed would be what I needed to handle the rest of the journey.
After lots of antics from Shawn and the rest of the RawHyde crew extracting vehicles, including my bike, I managed my exit, spent a restful night in Greenville and headed home. The storms had cleared so I was riding under blue skies but the residual winds made for an exhausting trip. Gusts up to 30 mph meant I had to be at the top of my game for the ride home.
It proved to be as challenging as I expected but not unmanageable. And returning to my cozy loft in Roswell was all the sweeter for having an adventure.
So I survived Overland Expo East… and Overland Expo West, this year. Here’s hoping for fairer weather for next year’s events. Big Val-love to the RawHyde crew for their help, pizza, beer, and entertaining company. Any day you laugh so hard you cry is a good day. Cheers, friends!
Nina getting a lift into the truck.
Mine was not the only vehicle needing some assistance. The RawHyde crew had a lot of work to do Sunday morning.
For more images, visit my Overland Expo album on Flickr.
And now for your moment of green…
A peaceful, welcome lull in the rain at Taylor Ranch.