Day 0: A Journey of a Thousand Miles (well, more like 10,000 miles, actually) Begins with the First Step

Day Zero

Before I began teaching eight years ago, I used to get three or four weeks of vacation every year. And I used those vacations to go places with the family: Vancouver Island, the Canadian Rockies, Maine, Wally World in Orlando – we saw a lot of this country with a lot more still awaiting exploration.

So when I started teaching – with the common misperception of three months off every summer – I thought I’d be traveling all the time. But the kids grew up and had their own commitments, and I became department chair after a couple of years – and all of a sudden, I was traveling less. As soon as school ended, I’d think, “Oh, I’ll wait until I’m a bit caught up on household chores, then go in July.” And in July, it was too hot, or too busy, so I’d wait for August – and all of a sudden, school would be starting and the furthest I’d have been from home was Harner’s Bakery on Galena in Aurora.

But not this year – I’ve always heard of New Zealand as a motorcyclist’s paradise: curvy, well maintained roads that follow the coastline or meander through valleys into the mountainous interior. The roads are not very busy, so you can drive and still enjoy the scenery. With moderate temperatures, even when you’re fully suited up in a jacket, leather pants, and helmet - and I’m a firm believer in ATGATT (All The Gear, All The Time) – you’re not stewing in your own juices. And although a summer departure from Illinois would land me in New Zealand in winter – I decided this was the year to go.

So I booked my trip on the Friday after Thanksgiving: O’Hare to Sydney, Australia (as far as I could get using frequent flier miles), then continuing on to New Zealand. I reserved a Honda ST1300 sport touring motorcycle rental, picking it up in Auckland and dropping it off in Christchurch seventeen days later. I’ve looked into camping, hostels, hotels, visas, and cell phone service.

I’ve watched from afar as a magnitude 6.3 earthquake struck Christchurch in February, with some equally intense aftershocks that destroyed some of the sights I’d hoped to see. I’ve read about tornados hitting Auckland, and volcanic eruptions in Chile that created ash clouds that are still disrupting air travel from Australia to New Zealand. At this point, the only possible disasters left are locusts (not sure if they exist in New Zealand) and the plague.

And, finally, it’s time to go. The months of mental packing have morphed into the physical collection of two pages of “stuff” that I’ll need for the next three weeks. And as the day of departure grows closer, I find myself getting a bit nervous – anticipation of the unknown, I guess. But there’s no turning back now – so I guess the appropriate closing would be “Hi ho, Hi ho, it’s to O’Hare I go.” Wish me luck.