- Tim NotierThe Republic of Indonesia is the fourth-most populated country in the world, and Java is the world’s most populated island with just under 150 million people calling the island home. The traffic that swallowed us whole everywhere we went was as if we were riding down Michigan Avenue towards Grant Park during the Taste of Chicago. But Marisa and I slowly made our way out of Indonesia’s capital city of Jakarta and could breathe in the fresh air of the trees that now stood tall in place of the hotels and shopping centers in the city’s limits. The hustle and bustle of what was half of the island’s population was now spread out, and our newly found moments of Zen couldn’t have come at a better time Nowadays, my birthday comes sooner than I would like it to, but it was inevitable that I would be turning 41. Marisa had a few surprises lined up in an effort to stop me complaining about my growing belly, aching knees, and thinning hair as the years seem to overlap on themselves like my love handles. But Marisa plugged in some secret coordinates into my GPS, and I happily followed the blue line on my phone down a twisty forest road. I parked our Pulsar Bajaj 220 in front of a remote wooden shack that sold tea and noodles. The old man who owned the shop agreed to watch over the motorcycle as Marisa led me to a path through the woods. The two of us fought our way down a narrow path that had been reclaimed by thick grasses, fallen trees, and a thousand little burrs that clung to every piece of our clothes from our socks to our chests. But the view of a small, two-tiered waterfall in a remote section in a far-away land made the difficult trek worth every sharp prick from a thorn in our shoes. It was the perfect setting for me to reflect on the fact that turning 41 may have been difficult to accept, but the result has turned out to be pretty remarkable. And with Marisa by my side, as a team we were bound to tackle any obstacle that lay in our way. Central Java holds some scenic waterfalls to enlighten the aging soul, but it also has Buddhist and Hindu temples that are scattered across the island. We were on our way to the city of Magelang, where Borobudur resides, a place that should be one of the 7 Wonders of the World. But before we entered the gates of such a magnificent achievement of human ingenuity, there were a few less visited sites that we were lucky enough to explore without the thousands of foreigners that flocked to the entrance of Borobudur. Before reaching Central Java, Marisa and I had roamed through temples and small villages where few Westerners visit. But now, we were on one of the main tourist circuits of Indonesia. But Marisa and I were staying with a local man, Fendi, who would not only be our temporary landlord, but also offered to take Marisa and I on a little tour of area. I do not play the role of pillion often, but at 4am the next morning, I climbed on the back of Fendi’s scooter as Marisa mounted someone else’s as we took off to catch the sunrise. That chilly morning was the first time that I had felt cold in nearly a month. When the sun has yet to rise, it is a comfortable 70 degrees. But as soon as the sun rises over the horizon, the temperature similarly ascends to astronomical heights. Marisa and I hiked up a thousand steps to a wooden platform with a view that took our breathe away more than the strenuous climb up the stairs. Rivers of low hanging fog flowed through the forest-covered mountains. We could faintly see the highest temple of Borobudur through the mist, while exotic birds sang their morning songs along with the call to prayer that softly echoed from the numerous mosques in the valley below. It had already been an amazing morning, but Fendi had a few more surprises for us as he chauffeured us around to the next attraction on his list. It was nice being a passenger on a motorcycle. I was able to look around at the passing stalls filled with roasted chickens and the rice paddies that climbed up the hills like the patterns of a giant quilt. Usually, I am piloting the motorcycle like the Millennium Falcon through an asteroid belt of potholes and oncoming traffic. But I was loving the backseat ride through town while still being able to giggle with Marisa over our headsets even though we were on different scooters. Our second stop was the 9th century Buddhist temple of Mendut. Marisa and I were the only people that walked around the site as we admired the detailed bas-reliefs that were carved into the structure. Different scenes of Buddhists teachings were etched into the stone like an ancient comic book strip. Just outside of the temple was an active Buddhist monastery that was once again nearly empty of any other tourists. We walked around in complete silence, with the only sound being the swift and gentle sweeping of the groundskeepers who maintained the walkways. Giant stone bells that will never ring stood stoically as the time slowly passed. Different nobles and saints would come and pass, but those grand stupas would outlast just as many presidents and kings as they have seen fade from history. Buddha statues peacefully sat in their own meditative silence as they contemplated the world in the present. Marisa and I tried to absorb as many lessons as we could on our stroll through the many teachings carved into the surrounding stones. After our brief but spectacular moments of Zen, we left the monastery a little wiser than when we had entered, and we mounted our driver’s scooters to be ridden to another attraction. Our last destination for the day was something that I had heard of through strange stories, but I had not realized that we were on the island that produced the world’s most bizarre coffee. It is a fairly unique coffee that’s beans are brewed after being partially digested by an Asian Palm Civet and defecated back into the world of the living with other fecal matter. The excrement of this lovely mammal looks like a Payday bar full of peanuts and caramel. Some genius looked at that fantastic bar of nuggets and decided to throw it in an expresso machine and sell it for its weight in gold to seemingly foolish people. I am one of those foolish people. I couldn’t resist. It is usually Marisa who eats exotic grubs and drinks fermented fluids that bubble and stink like a witch’s brew. But she can’t stand coffee, and I couldn’t live a day without it. Marisa watched in horror as I lifted the cup of coffee to my lips. But after nearly five straight years of drinking instant coffee, I was not a certified connoisseur whose opinion held any merit. But I thought my cup o’ crappy coffee was just as good as I could ever imagined it to be. I was 41 years, 2 days, and 6 hours old, and everything was just as it needed to be. My wonderful wife was by my side and there was a whole world waiting to be explored. There were life lessons to be learned, challenges to fail and to succeed at, and a beat-up motorcycle that bottomed out on every pothole. But when life hands you poop, make some coffee, and head out into the world with a smile on your face, and stains on your teeth. Marisa and I can't thank all of our Patrons enough! We wouldn't be able to be on this incredible adventure without your wonderful support! Dan C, Ralph E, Caren M, Gareth J, TJ J, Pearl P, Lake Chatuge Mountain Adventure, Jason (Google User), Ed R, Toni C, Tiger C, David P, Keith M, Jacob M, Michael M, Randy G, Michael W, Erik , Steve , 1FTR_ADV, ADV Tammy, Steve L, Lee & Julie T, Bernhard * * * If you enjoy these updates, and would like to help push us a few more miles down the road, you can put a few gallons in our gas tank at: https://www.paypal.me/notiersfrontiers Get early access to our YouTube videos for as little as a $1 a month by becoming a Patreon at https://www.patreon.com/2upandoverloaded Check out the books we have written along the way: https://mybook.to/AdvMotorcycleBooks* - Tim NotierI never thought that sitting down in the same position for nearly 24 hours would leave me feeling like I had just gotten the daylights knocked out of me after 12 rounds of Muay Thai boxing. Our flight from Tampa to Georgia was a quick toss of a frisbee compared to the 14-and-a-half-hour flight to Tokyo. And by the time we landed in Haneda airport in Japan, I felt like Neil Armstrong stepping off from Apollo 11 onto a strange new world. Marisa and I had been looking forward to our 7-hour layover in Tokyo, but our bodies and minds were on emergency reserve. We did manage to hop on the monorail and took a short hike to Zojo-ji Temple. We walked around trying to absorb as much Chi as we could in order to focus on the beauty that surrounded us. But my mind was Tokyo drifting to the thoughts of a warm bed with enough leg room to morph from Neil Armstrong to Stretch Armstrong. Marisa insisted on having sushi before heading back to the airport for the final leg of the journey. I’m not a fan of sushi, but I wasn’t going to deny Marisa an opportunity that she had been waiting for ever since we knew we had a layover in Japan. It was one last 7-hour flight before we landed in Jakarta, and all we had to do was sit down in a cramped chair to achieve our goal of reaching Indonesia. And even though my knees felt like the rusted joints of the Tin Man, I reluctantly sat back down knowing the pain was almost over. When we finally landed, I was ecstatic to be back on solid ground, and even more delighted when all our luggage appeared on the conveyer belt. Marisa and I walked out of the airport and were hit with a wall of heat and humidity like the high pressure wave of a nuclear explosion. I was very thankful that we had brought our mesh Klim gear that would allow maximum airflow in such a hot and humid climate. We were then greeted by William, one of the friendliest people we have met to date. William was our Indonesian contact that was picking us up from the airport and helping to tie all the loose ends together regarding the motorcycle in the upcoming months that we would be spending in this new country. William had the energy of a hummingbird as he listed all the amazing places that we could visit while in Jakarta. But Marisa and I were only half conscious and wanted nothing more than to sleep for as long as we could. And that is exactly what we did. We spent the next 7 days slowly adjusting to the 13-hour time zone difference and got ourselves mentally and physically prepared for the adventure ahead. On the 6th day, William drove us to the mechanic where our newest bike was waiting to meet us like a rescue animal. “Dorco” was a little beat up and had some deep scars, but the long scratches etched into the plastic guards looked like a treasure map of the adventures and places it had been. Our Bajaj Pulsar 220 was a few CC's and a couple horsepower short of our KTM 1190, but it had potential. There was about a quarter inch of suspension left after we mounted the bike with all our gear, but we knew that our journey across Java would be slow and steady. With our gear packed and excitement running through our veins, we headed out of Jakarta in search of green rolling hills filled with terraced rice fields. I also hoped that the insane traffic would start to disperse once we left the city limits of Jakarta, but that 1st day was hot and slow going. Frequent breaks were needed to rehydrate, and to dump water on our heads to keep cool. The good news was that I was getting the hang of crazy traffic, and we were making new friends by the dozen every time we pulled over. After a long day, we pulled into a cheap hotel and reassessed our intended route. I desperately wanted to avoid the thick traffic, so we decided to head south through the mountains on thin little white lines that represented the secondary roads on Google Maps. The following day we got exactly what we wished for. Long twisty roads with a cool breeze penetrating through our mesh jackets, and there was about ¾ less traffic than the day prior. And then I saw what appeared to be a roadside attraction as I pulled in and parked, hoping for some pretty views while we drank water. Our roadside pitstop turned out to be a hidden little nook that led to a small waterfall only 100 yards away from the parking lot. It was exactly what we needed after the hustle and bustle of the prior day's ride. We knew then and there that we would be sticking to the little white lines on Google Maps to avoid major highways and ride through small villages instead of main cities. Our short time in Indonesia has already been a fascinating experience. Every person we meet greets us with a smile. The food is tasty, and Marisa and I feel like rockstars walking around as people come up to us and politely ask to take a picture with us. We couldn’t be more thankful for the opportunity to explore such an amazing country filled with kindhearted people, and we have barely made it 50 miles from where we touched down in Indonesia.
We can’t wait for what is to come. Thank you for riding along with us, we hope that you enjoy the ride! - Tim Notier♫ Raindrops on helmets while riding through jungles Bright sunny days that make us feel humbled Tight gravel roads that twist through hillsides These are a few of our favorite rides. ♫ Marisa and I have had the wonderful opportunity of riding through some fascinating places. And as we look forward to our next journey into a far away land, we are taking a glance back at a few of our favorite places that we have already explored. And I think the number one contender, in a very particular order, is our ride through the Bolivian Salt Flats! We hope that you enjoy the ride down memory lane alongside us! The Bolivian salt flats are the largest in the world and can be seen from space. But we were ground level to the wonders that they held and were excited to ride across such a surreal landscape. This adventure had been long awaited, and Marisa and I were in good company with our newfound friends Brendon and Kira that we had met while traveling through Peru. The four of us headed to an entrance to find that the salt flats were surrounded by a wide moat of salty water. Just beyond our reach, across our newest obstacle, was a view to what seemed to be an endless stretch of flat, dry salt spreading all the way to the horizon. Thousands of tire tracks spread out in every direction, but there was no way to determine where to go once out in the open. We wanted to find the mirrored section, where a thin, one-centimeter layer of water collects on the surface, transforming it into a massive reflective mirror that makes for jaw-dropping, dreamlike photos. But once out there in the endless landscape, it was hard to navigate anywhere, and our routing apps weren’t much help as there were no roads to guide us from point A to point B. We just had to pick a cardinal direction and follow it. There was a large area to cover, more than 4,000 square miles, but we hoped to get lucky as we rode across the hexagonal patterns of salt on the otherwise featureless surface. There are a couple of “islands” in the middle of the gigantic region, and we all agreed to make our way towards them. So, we picked a mountain on the horizon and kept it between the handlebars until we were close enough to adjust our bearings. I watched the needle of my dash-mounted compass bounce around as we maintained a northwest course. A warm feeling of comfort overtook me when I glanced at the compass to verify that we were still on track. It was a gift from a fellow world traveler, Christian Vogel, who had stayed with us in our house near Chicago five years prior. Our dreams of adventure were only in their infancy at that point, and over the course of only five days, Christian shared his tales, troubles, and all the ups and downs of traveling the world by motorcycle. He urged us to set everything in motion and to dream big, never to second-guess our choices, and that we didn’t need hundreds of thousands of dollars in order to do it. While sharing stories of our own brief travels, it became apparent that I got lost frequently, and that Marisa absolutely hated the cold. So, on the day of his departure, he gave us his compass, which also had a thermometer. “This is so you never get lost, and so that Marisa doesn’t get cold,” he stated. It was tear-jerking stuff. Now here I was, more than five years later, looking at his gift, using it to guide us in the direction of complete bliss. And like the golden compass it was, it led us to an area that was completely mirrored. The horizon ahead of us was cut directly in half in a perfect mirror image. We entered the thin layer of water, and I pulled over to stare out in astonishment. I could barely tell where the land began, and the sky ended. “Okay, this is pretty cool,” I said. This was another time when riding with another couple proved invaluable. We traded cameras and took pictures of each other riding on what seemed to be marbled glass. It felt like we were floating in oblivion, skating on a fantasy of ice and sky as we splashed through the dream-like landscape. It was a magical experience as we rode in wide figure eights through the mirror of clouds. We took our time in the abyss of reflection, jumping, skipping, doing cartwheels, riding in circles the entire time, never wanting the dream to end. But as with all dreams, this too had to come to an end. We knew the salt water could not be good for our bikes and could see it already crystallizing over the engine. In fact, as we rode farther through the mirror, Brendon pulled us over to tell us that our exhaust pipe had completely crystallized over in salt. I looked at my tailpipe in shock as there was only a pinhole left for the exhaust to escape through. I took out my pliers and pulled the salt out like brittle teeth, trying to avoid having it fall deeper into the exhaust. “Okay, let’s get out of here please,” I said after realizing that the dream was turning into a potential nightmare. The water got deeper and murkier as we made our way towards a different exit. The last two miles was the equivalent of riding in ankle-deep sludge that was 99% salt. I slid around the muck, trying to keep the bike straight while praying I wouldn’t drop it. Everyone had enjoyed their experience, but now we all desperately wanted it to be over. A tour bus drove ahead of us towards the exit, and it created deep gouges that I tried to keep my front tire between. I bounced around the ruts of the bus’s tracks and was completely terrified of wiping out at any moment. The growing stress forced me to pull over, I had been white-knuckling the handlebars and just needed time to collect my nerves. “This is really bad,” Brendon said as he pulled up next to me. “I thought we were riding through heaven, but this is hell,” I replied. “It looks like the exit is just over there,” Brendon said, pointing to where we could see cars parked in the distance. A few miles farther, a peninsula of land emerged from the water, and I knew that the end of the pain was near, so we set off to get to dry land. Brendon and Kira were in the lead, and I was only concentrating on what was directly in front of me. When I looked up ahead, I noticed that the Haks had made it to dry land and had parked the bike. Brendon hopped off and ran towards me mouthing something while waving his hands above his head, but all I could hear was Axl Rose welcoming me to the jungle via the speakers in my helmet. I figured something was wrong, so I came to a stop and turned off my music as my front tire sank two feet into a massive trench of salty sludge. “What were you saying?” I asked Brendon as I panicked. “I was telling you not to go this way,” he replied. “But it’s too late now, there’s no going back.” As Marisa jumped off the bike, she found herself nearly knee deep in salty sludge. The water was nearly up to the tailpipe as I entered the deepest part of the pool of salt. I gunned it to keep momentum, but the bike was sinking as I progressed forward. If there was one place in the world not to drop the bike, this was it. Marisa pushed from behind as I rode out of the cesspool that was an electronics-eroding and metal-corroding pond. With both Marisa and Brendon now pushing, we successfully made it out of the salt pond and out of the Salar de Uyuni. “Car wash,” I said more to myself than to anyone else. “We need to get to a car wash as soon as possible.” “I’m beginning to think that wasn’t a good idea at all,” Marisa said. The Bolivian Salt Flats had lived up to everything I could have imagined, and the memories will stay with us for the rest of our lives. One of the pictures that Kira Hak took is the cover of my last adventure motorcycle book, “Blood, Sweat, and Notiers.” We did encounter a few mechanical issues because of the ride, but like many of the struggles we had along the way, we wouldn’t alter any of our decisions. True adventure is trying, sometimes failing, seeing magical places in this world, and getting through the difficulties that all build up to a lifetime of memories! It has been fun looking back at some of our favorite rides as we are in the final preparations of our next adventure. There has been so many wonderful memories made, and we are confident that there are just as many ahead of us. Marisa and I can't thank you all enough for being a part of our journey, and we can't wait to share more memories from around the world! Tim and Marisa Notier Marisa and I are taking a short break in central Florida over the winter. After a long summer's ride to Prudhoe Bay, Alaska, the furthest Northwest that we could ride to, we then turned around and rode all of the way Southeast to Florida. We have been working on our social media presence, and we are so excited to see the growth of our YouTube channel (now over 4k followers) as well as our Instagram and Facebook pages. It's not all about recognition, we are not in pursuit of fame or fortune, but it does feel fantastic that some of the pieces of the puzzle are coming together quite nicely for us to continue our digital nomadic lifestyle. We saw Santa twice this year already! Once in the North Pole (a small town in Alaska) and then again at a Toys for Tots fundraiser in St. Petersburg, Florida! And while in Alaska, we saw plenty of reindeer that will soon be called back into action for their yearly flight on Christmas Eve. While here in Florida, we met up with Kinga, aka OnHerBike, and have been having a blast talking about the far ends of the world that we have all traveled to! She is keeping our adventure spirit alive, and I know that our paths will continue to cross the three of us separately circumnavigate the globe! We are so thankful to everyone who joined us on our journey to Alaska, and to everyone that we have met along the way. And in case you didn't notice... we are now officially 2Up and Overloaded! We swapped out our social media handles, and website from Notier's Frontiers to 2Up and Overloaded as it better defines who we are! And some bonus exciting news! We made some 2Up And Overloaded swag! New T-Shirts and stickers! Check out our new shop at https://2upandoverloaded.myspreadshop.com/! Each sticker is guaranteed to improve your gas milage by .00001%! Wearing a 2Up and Overloaded shirt increases your aerodynamics and the percentage of strong tailwinds to propel you forward... *results may vary We also come out with a list of our favorite gear that will hopefully inspire gift ideas for the adventurer in your life, or yourself. And this year, we summed up the best of the best in our new Amazon Shop. Check out what gear we currently use for Camping, Camara / Video Equipment, Men's ADV Gear, Women's ADV Gear, and Motorcycle Accessories. We linked everything that has worked for us on our travels, and we would love to answer any questions you my have about any specific equipment or gear. And don't just take our word for it, check out all of the reviews from fellow explorers all around the world! It has been an amazing year for us, and we owe a large part of our success to the people who support us by watching and commenting on our YouTube videos, and a special thank you to everyone who has financially assisted us with monthly donations on Patreon and buying us a gallon of gas!
We haven't officially announced our next destination yet, because we are still trying to figure it out ourselves, but our best guess is that we are Asia bound next spring! Our time here relaxing and spending time with friends and family has been wonderful, but we are anxious to get back out on the road! A huge shout out to our Patrons Steve, 1FTR_ADV, Mike, ADV Tammy, Steve L., Julie T., Bernhard F., Ryan and Laurel A., Dale T., Deanna H., Bill P., Jess W., Pete W., Kerry I., Doug J., Jim P., David B., Travis R., David P., William B., and Vicki N. And to everyone who has bought us a gallon of gas: Dana and Deborah C., Aboutye, Kyle L., Robyn, Dale T., You have no idea how thankful we are for every donation. Marisa and I hope that you all individually know that the footage we take, photos we snap, and hotels that we stay at are funded by your generosity! Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to everyone! Tim and Marisa Tim NotierMarisa and I are excited to announce that we made it to Deadhorse! We have now completed the line between the southernmost tip of the Americas to the furthest north you can ride!
By Tim NotierSo it has been a while since our last update. We didn’t get a Canadian SIM card and have been without internet for a while.
Marisa and I have had an amazing ride through Washington and it’s beautiful rain forest in the Olympic NP then into BC and the Yukon. We’ve seen black bears munching on wild berries on the side of the road, moose down dusty trails, and have camped in some pretty amazing places. By Tim NotierMarisa and I have been on the road again for just under a month, but it feels as if we have been traveling for much longer. We've already stayed with friends in Oklahoma City, attended an Overland Expo in Flagstaff, and spent time with new friends in Phoenix and Sedona. We've chatted with fellow travelers and dream-seekers as we made our way west to California, and are now in one of the most impressive National Parks: Yellowstone.
By Tim NotierKnighting our motorcycle with its rightful name was not an easy task. It involved days of consideration and deep meditation in order for us to find the One True Name of our newest family member. I think that if Marisa and I had a child, it would have been easier to name.
"Tim Junior?" "T.J. for short?" "Sounds good!" End of discussion. But our motorcycle needed a name that not only had meaning to us, but one that others would be able to understand the magic that was built directly into the machine. Our last motorcycle was named Pegasus, as it was a mythical creature that carried us halfway around the world. With the Honda Goldwing pegs installed as Marisa's foot pegs, the name just came to us and we dubbed the bike Pegasus right there in the middle of Death Valley. The Notiers NotesOur Sunday Scoop By Tim NotierMarisa, Pegasus (our KTM 1190), and I have been a trio of man, woman, and machine over the course of the last 4 years. We have struggled together, overcome hardships together, and each of us has pushed the others past their limits, urging them to continue on when things got tough.
All of us have our roles as we navigate the world. I am generally the pilot, with my black chauffeur hat and gloves replaced with my motorcycle helmet and plastic knuckle gloves. My limo is our KTM, but Marisa is no ordinary passenger. Marisa is the true hero of our story. She is my cheerleader, my support crew, and my morale booster when both the bike and I are feeling grumpy and worn down. Between the three of us, Marisa is usually the one with the least amount of 'issues' as we bounce along gravel roads and across rivers. By Tim NotierWith the weather warming up, we are getting unbearably excited for our launch date in just under a month and a half!
Our newest motorcycle is still in pieces, some of our new gear is yet to arrive, and I have only put about 20 miles on our newest member of Notier's Frontiers. The 1st real test ride will be 13k miles as we ride around the lower 48 before heading north to Alaska. This isn't our first launch date that seemed like we may not hit the target... Four years ago, I didn't even have my driver's license delivered to me in time for our departure date. But everything seemed to sew itself together into a fine silk tapestry that looked fragile at first, but presented a wonderful picture of what life on the road was like when everything ran 'smoothly'. |
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