Serenity: Ready for Season 2

Fred's garage.

As you may have already gathered, Old Blue is up and running again! I want to say thank you again to everyone who chipped in for her rescue, but a few special thanks to:

• Sean at Philadelphia Scooters, for being Sean.
• Pete formerly of Vespa Brooklyn but now of Revolution Moto, for being Pete.
• Denver James, scooter hauler extraordinaire.
• Gwynne and Tom, for scooter storage and support.
• And of course Fred, for many, many reasons.

I daresay Season 2 of Serenity wouldn't be possible without you guys.

Onward to the resurrection!

Convalescence in Ballard. May 30 - June 28, 2017.

Bling on my sling, thanks to Gwynne and Fred.
"I wear black on the outside, 'cause black is how I feel on the inside" patch is available here!
Felix on a blue scooter pin is not available. ;)

Home was always a conundrum for me. Is it the place you're born, or the place where most of your stuff is kept? Is it a feeling, a state of mind, or certain people?

Where does someone without a physical home go, when they need to recover from more than just travel fatigue?

Between the cloudiness of painkillers, I made the verdict for where I wanted to spend a month recuperating. Not San Francisco or Providence or Boston, though I'd find my way back there eventually. The summer wasn't over for me. My boxes from Fairbanks were shipped to Boston, but I knew where I wanted to make my memories of healing: Seattle, near Gwynne and Tom.

The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017.

The Top of the World Highway had given me some confidence taking my Vespa on rougher terrain, but from Fairbanks I wanted to ride at least to the Arctic Circle on the Dalton Highway. I anticipated the stretch ahead to be the most challenging – the sheer distance without a soul in sight was intimidating. I went back and forth as to how far north I would travel, and to this day I'm unsure what informed my final decision. Maybe it was sleep debt. Maybe it was FOMO. Maybe it was hubris.

As you may have guessed from the title, this doesn't end particularly well.

On Top of the World and back on American Soil. May 24 - 26, 2017.

From the Midnight Dome Viewpoint, if you looked on the other side of the Yukon River you could see a pale line etched into the green hills. It climbed in a straight line up the river-facing side of the mountain, then turned in a squiggle that wrapped the crumpled terrain like a dropped a piece of spaghetti. That was my first look at the Top of the World Highway, and that was where I was putting my bike.

Sourtoes and Shipwrecks. Dawson City, YT. May 22 - 23, 2017.

Dawson City is a destination in its own right, though the usual attractions – Klondike gold rush history, gold panning, cabaret, and other old mining town and frontier sales pitches – were not what drew me there. I wanted to ride the Top of the World Highway, which started at the landing point of the George Black Ferry.

But a stop at a historic mining town along the way was swell, too.

The Indoor Life in Whitehorse, YT. May 19 - 21, 2017.

Nothing in Whitehorse is more than 10 minutes away, because if you've gone any farther you're pretty much in the wild. The town was just big enough to have what I sought: a large grocery store where I availed myself to some produce (and gasped at the prices), and a cozy hostel with blackout curtains.

Boya, That's Beautiful. Stewart-Cassiar to Alaska Highway. May 17 - 18, 2017.

I had a few campgrounds (recreation sites, as they're called) along the Stewart-Cassiar in mind for the next stretch. I knew I would be riding through some remote places, and figured I'd just go until I felt ready to stop. It's a supreme luxury, the freedom to go till whenever, with no one expecting you anywhere, anytime. I suppose it depends on the person whether they find that freeing or concerning.

Touchdown on Alaskan Soil. May 16, 2017.

Putting on all my layers in the morning felt like dressing for battle. Today, I would touch Alaskan soil, albeit in the tiny tourist town of Hyder, AK. I had a low mileage day ahead of me, to give myself time to explore Kispiox again and see how far I got up to Salmon Glacier.

Into the British Columbian Wild. May 12 - 15, 2017.

This was it. My last stop for urbanity before I went into the British Columbian wild. I always dubbed this trip as an Alaskan adventure, but in actuality the largest portion of miles would be Canadian. Indeed, British Columbia alone proved to be expansive, rich in history, and absolutely packed with jaw-dropping natural beauty.

The Ferry Fancy Life, Port Angeles and Vancouver, BC. May 9 - 11, 2017.

In case you haven't picked up by now, I love taking ferries with my bike. I go out of my way for ferry rides, and found a route to Vancouver that involved very little actual riding. Sure, it would be almost $70 in ferry fees, but did you miss the part about how I love taking ferries?

Pit Stop Seattle. May 4 - 8, 2017.

It's a straightforward ride along I-5 from Portland to Seattle, but I'd find a way to dress it up. I hustled out the door early to give myself plenty of time to meander and catch the Bremerton ferry.

Friends and Food and Floating! Portland, OR. April 30 - May 3, 2017.

Time had come to part ways again. Pete had pushed his dog-sitters to the limit, and he would have to slab it all the way back to San Francisco in a single day (480 miles, blasting my day record out of the water on his first overland haul. Aw). I had a more moderate 300-ish mile day ahead of me to one of my favorite cities, Portland, OR.

In the morning mist, our farewells were brief and without fanfare; we were eager to tackle our independent miles. For my part, maybe I hustled a bit to get my gear on because in your helmet, no one can tell if you're crying.

Champagne Asphalt and Mudslides. San Francisco, CA to Gold Beach, OR. April 24 - 29, 2017.

It's been a while, but if you're wondering what happened to those missing dates between the last entry and this, I flew to Boston to see Fred and take care of some life back east. It seems my current style of nomadism is six of vagrancy and a half dozen homes? Anyhow, fast forward to the end of April and we're back on the west coast, on that north-bound agenda.

End of a Bay Era. April 8 - 10, 2017.

Often the best stories are forged in adversity, and by that measure this is not really a great story. It is, however, a story about good times. Pete had long wanted to gather a group of scooterists to camp out, and this would be his first... and possibly last in California, because he'd just accepted a position in New York.

Two Days of Obsolescence, the Wormholes of California. April 6 - 7, 2017.

Gina had three months to ride around the country, and for her first day I would be seeing her off. How novel, I get to be the sendoff party!

As with so many journeys down the coast, we met at the morning standard, Devil's Teeth Baking Company.

Dialing in Alaska from Outer Sunset. Jan 10 - April 5, 2017.

Ocean Beach, a quick scoot from my SF spring home.

Alaska was in my sights, but it wouldn't be ridable for months yet.

On Jan 10, 2017 I landed in San Francisco from Hong Kong, solo again after a whirlwind month traveling with Fred. The weariness of jetlag shared space with the ache of separation, while gale force wind and driving rain rattled the panes of my aunt's home. Of course I'd landed during one of the many storms that season that would eventually collapse Californian spillways and put an end to their five year drought. Normally, I poke fun of what California deems 'weather' but as I hiked to the grocery store, flimsy umbrella held in front of me against a wet, windy protest, I allowed that this was indeed serious. Every few steps a gust snatched the whole thing and flipped it backwards, and as I blinked away raindrops I noticed two spokes were already broken.

What the fuck am I doing here?

Dos Vesperados, Part 4: The Rally Finale! Scooting into the Sunset. February 23-28, 2016.

In the past, I made a concerted effort to travel slowly and drink deeply rather than touch briefly many places over vast distances. The intention was to break the work-vacation dichotomy that compresses personal time, forcing you to rush through places for fear of missing out. I still prefer to wander slowly, but I've become much more relaxed with the ebb and flow of scheduling – sometimes (often with other people) you hustle, and other times you crawl or are at rest. It's impossible to see everything and meet everyone regardless, but the experience is still rewarding. The balance between journey and destination is a moving target.

So, our rest in Tucson was too short, but we only have one more night till Vegas!

Dos Vesperados, Part 3: White Sands, Sonorans, Trouble in a Dusty Paradise. February 18-22, 2016.

Early on, I wondered if I would grow impatient at GL speeds – Fred's had the bulletproof P200 engine in it, but it would still be an adjustment from my 4-stroke modern wonder (snerk, spoilers: I went on to buy a bike with a P200 engine). It turned out we fell into a rhythm for more frequent fill ups and stretch breaks quite naturally. The only thing that seemed to wear differently were us, the riders.

Dos Vesperados, Part 2: The Hills, Big Bend, and I can see Mexico from my Scooter. February 10-17, 2016.

The ride to Brad's address took 4.5 hours, because I guess even when I'm gunning for a place I can't help breaking for a Topo Chico. Fred and his friend (and host) Brad arrived back from a Tacodeli run shortly after I pulled up. I apologize to Brad if it took me a few minutes to notice he existed, I was busy hugging Fred to make sure he was real.

As we shuffled luggage into the house, I believe it was Brad that pointed out that although sometimes Austin authenticity means tacos similar to those available further south, this subset of Austin taco was distinguished for being in the style that 'white people eat after yoga'. He went over more local favorites as we tore into our vegan-optional tortilla wrapped lunches, from reclined positions in his kitchen bean bags (what a great place for bean bags!).

The next step to add to the joyous surreality was to pick up the GL. I repeatedly hit the rev limiter on my bike keeping up with Brad and Fred in the truck, but soon I won't be the slow one, heh heh.

Dos Vesperados, Part 1: The Prequel with Party Ice. February 4-9, 2016.

Just another jaunt along the gulf, ho hum!

It's taken so long to collect this part of the story, the events described have happened over a year ago by now. I hemmed and hawed over whether this was a storyline I wanted to keep for myself, but ultimately I'd always intended to chronicle this segment of journey. It was only laziness and brain trauma that held me back. So, here was the plan, cooked up over Christmas in Montana at Fred sister's. I will do my best to document the amazing, make-or-break experience that was riding 2,200 miles from Austin to Vegas for a rally, with a boyfriend on a 50 year old Vespa.

Don't worry, it's mostly photos.

But first, I had to actually leave Atlanta and get to Austin to meet Fred.