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• Part 7 |
• Part 8

 

Part 6.

Valentine Nebraska to Alameda California - completing the circuit.

15 June 2014

Valentine Nebraska to Custer City South Dakota.

The rain has cleared when we prepare to ride this morning. It is clear and sunny - air temp kinda cold. There are numerous trips from our room to the bike and the van in the mornings. Cart the largest bag to the van and stow it. Unlock the trailer toolbox and use some chain lube on the bike. Attach the trailer to the van - 2 people need to sit on the rear end of the trailer to counterbalance it first. Load the bike/bikes on the trailer and lash them. Today it is Steve and Andi in the van, so only one bike on the trailer. Load the panniers on the bike. Load the tankbag on the bike. Last night we fuelled up - so no fuel stop needed this morning. We are now writing out the instructions for todays ride so we can make our own way to the destination should we become separated. With bikes riding ahead of the van there is no GPS. Last minute note swapping and we are out on the road with Steve leading the pack. After a few miles I pass the van and head out while the others are still getting used to the cold. The road looks totally magic in the bright morning sun as we look back toward the van..

The speed limit here is 65mph. That means we can get away with 75mph. With our speedo error that means an indicated 85mph. Today I am weaving from side to side to see if I can wear the edges of the flat centres of my tyres. Thousands of miles of straight roads have created several inches of flat rubber in the centre of the rear tyre, the front somewhat less, but the bike now behaves badly when there are road surface irregularities - ie most of the time. America has great roads but a lot of them are wearing out. Today the surface is excellent, so I weave until any oncoming cars appear, then resume when they go by. American motorists are strangely cautious and brake at any sign of trouble - or just perceived trouble - so you try not to give them cause. We are well out of sight of the group when we enter Merriman - marked on the map but merely a crossroads with a few buildings. We are on the '20' and should be turning right when we see the '73'. The sign here says '61' so we blaze on through. We continue for several more miles before I begin to think I should have seen the turn by now. I pull over. Within a minute 3 more bikes pull up. Brent, Ann and Beth are also perplexed. Looks like Merriman might have been the turn after all, so they turn and retreat. We take longer to get underway due to a call of nature, so they are well ahead. The empty highway and still air encourage me to play catchup, so we speed along at an indicated 110mph for quite a way before catching the other 3 who are doing quite a rate themselves.

We turn onto the '61' and immediately strike an icy cold wind which makes you clench your neck muscles involuntarily. We are now heading due north hopefully toward Martin. Some miles further the highway signs suddenly announce that we are on the '73'. We soon get confirmation that we are on the right track.

In Martin we meet up with the crew at the gas stop. Riding at high speeds has had a dramatic effect on fuel consumption. We top up and move on. The road surface deteriorates rapidly as we now head due west. Next major town will be Pine Ridge, an Indian Reservation. We have passed through a number of such and they seem forlorn places. Towns with no apparent energy, overgrown sidings and rundown buildings. Hopefully this will be better. Many miles of farmland are dispensed with before we see signs of a town - occasional properties with many trashed vehicles, buildings that appear to have been dropped in place rather than built on site.

There is an air of desolation here and a lack of pride in the town and the dwellings.

As observers we have no idea of what has transpired here. We hear references to political moves which have adversely affected the natives of this vast country, and yet we only see small pockets of habitation to offer evidence of their existence, and things look pretty grim for them. A local appears on a motorcycle and looks very happy to see another bike. He is smoking a ciggie and waves cheerily as he blats down the street ahead of us. It would appear that he is having fun anyway. Echoes of Maori settlements in NZ occur to us.

There are further areas of barrack type buildings which look unhospitable and depressing. Overall impression is that of an unhappy town with little obvious soul. It seems anachronistic that these could be the remnants of the proud tribes who lived on the land and took great pride in living harmoniously with it. Something is wrong with these pictures.

We leave this town and ride out into the open spaces again. It is strange here. There are odd shapes to the land as if it has been eroded in some weird way.

Past here the horizon flattens out and the green is overtaken by predominant yellow flowers like a wild mustard or similar. In a way it is pretty, but it also feels a bit like a noxious weed invasion. It has taken over the landscape.

We reach the next town of Oelrichs. The town is to the left of a junction where we turn right, so rather than venture in we stop at the small gas station at the junction.

I have an extremely painful neck. Being clenched against the cold has caused some resistance from my neck and shoulder, and I am unable to find a way of relaxing it. I am also finding myself out of breath often - as if I have forgotten to breath in, but taking a deep breath makes the sensation go away. More puzzling than annoying. Sue meanwhile finds that even this rundown little byway has some photographic merit.

Beauty can prevail even under the most arduous circumstances. So thats nice.

There is also some sort of beauty in the reflections from our machines. Here we are enjoying the sun together after a long ride.

The next section of our ride is to the town of Hot Springs. This turns out to be at somewhat higher elevation than the surrounding countryside, and we are treated to a wonderful series of uphill sweeping curves which we devour eagerly, scooping up a Harley rider who is unable to attempt our conering limits. Great fun, and all aches and pains are forgotten as we sweep on up to lunch and a rather quaint and picturesque town of striking old brick buildings. We find lunch and eat in the sun. From here the last leg of our ride will take us through Wind Cave National Park. We expect to see Buffalo here, and they dutifully show up within minutes of entering the Park.

There are other wildlife too, but these large beasties are the most impressive. They seem oblivious to our passing by - which is rather reassuring considering their size and our vulnerability. The Park is beautifully arranged from a motorists point of view, with the road curving gracefully up and down amongst pines and hilly terrain. It helps to lift the spirits.

We arrive at Custer City and find our Motel. A nicely laid out complex with a Bavarian restaurant next door. Perhaps that means Bratwurst in the hamburgers. Some of the crew head to town to see what gives. Thomas and Marian are changing the oil in the new bike for the first time, so I assist with that. The afternoon wears on, and after the explorers return we all adjourn to the Restaurant for a meal. It is a different kind of place, made more unusual by our Ukrainian waitress, who speaks good english but has trouble with ours. So do a lot of Americans. We call an end to play after our meal and a few drinks.

Tomorrow we will visit Mt Rushmore. Should be big...

16 June 2014

Custer City South Dakota to Sundance Wyoming.

We are entering the Black Hills of Dakota, so we are expecting great sights today. After loading and a breakfast of frozen fruit we prepare to depart. We have learned that there is another mountain being hewn in the likeness of Crazy Horse, and as it is only a few minutes from here we will visit that first. All of the monuments we have thus far visited have had a significant entry fee attached, so we are canny as we approach in case we feel that it does not warrant the expense. It would be different if we were travelling in the van alone, but with 8 bikes all needing to pay another entry fee it can get illogically expensive. In this instance we arrive at the gates via a freeway style road layout - so it is not possible to retrace our steps, and we all pay to proceed. Continuing in to the main carpark where there are an array of impressive buildings, we discover that from here we must take a bus to view the actual feature, and of course there is another charge. This is a cause of annoyance considering that we now feel we have been railroaded twice. The bus duly appears - it is an old yellow school bus of the type we have seen all over America. Our crew are the entire load this trip, so we all seat ourselves on the view side. The driver is a very pleasant man, well versed in the history of this mountain and how it all began. He also has a wicked sense of humour and soon has us laughing. In their extremely safety conscious way (when it comes to humans..) the authorities have decreed that we park hundreds of feet away from the actual work in progress, and remain within a rope barrier which appears to be the only feature within 50 yards. In typical Kiwi style, we initially ignore the colossal artwork taking place above our heads because we have just encountered Woodchucks for the first time and they seem to find us interesting..

Crazy Horse is a massive sculpture. Only the face is clear, but the plan is that he will be seated on his horse with outstretched arm pointing to where his people are buried. It is difficult to see the scale of it from our vantage point, but the facial features are unbelievably detailed.

Our guide explains that the man who owned the land and began this stupendous venture was a friend of the local Indian people and wanted to afford them some respect that had long been withheld. He adds that the Indians have been relegated to the reservation we rode through and are not doing well. Their land was taken and they have never adjusted to life in reservations. They die young and suffer from malnutrition. Sobering thoughts.

We ride back to the main visitor area in the bus. We are encouraged to explore all the exhibits in the vast array of beautifully built and crafted wooden buildings now brimming with tourists who seem mainly American. I join the others inside the vast museum like centre where there are dozens of artworks and glass display cabinets with what appear to be wonderfully preserved examples of hand crafted items from the hands of the Indian people who Crazy Horse once strove to save from domination. My breathless feeling returns and I feel as if I am suffocating in here. I retreat to the carpark and take stock. It feels a bit surreal. I look at the tremendous edifice in the distance and the amazing incongruity of what is happening here. There are hundreds of people inside this complex, all looking at artifacts and movies of how this all came to be when the real thing is just outside. There are millions of dollars pouring through these doors to create a monument to a mostly forgotten race of people who are suffering just down the road. I am unable to reconcile these huge inconsistencies in common sense. I wonder if my breathless scenario is the same stifling oppression that they must be feeling. If so I would rather they just emailed instead of transmitting - it is profoundly uncomfortable.

I wait at the van until the crew return and we prepare to leave. This has been an awesome experience and I do not regret any expense to see it. I have made some connection to childhood memories of the Indian race whom I had always pictured as free and proud, and yet have seen evidence of their current plight. I now understand more about what is out of place here, although I feel powerless to do anything about it except note my feelings here. Perhaps that is what is intended.

Meanwhile, Sue captures some of the grandure..

We head away and join the busy highway today. It is a beautiful road in heavily wooded hills and we twist around towards Mt Rushmore. There is a roadside carpark and we haul in for our first glimpse of this long acknowledged wonder of human skill - Presidents preserved in stone on a grand scale. Once again, we cannot get some idea of scale from our reference point.

We had been told by our bus driver friend that the Government had decreed that no person would ever pay to behold the sight of Mt Rushmore. However, contractors have been allowed to control the parking arrangements, so it now costs a pretty penny if you actually want to stop anywhere. We had no choice. We have come all the way around the planet to see such things from our history books, and we pay the ransom. This is us considering that option..

To actually enter the viewing area proper one has to run a gauntlet of tourists, elaborate archways and the inevitable food and trinket shops. We do not loiter for long - just a few photos. This is commercialism at its best. Crazy Horse made much more of an impression on us from many angles.

From here we wind our way down to Keystone - a crazy modern day rendition of an old cowboy town.

Obligatory shot of bikes in the rear view mirror..

The road north has some nice quirks..

The roads through the Black Hills are very cool for bikes.

Doubt it has anything to do with the tv series from the backdrop..

The road remains captivating until we finally roll into Sturgis. Mecca for Harleys. As a simple act of defiance, we park en masse in the local Harley Dealers carpark. We just have to...

Meanwhile the boys do their best to look tough..

The staff here advise us to visit the "Knuckle Saloon" - so we head straight there.

Inside the bar the history is self evident. Hundreds of autographed dollar bills..

Cool place, and good for a bar lunch.

The next part of todays ride takes us through Deadwood and Lead then on to Spearfish. Most unlikely sounding names, but quite unique towns. The last part of the trip to Spearfish finds us in another canyon - some of these have been immense and often totally unheralded bonus events of our rides - this one does not disappoint.

After Spearfish the road is mostly flat as we enter Wyoming which is a sea of green from horizon to horizon, with patches of red earth punctuating where ridges occur. It looks charming against skies which are threatening a bit of rain here and there.

Our motel is on the outskirts of Sundance, and we gather there to participate in the unloading ceremony and the great luggage trail upstairs. We always seem to get the upstairs rooms.!

The crew have enjoyed the experience of the Black Hills, and although we are a tad underwhelmed by Mt Rushmore, Crazy Horse is a strong topic of conversation around the table. This and Sturgis. Hard to imagine how such a small town can host the numbers that the Harley event draws. Even today we have seen large groups of riders along the same roads we are on, the real event must resemble a swarm of locusts by comparison.

Go well out there..

17 June 2014

Sundance Wyoming to Worland Wyoming.

A few things. Often we end up on the second storey of the motel. Apart from having to drag all our luggage upstairs in the late afternoon, we then have to drag it all down again at 0700. On the occasions where we end up on the ground floor "first floor" they call it here - things are much easier. In places where all the motel rooms exit along a verandah for example, we can congregate on the steps in the evening, which is a far more suitable arrangement for us. It seems to be a legacy of last minute reservations.

Mr Green - whilst still running well despite my fears - has begun to smell of petrol. I initially thought it to be overflow from an overzealous top up, but I am now beginning to think that there is more to it. Often when we stop I can smell fuel as soon as I lift my helmet visor. I am monitoring the situation..

This morning we will detour slightly to visit the "Devils Tower". Besides being a local point of interest, it was also the site used in the movie "Close Encounters of a Turd Kind" or similar. This will cause us to head northwest for a while, then return southwest for 30 odd miles before resuming what would have been our initial course toward Buffalo - due west.

We head out in the lush green scenery, winding around low hills which look splendid in the morning sun. There are still rainclouds about and we are hoping to dodge them today.

Our first glimpse of the Devils Tower is quite impressive - it stands about 1300ft above ground level and is a striking object in the overall landscape. Such irregularities had great significance for the Indian tribes who lived here - the Europeans managed to turn such things into money spinners. Natch.

There are rain clouds looming over the Devils Tower, so when a carpark appears at a safe distance we heave to and reassess things. Anyone who wants can venture closer, others can begin the return journey and the leg to Buffalo. Meanwhile we use the opportunity to record our presence here.

Steve and Andi press on for a closer look and the rest turn around and head back towards the freeway in dribs and other things. The countryside changes dramatically. The lush green gives way to low scrubby barren looking land. We pass a vast lake across whose surface a fierce wind tries to push us off the road. There is no easy way to deal with a vigorous crosswind, so we cling to 80mph and try to get past the exposed bit quickly. It takes many miles. We rejoin the Interstate 90 at Moorcroft, then blast along the 90 toward a much larger town of Gillette. For much of the way it looks like this..

Approaching Gillette we begin to see long coal trains which stretch for miles - then come across the coal source - a large open cast mine right against the highway.

An equally impressive Power Station on the other side of the highway also makes use of this convenient resource. Much of America's industry is very easy to observe from the highway. All these images and mental observations fill the time while the miles are whizzing away beneath our wheels. There is a quick stop for a cuppa at Gillette then we blast off again - it will be lunch at Buffalo. For much of the day we are only in touch with one or two other bikes. Front bikes mark exits when turning off - successive bikes take their place until it looks like no others are coming this way. So it is we share a cuppa with Allan and Beth, then catch a group of others along the 90 and pass them, only to pause when catching Tom and Helen at the Buffalo turnoff. A gas stop will now see us all join forces again.

We gas up and drive through the outskirts of Buffalo to a cafe at the far end of town. It is a local down home style place with a Barber next door - so Thomas gets a haircut before lunch. We manage the best of the menu and our chatty waitress tells us how things are with the local highways. There has been recent snow and we are headed over a high pass. It seems we should be ok, but Yellowstone National Park is under snow and that is our destination in the next day or so. This is how we glean information as we go. Lovely people we meet. They respond in the same happy fashion we greet them with. So thats nice...

Lunch disposed of, we head west and begin to gain altitude right away. The road is good but there are signs that we may be slightly underdressed for the occasion..

Nobody stops to add layers as the road is a sweeper and we maintain a good speed over the top of the pass. American highways are very good at maintaining motorway standards whilst negotiating very high altitudes. We are chilled but exhilarated as we sweep down the far side. What happens next is another of the totally unexpected bonus things described yesterday. Exiting the Bighorn National Forest we stumble into the most amazing canyon we have met to date. These are canyons that the road actually passes through, and this is a real biggie. They are not taking any chances with our safety..

We are all spellbound as we descend into this fantastic canyon which winds down a narrow glacier gouged valley for miles - trees growing right up to the cliffs - simply beautiful.

We pass Allan stopped in a turnout - he gestures with his arms outspread - just trying to take it all in.

For miles we wend our way down this place where time has had no effect whatsoever - that is what makes them so spectacular. We are enclosed by towering walls as we zigzag along a small river that hugs the centre of the valley floor.

As the lush green and red cliffs of Wyoming reappear we reach a small town called Ten Sleep, and we pause at a gas stop - more to compare notes than because we need fuel. We are full of superlatives for this place which has not appeared on anyones map. Magic. I am on the verge of riding back up to do it again. Should have...

After our stop we head on to Worland, a pleasant enough small town but an anticlimax after what we have seen here. The scenery changes again dramatically on the way and we are in strange plantless surroundings.

At Worland we find what should be our motel, but the place seems mostly deserted. The manager seems perplexed and shows Brent a rather dismal room - then suddenly it is discovered we have made a mistake and should be at another motel which this man also owns. He offers to lead us there and does so. Fortunately - it looks a lot better than the last one, and we have passed right by it on the way in. The manager chappie takes an interest in us and things go smoothly - which helps as it has begun to rain lightly and we are keen to get unloaded and indoors. There are a few late arrivals but we wave them in. There is a well stocked supermarket nearby and we find a good variety of food to eat in our rooms. And wine..

We are getting close to Yellowstone and receiving lots of info from friends about it. Hopefully it will be accessible by the time we arrive.

Today has been excellent but tiring. We shall sleep well. Cheers.

18 June 2014

Worland Wyoming to Cody Wyoming.

Cody is the gateway to Yellowstone National Park. It is also known as a cowboy town. That mostly indicates a link with traditional horse riding skills rather than louts with guns. We have heard that recent snow has closed some of the entrances to Yellowstone, so we are unsure what we will find when we get within striking distance.

Our route today will take us to Greybull mostly north of here, then due west to Cody. More or less. The weather is a bit of a concern as towns all around us are experiencing extreme weather. At every motel we all watch the weather channel - they have large TV screens in the dining areas - and it seems that in every direction there is something rather unpleasant going on if you should happen to be on a motorcycle. So far we have enjoyed a charmed path through all of it and have survived totally unscathed. We would that the same should continue.

Several of us choose to enjoy breakfast down the street in Worland, so others ride on ahead. Breakfast is good, and as it is a short ride today we feel pretty relaxed about starting somewhat later then the frontrunners. Nice ride through to Greybull where we drop down into a river gulch. Just as we climb out we come across the local airport - and I hit the brakes hard. Dang..

Hey! Whats all this then.?

Paydirt! A whole swag of ex military stuff over there too - they look like Neptunes. Maybe even a C130.

We wander about and Sue chats to a woman on the far side of the fence. Turns out this was the base for firefighting aircraft until the contract was cancelled after a couple of crashes. These aircraft are now too old for flying duties, so they are about to open a museum here. Whilst they are not officially open - would we like to take a look around? Hmmm. Let me think about that... lol. Lovely old beasties they have here. This is basically a civillian version of a World War II Liberator with a single tail.

This is known as a "Flying Boxcar". Fair enough. It would make a fabulous house. I want one.!

And then this beauty. Hard to imagine someone wouldn't find this worth restoring in the not-too-distant.

An old Beechcraft twin. Beautiful aircraft. Seems fairly well preserved. In so many instances, it seems that the Americans neither destroy or preserve the past. They just leave it lying around until nature takes its course. The labour and regulatory costs seem to make it too expensive to either restore nor demolish machines or buildings - so they sit - for us passers-by to look upon in awe. There are some rare museums where exhibits are cared for extremely well, but mostly they are weathered collections of things that are too troublesome to dispose of. Kinda strange. But kind of predictable. Glad we get to observe. One day someone will pay well over the odds to rescue something such as this though - love it..

The others are long gone by the time we resume our ride. There are some big weather things still going on, and we check their progress to see which way they might be heading. Quite a bit happening to our left. These are nothing like the stuff we see at home. These are wide open spaces, and these things are very big and mostly violent.

There is another one dead ahead, but from here we are not sure which way the road may turn.

We continue on and it begins to look inevitable that we are heading straight for trouble, but the road suddenly curves off to the left and we may just sneak through the diminishing gap between these two storm cells.

The whole pattern is slowly drifting to the right, and just as we start to get some heavy drops from the fellow on the left, the road veers to the right and it stops again. Now we are getting close to the make-or-break. We can see the rain reaching down on our right and we just hope that the road stays straight on. There are only rain drops at the top of the screen so far..

When you get underneath these things, it gets very dark, the temperature drops rapidly, and the wind gets really strong. While we get very close to the action here, we avoid getting drenched. Unfortunately, the road ahead has been totally saturated, so we cop a lot of spray from the road and the passing vehicles - no worries - we feel totally elated about sneaking through the gap. This could so easily have gone badly, but we sneaked through the only dry path under these skies. Things are going so well for us - we laugh with the sheer fun of it all.

We make it to Cody and find the motel. All are happily ensconced and already exploring the town. We get settled and wander down town which is wonderfully within walking distance. Lots of people on the street and streams of tourists coming through from Yellowstone. It has been pretty cold up there and most roads only opened today. Tomorrow looks as if it will be fairly settled.

Our friend Dorothy from Alameda is heading up this way to her house in Powell, about 30 miles north. We are invited for a meal tomorrow night. Dorothy tells me that we should ride through part of Yellowstone tomorrow as it is too big to appreciate on one circuit through. As we are staying here a whole day, we will do just that. We will ride in the east entry in the morning, then out through the northeast exit and back to Cody. The following day we can ride in again from the east, but do a bigger circuit around to the west side and out through the northwest exit to join up with the group for an overnight in Livingston.

Much anticipation tonight.

19 June 2014

Cody-Yellowstone-Cody.

We leave early in cold air. As we make our way along the side of Buffalo Bill Reservoir it is raining above us on the hilltops. A few drops make it down to the highway so we stop and don the wet weather gear. This has the desired effect of stopping the rain and we proceed to the entry gate with no further precipitation. It costs $20 for the bike and us and is valid for 7 days - so we can come back through tomorrow with no more fees. The gate man is a cheery chap who admires our bike and declares Triumphs to be good stuff. "We get the quiet bikes now - the loud ones come later". We presume this means the Harley guys who usually ride in tee shirts will wait until the weather warms up. They certainly have the "loud" sewn up..

We wind up to the top of Sylvan Pass at 8500ft - it is 8am and its bloody cold up here. The lake is very pretty though.

Sue gets camera happy while I attempt to thaw the fingers. Ouch..

Descending to 7700ft we reach the massive Yellowstone Lake. All of Yellowstone park is at least this altitude. As we reach the lake we see several cars stopped. We have been warned - if cars are stopped, there is wildlife nearby. We trace their camera angles and see our first bear. It is a grizzly too - big fellas. And grumpy. You don't ask these guys for directions.!

Still freezing we ride on to the General Store and pause for a cuppa. And some warmth. From here we will head north up the eastern side of park which has its roads laid out in a figure 8 pattern, so we can do the southern and western sides tomorrow. Our first major encounter is with buffalo, camped in a thermal area which presumably gives them some warmth too.

There are signs warning not to get too close to these guys. They always look very slow but no doubt they can move quickly if you annoy them. Wouldn't want a stampede.. We later come across a big chappie who seems to be contemplating the chicken crossing the road routine, so I bumble slowly past his nose so Sue can get the shot. He doesn't move but gives us the considered eye.

Yellowstone is not just about the animal life, it has some spectacular natural features which occur on a grand scale. The Yellowstone river does some cool vertical stuff..

Continuing north we get kinda high up and cold again. Probably over 8000ft here. Snowy trees.

Further down bear No2 shows up. A black bear this time - a bit smaller but a lot closer..

Moving right along we reach the junction with the northeast entrance and begin our way out of this plateau. This road is called Bear Tooth Pass road, and reaches 11000ft before crossing into Montana. Each change of State is always apparent in the condition of the road surface, the signage and the general appearance of things. Wyoming seems to be the most orderly of the two here. Further into Montana this road is still closed by snow, so we opt for the 296 and travel back toward Cody via Dead Indian Pass. Who knows.?

The most amazing series of switchbacks we have yet encountered are on this stretch of highway. We pause at the summit and nearly get blown off it. Bike road with a capital bike.

Back to camp with several hundred extra miles aboard. Immediate fuel smell as we pull in. I shall have to locate the source now - it may be getting to the hazardous stage if I do not.

Four of the crew have headed into Yellowstone for the night, so it will be a smaller contingent for dinner with Dorothy. We head out to Powell in the early evening and a party mood prevails. We are well entertained and catered for. Once again - wonderful hospitality we have been shown here, and we glean so much about life in America from these cool folks. It feels as if it would be very easy to fit in here. I am not at all envious of the overriding culture - but I do enjoy their strong sense of place and the opportunities this land offers. We are a happy group.

We return to Cody later in the evening, well fed and happy with our day. Sue and I have had a taste of Yellowstone already, and despite the distances - we are keen to repeat the experience tomorrow.

All is as it should be.

20 June 2014

Cody Wyoming to Livingston Montana.

Another early start, but only so we can walk to breakfast. We have found a Diner that sounds as if it may offer a real home touch, so we head to Grannys Restaurant. Pretty much your average American diner in retrospect - but hey - we were there.

Yesterday afternoon after returning from Yellowstone I had decided to investigate Mr Greens fuel problem. During our ride the smell had gotten stronger and I felt it prudent to investigate before we ended up in a sheet of flames. Never a good look. I discovered a leak at one of the fittings exiting the tank. It seemed that a plastic fitting had cracked, and having now attempted to adjust it - the drip had become a torrent. I googled such things and found that this was a common problem. Triumph had recalled bikes in 2004 to replace one half of this fuel connection - the half that went into the fuel line. Mine had obviously been done as it was now made of alloy. Unfortunately they left the plastic bit in the tank, and this was inclined to crack. Mine had - and I had worsened it in the course of my attentions. I would need a new part, so my bike was placed on the trailer. Steve had offered me his bike instead - as it was his day in the van. I consider that a gallant gesture. Such had occurred while Brents bike was out of service - but it still feels that someone has made a sacrifice on our behalf. Cheers mate.

We return to load up. I glance at Toms rear wheel and see his tyre is flat. We move the wheel round and find a nail in it. Dang. A quick reload of the trailer ensues. Steve and Brent met a bike shop guy yesterday who owned a Triumph Speed Triple. We make our way to his shop. He is not yet in but a phone call reveals that he is on his way. He duly arrives and can repair the tyre without even taking the wheel off the bike. Brilliant. Everyone is ok with things so we leave while repairs are in progress. We are taking a longer route than most, so this may allow us to rendezvous with the group a bit earlier.

The road east from Cody passes through several tunnels not far from town. They are quite impressive even from the viewpoint of a tunnel expert - having lived in Lyttelton for 30 years. First two..

Why would anyone climb on the tunnel.? Perhaps the sign should say "Do not eat this tunnel". Third one is the biggie..

Retracing yesterdays steps we enter Yellowstone using our 7 day pass. It is a lot warmer today and we cruise on down past the General Store without need for a stop. Heading south from here we discover a large Elk near the roadside. Rather an elegant creature and we marvel that he can move between the trees with such a large array on his head.

The other main consideration in Yellowstone is the thermal activity. It is a large scale equivalent of our own volcanic plateau. There are palettes of numerous coloured pools of steaming water here. Bring your own lobster..

One of the biggest crowd pleasers is a geyser known as "old faithful". We head in the general direction thereof. The traffic gets noticeably heavier. When we arrive we learn that the next eruption is due in 10 minutes. Nice of it to be so prompt. We park up and wander toward the obvious centre of focus. Thats it dead ahead.

We find a place amongst the gathering throng. Obviously its a big deal. We always seem to attract attention. We are not sure if it is our riding gear or if they have rumbled that we are not from around these parts. Either way - it always goes well once you start talking..

I can't help wondering if this thing is really so predictable. We wait for 10 minutes. 15 minutes. Maybe its a fizzer. Nope. Thar she blows..

Whoosh. Thats it folks - shows over. I am surprised on several levels. A stupendous number of people have come here - many miles from anywhere - to see a very brief event. And - it was entirely free. Aaaah. Not so silly after all. We mosey on down - or up - the western side of Yellowstone park, our passage marked by big scenery and weird thermal creations.

The traffic continues to build up until we are in a slow procession through the park.

Eventually we reach Mammoth Springs and find all our bike crew there. We stop for a break then all head off together in the direction of Gardiner. As we move through this busy spot we discover that a large group of Elk have taken over the town square. Novel. They are large animals but seem to be fairly placid. Certainly nonplussed by traffic. Tourists should behave more like this..

We head down to Gardiner then are officially out of the park. We find a canyon on the way down - always a great end to a ride.

We are probably doing 70+ mph here by the tacho - Steve's bike has performed flawlessly. It is different to Mr Green in many subtle ways. Some are just in the way you set it up to suit your own ergonomics, but there are also a number of differences due to a number of mods that Triumph made for Steve's 2002 model as opposed to my 2001. I have no idea if my bike is entirely representative of all 2001 models or not, but it sure moves out. I have enjoyed actually hearing the triple sound from Steve's carbon fibre muffler, but overall I find Mr Green easier to gearchange on. Maybe it is the pedal position - and yet - I have heard Steve making gearchanges that did not go as well as they should, so perhaps he too would make the same observation. Interesting stuff. For me at least..

We dodge some rain clouds on the way down, and arrive at our motel just after a heavy fall. After the unloading ritual the rain comes again, and is still falling as we retire for the night.

Perfect timing.

It will be gone by morning with a bit of luck..

21 June 2014

Livingston Montana to Missoula Montana.

The route today will follow lesser highways all day - something that I enjoy much more than freeways. Allan has planned it all and we each have a printout of the instructions should anyone lose sight of the group. Initially the plan involves heading east instead of west so we can intersect the first of these highways. We fuel up at a gas station not far from the motel. The main group moves away but I loiter as Tom and Helen have not finished their fuelling. It takes a minute or so to complete - things can move slowly in gas stations with less than enthusiastic staff. By the time we get underway, there is no sight of the others, and we head out of town with the first of the instructions in mind. As we join the motorway it becomes apparent that we are heading east not west, and a smidgeon of indecision sets in. Tom motors on but I pull up to make sure I have got the instructions correct. The exit number is listed, so off we go again and soon find the exit and Tom waiting nearby. Reassured we up the pace and soon come across the crew who have waited to make sure we get it right. Cool.

Highway 89 we are now on heads mostly north. Either side of the road the green stretches to the horizons. It looks like farmland but there are no cattle in evidence - nor are there fences. There are cattle trucks and ample evidence of cattle on the tarmac - just no cattle you can see. Wide open spaces. Marian tears past us at 80mph plus. This is a girl who I have never seen exceed 60mph in New Zealand, and now she is eating up the highway on her new Triumph Bonneville. How cool is this. She continues to dwindle in the distance until we can only see that it is a bike. Big trucks begin to block the road with their sheer size making it difficult to pass - it is only a 2-lane road, so normal overtaking rules apply. A junction comes up and a moments indecision sees us on the wrong exit. A quick check of the map and we about turn to the correct route as the van arrives. A brief stop to take on some water and chat to Allan and Beth. Beth has lent me her bike today as Mr Green is still on the trailer with a broken fuel connection. I have been told that such a fitting may be available as a general spare part from "Napa" - an automotive spares outlet who we previously used to buy Aircon gas in Sonora. We will visit them when we arrive in Missoula. Out here there are only small towns and green open spaces. This is alien landscape to Kiwis, but we are now familiar with such terrain. We can speed out here with very little risk of detection, but for me, 80mph is fast enough to be able to look around while still keeping the plot under control.

Beth's bike is a Sprint 1050 - a later model than the 955's such as Mr Green. The "1050" badge indicates the capacity of the motor, so it has gained a little more size and horsepower, and the styling has changed too. This morning is the first time I have tried a 1050, and it seems immediately different. I am very conscious of what seems excessive gear noise which emanates from Mr Green - more apparent with the original quiet exhaust. This 1050 also has noticable gear noise, but the controls and gearchange give a different feel to the bike when riding. It is not apparent whether it feels stronger or not considering that we seldom use much throttle to achieve the speeds we are using here. Strangely enough, when overtaking a large truck I find that I am hanging out in the breeze for a long time. This bike wants me to change down a gear in order to elicit a more urgent response. The 955 responds quite vigorously at these revs and this speed, so here is a significant difference. We have found that the 955's enjoy quite an economy advantage over the 1050's - although we are all mostly travelling at the same speed. Obviously the power and torque delivery is quite different. I feel pleased that my original choice of the 955 as the best overall choice of mount may have been an ok one. Both bikes are performing the role we require with great results, but the 955's are a few years older and were thus obtained somewhat cheaper. Brent's bike is the exception, being a 1050 which was acquired at much the same price as a 955. It has covered a lot of miles, and that probably has helped set the price. Having subsequently suffered our only real mechanical misadventure seems to reinforce this theory. No real revelations here, simply observations of the differences. It is brilliant to be able to observe the different characteristics of both types, and yet having ridden Steve's 955 which is a 2002 model, it is also apparent that the 955's are quite different to each other. Boring shite for you readers, but interesting to me. When you spend hours in the saddle your mind tends to fasten on details to entertain itself. These are mine.

We have taken highway 12 at the last junction, and this takes us to the Helena Valley, and the city of Helena. We have standing orders for the first bike to wait at the first gas station when entering the town we are next due to refresh at. The first town encountered here is Helena Valley Southeast. This causes some confusion, as it is not actually Helena - but we have no knowing at this time. As someone needs fuel we heave to in the first suitable spot. It is a brief stop after which we resume our travels. Helena presents itself. This is a very big town which appears to have a number of scholastic institutions. People are out playing sports. I suddenly remember it is Saturday. That explains it. We do not catch Tom and Helen - they must be too far ahead of us and given up waiting. Steve and Andi are also somewhere ahead - they will be staying elsewhere tonight with an American friend in another town, then rejoining us tomorrow.

We are travelling in a group with Thomas, Marian, Ann and Brent. There is a route change coming up. Another small highway that will take us right to the outskirts of Missoula. We reach a small town and see a 955 parked up, along with two odd bikes. It is Steve and Andi's bike but parked with strange companions. Unusual. What turns out to be more unusual is that in this instant - while we are all distracted by the sight of one of our bikes in strange circumstances - we totally miss the turnoff to the new highway, and instead blaze on along highway 12. This leads us to the Interstate 90 where we realise our mistake, but now there is little option but to continue. It is time for another break so when we see signs for the "Rock Creek Lodge" we exit the 90 and cruise down to a rather interesting bar and restaurant.

This place apparently features a "Testicle Festival". How lucky are we.? The occupants are friendly enough, no doubt appreciate the trade. We avail ourselves of their bar and buy some lunch. There is also a gift shop with some extra features. I figure that this is where the testicles probably come into question, and steer well clear of the thing. Must say - the animal looks incredibly bored..

After our lunch we resume the final leg to Missoula. I get mixed up with a bunch of Harley riders who are pressing on at around 85mph. They all wave as they pass by - younger riders than the usual graybeards, so I attach myself to the rear of their group and race in to the Missoula exit. I have looked at a map and noted where the Napa store is located, and we ride straight there. The assistant is sure they have nothing like the part I describe, but when I tell him it is from a Triumph motorcycle he suggests that as there is a new Triumph Dealer in town, I might try there. He tells us where to find the shop and we realise we have already ridden straight past it. We return there. They do not have the part - sold the last one yesterday. They phone the next nearest Dealer in Spokane - as we are heading that way - and they have one left. Their shop will be closed tomorrow - but if I purchase the part now, they will leave it outside in the carpark and I can collect it when I arrive. Brilliant. Helpful people who respond to other motorcyclists. These are the right people to employ in your bike shop. We ride to our motel. All are already ensconced.

Most are heading downtown in the van, but Allan offers to return, so we unpack and prepare to tour on foot. An hour later we are in downtown Missoula. Pretty town with a lot of energy - presumably the university influence once again. There is a free concert setting up down by the river, so we gravitate there. Besides the focal point of stage and green area, there is the Clark Fork River which has a rather unique feature. It is called "Brennan's wave", and is a stationary wave caused by the downstrean flow meeting a ridge in the riverbed. The wave allows surfers and kayakers to enjoy a similar effect to a breaking wave in an ocean - the nearest of which is probably 1000 miles away. Understandably, they make full use of it. An amazing place.

The concert gets underway - a band with strange hair performs childrens animal songs. Sounds kinda flakey, which it is, but the kids are dancing, and the musicians are accomplished, so it is suitably fun. We enjoy it. With crash helmet hair...

Driven by the need for food we head back to the street and check out a few local eateries. The Iron Horse wins the toss.

Their food is impressive, so we finish it in double-quick time. Check this photo. Here is a group of people who are being forced to live together in close proximity whilst spending long hours dealing with heavy and demanding traffic conditions which are quite alien. They are up early and hauling luggage around. They are making do with basic motel accommodation when needed and eating food which is a long way removed from their preference. They are thousands of miles from home. They are dealing with temperatures and weather which is quite abnormal to their conditioning. How do they seem to be coping.? Bloody great.! These are my crew. Second to none. I could not have a more adaptable and flexible group of individuals ever. Brilliant. I extend this description to those who were absent from this occasion - Steve and Andi, Tom and Helen. What an amazing adventure we are sharing.! Thanks guys - ultra respect to you all.

We adjourn to the motel to prepare for bed and another full-on day tomorrow.

Caio Bambinos.

22 June 2014

Missoula Montana to Spokane Washington.

The I-90 runs directly from Missoula to Spokane. Stuff that then. We choose the lesser 200 as our preferred route. You can check it out on google maps. The 200 runs further north, takes a loop around lake Pend Oreille, then drops into Spokane from the north. Its like - the long way round the barn - but it is the sort of road we came here for - so lets do it.!

From the start, this is an interesting road. Americans built some fabulous highways a long ways back. Many are slipping into serious disrepair, but they still display the grandeur that was a big part of the ideal back then.

From early in the day, this road follows a river that is so brim full it appears to be in danger of overflowing its banks. There is a railroad alongside it and the impression is that we are looking at a giant train set. It is too perfect for words.

We reach a town called Plains, and there is a junction with another minor highway. In the gravel runoff area by the junction there is a small coffee place where we haul in. Cool place.

We move on to Thompson Falls. Pretty little town that makes you want to just stop and spend a few days poking around. No such luck - we are off to Spokane. Maybe another time..

We continue along this idyllic river towards where we know the lake is. These are scenes from National Geographic - stuff we have seen since birth or thereabouts. Massive..

The scenery arrangers have even managed to fit some people in here - doing outdoorsy things.

And the occasional bridge..

Soon the river widens into the body of lake Pend Oreille, which has the appearance of some Mediterranean coastal scene.

The road around the lake is picture after picture of lakeside perfection. Hard to judge just how big the lake actually is from the road, but it looks as though you could spend many happy days exploring it by boat. It seems many are trying just that. We follow waterways to Sandpoint where we stop off at a drive-in for food.

After lunch we continue to Newport where we sadly leave the river and head south to Spokane - a large and sprawling city whose traffic is immediately apparent and we are suddenly well away from the rural tranquility and back in town. The motel is sited on the highway we come in on, so that makes life much easier. There is a large covered entranceway and we are permitted to park our bikes there. Although they are practically on the street, they have a roof for a change.

After unpacking I head into the city to try and find the Triumph Dealer who has hopefully left my spare part for collection. The street in question is a one-way job downtown, and I travel all the way to the wrong end first. Retracing my steps I find it is two-way in the other direction, and proceed some distance out of town but still no sign of the shop. I do notice a Cycle Gear shop, so head in there to ask directions. Turns out it is still a few more blocks out, but now I have clear directions I find it in no time. I enter the deserted Sunday carpark and see the stairway where my valuable fuel connection is to have been hidden. As I approach I see a black plastic bag by the foot of the stairs with a brick on it. Sure enough, it is the elusive fuel connection which has cost me a princely $10. Brilliant.! Thanks guys. Back to the motel for a combined drinks and nibbles in the foyer. Yay.

Will see if I can fix Mr Green in the morning.

23 June 2014

Spokane Washington. Days off are always going to be the times when repairs can be effected. Although we have accumulated a smattering of tools, we are still not equipped for serious work, and it is likely that any work requiring specialised tools will stop us dead. So far we have been lucky in that we have been able to utilise other people's garages and tools at times when something more than superficial showed up. The repair I am about to attempt on Mr Green is minor in nature, but until you embark upon the actual job you have no idea what issues may present themselves. I have a good idea that the moment I try to undo the fuel fitting in question - that it will snap off. There must have been issues with this area of this model early on, because I have found reference on the internet that a recall had occurred in 2004 and parts of this connection have been replaced. Subsequent failure of the bit that was not replaced is now commonplace. At least it means that this failure is not out of the ordinary. So that's nice.

Putting the bike on the sidestand so fuel is less likely to reach the offending area, I remove the seat and seat fairing right there under the motel canopy and lay the bits on the trailer. Having disconnected the fuel line I use our adjustable metric wondertool to turn the plastic fitting in the direction of out. It promptly snaps off. No surprises there then. Looking at the remains it is easy to see that more than half the body has been cracked for some time before this decisive event. The threaded part of the body that remains in the tank contains a small shutoff valve. Depressing it reveals that no fuel is going to come out. I had run the tank really low before first looking at it in Cody, presumably any fuel still above the fitting has escaped during two days of lurching about on the trailer. I gouge out the little mechanism and am left with a plastic thread which is flush with the tank. Nothing we have is the right size to wedge inside it in order to try and wind it out. Think.

There is a tyre shop next to the motel. I wander in and ask if they know where I might find a tool store. Yes - there is one a few blocks down the road. Allan, Tom and I wander in that direction and in due course spy Autozone. We are finding that often our descriptions of things seem difficult for locals to understand. What I want is called an "easy out" at home, but may be something entirely different here. The lad catches on quickly enough and shows me what they have. Right thing, but it is not going to work. They have such a long taper that they would hit the end of the hole before they gripped inside the broken bit. I scan the shelves and see Torx bits. These have five ridged edges and will fit in our socket wrench. I figure what looks like the closest size and pay $4 for the privilege of owning it. We wander back, marvelling at various older vehicles which are parked in parking spaces along the way. Some cool stuff still in use here. Back at the bike I try my new hopeful acquisition. It doesn't fit inside the broken thread - which is good. I bash it in with our heavy polygrips and it has gained a good enough grip inside the plastic to wind it out easily. Yay. A quick cleanup and the new part is fitted and tightened in seconds. Clipping the fuel line back together I return the bike to the mainstand in case there is enough fuel to reach the line still in there. A prod of the starter button and Mr Green is running. Tops. The white bit is the new one.

There is a gas station across the road, so all the bodywork is refitted and I mount a quick assault on "Cenex" for $20 of their best 89 octane. We have not worked out what the equivalent octane ratings are here - they have 3 and we generally pick the middle one. We suspect it to be something akin to our 95 - although here it contains about 10% ethanol. This has the unfortunate effect of distorting plastic fuel tanks - such as ours. Several tanks have weird deformation of the base right where you pour the fuel in. It seems to melt the first area it hits. No tanks are leaking so it is just a problem in the making. For the moment, we are mobile again, and there are no bikes with problems. Thanks to Beth for the loan of her 1050. Nice to be able to make comparisons - and fabulous to have been able to keep riding while our bike was in trouble.

Others have been shopping today, and attending to bikes even to the point of some cleaning. To date only one motel has provided us with a hose for cleaning purposes. Having a clean bike only invites fresh dust and grime to appear in seconds, but it makes you feel better about trying. Having discovered by chance the whereabouts of the local Cycle Gear shop we head there to enquire about Sue's pink jacket, which has begun to split its seams on both arms. They are happy to replace it, but do not have another pink one. There is one that has a small panel of pink on either side, so that is chosen as the replacement. Until now the pink jacket has been the most effective visual cue when trying to attract the attention of the riders or the van when stopped by the road. This is the end of the pink jacket era. Sniff. There is another significant thing that happens while here. While waiting at the counter we are party to a conversation that another customer is having with staff. He wishes to buy a new helmet, as his last one was stolen right off his bike while parked. This gets my attention, as despite the fact that we have suffered not a single instance of unwanted attention, it is obviously possible. We frequently leave helmets, gloves and jackets draped over our bikes while enjoying lunch, so I pass on the warning to the group. Best we keep a sharper eye on things in future.

Tomorrow we will have a 300 mile ride to Tacoma and the weather is iffy. All eyes will be on the morning tv weather reports.

Cheers.

24 June 2014

Spokane Washington to Tacoma Washington.

It seems fairly certain that we will encounter rain somewhere along the route today. The radar shows several areas of rain between us and Tacoma - they will obviously move in the intervening hours, but more may appear. We choose to don wet weather gear rather than have to stop and do so later. It is always a reluctant move as the wet gear is bulky and turns into a sauna if things warm up at all. It is overcast here this morning and cool, so not such an imposition. We follow the 395/90 away from this city, holding a good pace as we are on a major highway. We will remain on the Interstate today which will make some extra miles easier. At some point Tom suddenly pulls up and waves me over. His fuel gauge has dropped off the clock and he is concerned that he might have suffered the same fuel connection failure I had. I reassure him that it would still take hours to drain a tankful should it happen and we move on. Some miles later his fuel gauge spontaneously begins working again. I seem to remember mine doing the same in Kansas. At Ritzville the two highways diverge, and we choose the moment to peel off into McDonalds for coffee and warmth. Lots of joking and laughs while we wait for drinks. We always attract attention in such places simply because we sound different. Often the people who ask where we are from have either been to NZ or Australia and have recognised our accents. We enjoy talking to them. Back outside we notice that 3 of the 955's are lined up together. Good photo opportunity..

Riding on I notice a light aircraft behaving rather flamboyantly up ahead. As we get closer I see it is a cropduster operating right by the roadside. It is a real thrill to watch the pilot throwing it around this small piece of sky. In many ways we do the same thing - throwing our steeds around in the infrequent moments we encounter twistys. We wave our appreciation to the pilot. Seems likely he got it.

The road seems to be climbing slowly to some point on the horizon, only gradually but steadily. Finally we crest a rise and behold an entirely new piece of landscape. This is the Columbia river with the small town of Vantage on the far side. Scenes like this really do take your breath away, and yet at the same time you realise that you are actually a part of it. This is the wonder part of being here and doing this.

There are roadworks on the bridge, not at all an uncommon occurrance. As we have to slow, Tom takes advantage and stands up on the pegs to ease his backside. An old trick he learned in the army.. haha.

Other bikes behind us. Its nice to be in the middle of the group. Always bikes in view both ways.

Looking downstream there is a dam down there and they generate hydro power. This is called lake Wannapum. So thats nice..

Climbing out the far side of this river valley the wind begins to pick up. We find ourselves on a long climb with several lanes of traffic. Despite the effort required to overcome the head wind, we get a bit overenthused and carve up the traffic as each rider pushes towards the front of the group, only to be replaced by another. Crazy fun. We're indicating 90mph here and falling behind..

The presence of the wind farm would suggest that the current stiff breeze is not an unfamiliar phenomenon.

We reach the top of this crest and head down toward Ellensburg. We are to stop there for fuel, but as often happens, there are several exits all destined to reach Ellensburg and we do not all end up at the same one. We take the first one and are shortly joined by Marian and Thomas. It transpires that Marian was trying to reach the front of the group to signal that her fuel light was on, and thus created the stampede. No problem, we have reached the gas station in spite of her low fuel warning light. We phone the van and they are heading this way. The girls head out to the street to wave them in. We assemble on the forecourt and swap notes about the ride. Preparing to leave when all is sorted I notice Sue is without her helmet. She remembers leaving it on a post by the gate while waiting for the van. Gone. Some passer-by has grabbed it and we are 1 helmet down. Dang. Our first loss of any kind at the hand of others. We can't help thinking that we had been warned - but such things happen. Ann lends Sue her helmet as she is in the van with Brent today. We ride on but I can tell that I have a disheartened pillion.

From here the traffic begins to increase in tempo. We head up through Lake Easton State Park, and continue to climb toward the Snoqualmie Pass. There are many ski fields up here despite it only being 3000ft, though the 90 blasts straight past missing all the built up areas. There are road works up here too, and on occasion your lane suddenly expires - a bit disconcerting when it is the fast lane. Nice to be on a bike when the road is getting full of evasive drivers - you don't have as much mass to weave about. We remain in the valleys until reaching the junction with the 18 which will take us direct to Tacoma rather than heading into Seattle. This is a quieter highway and we decide a break is due. A few wrong exits later we are all at Auburn and divesting the wet gear. It has not really been needed today, but it did provide great thermal insulation when crossing passes and enduring strong winds. Food and drinks are welcome, and suitably replenished we continue the short hop into Tacoma. The motel is close to the highway and the gps leads us to the door. We try to park close to the door simply to facilitate removal of the great luggage mountain, but often we are asked to park elsewhere as our trailer looks a bit formidable. Actually, having a trailer does make finding a parking space somewhat more of a deliberate exercise. No parking tickets thus far.!

We are in need of a new helmet. I have been communicating with 'NortonRon' - a colourful chap from TOL. He gives me directions to the nearest Cycle Gear store, which is only a mile down the road our motel is on. Seems fortuitous. Several of us head that way in the van, only to meet Ron outside. Brilliant to finally put faces to names. We arrange to meet at a local Mexican Restaurant for dinner later, and Ron heads away. Cycle Gear are able to sell us a new helmet in the same colour as the old one, but it does not seem the correct size. The sales girl is sure that it will be ok despite seemingly overly firm fitting, and as it is the only one this colour we buy it. As always, the others find more things to buy. A trip to Cycle Gear seldom fails to provide that other thing you most likely need.

Later we all head to Tacos Guaymas and get served mountains of food. Apparently this is authentic Mexican and features lots of beans. Could be interesting. Ron is great fun and has a lot of stories to tell. His motorcycling past is more off-road than ours, but the tales have the same focus and reinforce the universal nature of biking in the 60's and 70's. We arrange to head into Seattle with Ron in the morning, and call an end to another big day. They sure keep coming.

Cheers.

25 June 2014

Tacoma Washington. I wake up early enough to get breakfast over before Ron arrives. While looking for my phone to call him two things became apparent. My phone is missing - as is my wallet. Not the sort of discovery destined to make your morning run smoothly. I have absolutely no idea where they could be, but as I carry them together - chances are they are in the same place as each other - but not me. My first conclusion is that they have been left at the Mexican last night. I had them resting on the seat beside me while we ate, but then Sue moved them to the table top over by the window. After that - no recollection. Could I have been so stupid.? Answer - get stuffed. But possibly. Damn and damn. I try phoning my phone with Sue's phone. No bleatings from within our room. I phone Ron and he offers to call by the restaurant on the way here. Down to breakfast and inform the troops - just in case someone has seen them. No such luck. Steve has been out to check the bikes which are parked right by the sidewalk on the far side of the carpark. He returns smiling. Looks like your good vibes are still working - he found them perched on the seat of my bike. So - they have sat out in the carpark by the sidewalk all night, and remained undisturbed. Even after I phoned the thing this morning. Can't believe my luck. Ron phones to ask where I might have left them at the restaurant and I am very pleased to tell him they have turned up. He is very pleased too - the Mexican staff are looking at him rather suspiciously at this hour of the morning. Now - this really is a good way to start a day. Woot.

Ron offers to cart 4 of us in his car today, so the rest can fit in the van. First stop is Starbucks for a cuppa and a chat. Ron keeps us entertained from the start.

From here we drive to Cycle Gear again for a few more tweaks, then on to the Tukwila Light Rail station to catch a train to Seattle. This will save us the trouble of finding a car park in Seattle - problem is we can't find a carpark here. Ron finds a space in a shopping centre that expressly forbids parking for rail travellers and we grab the next train going our way. It is perfectly acceptable as we are foreigners and do not understand such things.

Once we reach the Seattle terminal we move up a few levels and take the monorail to the Space Needle and surrounding area to wander around and absorb a bit of Seattle atmosphere. It is only possible to see a small amount during such brief excursions, but the main aim for me is to chat with Ron, so the scenery is a bonus. The Space Needle is a big drawcard, but they want more than we are prepared to pay to take the ride.

Two old bikers compare notes from opposite sides of the planet. I guess I imagined we would do so in a seedy bar somewhere, but this is just fine. Ron T Brown is the stuff legends are made of. I'm just an upstart kid. Funnily - that feels good too. Cheers Ron.

After our max time available we troop back to the monorail platform. Everyone is keen to hear the gems that Ron has to impart. Many of the riders who impressed us in our formative years of biking did not make it this far. The fact that Ron did makes him pretty special. He is not that much older than us at all - just one era above - like the older brother who set you on this path. Thanks for your time and your hospitality Ron - this is the stuff we came to America for. As we like to say with an Australian accent - yer blood's worth bottlin' mate.!

Back on the monorail towards home again. The day is waning, but this looks pretty cool up here. Shame we did not have more time to spend exploring this city. Always the next time though..

We retrace our steps and our trains. Join the throng of traffic back into Tacoma and our motel. Strange temporary residents we are. Just here for a brief taste of culture and experience. How lucky we are to have local input from all of these people who have joined in our big adventure, each to add their own unique view of life here, and in a way that we relate to so easily. I cannot thank these guys enough, and yet it is their love of motorcycling that has led to these meetings and this collaboration. I doubt that drivers of the average family sedan would find they had so much in common. Sucks to be them...

We say our farewells to Ron and begin our preparations for tomorrow. I have imagined this day for 4 years, and it has been nothing I could have predicted. It would have been grand to take a ride together, but we would hardly have been able to converse if that were the case. It took place in the perfect way and we all got something from it. This is the essence of Ride America. We seem to be getting to sample the best of everything.

Thanks for the memories Seattle and Ron T Brown. Loved it.

26 June 2014

Tacoma Washington to Lincoln City Oregon.

We now have a finite time to reach San Francisco in order for various things to happen. Whilst we have not exactly planned where each night will find us, we have a fair idea of the mileages we need to cover, so the locations will no doubt suggest themselves. Because we want to include the Air Museum at McMinnville today, we will head down through Portland rather than visit the northernmost Oregon coastline. After McMinnville we will then seek the coastal route and stay at Lincoln City as our first port of call. So to speak. The weather forecast looks a tad damp so we will do the wetgear thing again. You can get very wet in the short time between the rain starting and the first opportunity to stop and put your gear on, so putting it on at the start is the informed choice.

We head straight down the I-5 to Portland. The weather report justifies itself by sending down some serious showers as we progress. They begin slowly then accelerate to the point where the spray is flying up from all the vehicles going in either direction. Slowing gives no respite as the faster traffic passing douses you anyway. The average freeway motorist does not seem to register that it is raining at all and simply ploughs on regardless. Wonder if they have ever heard the term 'aquaplane'. Because of these factors, the scenery eludes me totally - it is more an endurance test. By the time we reach Portland the rain has stopped for the moment and we are treated to some seductive glimpses of the city. It looks like a place I could happily spend time. Shame we have none today.

The rain holds off as we continue further south, although traffic is slower on the 99 to McMinnville. When we reach the Museum we are left in no doubt that this is one major exhibit. There is a 747 mounted atop a building simply to serve as a water slide. Sheesh.!

The main drawcard here is the Spruce Goose - the enormous flying boat built by Howard Hughes after the war as his answer to the growing need for air transport on a global scale. Unfortunately he was given a hard time by the Government of the day and basically mothballed the thing after its first successful test flight. It is wonderfully preserved, but difficult to get some perspective on due to the sheer size. I tried to capture it from outside the main exhibition building.

It is in there somewhere, and it has 8 engines, is made of wood (hence the name..) and is simply stupendous. We had to come and see it. There are numerous other exhibits too, loads of jet fighters languishing outside in the weather, and a very tasty collection of WWII fighters inside the main building. The whole display is very well set out and there are hundreds of items to peruse in several buildings.

Some of the team stay on to digest even more of this multi-layered place, the rest move on towards Lincoln City hoping to beat the ever threatening rain. The scenery changes quite dramatically and we ride through forests of tall trees - perhaps Oregon pine.?

We reach the Inn at Wecoma and ensconce ourselves in nice rooms. Bikes keep arriving at odd intervals as people have travelled at their own pace since the Museum. We all avoid the rain but it comes now we are here. Timing is everything. We decide to explore the beachfront and head down in the van - all seats taken despite 2 remaining at the Inn. We find Kyllos by the sea and enjoy a nice meal together.

Another massive day we have had. Weather to test us, traffic and highways, amazing sights to behold. We have covered half of Oregon but have only sampled a small amount in depth. Tonight has been a fitting reward for our endurance. Tomorrow we will see the Oregon coast and follow it towards California. Should be magnificent.

Night all.

27 June 2014

Lincoln City Oregon to Brookings Oregon.

Oregon is being wet. Not so much that you don't want to go out in it - just enough that you cannot predict. Once again we don our wet gear from the start. It has been raining much of the night and continues to do so as we load the van. The forecast for Brookings looks a little better, but we have some miles between. We stop at a gas station leaving town and it is moderate to heavy rain now. I feel guilty holding the team up. We move on and the rain eases within miles, but does not entirely stop. Compared to the momentous cloudburst that we experienced leaving Vermillion this is nothing, but it does require you to adopt a different riding style. With a lot of surface wet your braking and cornering are less efficient, so a little more restraint needs to be practiced. The 4 wheelers do not make any allowance so you have to do it for them. Bigger gaps and more separation in the lanes where possible. Your visor gets covered and reduces your vision, so you wipe it frequently with your glove. If you breathe heavily you fog it up on the inside, so you force even breathing even though at times your pulse rate is at the excited end of the scale. If you were at home on a Sunday you would not go out in this on your motorcycle - when you are on tour - it is just the weather.

We cross several very stately bridges at Siletz Bay and Yaquina Bay - in better weather you would just have to stop and take photos - but stopping in the rain only makes you ship more water, so we continue on. By Waldport the rain has at least temporarily ceased, so we stop near some shops to see what is on offer, as others replenish their fuel.

Sue wanders down a side street to catch a view of the bridge here..

We move on to Florence. When nothing wonderful is showing up it is better to get a few more of todays miles under your belt rather than some substandard food. In Florence we spot a modest looking cafe and decide to give it a shot - it may be the best there is..

Brunch complete, we move on. I might add that mine consisted of two poached (4 options..) eggs with toast (5 varieties of bread..) and cost me $4.90 + tax + tip. Thats about $6.50 all up. It is cheap to eat here. As the rain stays away, and the Oregon coast is quite rugged and moody, we begin to lag a long way behind the group because we are taking photos. Having a visual type memory, these pictures will bring all of these places back to life later - when we have time to reflect on it all. Scenes such as this could only be the Oregon coast.

Despite the brooding cloud - or because of it - this place has real atmosphere.

As we approach Gold Beach, another amazing example of bridge architecture presents itself. The Americans build excellent structures, be it buildings, monuments, roads or bridges. Built well and with a flourish of grand presentation. We never tire of beholding it.

Gold Beach is not at its best in the subdued light, but no doubt it looks fabulous in the sunshine - enough to bring the holidaymakers pouring in. This place will be humming in a few weeks.

We continue south, this coast presenting scene after scene of rugged grandeur. Small wonder that people have homes here from which to just gaze at the changing seasons - rather than participate in them. The buildings here are neatly placed within the scenery rather than on top of it. They go to great lengths to preserve the unspoilt aspect wherever possible. We should do the same at home.

Sue stood on the roadside barrier to take this photo. As she was doing so a Police car rolled slowly by - whereupon I noticed the "No Parking" sign. Oops...

From here a nice brisk trot down to Brookings. Our motel is of the type with rooms spread along a verandah at ground level. Perfect for motorcyclists to congregate. We wander down the street to see what might be on offer. There are two Supermarkets opposite each other. Hmmm. We try "Rays". Wonder if they have any craft beers...

It would seem so. This is Oregon after all. The rain has stopped and the forecast is for clearer skies tomorrow.

I rest my case.

28 June 2014

Brookings Oregon to Eureka California.

Yahoo. No rain forecast today. That immediately makes life look better. We head out of Brookings heading toward Crescent City. As is often the case, we have no idea what the environs look like on the far side of town - as we arrive and settle in to our motel for the night, seldom venturing further than is necessary for our evening needs. It is then a new revelation as we leave, to see what other aspects there may be to the town we just stayed in. This morning there are a few interesting things as we leave town - this would be one..

You must appreciate that these photos are taken from the back of a fast moving motorcycle - no carefully prepared exposures here.! Things happen by and only the fastest fingers capture them..

I am finding - as I write these accounts of our travels - that I can locate all the things we have seen on Google Earth. It is a very time-consuming process for sure, but it gives one a feeling of solidifying the experience - you can go back and see it again if you so wish. I would much prefer to go back in person and actually explore the things there was not time for - but this is at least one form of proof that they do exist. Just don't expect too much from your netbook...

We cross the state line into California, then soon find ourselves riding in the trees again. Like yesterday, they are dense and tall, but very much like pine. Presumably a local variety but whether they are indigenous or grown for timber is impossible to tell. There are no signs of logging here.

It makes a nice environment to be riding in.

We reach Crescent City and take a break at the gas station. They always provide toilets...

Our next treat is Redwoods. These things are so impressive. We are not prepared to be so awed by them - but we are anyway. Magnificent specimens and up around the hundred foot mark. They have quite an effect on the observer. We follow Ann and Brent with heads often turned skyward.

We come across some local wildlife..

There are glimpses of the northernmost California coastline through gaps in the trees.

We are pleased with it all today - but those tyres are getting very flat in the centre..

The trees give way to a coastal aspect for a while. Very attractive and quite accessible. Plenty folks on the beach.

The road heads inland and we finally congregate at a small place called Klamath. Outside the Fire Dept from memory.

Allan has identified an alternative highway we can follow for some miles that promises to be a more scenic version. It is called the "Newton B Drury Scenic Parkway". We expect great things.! Allan finds the turnoff and marks it for our arrival.

The troops roll in..

From the start, this road is totally magic. The Redwoods are monstrous and the road dodges around them in a synergetic way. Simply astounding.

We make a number of stops just to gaze.

We take a lunch break at Prairie Creek - a delightful piece of rural solitude. Notwithstanding the tourists of course. Like us. Although I do feel that motorcyclists are more a part of the scenery than simply insulated observers thereof. We gaze at this beautiful old fence made in a traditional way. We are constantly astounded at how history is still alive here - considering how much older it is than our own history..

After a suitable period of relaxing in the woods, we move on and rejoin the main highway, before reaching our next point of interest - Trinidad. Once again, the front runners mark the exit until all have arrived.

Trinidad is not necessarily as exotic as one might expect from the name, but it certainly has a charm of its own.

From here we meander into Eureka in ones and twos. There were a few shops in Trinidad worth a look and some did so. The road was without any great impact on the final stretch - we have seen so much today there is little that can compare.

After settling in everybody heads out for a meal in different directions. We end up at the Lost Coast Brewery. I try a few of their craft beers and we enjoy a nice meal before spending some adversarial time on the pool table. From here we wander back along the street and into another Bar that has music and a shuffle board table. So we do a few more drinks and some of that. A great evening and a pleasant walk home again. When we arrive there is a Police car opposite our room. Someone is getting the shake down. Rather them than us.

We leave them to it and sleep well.

29 June 2014

Eureka California to Fort Bragg California.

We decide to leave early and forego breakfast at our motel - it seems a wise move considering. The next town is called Fortuna, and we hope to find a suitable cafe there. As we drive in, the Redwood Cafe presents itself. Topical. We park up and head indoors, and are rewarded with a fine breakfast while our waitress does the honours with the camera.

Today we have a treat in store - it is called the "Avenue of the Giants", and is another secondary road through a redwood forest. We can't seem to get enough. You would think that just riding amongst trees would be a fairly ordinary experience, especially for us - no strangers to trees - but these trees are totally awesome. We are spellbound by these statuesque monsters. We slow as we approach the intended turnoff - unfortunately allowing a number of "other" bikes to overtake us. They don't know how lucky they are..

We slow the van and wave the bikes on as we enter this road. Immediately we are plunged into an ancient scene with so much grandeur we just have to stop. I can not explain the feeling that overtakes us in here - it is one of reverence and awe.

We ride through miles of similar scenery, and finally pause at a touristy type turnout. Nothing we want here other than to look.

Cameras are running hot, except for Marians which got dropped and is refusing to behave. You really feel that you have to capture this powerful imagery, even though your camera is unable to get the whole picture.

We move on and find our way to a small town called Miranda, where we stop to check out a number of nice American cars for sale. They just happened to be there. Plus other stuff. Fun place.

Yes - they all need some work - but this one does not..

We have been seeing many examples of vehicles that would not only be cool to own - but would also command a much steeper price in New Zealand - but how do you get them home.? Here we are all riding motorcycles. Not easy to drive a car as well. Especially as the women have chosen to stay clear of the cockpit. Probably a good thing. We could have amassed quite a fleet by now.

We continue south, rejoining the 101 when our beautiful road runs out. Shortly after we reach Leggett and leave the highway to view another unique feature - the Chandeleier Tree. This is a redwood so big you can drive your car through it. Worth a look we feel. But who is this masked man.?

Tom and Helen abandon the bike and get the feel of this place on foot..

Mask removed, Batman adopts his best seductive pose for the Press Cameramen..

From here we rejoin the Shoreline Highway and head out to the coast. It is very much similar to the coast road we experienced during the BSA rally on our ride up to Jenner. A rugged coast but drier and brighter than the Oregon version. This reminds us of home somehow. It is the same ocean..

We pass through a small settlement called Westpoint but continue on to Fort Bragg, a considerably larger town which happens to contain our motel for tonight. The town is picturesque with many old buildings in seemingly good repair.

The motel initially looks a bit dowdy, but once we are able to inhabit our rooms we find that they are a little more modern than the first area we observed, and they have a vista of the coast from our upstairs verandahs. Not too shabby..

A trip downtown reveals more lovely buildings, but we also spot what seems to be a fishing village way below the main road bridge. We head down and find a whole new piece of town hiding down here by the waters edge. There are restaurants on the wharf. Looks like the perfect place for an evening meal. We pass on the info and a sizeable crew assemble later to return to here. We eat and drink and watch the sun set.

This is the sort of holiday experience that you came here for. End of a brilliant day.

I feel I shall return to this place. Some day. It feels good. Ace.!

30 June 2014

Fort Bragg California to Novato California.

Today we will end our sojourn on this coast and begin our return to the city. That feels a bit sad. But. Its not over yet, and this is such a cool road. We have seen bits of it before - on the BSA rally. Today we do it our way - at our speed. From the go, it is going to be a clear, hot Californian day. The breeze here on the coast will keep us cool enough, but this is as good as it gets here. A cool start due to our early departure, but in no time it is warming the road and us, and the scenery is brilliant.

There is an early morning misty look to the air that we would equate to a great day in the offing at home. I think the same applies here.

There are so many lovely glimpses of local culture here - your mind races as you rush along catching scenes like this. Who lives here? What does life feel like here? Could I live here...?

Small towns like Elk are quiet and pretty. Not much traffic yet, but this road gets very busy. It would rank as one of the best roads on the entire west coast - all things considered. We choose the Roadhouse Cafe at Elk as our preferred breakfast choice - just along from here.

Nutritional requirements fulfilled we rejoin the road. At times you just want to eat this atmosphere. It seems somehow vulgar to just rush off towards the horizon. Like a fine wine, you should savour it first. Mmmmmmmmm.

Because we leave at odd intervals and stop to look at stuff, the group gets strung out and the van may end up ahead of the bikes. It is rather nice to come across our very own van as we scoot along roads such as this. Gives one a secure feeling - like being behind the Squadron Leader.

Definitive shot of the northern California coast. Rugged but accessible. Seldom see a beach with nobody on it. I cannot help but think that we are within 100 miles of San Francisco - you might expect to see thousands on the beaches up here - but they just don't do it like we do it at home. Maybe watch it on tv instead..

We come upon a Harley which is doing its best beached whale impersonation. Nobody seems hurt, but they are trying to wave down another twenty people in order that they might right the thing. It gives you a fright to find a bike down all the same. Ok to joke when you know they are ok. Probably in for a hernia though...

We arrive at Jenner, scene of much mayhem during the BSA rally. Today we just need a breather and some shade. It is heating up now. As our journey today is of moderate distance, we do not need to rush, instead it is nice to be able to soak up a bit more of the flavour of the local environs. This place tastes quite good. Lots of emergency vehicles rush by heading for the relaunching of the Harley up the hill. Lotsa luck with that...

The sign on the Inn says it all. Jenner by the sea indeed. Masters of the understatement.

I am being somewhat flippant with my comments as befits the feeling of this day. We are a day from San Francisco and the termination of the tour for half the crew. That feels rather sombre as you might imagine - having spent 4 years in the planning of this extraordinary event. We have come to America and we have ridden it from one side to the other and back again. We attended an International motorcycle rally with hundreds of other "nuts" - an event that lasted an entire week and was the epitome of most peoples annual event calendar - but that was only the merest beginning of ours. We have covered at least 10,000 miles since, and now we are nearing the end of the journey - back where the rally started. It does make one reflective - how could it be otherwise. While we are trying to maintain our usual jolly approach - there is a quiet resignation beneath the surface. These things do have an end. Lets try to ignore it today.!

We deliberately dally, taking photos of anything that catches our eye. There are plenty offerings. More nature..

We pass through Bodega Bay. I remember the name, but I see it with new eyes. Last time here I was totally overcome by the sight and sensation of several hundred old motorcycles - don't recall having looked at the view.

It looks rather idyllic and I make a note to try and visit again in the coming month. Hopefully it will look as charming as it does today. Soon after Bodega Bay we leave the coast and head inland towards Petaluma. We will rejoin the freeway from there to Novato to find our motel. The lush green countryside we left two months ago has been transformed into a dry and burnt landscape. The temperature has risen several degrees with every mile between us and the coast. We stop at this corner to regroup and so that the van can take the lead to guide us in. Looks like we got here at just the right time first time around.

The road from here to Novato is much less pretty and much more demanding. We have been spoilt by quiet country roads today. The comforting sight of Petaluma is quickly replaced by the urgency of motorway traffic and we join the throng heading south. This road always seems to be rush hour and now is no different. As we approach Novato we see our motel beside the highway, but still have to travel another mile to reach an exit so we can return to check in. The heat is unbearable in the carpark - must be in the very high 30's. People comment that it is unusually high today - damn right.! Quite a relief to get under cover and unload for the shelter of aircon rooms. We try to find shady spots to park the bikes and the van, but they are highly sought after. After the settle in, we head to downtown Novato for food. The town looks pretty despite the heat.

Not many people on the street but we know why. They are wise enough to seek shelter when it gets this hot. Probably wouldn't dream of riding a motorcycle either. Can't say I blame them. Finnegans looks nice and shady, so we retire indoors. Good choice, and we sample food and drink here. Not too shabby at all.!

We return to the motel as the heat shows the first signs of relenting. Lucky we did not have to ride too far in this. Our final episode for the night involves a quick burst up the 101 in the van to the nearest Cycle Gear store in Santa Rosa. We finally get Sue a helmet that fits properly, despite having to settle for a blue one rather than the traditional pink. The whole pink thing is getting diluted - as if to say the need is over.

For tonight we reflect. Tomorrow we will ride into Alameda - triumphant but a little melancholy. Well done all - you could not have imagined a crew more dedicated to getting the job done. I think we have all learned a great deal about travel, and motorcycles, and ourselves on them. I really do take my hat off to you all. And thank you sincerely for taking part in this mad escapade. What a trip.!

And its not over yet.!

1 July 2014

Novato California to Alameda California.

We are heading "into town". Alameda is a small island nestled against Oakland. Both are directly across the bay from San Francisco city. This is as close as you would want to get to the city proper, and is also the home of Brent and Lois and Dorothy, good friends who have given us great assistance with our journey - despite the fact that we are unknown folk from the far side of the planet. Brent originates from Australia so he knows that Kiwis do not pose any great threat - but he has done so much for us in order that this tour even got off the ground. Enormous respect from us for that. Allan and Beth will be the first members of our group to depart, and they will do so from San Fran. Brent and Co. have offered them a room whilst they are here, and we others have found a motel on a Marina opposite Oakland on the northeast edge of Alameda. It proves to be a gem of a place. Our trip into the bowels of the city encompasses many freeways.

Multi-level highways anyone.?

We are most fortunate that we have picked the most ideal time to make this journey, as the traffic at 10.30 is rather merciful. This trip has managed to hijack us several times in the past, but this morning we are able to keep to our intended route and make landfall in Alameda in short time. Yay for us.

Always good to have bikes in the mirror. The more the better. Much of the land around the freeways looks to be desolate and devoid of buildings, although we did discover whilst updating our old GPS that many of these freeways have not been here for very long. Updating the maps on the GPS made many things become clearer. Such as - where we are going..

Successfully negotiating all the navigational hurdles in our path we arrive safely with numbers intact at Brent's address in Alameda. He meets us there and we are all eager to pass on accounts of our Trans-America experience. As in a dozen voices at once. He is polite enough to listen. We have other arrangements to fulfill, so after a coffee downtown we part company and make our way to our latest motel which looks to be a very pretty location. We are right on the waters edge looking over to Oakland through the masts of sundry small water craft moored here on the sheltered side of the island. Most appropriate.

Our friend Peter is arriving from New Zealand this afternoon, and he will grab the BART to Alameda from the airport. Our rooms at the Marina Motel are not yet ready, so while everyone waits in the foyer, I head over to Brents to grab Allan and Beth and we collect Peter from the station. I have booked him a room at our motel so we head back there. Soon the rooms have been cleaned and we are able to take up residence. This has happened a few times on our trip when we have arrived close to midday. Most motels state arrival time as being around 3pm. Slow cleaners here. We have a planned excursion to the nearest Cycle Gear shop which is about an hour south. They have a tyre special going and we need tyres. Peter comes along for the ride and we mingle with the after-work traffic on the 880. The shop has made a mistake with the tyres and do not actually have 3 sets of the special price Pirellis available, but agree to sell us a pair of Bridgestones at the same price as it was their mistake. You have to love Cycle Gear - they certainly deliver. Back to camp and we prepare for our evening meal. This will be a real event - Brent, Lois and Dorothy from Alameda, our lot plus Peter, and John Bock - another excellent chap from the BDF. This is a group of motorcyclists we have met along the way and who originated from San Fran - the British Death Fleet. They started out as a group of friends who rode British bikes, expanded their numbers and decided a name was necessary, and in a serendipitous fashion - took it from a Falkland Islands protest poster. Local man John from Oakland is going to join us in Alameda for a meal. Always cool to expand the circle of friends.

So it is we all head to Asena Restaurant for a right knees-up. Fantastic evening spent devouring food and chat with new friends of like mind. It is an impossible to beat recipe. John has ridden his 650 Bonneville over and it is admired by all. We have not seen many older bikes since the BSA rally and we are most appreciative.

The evening ends in the knowledge of another full day tomorrow. We will go in various different ways for the day - some to business, some to the exploring of the city. I will spend a day with Mr Green. I hope to meet with John again soon - but life has many plans. We return to our new motel and try to capture the night view of Oakland across the channel.

This will be our home for a week. Could be worse...

2 July 2014

Alameda California. What a sweet place this is. Lovely town and quiet neighbourhood. Possibly this is due in part to an abundance of Police Officers, and we have been warned not to exceed the posted 25mph speed limit lest something legal might occur. So far in America such a thing has mostly not happened, so we wonder what special conditions may exist here. We shall take special care to comply. So far - so good. Many things are to happen today. Firstly, I need to take Peter over to Brent's, collect Allan and Beth, then head to the station so the blokes can head off to do business stuff. That completed, Beth and I return to the motel, collect the others and head to the ferry terminal where all disappear in the direction of San Fran city. I return to the motel, grab all the tools I need from the locker on the trailer, plus my new Pirelli tyres, and head to Brent's fabulous workshop downtown. Deposit the stuff, return to the motel and grab the bike, then head back to the workshop. This all sounds very methodical and task related. Thats how it is. Logistics. On a trip like this with numerous bodies and vehicles - all manoeuvres need to be organised and planned so that everyone gets to where they need to be with the wherewithal to return later - plus the things they require at the time for the task in hand. This one simple requirement is 90% of the tour. We had little idea during the planning phase how this would all pan out - but on the ground it is simply a matter of common logic and some forward thought. Not necessarily tedious - just necessary. Imagine you have a dinghy to transport a fox, a chicken and some grain across the river, and you can only take one at a time..

So here I am at the workshop. Jerry Ligget is here working on a Rocket 3 - currently in the stripdown mode. This bike will be totally dismantled then rebuilt with the utmost care and attention - to leave this place in better condition than it was originally assembled by the factory in 1971. This makes total sense to me. This is what we do with our beloved old British bikes - make them the best they can be so they live on to give another owner the kind of experience they would have loved in the 1970's here in 2014.

Whilst I have never previously met Jerry, I am conversant with his style via the TOL forum, and I always give his words suitable consideration. While I have been about "triples" for nearly 40 years, there are always things you can learn from people who are still actively involved in resurrecting them. This man is held in high esteem and I am feeling pretty chuffed with being able to make his acquaintance. I find a place out of his way to begin detaching wheels from Mr Green. Our original tyres have completely circumnavigated the Northern United States of America. That is some considerable distance. In fact, I can probably say it was a shade over 9000 miles. All on one set of tyres. I am most impressed by that. They were Dunlops, and if you can find a set, they will probably outlive you. Not sure of the model. Mostly bald.

I should rephrase that. Whilst you can see that I have made every attempt to use the extreme edges of the tyre - the considerable flatness of America has created a similar flatness to the profile. This has had the effect of making the bike very hard to corner for several weeks, but being of Scots ancestry, I was more interested in absolute utilisation than the luxury of the ride. I simply made it go around corners by forcing it to lean over.

So thats nice.

These little fellows will address all that and make life bliss once again. Despite the labels, good old Cycle Gear hand them over for $209 the pair. NZ bike owners can read this and weep...

The design of the 955 Triumph Sprint was - by accident or design - extremely favourable to those touring. For one it has a main stand, but for two it has a single-sided swingarm - meaning - to those of you still resisting my attempts to induct you into these dark arts - you can simply pluck the rear wheel off one side of the bike after removing the muffler and the pannier mounts. Mostly this side...

Try that on your old Triumph Speedtwin.! It took me some time to master the tyre removal machine, but considering my brief tutorial, I was pretty pleased with how it went. I even managed to use the balancer and found I could remove some of the old weights - that is a good sign. Brent arrived as I was turning my attention to the front wheel, and gave suitable assistance and encouragement. Thanks mate. Once complete and refitted, we also bled out all the old brake fluid using a handy suction device he had - these guys over here have every imaginable tool you can think of. I am so extremely envious. I make a mental note to avail myself of new tools in future. During the process of being here in this place, I take some photos to remind later how exalted this workshop is. Just look around..

A most fabulous Laverda 750 - covet, covet, covet...

Brents Magni - yes folks - a trick Rocket 3 engine in a frame built specifically for this purpose by the MV Augusta folks themselves - you have never - will never - see anything like this elsewhere on planet earth. How lucky am I.?

Mr Green in esteemed company - in a multi-facetted workshop.

More tasty treats scattered about. Plus the obligatory rest area..

Whilst I am most incredibly obliged for the privilege of being able to use this space and Brents tools, I am more overawed by simply being here - with these guys and this assorted machinery. When I am asked what the highlights of this trip were, I shall remember this place and these people. Thanks chaps - I trust I shall be able to repay the kindness one day - but I shall never be able to recreate something like this. Salute.

I retrace my steps to the motel - Mr Green tippy-toeing with finite precision over every minor road surface imperfection. It feels like a new bike. In fact, I cannot remember it having ever felt this good from the day I collected it. What a revelation.! I have an hour or so left before meeting the troops at the ferry so I head down to the old naval quarter of Alameda. This was once a huge navy establishment, but they downsized and sold the whole shebang to the city for a dollar. Wise move really, as it would have cost billions to dismantle it. There is still a mothballed fleet here though, and it is mighty impressive - out of date or otherwise. Huge supply ships are moored here..

The city slumbers in the background.

The "slumbering giant" that General Yamamoto feared he had awakened at the outset of the Pacific war in WWII is still here. Best we let it sleep. As a further example, the USS Hornet is on hand, and despite being of similar vintage, is a mighty thing to behold.

Today I have seen the most unique examples of purpose-built machinery. Motorcycles designed with flair and with a singular reason - for going fast and feeling good doing so. Warships - designed to deliver the kind of unstoppable force that wins wars. I see some parallels here despite the extremes of scale. I do not think it is by chance I am experiencing both of these things today, but it may be some months or years before I really understand the lesson. In a short time I will be hearing all about the magnificence of San Francisco from the returning crew, but today was mine here in Alameda. Doing things I love, with help from valuable friends - and viewing both awe-inspiring precision and overwhelming might. Even the tarnished remnants of an older version. I shall hold all of todays images in my mind for a very long time. I will even make a point of it.!

America has been absolutely splendid this day.

Thanks to all concerned.

3 July 2014

Alameda day 2. Today we are going out for lunch. Usually not a big deal - but lunch today is in Carmel Valley Road - and that is about 110 miles south.

Folks who know triples will have heard of Craig Vetter - the man responsible for the design of the X75 Hurricane - the most sought after variant of the BSA/Triumph triples from the 70's. Through the thoughtfulness of our BDF friend Brian in Iowa, it has been arranged for us to meet up with Craig and Carol, and via a few emails, Craig and I have agreed on a lunch venue for that to take place. Because we still have Gary's bike here in Alameda, it will be possible for Peter to get a ride too - good timing. A helmet and jacket are found and we are good to go. The weather is cool with a touch of San Fran fog this morning as we look out from our motel.

Around to Brents to pick up the others and Garys bike, then off for gas. We head up on the freeway and find heavy traffic with a queue at the onramp. We wait our turn to join the crowded lanes - nerves steeled. These guys are up to it.

Tough looking lot. I wouldn't mess with them.! Soon we are off. Then we're not, as the traffic slows to a crawl. Must be the time of day. The 880 is a busy route out of the greater San Fran area. Its a kinda start/stop/crawl thing..

So here's what you do. Its called "Lane Splitting" - and believe it or not Veronica - it is legal in the State of California. You simply take a deep breath and head straight between the cars and trucks inbetween whatever lanes take your fancy - although the right lanes are inclined to disappear down offramps at short notice. Watch them. It is realatively ok here..

Then it gets a bit gritty here..

But the cars actually move aside slightly when they see you looming in their mirrors, and you can usually scrape by... usually...

When you get the hang of it you can mostly keep going steadily - it is exhilarating if somewhat dodgy. Sue did admit that she actually held her breath for about 20 minutes... I make a point of waving to any drivers who actually pull over to make it safer for us to squeeze through.

Once in the clear we blaze along, well ahead of the drivers still caught up in the snarl. Lots of dead things along here. This might have been a lesser striped armadildo or similar - they end up just looking like a pile of fluffy rags. Unless they are deer. Then they look like WWIII just finished.

The sun burns through the fog as we get further south, and we enjoy the warmth. What a lovely day for a jaunt.

Heading away from the freeway we amble through the crop areas down Watsonville way. Along with the friendly neighbourhood carpet cleaner...

Nearing Monterey the scene suddenly changes to dense coastal urban sprawl with hotels and commerce. The traffic slows again as we pass by and over the hill to drop down to Carmel Valley on the far side, where we find our turnoff and cruise inland until reaching the appointed place. Craig has obviously gotten here first.

Having perused his latest mode of transport, we head towards lunch and find our new friends happily ensconced. We join the group and make the usual intoductions. It always takes a while seeing there are a dozen of us, and it seems certain that nobody is going to remember all the names. We have an advantage - there are only three of them. Craig tells us how it was back then..

While Carol and Zak fill in the gaps and tell us how it is now. Meantime we lunch well.

After lunch and extended chat we head for Craig's super economy mode scooter for a group photo.

Then one of the boys..

After which Craig peels off from this colourful cafe we have come to - just to prove this thing really goes - not that we doubted it for a second. Our anachronism is simply one of energy. Craig designed a bike that oozed raw energy and the promise of speed with the X75 Hurricane. His latest venture could not be further from that concept. No problem with people moving on - but for us it seems we arrived 40 odd years too late. The dream has moved on. Nice to see the players are intact though. That includes us.!

But that was really something - meeting a man who was a part of the shaping of things in the British Motorcycle Industry back when they were the shape we all wanted. Thanks guys.

We round up the steeds and prepare to head back up north. This time we will follow the coast to Santa Cruz before cutting across to San Jose and back to the bustle of the 880 to Alameda. All these place names are so familiar from years of songs and movies - but today we are seeing them from our own perspective. It is a very different thing. The coast road is another vast growing area - so good to see crops and earth instead of concrete and cars.

Approaching Santa Cruz we find the 17 just before we hit the city proper - so no real impression of the place. Heading inland through Scotts Valley towards Los Gatos we find a brilliant set of curves through the hills. Quite swoopy with two lanes going our way, so we are able to carve up the other traffic and get some flow going. Our new tyres are a revelation and it is a blast to be able to corner hard without any weird behaviour. A new bike.

At Fruitdale we pick up the 880, so it is just a matter of following this highway all the way back to the Alameda exit. The traffic gets thick as we skirt the north side of San Jose, and we are back to lane splitting to avoid the crawl. Miles and miles are covered in this way, with heavy wafts of smoke emanating from many vehicles as the drivers mellow out on the way home from work. Hope we don't get too stoned.! We latch on to a Harley rider who seems to have something to prove - bashing his hand on the bonnets of cars that do not get out of his way. It is surprising they do not, as his bike is the loudest thing this side of the space shuttle. He makes a useful sized tunnel through the traffic though - so we happily sit in his slipstream. If he can get through, we will have no trouble. The traffic gets moving at last, and we are already at the turnoff. The first bikes wait under the flyover until we see more of our lot arrive. We are never sure if there are some ahead that have already reached our destination, so we do not wait for too long before cruising in. A bit of a debrief at Brent's and then back to our waterfront lodgings. Big ride and steady heat, so we are ready to relax and think about where we should dine tonight. As it happens, we are invited to buy a meal at the Yacht Club next door. It is a good chance to eat close by, as well as meet a few of the locals. A cool thing.

This was our day - the eve of Independence Day.

Going to be a big old time tomorrow.

Woohoo.!

4 July 2014

Alameda day 3. The fourth of July. Big day on the American calendar. I am not sure just whose independence they are celebrating today. The idealistic beginning this great nation enjoyed way back then has been through difficult times in the intervening centuries. There is absolutely no lack of patriotism on show here, we have already seen it in action with numerous celebrations and memorials along the way, but we cannot help but wonder if freedom has not been eroded a little in greater America.

Everywhere we have been in America has presented ample evidence of how hard America fought for its freedom in the beginning. From our own perspective, America provided the turning point in World War II when our backs were to the wall. I guess we expected that to be the case, because we were western and we had the same ideals, but of recent years the wars in the Middle East have begun to seem like perhaps there is another agenda. In our limited experience of life on the ground in America, we have found that everyone we meet farewells us with "Be Safe" - rather than "Go Well". There seems to be an underlying sense of fear rather than freedom. The biking community seem to be the last bastion of risk-takers out there on the tarmac, and even they are now being drowned out by a new generation of law-abiding second-time-around bikers. We ride because we love the freedom it represents. I speak for myself here, but the various TOL members and the BDF are the closest thing I have encountered to the sort of biking freedom we enjoy at home, and what I came looking for. How fortunate that we found them - but then - we attract that which is foremost in our thoughts - so I guess they also found us. I suspect that my fellow travellers are feeling much the same as regards just how much freedom is currently on offer.

It certainly will not deter us in any way from joining in the fun and festivities today. We are big on observing any celebration of freedom however it may be perceived. Yay.!

As we are not riding far today - most of the central town is closed off - so it is 'civvies' for us.

We wander along the main street of Alameda to take up our respective positions from which to view proceedings. The parade goes on for some hours, but it is lighthearted and everyone seems to be having a good time.

After the fun we retire along the street to our favourite spot - the place Brent took us to our first day here.

I was totally impressed because this place served me only the second coffee that had wowed me in America. The first was in New York - this was No.2 - had to come back for a second and a third..

We head back to our motel to relax before the barbecue at Brent's tonight. On the way the sight of this man living in his car is very sobering. Alameda is a fairly select neighbourhood and this is hardly typical - but on this day - in this place - I find this sight kind of disturbing. Got the car looking good though...

Being the 4th of July and all, we thought it might be just the right time to mosey around the USS Hornet, to see the machine that was. As it turned out, they were having a special shindig onboard that would cost us $40 per head, and parts of the ship would be off limits. The ticket person suggested we would be best advised to come back tomorrow if we wanted a real squizz at a much lesser price. I thanked her for her candour. We wandered off grooving to the sound of the band...

Back at the motel our heads are turned in a totally different direction. A Morgan is in residence, and we arrive just in time to hear it fire up and head off - proud owner giving it a little welly in response to an appreciative audience. A little touch of jolly old England got in on the act today. Now there's a thing - what with us being on Triumphs and all.

The barbecue. Besides lots of us - there are lots of them. Our charming hosts - Dorothy, Brent and Lois do us proud and bash us about with margaritas - as you do. Brilliant. The crowd are excellent and we mix easily. Most are motorcyclists and that allows instant familiarity. We revel in the company and in being here. The 4th of July is definitely a good day whatever it now means - possibly the same as it always did. You get to party. We retire happy.

On the way to bed we pause to watch the fireworks which are randomly happening in all parts of the sky. As it happens, they will continue until 2am, but we are full up with today and need some quiet to digest it all.

Goodnight Alameda, and goodnight America. We have seen you at your happiest now - hold that thought.

5 July 2014

Alameda day 4. Good morning America. Today will have many facets. Brents bike has been misfiring and we need to do something about it. Local Brent is going for a ride with the BSA club, so we meet up at his workshop and he leaves us in charge. Steve wants to do some work on his bike too, so we have a few things going on here. I remove bits of fairing and take the tank off Brents 1050 - he is a willing assistant. Removing the coils and plugs we find that water has got into the left side plug hole and there is lots of rust in evidence. The centre coil smells bad as if beginning to cook. Now we are unsure which might be the culprit. I clean up all the bits while Brent heads off to O'Rileys - local autoparts guys who are fortunately open on a Saturday - to buy new spark plugs. They only have 1 set, so Steve gets to use Brents old ones which look ok. We reassemble Brents bike with utmost care, and he leaves to test ride. I clean up and leave Steve to his ministrations.

Sue has been a patient bystander while all of this has been taking place. We have a plan to explore Oakland with some info from John Bock - our BDF ally who is away for the weekend - avoiding the 4th July mayhem by being out of town. I was most impressed when John told me he had a chainsaw powered blender that he took when camping so he could make margaritas. These are the kind of people you need to be around.! It is now time to take Sue out of this mancave to explore the environs that John finds familiar. We love this stuff.!

That look means she is still prepared to have good humour but don't push it. We don our gear and head for the tunnel to Oakland. There are several bridges as well, but we have not used the tunnels and figure it might be a hoot. Oakland is a city in its own right, across the bay from San Fran city, with the island of Alameda nestled up against Oakland between the two. The highway numbered 61 is the two tunnels going either way between Alameda and Oakland, and as marked, you pop out in Chinatown.

Chinatown is quite a few blocks of this place and the locals are out in force on a Saturday. Fortunate for us because we want to see things as they are here. As a generic term, "Chinatown" looks much the same whichever part of the planet you happen to be in...

We see it as really cool considering that we are in as much 'downtown' America as we could possibly be. This is a fabulous example of embracing other cultures, and we salute America for adopting this as an acceptable way of life in the city.

There is always the interesting contrast. The thing that really gets us about Oakland is the architecture. I always thought such statements were boring when people were visiting the UK or Europe - but I really get American architecture. It is so grandiose you cannot fail to get the message. Check these..

I am really happy to just be here and to be experiencing this..

Even the urban areas are treated to some sort of arty atmosphere. I think this is a very good gesture by the powers that be.

The place that John has suggested we visit encompasses a soul food joint and a craft beer establishment. Small wonder that we choose to unravel many blocks of alien territory to do just that. Souley Vegan and Beer Revolution are to be found on the corner of 3rd and Broadway. We do not know that to begin with, but we narrow the field until we find ourselves there. Some vegan pasta and a couple of brilliant beers sort me out easily enough - Sue is content to make do with just food until we find some appropriate bourbon. That shows a degree of dedication don't you think.? We have been treated to a number of cheap sources of Jim Beam in America - perhaps they compensate here for the reduction in freedom to roam the highways. I am not sure - but I think I detect a slight lack of pride in the Jim Beam product name since it has been acquired by a Japanese company. I understand if this is so. I mean - imagine if Harley Davidson had been acquired by Honda.? Actually - now I think of it...

Pushing all such thoughts from our minds, we plunge back into the tunnel that connects us to Alameda. Our haven. This is a fun way to get there.

From day 1 we have enjoyed the style of buildings here too - resplendent as they currently are in 4th July colours..

Or just as they were intended..

We all love the look of these homes.

Having roamed the streets of Alameda for a while, we decide to seek shelter from the heat in a bar. This one.

Here we have a Kiwi in America - heading for a bar. Should we be surprised.?

After suitable refreshment, we head toward town along beautiful tree-lined avenues..

Alameda too has its share of enviable architecture albeit of a slightly lesser scale than Oakland.

We have been exposed to so many sights today, plus we have addressed some mechanical issues, so it is ok to feel happy with it all. Allan, Beth and Peter are leaving today. We collect them from Brents and head for the BART station in Oakland. This is a landmark of our American experience. Having come all this way, we are now saying farewell to the first of the crew to leave. It is a sad thing as we now must accept that this amazing time has a finite end for us all, but these guys are first up. We unload all the gear and say our goodbyes, then watch as they hit the escalators to the platform. Nothing else to say - it has been stupendous and they have been so much a part of proceedings. Peter has been an unexpected inclusion, and we have been able to include him too, which is very pleasing. Goodbye friends - we will see you back at home - but not for another few weeks. We shall try to make those weeks worth the separation.

We return to our temporary home in a reflective mood. Tomorrow another 4 of the crew will begin their trek south to LA to end their trip too. Steve and I will accompany them in the van with Allan and Beths bikes on the trailer. All these bikes will be shipped home to NZ - we have grown so attached to them that we want to take them home. Our shippers of choice are in LA, so that is where they must go.

The beginning of the end. Those of us who will stay will try to shut out the thoughts of it ending for now. We are not ready to say goodbye to America just yet.

6 July 2014

Alameda day 5. The big trek south to LA.

Thomas, Marian, Tom and Helen are heading for LA on their bikes, while Steve and I are driving the van with luggage plus the trailer carrying Allan and Beths bikes. It has been decided that we will make the trip to LA in one day - tall order considering it is over 400 miles and the heat is considerable. Steve has brought his riding gear in case any rider needs a spell along the way. There is no spare time in hand - these guys are to fly out on the 8th, and if we are to deliver the bikes tomorrow morning, there will no time left for extra contingencies. There is a feeling of quiet determination here, and the knowledge that Tom and Helen are returning home early because Tom's Dad has suffered a health crisis adds a certain aura of concern. We will do whatever is necessary to make this go as well as it can - but we are well aware that this is a major haul in the terms of what we have been used to here. Andi and Sue will hold the fort here in Alameda, Ann and Brent will head to San Fran city for a night. The disintegration of our crew is an unpleasant thing, but we remain positive as that is the only wise thing to do. Andi captures the moment of departure.

Here we have Spock at the controls of the Enterprise, and the starfighters lined up astern. It is not the end of anything really - just the beginning of something else. Shame we feel so sombre then. No mind - we have a job to do and we focus on that. Thankfully the traffic is nowhere as dense on the 880 on a Saturday, and we enjoy a clear path as we leave the city and head for the hot inland highway.

Our intended route is via Manteca to Modesto and the 99 south rather than the I-5 that we came north on in our first week. That highway was pretty rough and we made hard work of it. There is only a few miles difference between the two routes, so we will try this one in the hope that it is more pleasant.

The 99 proves to be quite a well surfaced road and we are able to maintain good speed. The riders are determined to do the miles today, and we avoid any stops until well along the way. I do not remember where we stopped - they were just places that occurred at the right time for our needs. Food, gas, water, these things are necessary when you are riding in the heat. The riders are in good spirits and we are making good time. We saddle up and move along.

Watching the GPS calculate our ETA at Mission Hills - at the same hotel we stayed at on our first 3 days in America - we realise that things are not stacking up quite right. We are watching the map as well, and reckon that our arrival time is probably several hours shorter than the GPS thinks. Not sure why this should be, but the numbers suggest our gut feeling is correct. There are a number of stops, and despite the heat which is steadily increasing, all riders elect to stay out there. We respect their judgement. The last ride in America means a lot and these guys are determined not to miss out on a thing. Well done crew - very proud of your stamina today.

Modesto, Turlock, Merced, Madera, Fresno, Tulare, Delano, Bakersfield - places we have heard of and places we have not - all fall beneath the wheels as we relentlessly thunder along. The average speed limit here allows the van to cruise at 65mph, and so we mostly do just that. The bikes are close at hand, so we are synchronised at every stop. This is hardly the most entertaining road we have had the pleasure of - but it is a new one, and we have a task to accomplish. The crew feel very solid today.

After we pass by Bakersfield the road is heading directly for a formidable range of hills. The I-5 intersects and the traffic volume increases, but we are still enjoying the speed limit. We begin climbing and the gradient becomes quite steep and relentless. There are many turnout areas and all are occupied by vehicles with their bonnets up. It would seem that this is a killer of vehicles - and we become rather concerned with our temperature gauge. We are towing a trailer with two motorcycles on it, and the van is certainly under pressure as we attempt to maintain freeway velocity up this major climb. The bikes behind are not at all affected by such things, and simply pace us as we modify our pedal habits in order to preserve safe performance limits. There are no scary moments however, and we reach the top and join the throng rushing down towards the city. We make our last stop up here in the hills in the knowledge that we are well ahead of our schedule, and indeed, we arrive at the Valley Inn mid-afternoon with no navigation issues whatsoever.

We get a big surprise. The Valley Inn was our very first hotel in America. We understood that it was pretty cheap but it was exactly where we needed to be. Our first impression had not been too marvellous, but we relaxed over the 3 days we were here, and nothing bad took place. Now - with two months of varying levels of accommodation behind us - this place looks superb. We marvel over how much it appears they have tidied the place up. Maybe they have - but maybe we have simply become used to much less. Either way, we are glad to be here and the rooms look spacious and comfortable. It makes us laugh.

I text our man in LA - John French. This man has afforded us much of his time and attention, and without his skills this trip would likely have stalled at the first hurdle. I let him know that we are back in town. His response is typical and much appreciated. "Are you thirsty?". I shall not print my response here. It encompasses two punchlines and if you have not heard both jokes you will miss the whole thing. Suffice to say, we go out and buy various selections of brown liquids and proceed to Johns place. From what I remember - it is a grand old time. Lots of happy chatter about all we have seen and done, interspersed with lashings of IPA, double IPA, etc. Having overlooked the need for food, the beer hits me pretty hard, and at some point it is decided that I need to be escorted home. I shall assume that it was in my best interest, but unfortunately, I am very... very... drunk.

I believe the others had a meal of sorts - I was mostly unconscious after answering a phone call from Sue. She was able to make sense of what I said..

So that was nice..

Back in LA.

Whaddya reckon...?

7 July 2014

Alameda day 6 aka Los Angeles to Alameda.

I took no photos on this trip to LA. I should have, but I was totally engrossed in what was happening and did not make the opportunity to do so. Mind you - I was also very, very drunk last night. Not sure what that means, but it does tend to alter your sense of practicality a little. Sue took photos in Alameda, so the folder for this day reflects our being in Alameda, but we wake up in the Valley Inn, Mission Hills, LA. I feel greatly relieved that I wake up at all, and in a good state of health, so all is well. The breakfast offered by this establishment has gone downhill in our estimation, although the boiled eggs are apparently still warm. That may be a revelation in itself. I have half a coffee and half a muffin - but they are not at all what I want. We load up all the gear and proceed to Foytts down in Carson. This is an area near the port, as befits a freight agency. The main man at Foytt is a Kiwi by the name of Pete, and he turns out to be a most agreeable chap. This place has been recommended to several of the crew and their price is very competitive, so they have become our preferred choice. It takes well over an hour to reach their warehouse from our part of the city, and then the paper war begins. They are very good at explaining what is required, and we have things going in the right direction pretty quickly. The bikes are unshipped from the trailer and pushed around to the rear of the building to be parked up with dozens of other bikes all waiting to go somewhere. Allan has omitted the title papers for his and Beths bikes, so they will remain here until the vital documents have been sent back from NZ. Thomas, Marian and Toms bikes are processed immediately, and it seems that they will likely be on the water quite soon. We are also able to do some preparatory work for our bikes which will turn up in a few more weeks, so it is time well spent. Various extra bits are attached to the bikes and we finally depart hoping that all the stuff will reach home in the same condition we are leaving it here.

It is now afternoon, and Helen and Marian spend some time on the internet looking for some suitable accommodation for the night. The Sheraton by the airport seems to be the best overall solution, so we head in that direction. We find it ok, and then create a bit of a problem in the lobby carparking area. None of these places are geared up for trailers as we have found, so we do a bit of a shuffle and are then able to offload the cargo. There seem to be an awful lot of bags, and we wish the crew best luck in managing to drag them all aboard whatever aircraft they find themselves on. They seem quietly confident, so all is well. We say our goodbyes - it is a strange thing as we are all aware that the main part of the trip is now over, yet whilst they return home, we stay on to consolidate our experience of northern California. A sombre time however.

Steve and I hit the freeway north with an empty trailer this time. We refuel in the city then continue back the way we arrived yesterday. Once again we climb the big hill which they call "The Grapevine", as the two halves of the freeway cross each other several times as they follow opposite sides of the valley which the pass negotiates. Once again, we have no temperature issues, even though the air temp here is in the high 30's. We have decided to follow the I-5 back to Alameda as it is the most direct route, and it may not be as bad as we remember. It does not take very long to be reminded that it still is pretty bad. There are only two lanes, and like the huge trucks here, we are relegated to the right lane because we have a trailer and should therefore be limited to 65mph - which is 10 mph over the legal limit. The road surface is badly broken up on the right (slow) lane, and we spend a lot of time trying to remain in the left lane when we can do so without impeding the traffic flow.

We make one stop at a Subway - enjoying some food which at least resembles the sort of food we would rather be eating. From there we make the rest of the trip in one go. 400+ miles in about 5.5 hours - not bad at all. Our respective partners are very surprised to see us before nightfall, and we are happy with how things panned out. We have seen our friends off safely, and demystified the shipping process at the same time. It bodes well.

In a stroke of genius, Andi and Sue have located a rental house in Bodega Bay and secured it for a week. Tomorrow we will move there. It is cheaper than a motel for the same period, so all requirements have been satisfied. Ann and Brent are returned from their sojourn in San Francisco, so we are all here and ready to begin the next part of the adventure.

Goodbye dear friends - and thank you for making this pilgrimage around America with us. It has been awesome indeed.

Now lets see what we can do with a few more weeks...

 

 

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