Adaptive Curmudgeon

It’s hard being a normal person. It feels like you’re the last one. Social media bombards you with visions of a society crawling up it’s own ass. Your kid’s teacher looks like a circus freak. Your neighbors fight among themselves over trivial matters. Your civic leaders are unlikable douchebags.

Former beacons of excellence are filled with rot. Universities no longer educate; they train human irritants who grind the workplace to a halt. Boeing strands people in space and Disney hasn’t made a good movie in years. The nation that produced Sinatra has topped out at Taylor Swift. Systems suffer self inflicted damage; Harley Davidson decided to Bud Light itself, the national debt is zooming toward Zimbabwe, and nobody knows how long the woke Navy will keep their boats floating.

You don’t want to be the last real, actual, normal, well adjusted, semi-coherent, vaguely self-reliant human left in a sea of dithering mediocrity do you?

Hell yeah you do!

Spit that fuckin’ black pill right out! We’ve all been mistreated but we have free will. Use it! If everyone else is demoralized, that’s not your problem. Rise above and, if necessary, walk away. Be happy.

It’s a function of our times. We’re enduring the first few decades of a vast experiment in human mind control. Gutenberg’s press upended nations, peoples, and whole social orders. Wars were fought. Lives were altered. Yet some people, the wise and the lucky, rode the wave. They thrived, or at least persevered.

Gutenberg’s press was a speed bump compared to what we face today. Since the 1950’s, mass media bludgeoned us with bullshit. TV did us no good but at least the intellectual sinkhole was chained down in a single room. By the turn of the century, mass media was refined into social media. Now it has crawled into your pocket. You pay monthly fees to “enjoy” a mental parasite carried on your person.

You know I’m right. You can feel it yourself. Your mind has been drilled, probed, tweaked, explored, manipulated, and addicted. You’re told all sentient beings have a certain set of beliefs but none of these spring organically from interaction with the natural world. The more outlandish the belief the better. Your doctor can’t define “woman”? Is that what you need in an oncologist? Would you hire a mechanic that can’t identify “exhaust manifold”.

Humans, which start as herd animals with occasional notions of greatness, have devolved. Now they’re frantic gaggles of self-destructive spastics. Groups form for no other reason than to signal their adherence to whatever shit they’ve been programmed to accept. Then, lacking depth, they dissolve. Societies and nations spanning centuries are pecked to death by barely sentient fools. Our world is pried apart by phone toting semi-evolved apes seeking a dopamine hit they’ll forget in an hour.

If the world is mad, why do you wish to bathe in it? Let that shit go!

Even if everyone marches straight into hell, the main thing you need to do is… NOT. Don’t pin your hopes on external forces. If the grid goes down. If free speech is terminated. If the masses give up on fair elections, proper governance, or even the possibility of objective truth, that doesn’t have to be you. Don’t be of the masses. If nearly everyone winds up beaten and broke; sitting in their leased EV and eating bugs while the “news” explains we have always been at war with Eastasia… that’s them, not you. Shrug it off. Hold on to hope. Build yourself.

Society has gone to shit before. Each time, some measure of the populace have elected for a better path and persisted. If you can find no other reason, stay sane just to spite the bastards!

What you need is an adventure. Actually I don’t know what you need. I’ll backtrack and say that’s what I needed.

Maybe you need a puppy, or a good book, or a stiff belt of bourbon, or to see a rainbow, or a sunrise, or just an “attitude adjustment” upside the head. Notice the commonality of the things I listed? None come from political or social forces! Books, puppies, sunrises, and a good dope slap are all available regardless of the malaise of the times. Whatever you need, go get it. As my grandma once said “it’s good for what ails ya’”.

My obscure blog posits adventure is the soul of man. It’s not pointless, it’s why. We are not beasts of burden, born to serve. We are not economic units on a Marxist’s game board. We are more.

Taking the time to ponder such things is good for you. You are always capable of using free will in pursuit of better. If you’re not, that’s on you. Sitting on the couch wishing someone else would fix shit, dithering until you’re hauled off on a stretcher, that’s nobody’s problem but yours; and it means you played your cards (whatever they were) poorly.

Wow. I guess I had to rant. Grandma probably would have said it was good for me to get it off my chest.

I’ll try again with more focus in my next post. Stay tuned.

Nothing broke, I didn’t break. It wasn’t easy. It wasn’t too hard.

Perfect.

I spent forever studying maps, planning, fretting, tweaking my motorcycle (“Honey Badger”), and then a ton of seat time in my truck trailering to the middle of nowhere. But now I’m here! The trailhead (which remains classified for now) is gorgeous. I’m in the high and lonely mountains. I can feel the thinner air at this altitude but my motorcycle and I both seem to idle ok so far. We’ll both take it easy.

I spent last night in my new tent (more on that later) snuggled in my new sleeping bag (probably more on that too) in a campground at an outfitter’s lodge. Cows were mooing most of the night… something had them pissed off! I was tired and slept pretty well for a guy my age in a backpacking tent on a mountain.

There’s no cell service anywhere. But at the bar there’s WiFi (and beer!). Of course I have my SpotX. Failing that, there’s a mysterious ancient artifact bolted to the wall… a payphone. As much as the pay phone is neat, I’m damn glad to have a SpotX.

From the bar, I’m taking this chance to check in. I’m as prepared as I can get and as clueless as anyone would be on their first such trip.

I’ll post again if I find another bar with WiFi. It may be a while. It might be tonight. I have no idea. Which, I guess, is the point.

Some people hire guides, others join groups. I learn the hard way.

One the one hand it’s good for ya’. On the other hand, it’s a hassle. I’m tired of fretting over spare parts and ordering stupidly expensive sleeping bags.

I’ve done a million motorcycle trips (always on pavement and staying at hotels). I could ease into it by cruising interstates but camping at parks. In 2023 I bought a bike for just that purpose. But, being me, in 2024 I ignored 2023’s mellow plans. It’s 2024 and I’m doing a different thing.

I’m outfitting “Honey Badger”, my tiny dual sport, as if I expect the Apocalypse. Soon I’ll head to a place as yet unannounced. This trip is definitely beyond my comfort zone… but it’s just a thing I need to do. I’ll be solo. No guide. No traveling companions. No shit.

There’s a thousand details to which I must attend. I fret over a budget which I’m trying to keep low. Logistics must be sorted out. The truck I’m going to use to trailer to the trailhead is a Dodge and therefore needed expensive maintenance (seems like that what it always needs). It’s all very harried.

In the midst of all this I’ve been a bit “off” health wise. I’m fine but it’s slowing me down. When I need my usual 100 watt lightbulb of confidence I’m mustering a 5 watt CFL of “meh”.

To distract myself (and also chill while equipment comes via mail) I’ve  watched plenty of YouTube videos about motocamping. This has been a mixed bag. Some videos are glorious. Others scare me away. It’s definitely a mix of up and down.

Ed Marsh is basically unkillable. He always makes me smile. He’s the only guy that makes a 200cc motorcycle seem “large and confidence inspiring”. Yay Ed!

Itchy Boots is in Africa. Every episode is a spectrum from sublime to just plain uncomfortable. Recently she wound up eating caterpillars in an “Indiana Jones 2” dinner. (I haven’t finished her season 7 so don’t spoil the ending for me.) The point is Itchy Boots is having a super epic adventure but it’s definitely hard work. She also has a superhuman ability to take shit while smiling. I’m not sure I’d be so stoic. Especially the smiling part. In particular, I’d lose it if I needed that many canoe type river ferries! I don’t consider myself even in the same dimension of existence as Itchy Boots.

Motogiant has always had a sort of laid back full fledged American redneck charm. I tuned in hoping to get my mojo back and he lost a fuckin’ leg! Christ on a cracker! Now I’m wanting boots made of titanium. Alas, Robocop boots are not in the budget or plan. Motogiant, who’s awesome, freaked me the hell out.

On the Wyoming BDR a group of dudes selected smaller Dual Sports over larger ADV bikes (which is my approach too) and traveled together. That (traveling as a group) seemed so much safer. Then they lost 2 of 5 riders in just a few hours! Holy shit! This ain’t helping my confidence. (Don’t panic. They were injured enough to head for the ER and abandon the ride, but nothing like Motogiant’s getting a limb ripped off.)

I found a different video of two dudes doing the Colorado BDR. They seemed so chill and philosophical that I relaxed. Then BOOM, broken leg! Holy shit on a stick! Just now I went back to YouTube to get the link for y’all and it’s memory holed. I guess the big algorithm in the sky thinks I can handle the shock.

On the other hand, there are a few sources of unceasingly positive vibes.

Nick Adams has a voice like Bob Ross and an attitude like a Buddhist monk. He and his old MotoGuzzi never ruffle a feather. (I’ve read several Nick Adams books this year.)

Also, Michael of Emporium Outdoors, who was a well established ATV/UTV guy dipped his toe in the water of two wheel camping. Even without his show stealing dog, he posted a relaxed mellow ride. Thank goodness for Nick and Michael! I couldn’t take another video that implies an ER visit!

Hm… the two most “chill” folks are posting out of Canada. Have I learned something?

Summer is fleeting. It’s easy to miss the moment. I’m trying to do better; I aim to carpe the living shit out of the diem. An epic camping trip is on my horizon!

“Motocamping” is nothing special, just carry your stuff on a motorcycle instead of in your car. I planned for that with my Honda PC800 (“Marshmallow Fluff”). I even packed my stuff. It wasn’t going to be “an adventure” but it would be fun. It didn’t happen.

Knocked down by fate, I came back off the mat swinging. Ha! Fate ya’ whily bitch! You didn’t see that coming did ya’!

I’m about to do the motocamping thing but I decided to do a real “adventure”. Rather than pavement and parks, I’ll be going from remote to remote, campsite to (hopefully) campsite. This will (I think) be almost entirely on dirt. I’m going to do it solo and I’m going to do it soon.

There’s about a thousand ways this can go wrong. Logistics alone have driven me batty! But it’s coming together. I can almost taste it!

Allow me to ruminate. Motorcycles are specialized critters. Sportbikes, tourers, and cruisers aren’t particularly happy on dirt. Here’s a photo from Sturgis. Check it out. It’s an assload of very cool motorcycles! Almost none of them are well suited to off road. Yes, they can be pressed into service for light trails, but in general they aren’t.

I’ve been to Sturgis. My first motorcycle was a cruiser. I love my cruiser. But I’m not really a “motorcycle rally” guy. I don’t hang out in crowds, I don’t ride in groups, and I get bored with chrome and t-shirt kiosks.

I’ve crossed America several times on my cruiser. Then I started to crave different adventures. A little over ten years ago Ewan McGregor & Charlie Boorman had me hooked. I watched the show and loved it.

Link is here. I warn you, it’ll fill you with wanderlust!

Deep in every man’s heart is the desire to ride a motorcycle around the world, or sail the seas, or climb Everest. Don’t deny it. Accept it. Embrace it. Do what you can within your limits. If you can’t summit Everest, walk up a hill. Better than than sitting on a couch complaining about the cost of an Everest expedition!

Oh heck, what am I saying, if you want to sit on a couch bitching, go right ahead. It is 2024 after all.

As for me, the whole “ride forever, including on dirt” dream had me lusting after a type of motorcycle called the “ADV Bike” or “adventure bike”. This is more a marketing term than a mechanical optimization.

The thing is this, a bike that can cross continents will spend a lot of time on highways. It absolutely needs to be highway compatible. Conversely, it need only handle as much dirt as the Earth’s limited wilderness can provide. An ADV will definitely do better on dirt than a chromed out Harley bagger or a massive Honda Goldwing land yacht, but it’s not really great at dirt.

As for the story I loved so well, Ewan and Charlie had their fare share of Siberian mud. They also did plenty of miles on American/Canadian superslab and that’s the stuff that didn’t get as much screen time.

Here’s Charlie Boorman on what I believe to be a BMW 1150 GS. I (like many people) lusted for years after a bike like that.

The thing is, once you move beyond “daydream” to “novice doing the thing” your perspective changes. Charlie’s awesome BMW 1150 GS used to look great. Now it looks like a boat anchor! It’s top heavy. It’s complicated. It’s HUGE! It’s a sprained ankle with monthly payments!

Picture that bike at the bottom of a ditch. Suppose the beast was buried in mud; hard to grip and pull and with water slowly penetrating irreplaceable circuit boards. Imagine conditions of rain and snow and hail. Because I have a weird imagination add wolves. Yes! The wolves are circling and you need to deadlift the friggin’ bike out of a bad spot; this isn’t politics or social media, it’s reality, if something is too damn heavy for you to lift, it’s too heavy for you to lift. You can’t talk your way out of physics.

What’s Charlie going to do? Is he going to lift a 600 pound motorcycle with 200 pounds of gear… while wolves gnaw on his arm? The real answer is that almost nobody rides a big ADV solo and on trails. They stay in packs for safety and help lift each other’s bikes.

I ride solo. If Charlie generously gave me to keys to his monster ADV I might wind up stuck wherever the bike gets stuck.

ADV motorcycles are awesome in theory but they don’t get used like you think. Off road, they’re too much of a good thing. Too much weight. Too many fiddly gadgets to break.

Oh, and I should mention that the current version of Charlie’s cool ADV motorcycle is the BMW R 1250 GS. A machine like that will set you back at least $25 grand! If you spend 25 grand on a shiny piece of machined German excellence will you be inclined to ride it into a swamp?

If you’re really going to do rough terrain, especially if you’re solo like me (and perhaps if you’re getting a bit grey in the beard, as I am), you need a lighter bike. The term for this is “dual sport”. That means the bike is very much at home in dirt but it has enough lights and stuff to make it street legal. Dual sports can ride on pavement. They’re not great at it, but they can do it. They’re the mirror image of the ADV which isn’t great on the trail but can do it.

Itchy Boots posts all about her solo trips. I’m watching season seven, in which she goes all over Africa. Africa, at least from her videos, appears to be made entirely of mud. Plus there are other obstacles. When she gets to a river locals often put the thing in a rickety canoe for the crossing. A hefty BMW would never get across those rivers.

Itchy Boots (Noraly) uses a Honda CRF 300. She goes places that’ll make your hair curl. That’s where the “dual sport” shines. Her spunky little “dual sport” somehow endures while Africa’s geography tries to murder it.

A brand new CRF 300 only costs about $6 grand. You can buy one and then buy three more, just to add up to the cost of an ADV motorcycle.

Personally, I bought the cheapest simplest wheeled mule I could find. It’s an archaic, obsolete, underpowered, yet charming and unkillable Yamaha TW200. Here’s a photo from a few years ago (link):

It’s probably the least cool “dual sport” in current manufacture. It’s slow. It’s carbureted. It has virtually no electronics. It’s basically unchanged since 1987.

On the other hand, I know I can pick that bike up because I have. Often. I’ve submerged it in a pond. I’ve rammed it into trees. I’ve run it hot. I’ve run it in snow. The bike just keeps churning away. It’s a machine with zero fucks to give.

I call it “Honey Badger”.

Oh yeah, I paid $4500 out the door for that plucky little spud. Suppose I completely destroy my entire motorcycle by riding it into a lava pit or something. It’ll set me back only a little more than a new set of tires for my Dodge.

There’s only one problem, it sucks on the road. It tops out at 55 MPH and is very buzzy. When I’m forced to endure pavement, I tend to keep it at 50mph or under. If I tried my plodding little mule on the Interstate, I’d wind up splattered across the grill of a Kenworth. That’s its kryptonite!

I have to trailer my dual sport to the trailhead. An ADV can get to the trailhead on it’s own. That’s where ADVs shine.

When an ADV gets to the end of the trail, it rolls back onto pavement and goes home. That’s kind of cool too.

When my dual sport gets to the end of the trail but my truck is still parked hundreds of miles away… um then what?

Hm….

Ring ring ring!

“Hello? UHaul? I’d like a one way reservation for your smallest truck. Yes, I’ll hold.”

ADVs totally rule in terms of logistics. Getting my dual sport (and me) home is going to be a bitch.

More later.

In my last post I explained I’m planning an epic (in my eyes) motorcycle/camping trip. I’m taking Honey Badger (my diminutive Yamaha TW200) so I have to sort through my gear looking for small light things, or buy new small things, or just get by somehow on my savage ingenuity. It’ll be remote-ish. I’m traveling solo. I’m looking forward to it.

The first discovery was that my Vista 1 “Quick Tent”, which is kinda’ neat when setup on a Teton XXL Cot, is pure hell when setup on the ground. One night in that yellow sausage casing was enough to convince me I need something bigger. This is why we test things.

Next came my “sleep system”. My air mattress, about which I had doubts, passed with flying colors. All of my sleeping bags are heavy and meant for cold weather so I “spread three light fluffy ‘camping quilt’ objects on the air mattress”.

I was so discombobulated by the small tent I did a re-test in my huge and comfortable Gazelle Hub Tent. I realize the tent can’t fit on my (or any!) motorcycle, but I wanted to test the sleep system.

Did it work? Nope! That’s why we do testing!

My Therm-a-Rest NeoAir Topo (which has made the cut for this adventure) is R2.5. It ought to have something over it. (Normally that would be a sleeping bag, it’s just my own weirdness that I’m trying alternatives.

I put an Alptrek “Adventure Blanket” over the mattress. It didn’t fully cover it, leaving the top 1/3 of the mattress exposed. Oh well. I soldiered on.

I’m not providing a link to the “Adventure Blanket” because it was a gift. I’m not sure where it came from. The little blanket is just fine for hanging around camp. It’s not junk, just ill suited to the specific use I was trying.

For a pillow I use a Nemo Fillo. There are things which begin as luxuries when you’re young but become necessary when you’re older. For most of my life I’d die with embarrassment to buy a camping pillow. Cram a t-shirt in a stuff sack and that’s a pillow! But… life happens. The Fillo is scandalously expensive at $40+ but it packs small and  every time I use it I’m glad I have it.

The next layer was a present from Mrs. Curmudgeon. She gave me a Get Out Gear Down Puffy Blanket. It’s very small and crazy light. It’s half the encumbrance of the “Adventure Blanket”. However, it’s thin. I’ve eaten cheese slices thicker than this blanket!

So far I had a very light setup and I didn’t expect it to be enough. I just needed a baseline. It was a warm, humid, stuffy night in the mid 60’s. I’m planning for as low as 32 and expecting 50. At first I was cozy. The question was, for how long?

I drifted off to sleep under my cheese slice.

The little puffy blanket is impressive, it punches above its weight class. I was pretty snug at first. (I should add that I was wearing skivvies and nothing else. The goal here isn’t to prove I can survive a night shivering in my motorcycle gear during a cold rain, it’s to prep a baseline where I can sleep comfortably several nights in a row without carrying too much weight and volume.)

As the night wore on, the temperature dropped, just as you’d predict. After a few hours, I woke up in the chill. The cheese slice had done well but it wasn’t magic.

I deployed my next layer, a Therm-a-Rest Honcho Poncho. I’ve had mine for years. I use it mostly for hunting. As a poncho I’ll put it right over giant bulky winter jackets. It allows me to stay still in a snowstorm just a wee bit longer. Sometimes that makes the difference when hunting. It makes a fine little blanket too.

It’s much thicker than the cheese slice and it might be too big to carry (at some point a sleeping bag makes more sense). It’s a little short (being a poncho and not a blanket) so my shoulders kept losing cover. Even so, I expected it to be warm and it was.

I drifted off to sleep, dreaming of campfires and coyotes.

Alas, it didn’t last. A little bit before dawn I woke up again. It was 52. I was “OK but not toasty warm”.

I could, at that point, start putting on sweatpants and fleece shirts but that’s not the point. I already know I can survive a 50 degree night. I can survive much more. What I wanted to know was the baseline for “warm and toasty”. My mishmash of Adventure Blanket and the cheese slice and the Honcho Poncho wasn’t enough.

So far the air mattress and the pillow have passed testing. I also fell in love with the cheese slice, I’ll bring it as “backup” if I have room. The rest, as my high school teachers often said, “needs work”. I’m going to have to buy a sleeping bag like a normal person. Damn!

While I’ve been messing around with blankets, Honey Badger is at a dealership getting hand guards. What is the return on investment on hand guards for the reduced chance of a broken wrist? I don’t know but it feels like it went positive when I decided to take this trip; especially given I’ll be solo and I’m inexperienced.

In other news, a small but steady flow of little tools and gadgets have been ordered and are trickling in. I’ll post them in due time. It’s my intention to be tooled up to fix anything that goes wrong but balance that against the fact the bike is small and pretty tough.

The first thing I learned that replacement tire tubes are too big to carry. The TW200’s huge ass end tire has a tube that’s a couple pounds in itself! I don’t regret buying it but the tube stays behind in the truck and only a tiny patch kit comes with me. Other details are starting to come clear too.

Stay tuned.

Note: If you click one of my links to Amazon and buy anything (not just what I indicate) it doesn’t cost you anything extra but I get a tiny kickback. I encourage you to buy whatever you desire from the links I provide. Don’t hold back! If you buy a yacht or a helicopter or something I might get that tent I need. Happy camping y’all!

Q: Boeing sent astronauts to the International Space Station for an eight day mission. Things got squirrely and they’ve been stuck there for months. Nobody knows how they’ll get back. What does this have to do with camping gear?

A: Test your camping gear before it matters! Unlike Boeing, I discovered planned gear won’t work before I wandered off into space.

I need a big dose of outdoor time. I took a good look at my homemade sailboat and my dirtbike. They both made good arguments but I decided to go with the motorcycle.

My plans underwent mission creep. They expanded, transmogrified, and went to eleven. Now it’s a “motocamping adventure”. Strap in folks because the fun is just starting!

I’ll keep y’all in the dark for now. Never fear, I will indeed provide details in due time. Being general, Honey Badger (my Yamaha TW200) and I are about to take a long “camping” trip. (The hip dudes call this “motocamping”.) I hope to stay 95% on dirt. (If I wanted to ride on pavement, I’d take a different motorcycle.) I’ll be self supported (no hotels). I’m going solo.

I hope to buy food along the way, at least some of the time. The rest of the time I’ll cook… or starve. I’m expecting to go a bit under a thousand miles. I’ve never done quite this sort of “adventure”.

I hope to make it in a week. The route is remote and I’ve never been there before; that’s why they call it an “adventure”.

I’m testing my equipment in advannce. Honey Badger is a small motorcycle. She can only carry about the volume of a backpack. I usually go truck camping. Carrying a half ton of gear is luxurious but addictive. It’s hard to go anywhere without that big giant diesel crutch!

The first phase is to harden up and get to basics. I need a smallish tent. Attempt one was a dismal failure. Mistakes were made!

My equipment is laughably specialized for things totally different than motocamping. In winter I use a Russian Bear UP2 with an internal woodstove. Most people are sane enough to avoid winter camping. If you need a Russian Bear UP2 you (like me) are afflicted with the condition of “winter camping”. Winter camping gear is mostly unworkable for motocamping.

Whenever I’m NOT in snow, I prefer my Gazelle Hub Tent. I love it! It’s a 3 season brick shithouse. It sets up in a flash, you can stand in it, and mine has ridden out big storms. It easily holds a huge Camp Cot, fluffy Camp Pad, and plain old rectangular Sleeping Bag. After all that junk there’s still half a tent left for sitting in a chair chillin out during any rainstorm! It’s almost as nice as a hotel room. It’s also too large for any motorcycle.

My last option is a Vista 1 “Quick Tent”. The Vista 1 an odd duck. It folds up long and tubular. Like a hefty baguette on steroids. It’s much smaller than my behemoth tents but it still packs bigger and heavier than you’d expect. The interior is minimal. I call it a “coffin tent”.

It has odd advantages such as internal poles that are already in place. Pull one cord and the thing pops up like an origami miracle. It’s self supporting too. Being self supporting but tiny, it’s surprisingly rugged.

I’ve used it a few times on top of my Camp Cot. It’s a sweet novelty to be a foot and a half off the ground! That requires an optional “I chose to set the tent up on a cot” rainfly (it goes all the way to ground level). That makes it “feel bigger”.

My monster cot won’t fit on the motorcycle so I planned to setup the little “coffin tent” on the ground (with it’s standard rainfly). But first I tied it to my my motorcycle and blasted down the road for 20 miles. It’s weird size didn’t pack great but it rode OK.

Back at camp, now I had a six pack to drink (test rides have advantages) and things were looking good. Setup was a flash. The Vista 1 just plain explodes into being. It takes two minutes to set it up (fly and stakes included).

My air mattress fit, barely. Last year I bought a Therm-a-Rest NeoAir Topo. They aren’t cheap but they’re cheaper than a chiropractor. They come in a variety of sizes. Mine is “Large” (77″ x 25″) specifically chosen to fit inside the “coffin tent”.

Warning about the NeoAir Topo, they come in several flavors and it’s not always clear from the box or the mattress itself what you’re looking at. As you can see from the photo:

I hadn’t tested the air mattress with the tiny tent, or my back. I crammed it in there (all hail tape measures) but nearly the entire base of the tent was covered by mattress.

Note: I didn’t spring for the “Luxe” version of the Topo air mattress. I have to make due with 3″ of padding like the groveling peasant I am. If I could do it again, I’d get the Luxe version which is 4″ thick and more suitable for my aging and ample weight.

Go Luxe, because an extra inch is an extra inch!

(If that doesn’t sound dirty, I don’t know what does.)

My sleeping bags aren’t meant for packing small on a small motorcycle. Since they all suck for motocamping, I decided to try something new. On top of the inflatable mattress I spread three light fluffy “camping quilt” objects (more on this later).

I was full of optimism (and beer). It’s August and I was doing a test run in an easy environment. How hard can it be?

Also, It looked right. My small dual sport and my small tent look like a match made in heaven.

Then it was time to bend, fold, and spindle myself enough to climb into that tiny tent. I looked like a gorilla crawling into a yellow trashcan!

I’m not claustrophobic but there’s not one since inch of spare space in the little coffin tent. I think it “seems” smaller when it’s on the ground compared to on a cot. If it’s on a cot you can stash stuff underneath!

I like having stuff within reach but not on top of me when I camp/sleep. I kicked off my shoes which immediately bounced off the wall and back onto my legs. I tossed my sweatshirt to the side but there was no “side” where the sweatshirt could reside. This continued all night long.

In keeping with only carrying the minimum, I was using my motorcycle’s emergency jump starter as a flashlight. It’s a Noco Boost GB20 battery pack / jumpstarter. I keep it with my motorcycle at all times. It’s a fine flashlight and charger (I can jumpstart my bike but mostly I use it to charge my SpotX and cell phone). I tried to push it away from my face and gained a generous 3″ of “breathing room”. It sat there… looming!

Everything was OK but not fun. I started to get grumpy. I stashed my cell phone in the little tent’s fabric “attic” and that’s the only thing that wasn’t crowding me. My bedding was in disarray. Everything was bumping into the walls. Meanwhile on a humid summer evening I expected moisture would condense on the walls.

Grumbling, I drifted off to sleep. I guess the air mattress ain’t so bad!

A few hours later, beer reminded me that I needed to get out and pee. I switched on my GB20’s light from where it was crammed against the fabric wall. It blasted my face from a mere 2″ away. I flailed about looking for my glasses. I gave up finding my shoes and just stepped outside barefoot. The contortions as I found and fumbled with the zipper were epic.

I emerged from the tent under a glorious night sky. There were northern lights! I peed in the glory of cosmic fireworks!

Then… ugh… back in the tent. By the time I got back through the rainfly and the netting inner door I’d scrambled the bedding like a tornado had gone through. I fussed and arranged and somehow got one shoe behind my head and another under my knee. The simple little tent was kicking my butt!

I drifted off again. At least the air mattress was doing it’s job! The tangle of quilts was keeping me more or less warm… though it was a warm night anyway.

Hours later I woke up the second time. I wanted a snack. Normally this is no big deal. I keep a snack and a bottle of water in my tent at all times (unless I’m in grizzly country). This time I had to get up, stumble across everything, go outside, and rummage around on my bike. I found a granola bar and some water. It was a pretty summer night, otherwise I’d have been miserable. Imagine getting soaked in a rainstorm looking for a granola bar!

Breathing the cool night air was great. The tent had been stuffy. The glorious moonless sky was wonderful after being wrapped in that damn tent. Unfortunately, the northern lights had faded.

Turning back to the little tent I thought “this contraption is making me miserable”. I had alternate lodging not far away (this was a test campout not a real one!). I hopped on my bike and rode away. It was 4:00 am.

Mission failure! The Vista 1 Quick Tent did everything it was supposed to do. For the right person, such as a hobbit, it would be perfect. It’s just scaled wrong for me and it made me miserable.

I didn’t really get a good test of my sleep system. The next day I setup my Gazelle Hub Tent. I’d put down the same sleep system but try it in a huge tent that wasn’t actively trying to strangle me. I’ll post results shortly. In the meantime here’s a photo of the Gazelle Hub (without rainfly) next to the Teton Vista 1: