Global Enduro

Reached Alaska

Righto, I have reached Alaska and am off to pick me bike up... nothing to write as of yet but ill put something down soon.

Alaska-The long trip to the start.

Finally I have found an Internet connection, but all you sticklers for spelling will have to grin and bear it as I have no time to spell check this! On arriving at Anchorage after a tediously long 48 hours involving a travel tavern in Vancouver airport I managed to collect my bike. Mostly all was well but it had no number plate or insurance. After wasting a day and with a bit of moaning both came through. Anchorage looks pretty amazing on landing and I came to the conclusion that everything in Alaska has to be BIG, the state is huge, the animals are huge (as I was greeted by a 15 ft stuffed bear at the airport) and even the local mens mustaches are impressively large. I finally set off towards Fairbanks on the bike leaving behind Anchorage and the pain of WalMart where I chose to equip myself. The weather was cold ish but not too bad. On the way up I met several people who were fascinated by what I am doing and kept trying to offer me a place to stay, which would have been good but they were always back the way I had just come. After about 170 miles I was tired so decided to find somewhere to stay, on the search I found a man on a broken down motorbike. After a bit of help it was fixed which let to another offer of a room, in Anchorage!! useless. So instead I camped by the road side. This was OK, but I was bricking it about Brown bears as several had been shot in the local vicinity. All was OK though as I fell asleep very fast.
In the morning it was freezing (below zero in fact as my bike was frozen, so with much disgust I hauled myself out of my tent. After packing up I moved on. The scenery was awsome as I drove past mt Macinley, I then saw my first piece of exotic wildlife, which also almost became my 1st road kill. This huge lump starting waddling out in front of me, i braked hard shouting various phrases of surprise at what this monster was. It turns out it was a porcupine, and it was a mother of a porcupine, looking  more like a very spikey large family dog. Anyway I found it all quite amusing.
I arrived at Fairbanks where it was so dam hot would you believe, so after much sweating and getting lost I decided to escape, so I went north east 70 miles to some hot springs to chill out. It was OK here but the mosquito's decided I was there favorite meal so the novelty quickly wore off, however on the way I saw wildlife no 2, a moose or should I say a moose and two mouslets, it was bloody huge, about the size of a large horse, on top of that i also looked quite amusing too.
So now we are up to yesterday, where the fun really started. I was setting off up to coldfoot on the Dalton highway, so I bought spares, extra fuel and water and off I went. This was a really really tough day. I covered about 350 miles, of which about 200 were on dirt, and by dirt I mean seriously tough riding. I almost fell off twice but managed to hold it. Halfway through I caught up with two other riders who I was with for a few hours but I wanted to move faster so left them. The views and the mountains were spectacular, prob the most amazing I have seen. I was in true isolation but the road was getting worse and worse. I arrived at Coldfoot in the evening to pitch my tent in a hedge near some huskies as I was told they would keep the bears away. I slept like a log.
Today I got up feeling much better, today was the attempt to get to Deadhorse on the Arctic Ocean (260 miles of dirt) I left in high spirits and was able to average 40 miles per hour on the dirt, but then the rain came, this made the road feel like someone had smeared the whole lot with snot and the results of a bad curry. it was AWFUL, sometime I was down to 10mph. Getting annoyed I trudged on, in dry patches lorries going the other way covered me in dust and rocks, and in the rain it was curry sauce! The suddenly I noticed something on my right.... YES A BEAR! I saw a Brown bear, it was sooooo cool, and once again bloody huge! It moved under cover before I got a photo, but as I looked at it it looked well cuddly, but I thought I shouldn't try giving it some loving. So anyway I was well chuffed.

I carried on through the Attigan Pass, which again was so amazing the view and the landscape was something I could never even explain. Truly incredible. I stopped for lunch with about 160 miles to go to dead horse, all was good. After some soup and a cup of tea I moved off again. The problem with the road is the inconsistency of it, one min its OK gravel, then its potholed tarmac, then its mud, then its deep gravel. The concentration needed is immense and really tiring, so my speed was suffering.
After reaching the North slope which is the flat dull area that leads to the Arctic Ocean the temp drop was amazing. I was FREEZING! As I continued getting ever more tired the temp got lower and lower until the moisture on my visa was freezing, thus making it hard to see the holes! However the views were ever changing and once again amazing. This was true Arctic that you normally see on the telly. Massive ice shelfs, geese, tundra and lots of water, and even my final species spot, a herd of Caribou! The final section to deadhorse felt like forever. The road was horrendous, the worst I had seen, and I was so tired. By this stage I was sick of it all, then to add insult to injury my bike stopped. I was in the middle of nowhere and hadn't seen a vehicle for hours. I sat there for a bit thinking and fiddling then it decided to start again. By the time I arrived in Deadhorse it had done it 3 more times. A bit of concern for me really but I'm too tired to look at it not.
Deadhorse is so miserable. Really foggy and lots of snow and ice, for those of you who have seen the film called 'the thing' I am staying in a place just like that as they wouldn't allow camping due to the Polar bears!!! (a couple of years back someone got their leg eaten off by one before he could shoot it!) So instead I'm staying in 'the things' local habitat for $90. What a rip off, but better than being Polar bear lunch I suppose.
Tomorrow I head back to Coldfoot and the long leg to the Yukon. I would like to say the bike is going well, and it was until just before Deadhorse, but we shall see. I am sorry I cannot load photos right now as the rules here forbid ever thing except large mustaches. Sorry but i will try load them in a few days.
I'm sure I forgotten lots more but my hand hurts and this is costing Deadhorse Internet rates which suck!
big love,
Mendus

Deadhorse to Valdez

After my trip to Deadhorse I awoke the next day with a distinct lack of enthusiasm to firstly try fix the bike, and then to make my way down that same dreaded road again, however what a difference a day makes. The freezing fog had lifted, the sun was out and you could almost say that it was warm! I felt much better after a sleep and some food that wasn't cooked in a mess tin, so I packed my stuff up to leave, fueled up and even managed to fix the bike fault. I left after doing that standard photo call at the Deadhorse sign post with the intended finish for the day to be back at my camping spot in Coldfoot.
I found the ride back far easier as firstly I think I knew what to expect, but also you get the feel for crappy surfaces and actually become half decent at riding on them. I took many opportunities to get photos and halfway through the day I had my standard mess tin of food for lunch looking over the most amazing view of the Atican pass (see photos if they work!) I must say, I did sit there eating my dried moose hide pasta dish thinking that this lunch even rivaled the joy of the boots meal deal on Tottenham Court Road.
I got back to Coldfoot around 8 that night, and decided to have a beer at the Alaskan excuse for a bar, as I sat there supping moonshine some old goat started ranting to me that crash helmets were not only no safer than not wearing one, but in fact more dangerous.... as he settled on his seat with a deep intake of breath I was forced to accept that I was in for the long haul about how helmets are a big government conspiracy to polish off bike riders, so instead of agreeing to disagree I had to agree with him that he was right so at least he would let me slope off to my tent!
The next day once again brought utter misery with it. I woke up after a shocking nights sleep. I wasn't sure if it was the horror of being told how my crash helmet would eat me alive, or if it were the howling gail bashing against my tent. I settled for the latter.
I thought to myself the day can only get better, but how wrong I was. The riding was OK, then I decided to stop and try and fish. After about 30 seconds on the river bank and a loss of what felt like 3 pints of blood I finally gave into the mosquito attacks and got back on my bike. I was not pleased as I had got a fishing rod and bait to at least try it out once... oh which side tracks me slightly to add I think I had achieved some form of world record, not for enduring the most amount of mosquito bites, or for listening to mad old men talk about conspiracy theories, but for carrying a pot of earthworms the farthest ever. I bought them at the bait stall in WallMart along with my rod, and after almost 2000 miles I have still not used them, and in fact they are still alive and wriggling. I am starting to feel slightly attached to my stinky little pot of worms, and right now they are squirming away out in the car park in Valdez. If only Norris Mcwerter was still alive I would check if any record had indeed been broken.
Anyhow, I digress.... So here I was escaping many well fed mosquitoes when the rain started, and it rained hard. The smooth ish mud road I was on turned into the infamous poo soup I described before. It was shocking, and for another 150 miles I endured this, which also I may add let to 3 temporary breakdowns as the mud had covered my radiator and was overheating the bike. By throwing puddle or river water at the rad with my small cup numerous times i got it clean enough to do another 15 miles, I then had to repeat the process. Tedious. Finally to top off my day the bike formed an electrical fault and decided to stop working. After much cursing I figured out the problem, got it going and plodded back to Fairbanks, where me and the bike enjoyed a well deserved car wash by some red neck who had great pleasure in hosing me down. The electrical fault was bypassed the next day by bike dealership. Ah sweet warranty.
After a night in an overpriced Motel which I'm sure was the kind that normally charged by the hour, I escaped towards Valdez to see some mountains and glaciers, and as it always seems to go for me, in the space for about 2 hours whilst faffing around at petrol stations and asking for directions etc I had 3 offers of places to stay the night, but once again they were all back the way I had just come. Bugger. However I must say that the majority of Americans up here are super friendly and after making the offer of a place to stay, they then give you their details and their friends in the area in case you need any help, so in general I am most impressed. I think it is mainly due to me being much like a zoo animal, by that I mean something of interest in a kind of alien way. This then creates the lust for them to study me further by asking if I would like to stay with them. Anyhow whatever the reasons it is pretty nice really, and hopefully I may find someone who will offer me a place when I arrive, not when I leave.
So last night I camped in a hedge halfway between Fairbanks and Valdez. For some reason I was bricking it most of the night that I was going to be eaten or kidnapped, but clearly neither happened. Right now I am in Valdez after seeing a Glacier and getting mightily cold in the process. It even decided to snow on me.
Anyway, lets see what this town has to offer.
Mendus

Out of Alaska and into Canada

Bin Laden and his cronies are clearly going about it the wrong way by shooting and blowing stuff up. The obvious way to bring the great USA to its knees is to steal all the deep fat fryers in the country and hide them in a large hole. In turn the nation would slowly starve.... There is a point to this rant, and it is this. It is seemingly impossible to get any form of nutrition in this country unless it has first been passed through the experience of a deep fat fryer! Seriously, even if you want a piece of fruit, first it will have to be deep fat fried. It is (or was I should say) slowly driving me insane, but with crossing the boarder I now feel the excitement of having some form of food stuff which will not fill up a pint glass with oil if squeezed vigorously for 1 minute.
Anyhow on arriving in Valdez in South Eastern Alaska I stared in wonder at the views of the mountains, canyons, bald eagles and old people but then realized that the town had nothing to offer anyone in the form of entertainment unless you were very rich of had a serious addiction to Halibut, of which there were many. I camped over night feeling pleased with myself that I had seen an eagle and left the next morning. I was riding back the same way in order to head up to a place called Chicken so was riding over the same old freezing mountain range when joy of all joys what should I see, and almost run over but a Wolverine. Yes they are real and not a figure in a cartoon. For those of you who don't know, they are the toughest bastards this side of the Atlantic, with only an African Honey Badger taking the trophy for being slightly tougher. They are in the same family and about the same size. They will take on anything including a Grizzly without so much as a whimper. Due to this I did not stop to patt it but admired it from a slow speed. Having seen it the locals tell me that even they hardly ever see them and they are really rather rare (almost even rarer if it had taken on the front end of my KLR). So I was most chuffed. After riding another 350 miles I arrived at Chicken 100 miles west of the Canadian boarder. This was a strange place. A few buildings, with a few locals in a bar with about 4000 pants and bras on the ceiling that  they capture of unsuspecting women and shoot out of a real cannon they have by the door. It was funny here, so I camped in there car park and had a few beers with the locals. After which one of them (not sure if it was Cletus or Ricky-Bobby) decided to show me his gun collection tossed on the back seat of his pick up (loaded I might add in case zee Germans come!). This amounted to a large bore rifle, a magnum hand gun and a machine gun. He let me play with them all. (see photo)
That evening two old chaps rocked up on their Honda Goldwings, god knows how they drove them down those roads, but they did and very slowly so they tell me. I had a chat with them and they gave me some tips on places to stay in the USA (lower 48). I left them and rode on the last 100 miles of gravel I expect to see till Mexico. What a lovely feeling, and would you believe after only 12 days or so I already am desperate for a new rear tyre, so thats what these roads do to them (2225 miles so far).
Anyhow I am currently in Dawson City 60 miles over the Canadian boarder in the Yukon. The river is REALLY high due to snow melt and you have to get this tub of a ferry over from the Alaskan side to the town. This town seems funny. Its really old looking from the gold rush day (to some extent a bit touristy) but I found a campsite and am now in town. Tonight I'm told I have to go to the Casino, yes the CASINO and drink a shot with a human toe floating in it! Apparently people bequeath their big toe in their will to the bar where it is placed in a shot and you down the shot and kiss the toe at the end. They keep said toe in formaldehyde to stop it getting stinky. Lovely.
The weather has also warmed up loads so no more freezing nights for the time being, but plenty of mosquitoes instead.
I plan to stay here a couple of days then take the high road towards Whitehorse where I can get my new tyre. From there who knows but I plan to be in Vancouver for the 25th ish.
Right thats all I have to say now. I just feel lucky I have found a good Internet connection so thought I would write.
bye.

ROAD KILL COUNT: 1  (sparrow, in flight I might add)
TYRE COUNT: 1

The Yukon to British Columbia

Well its been a few days since I last wrote something, and it has been challenging few days as well, some rather tedious and cold, others pretty good fun. I am only loading up some of the pics I take as the program seems to take ages to do, but I'm sure you're all fine with that!
So on arriving in Dawson City I chose to stay there for a couple of days. It is a nice place with a good nightlife in terms of Yukon partying (i.e it has a bar!) So I went out and sampled the delights of the casino and the toe bar. After much deliberation and a firm squeeze I chose not to suck the dead mans toe as it still seemed quite juicy (see pic) After two days there doing a spot of sight seeing I left to head South towards Whitehorse (capital of the Yukon) I got there quite late and found one of those do-gooder type hostels, you know the ones, they tend to have some lame god comment above the door like 'look after Jesus and he will blah blah blah for you' or something to that effect, with the standard picture of a kitten playing with a ball of string next to it. Urgh! vomit inducing. Anyhow, it was a good sleep, and I needed to make a few plans to try and find a source for a new tyre as mine was balder than Richard O'Brian after a case of alapecia.
Finding a tyre in Whitehorse was like trying to catch that small lepricorn that you're told as a child jumps out of your pack of lucky charms, basically it was impossible. Quotes of two to three weeks were flying around in conversation which had me a tad concerned. After much searching I hit the jackpot and went to the local Honda dealership where I had found just the tyre I was after, however this did come at a Yukon style price of $230!!
I left Whitehorse after a successful second oil change thanks to Leroy at Oily Lube Inc letting me use his yard. The journey south involved riding the Cassier highway into BC. After 350 miles I was so tired, and some batty old woman who looked about 400 told me I would be bear food if I slept in another hedge, so she told me to go to a state camp ground. This was a Sh#t idea. The place charged me a fortune for a piece of dirt and no form or running water, but I was far too tired to carry on, and in the middle of nowhere so I was forced to admit defeat and stay there.
In the morning I was in a foul mood as it was bloody freezing again so I promptly left to at least do something. On leaving I had been told the Cassier highway was jam packed with bears. The road is amazing with large forests, loads of massive glacial lakes and huge mountains. Def. worth the drive even if the road was in bad shape along much of it. To add to this the bear stories began coming true as I found myself weaving between piles of bear turd a bit like they make you negotiate those cones during your cycling proficiency test at primary school. Thanks to the informative way the BBC farms out David Attenborough I recognized the bear dumps from a distance, and guess what, I even recognized the fat black bear that was lounging in the middle of the road round a blind corner! Quite a beast I must say.(not that I doubted it considering his evident bowel movements). He soon moved on and I continued for a long long time through brilliant scenery.
During the rest of the ride I had a personal meeting with a black fox supporting a recently chomped rabbit. In fact he was a very friendly chap who came right up to the bike a sat down next to me, but I got scared in case he wanted to gnaw on me as well so I rode off. After seeing in total another 7 black bears in various places as well as another Grizzly with 3 cubs the days wildlife spotting was a bit of a success.
I arrived in Hyder, which is actually back in Alaska (just) around 6pm and am camping out here for the night. The place even has a bar! The weather is nice and warm for now and the bike seems to be going very well. I shall head off towards Jasper and Banff in the next 5 days or so then to Skilletts plot of land in Vernon to have a well earned leak smack in the middle of his plot (this ones for you Bailey I hope you appreciate it!)
Anyway signing out for a bit, hope all is well in Blighty, and hi Lui xxx
laters moi.

The Rockies, the Snow and accepting defeat!

Well here I am again, at last able to access a computer. Unfortunately this machine is armored like fort Knox so I am unable to get to the USB port to add photos. I shall do so at a later date.
So, From Hyder to now, as always it has been a varied few days and in fact great fun. In Hyder which was a small village just inside Alaska I made camp and really lucked out, as there was a tour group there who took pity on me so fed and watered me. I met a few interesting people who offered places to stay on my way down the US which was appreciated and I also got 'Hyderised' which meant the bar fed me some form of booze that will take the enamel off your teeth, and if you don't throw it back up (which I might add I didn't) then you get an official card saying that you are 'Hyderised'. Anyway the next day I left in good time to drive to Smithers, a town about 4 hours away with the hope that I would be able to stay with some people...
I arrived in Smithers after a nice trip in good weather. I couldn't get hold of my contact in town as the number was wrong so chose to drive to their address hoping all would be well. After waiting Kirsten arrived with the kids and after a mild look of surprise welcomed me to stay however long I liked. Don came back from work later and I stayed two days with the family and had a great time. Smithers turned out to be a really nice town and the hospitality I was shown was amazing. I met their friends at a party the next night and even helped (to an extent) to set up the festival that was happening the week after.
Due to meeting so many nice people I was able to stay with Scott and his family (who are friends with Don and Kirsten) at Prince George, which is a town around 4 hours East of Smithers. On the way there I rode through a terrible thunder storm with tonnes of rain and lightening. I was slightly apprehensive about the fork lightening as it was hitting very close to the road, during which I noticed a dead black bear by the side of the road, positioned suspiciously near an electrical pylon. My initial thought was that the unfortunate bear had been cocking its leg against the pylon when a rogue lightening strike sent him to his grave! On closer inspection I deduced that the Dunlop tyre print across said bear head suggested it had argued with a truck rather than mother nature. Anyhow, after a night with Scott and his family I left to head to Jasper and Banff in the Canadian rockies. The views were simply spectacular. The only unfortunate side of things was that I had hit RV country, and the traffic was crawling with the complete cross-section of the grey pound chugging up every road whilst stopping without warning at the sight of anything which may carry fleas, and offer some form of a photo opportunity.
Jasper was visually nice, but I hate to say it, mountains and lakes were starting to look the same, and in fact I felt the ones up North that were minus the tourists and 7000 tonnes of concrete laid everywhere had far more appeal to me than what was on offer here.
The road to Banff from Jasper (93) was simply amazing, the views were incredible (if you could see past the hundred or so RVs blocking the way) and the glaciers, rivers and waterfalls were most easy on the eye.
On taking the back road to Banff it was like being in some kind of Walt Disney production. The grass was greener than green, the flowers were blossoming and the mountain sheep were posing for photos. In fact I almost expected Yogi Bear to jump out and steal a picnic basket, however I think the RV in front of me had just run him over whilst looking at a sheep. When I pulled into Banff, it was what I expected, massively touristy and expensive. If it wasn't for meeting up with AJ and Kate (friends of a friend) then it would have been a might dull. After paying huge amounts of money for a crappy hostel full of guitar strumming arses I Promptly left the next day. On the day of leaving I did go and see some great lakes (including lake Louise from all the photos) which were amazing if not a tad spoiled by tourism. The rest of the day was taken up with driving South.
This brings us to last night. I slept in a hedge to try a recoup some of the money Banff clawed out of me. This was fine but again I had a bad nights sleep as I chose to camp off the road near a small rocky cliff. All night I kept hearing stones tumbling down the face of the cliff, but not knowing what was doing it. For fear of being eaten alive I armed myself with bear spray and an improvised flame thrower in the form of WD-40 and a lighter. (how A-team!) Lucky for me neither was required.
Finally we reach today, and OH MY GOD, what a day! I left my hedge and was fed and watered by a mad woman at a petrol (sorry, gas station) She even gave me a post card of her petrol pumps to take home with me, ahh I shall treasure that one! I left the petrol station and headed for a road I had been told to take which is a logging track (or pass) that goes over the mountain to a ferry. This was going to cut out a lot of time and give some great views. I found the track and asked how it was at the local garage, he told me the route was closed due to snow but I would be OK of that 'fancy two wheeled thingy' So off I went....
The track was called Gray Creek Pass (curse it!) It was awful, the worst road I have taken yet, and that is saying something after doing the Dalton from Deadhorse. The rocks were huge and everywhere, and the track was very thin, however, what is 50 miles I chuckled to myself. The first 30 miles was slow but the views were incredible. This was true wilderness with creeks I had to drive through and really old huge pine trees. I even saw a wolf which was amazing and really rare so I'm told. Anyway, as you can appreciate, as the pass was officially closed there was no traffic at all. Nothing. I carried on riding and after a while I came across a few junctions. After this I became really quite lost ( remembering how the petrol station man told me I couldn't get lost!) I rode down various tracks for a while, and finally, and after using my compass would you believe it, found my way. Then out of the blue appeared a Chinaman eating a large sandwich. I stopped to check I was going the right way with a smirk on my face, but lowe and behold he spoke no English at all (what was a Chinaman doing in the middle of nowhere you may ask, and I too asked myself this question, but he was clearly being fed and watered so I left him to it)
I carried up the hill for a few more miles and must have only been 20 Miles from the other side of the valley when I hit snow. This was bad.
The snow was in drifts so I could see solid ground on the other side of the drift. I rode into the first one and sank about 2 ft! I was totally stuck. It took me 45 mins to dig and ride myself out of that drift, but with British determination I rode on to the the next drift. This one I hit at speed to try and plough through it... Bad move. It was really deep and I ended up in the middle of the drift buried about 3 to 4 ft down. I was totally stuck.
Over the next 2 hours! Yes two bloody hours in a section of only 100 yards of snow I tried everything I could to free the bike, I was digging, swearing, spinning the wheel, and of course dropping the bike countless times. All this was to try and go back as there was no chance of moving forward. Its funny because as you become more desperate you start to imagine really stupid stuff, so there was me scratching my head trying to work out how to get the bike out thinking all the time that a mountain lion was about to eat me. This feeling was made all the worse as I thought I would never be able to shift the bike.  After much tugging and hauling and falling as well as unpacking the whole bike and removing the panniers I managed to reverse it out. It pains me to this minute that I did not get through that snow, and in fact I even tried to ride through the trees, but got stuck in mud. However I figure it takes a bit of courage to try these things, but more to accept defeat, and my god that snow defeated me in style. I was exhausted. On the way back though the first drift I had my first fall whilst moving, good practice I recon, and in fact I was going very slowly. It only made me feel even more humbled that you can be a mere 20 miles from your goal in a developed country but still be in the middle of nowhere, and really in the shit!
I rode all the way back down that logging path in a foul mood at being beaten, but all wasn't bad as I saw the Chinaman still on the road and he had managed to finish his sandwich, so I gave him a wave and rode on looking defeated.
Moral of today is heed the advise of the forestry service when they say a road is closed, and not the advice of a mad petrol pump attendant.
After completing another 125 mile ride to the ferry the longway round (excuse the punn) I passed the track that I should have come out of 5 hours earlier. Added mileage 123. Nice. I caught the ferry and rode to Nelson, which is where I am now, feeling much better and in fact this town seems really cool so I may stay here a few days.
Thanks again to everyone who has put me up in the last week, I had a great time, and dam those snowy mountain passes.
Wait for the few pics, ill stick them on when I find a computer that will let me.
Bye, Simon
p.s.... The photo of the bike in the snow was the easy bit I managed to get through! The hard bit after that was not captured on camera as photos were the last thing on my mind at that stage, just try to imagine another 2 ft of snow added to that pic!

Hobos, the seaside and people called Steve

At long last I have reached the coastline of the Pacific, and for all intensive purposes completed the fist leg of the journey.
Nelson, which is the town were I last left you is a fun place. It is basically full of hippies, cool bars and lots of vegetarian restaurants, so if you ignore the fact that every tree hugger looks undernourished and in desperate need of a hunk of cow to add colour to his face then the place is most agreeable.
I stayed in a hostel which was by far the Hilton equivalent of Hosteling. It was well nice. I met with the guy who worked there and ended up going out for organic beers (what else of course). So because of this I had a good few days there. On my day of departure disaster stuck. This was certainly going to be a day of mourning...
I was packing my bike back up when I noticed some hemp under pant wearing scoundrel had stolen my pot of 'Wriggly Jims bait worms' from the floor by my bike. For those of you who are wondering what I am talking about, basically they are some worms I bought with the intention to fish with, but after laziness, too many mosquitoes and 5500 miles of being travel buddies I had becomes pretty attached to my squirming friends.
The only reasoning I can come up with to why the clepto-hippy would want to steal my worms, is that either he was looking to expand his organic worm farm, or he finally had a hankering for a bit of meat, and whilst his hippy friends were too stoned to notice he took the opportunity to tuck into my bait. Dam him. In truth I must admit that I hadn't actually checked on my worms for a good few weeks, so they were probably more like twiglets than the juicy looking picture on the front of the pot. So not much nourishment for you Swampy.
I left Nelson feeling at a loss from such reliable travel partners, who never moaned about where I was heading or how impatient I am. But I soon got over it with the thought that at least I may have converted some fungus munching do-gooder to the way of the omnivore.
I got to Vernon and up the mountain to Silverstar where the Skillet plot of land was to be my home for about 12 hours. The roads were really twisty all the way there, but it also tipped down with rain so I was feeling rather soggy on arrival. The plot of land is decidedly bushy, and it was tough to find a place to pitch the tent, so I was forced to put it right by the road side. Very quickly curtains began twitching as the plot is surrounded by other houses. Finally a plump man called Lennard appeared, we had a chat and he told me that there were no shops open to get food. he then went into his house and came out with tins of food for me as well as beer. Nice one Lenny. So that night I was again well fed and watered for free.
The next day I was off to Whistler, on leaving the Skillett empire I left a pre-housewarming gift behind the big tree at the front, about 6ft up. So Guy you now are the proud owner of my fishing rod ($10 from walmart, and a bit broken) as well as a little note. I felt I could give the rod away as it no longer had a purpose what with the worms now being part of the criminal underworld.
I had yet another wet ride to Whistler and enjoyed yet another litre of oil with a burger floating somewhere in it at a hick pub in some god awful town. The rest of the trip was uneventful until about 15 km from Whistler, where I secured my second confirmed road kill. I was riding happily along when a pheasant kind of bird thing flew out of the hedge and made significant enough contact with the front end of my bike to in fact become part of the bike (see pic below) The impact was at around 65 mph, and lucky for me I was considerably better off than the bird.
Whistler was nice but again very touristy. In fact the other 4 squillion Aussies that hadn't worked out the road continued to Banff had ended up staying here. I had a good night with a few locals doing the usual drinking but decided I would leaving the next day to reach Vancouver.
I left for vancouver the next morning feeling some what delicate from drinking horrid shots of black stuff. The ride was only a few hours and I had actually tried to be organized and booked a place to stay. I arrived in vancouver, which it seems is actually a very pleasant city. It has a fair amount of greenery which is nice, and isn't that busy so in fact you don't really feel like you're in a big city. There are however, and incredible amount of hobos wondering the street and asking me for my money. The great thing is that they then look stupendously surprised when I refuse to hand over any of my hard earned (actually borrowed) money so as they can buy yet more petrol-scented booze to refuel with. The response to their utter shock at not being handed free money is normally something in the line of burbling and a pungent waft from their tenants super strength breath.
Anyhow, besides the copious amount of hobos littering the streets, the city is very nice, and my view on Canadian people since arriving here is that they are all  very very friendly. Also I have even learnt a few useful facts, 1. Australians do live in other parts of the world other than their country and Earls Court, 200 to a house. 2. Most Canadians are very helpful and don't always say 'Eh' after every sentence (every other one is more like it) and finally 3. Not all Canadians are called Steve. (Sorry Noon, our age old theory has been blown out of the water.)
I am just finishing off this section in Jeff and Daniels flat in Victoria on Vancouver Island where i am having a really cool time. The town is like a really nice English seaside town, and Jeff, Daniel and all their friends are showing me a quality time. Tomorrow is Canada day so it should be more fun and general consumption of beer. Excellent. After recovering from a hangover whilst watching Das Boot (5 hours of film is certainly long enough to recover so Das Boot = ideal) A few more days of fun will be perfect before I have to negotiate the USA.
The next post will be state side as long as the lovely immigration men decide I don't look or smell funny, which is tough when you have only had 3 t-shirts to wear in 5 weeks.
bye.

Miles completed: 5530
road kills: 2 (both in flight!!!)

Welcome to the land of the Free!

I left Victoria after a very enjoyable period of drinking and having general Canada day fun. I arrived at the ferry port to get a boat over to the Olympic National Park in the USA. After fulfilling the main immigration criteria of not have a wild beard and a strangely brown appearance I thought I would be in without too much hassle, however this was not the case. About 1 hour later, which included searching through all my stuff he finally agreed that maybe I was really just riding through. Next stop the USA....
I arrived in Port Angeles then carried on through the Olympic national park passing a large lake, which I forget the name of, but I'm sure it was something like 'Elastic Waistband Lake' (well maybe not but the name seemed to suit the area, therefore I have chosen to re-name it). The amount of grotesquely fat women wobbling in and out of their RV's was quite astonishing. I started to question whether or not they were indeed RV's, but in actual fact huge 'mobility chairs' that the stenna stairlift company had seen a niche for. Every single one seemed to be occupied by a blimp of a human. When I was told the coast was good for whale watching I didn't mean they meant human whales! Anyhow, I hope I have no really fat readers, and if so I'm sorry... I'm sure you're not fat anyway, just big boned.
I rode on escaping 'Elastic Waistband Lake' and made for Mt. Rainer where I thought I would camp for the night before arriving in Seattle. I rode round the State Capitol called Olympia but then got stuck riding through the centre of a town called TaCOMA, and by Christ what a dump. I felt great sympathy for any poor sod who ended up living here, with the biggest attraction being 17 miles of fast food restaurants, and on leaving the town I felt how apt the name seemed to be, as quite frankly I recon the only way to survive the place would actually be to fall into a COMA, and really hope you would not wake up to spend a lifetime viewing Burger king and McDonald's every way you looked.
I camped near Mt Rainier which was stunning. It was impressive purely due to the fact the mountain appears from nowhere like a huge blot on the horizon. Very pleasant. I arrived at the camp ground so late that I managed to sneak in and out Gratis. Even better!
The next day I made some calls to the Family friends I was going to stay with a few nights, so I arrived at the Hodders house just north of Seattle midmorning. I had a really lovely time staying with them, and they made me feel really welcome. I spent the first evening in with them, then the next day I went into the city for the 4th July stuff. I hate to say it to all my US friends, but as far as I can tell the Canadians know how to party a bit better, but I suppose in Canada they haven't got half as many ridiculous laws just to stop anyone having any fun...Check this out, here a couple of utterly ridiculous laws the Americans thought it a good idea to introduce. Fireworks, now we all love explosions, especially the USA, or so I thought, but clearly not... In most counties in Washington it is illegal to buy any fireworks bigger than those little finger caps we used to throw as children, however, all you need to do is drive 30 mins up the road to an Indian reservation where by the roadside you can buy something that resembles a scud missile with a sparkler attached to the top, to only then drive back to the illegal part of town and set it off, grinning with glee as your neighbors experience the fall out. Classic. Here is another law, as I have got going now... Lucky for me I was informed that it is actually illegal to fill up your own petrol tank in Oregon. So what seemed to happen on a regular basis was some spotty teenager would swan out form the shop and make some half arsed attempt to fill up my bike. The only problem with this was that they would stick the nozzle right into the tank, fill it up till it cut-out, which would be about 1 litre. I would then point out that unless he wanted me to run out of petrol 20 miles down the road, then he is better off letting me do it. This may not sound that bad, but after the 10th time of explaining this I was almost ready to risk being arrested and jailed for life just so I could get a full petrol tank. AARRGH!
Anyhow, I feel I am ranting about bad American stuff, which is unfair as there are plenty of good things too, for one you can turn right on a red light, now thats good. But lets be honest it wouldn't be so amusing if I wrote about all the red lights Ive turned right on would it.
After a fun time in Seattle, which involved meeting a few new friends and my friends Kat, I left to head south. I rode along the coast of Oregon through Astoria where the Goonies was filmed, so after the necessary photo shoot of the house, the jail and the beach I moved on along the coast. The whole coastline is very picturesque, and at a risk of exposing my sensitive side it was quite beautiful. I arrived at a small place called Cannon Beach. This is where the Goonies beach is, and it seemed like a very nice place, if not rather pricey. So there I am preparing to sleep in a hedge whilst having some food when I meet a guy called Richard and his daughter, we get chatting over a beer, and to cut a long story short, they were kind enough to let me sleep at their cottage right by the beach. That was really cool as I didn't feel like sleeping in yet another bush.
The next day I carried on inland towards Crater Lake where the weather got super hot. It was actually a very long ride so I slept by a river 90 miles West of the lake and went to see it the next day. It was an incredible place which as always the pics never do justice to. I spent a few hours there before taking back roads through Oregon back towards the coast. Oregon is really a lovely State, even inland once you escape the fast-food towns.
Back at the coast I entered the Redwood national park, and with that I also crossed into California. The redwoods are, to no ones surprise, bloody huge! Its all very 'Jurrasic Park' when riding through them. I camped in the national park that night, then the next day planned to ride to San Fransico to meet with some friends.
The next day was one of those days where everything goes wrong. I did the standard 'drive through a tree' thing before carrying on to San Fran via some dirt roads. I was staying on highway 1 which you would not believe how wiggly this road is unless you had to drive down it; but alongside that it had incredible views all the way down. So here I am riding down H1 50 miles north of San Fran when it happens..... The bike BREAKSDOWN! Would you believe it but the beast actually stops dead.....
I found myself in a lay by between very small towns along the coast. Initially I act a bit cool about it as I had just filled up with fuel so thought the spotty teenager had put diesel in. After much inspection the fuel is good, but I have no spark. Over the next 4 hours I had the bike totally stripped but was at a complete loss to why it wouldn't spark. Then a nice lady pulls over to offer help. I get the number of a Kawasaki dealer in the next town 20 miles away. I call them up, but it is a real struggle as they aren't too happy about towing me back. The lady leaves as I say Im fine, but end up getting fobbed off by the dealer, so Im back being stranded. Then another nice person pulls over. A guy on a Harley. Its quite ridiculous as everywhere you ride, every single biker will wave at you like a total buffoon, but when push comes to shove and you really need some help, this was the only guy on a bike who bothered to check if i was OK out of a large number who rode by. So the next wave I get is going to be answered with two fingers waving back.
Anyhow this guy is awesome, we push the bike 1/2 mile to a store where he has a beer waiting for me, he then calls the dealer and talks American to them, which makes them come and get me. The dealership was actually very good, but it took them that evening and the next morning to even get the bike going. The cause still remains a slight mystery but is was linked to the accursed cut-out circuit again! (please note what a crap job the dealer in Fairbanks did as they were supposed to have fixed that!) Anyway, it is now totally shorted out so no more cut out probs I hope. Also it is very sobering that this problem could have occurred in the Yukon, or Alaska or in fact could have happened in 1 week when I am in death valley. Quite scary really, but all is good. One final note on this disastrous day is this. That night was spent in the worst campsite ever. It cost me a small fortune and the staff there were utter fu**kers. They wouldn't even lend me 25 cent to call my San Fran friends to let them know the situation. I will not go on, but if anyone reading this finds themselves in Petaluma (CA) never stay at their camp ground, in fact, go there do a turd in their reception, then leave again. I would appreciate that.
Finally on Thursday I arrived in San Fran to meet up with me friends Jon and Bob. San Fran seems very cool, if not  bit foggy. Right now I am recovering from 3 nights of merryment, and am about to head off to Yosemite N.P. The long weekend was fuelled with much entertainment, and all I can say is that I hope I am invited to the imminent wedding Bob, and the birth of you first 10 children which I'm sure will follow very soon, and whilst I'm on the subject can I come to the house warming when you find a place to buy next week! Anyway enough of the private jokes, I have had a quality time so thanks to Bob for letting me pas out on a regular basis on his sofa, intermittently watching 7 hours of man vs wild, and thanks for coming all the way out here from Hotlanta Jon. Good times, and we need to do it again very soon.
This has been an epic amount to write about, and I'm sure I have forgotten lots but my hands ache now. Next stops Yosemite, LA, Vegas and then San Diego. Signing out.
p.s Very annoyed as I never got to go onto Alcatraz.... Jon I know you feel my pain too. All the overweight school kids in the area had pre-booked the tickets so there was no chance of getting out there. gutted.
p.p.s pics to follow soon

Highway 1, LA and the hot trip to Vegas

I left San Fransisco in a kind of refreshed way. I was heading east towards Yosemite National Park, as everyone had been raving about it. I arrived there in the late afternoon to be met with so much traffic it was quite unbelievable for a national park. I drove in and headed for the main attraction being the valley where the famous mountains and waterfall is situated. Would you believe it but I actually found myself stuck in a traffic jam in the middle of the park which was a pretty big disappointment as you can only image the number of people that were also there.
The park itself is very impressive, and if I could have afforded it then it would have been an excellent place to try my hand at rock climbing, but along with the large number of tourists came a high price to do anything at all.
I arrived at a campsite which seemed to house the only wildlife stupid enough to hang around, being hundreds of squirrels. The were forever trying to get in and out of everything, if only the militant park rangers would allow people like me to eat them I would have had a feast that night, but for some reason the rangers would have none of it.
The campsite was actually OK, and had a great view of the valleys sheer walls, i was camping near some young American couple who it seemed had brought everything they owned with them... I even thought I saw some form of sink, not sure if it was a kitchen one though! They were very friendly, and after asking me what I was up to, they found it interesting enough to ply me with ice cold beer from their travel fridge. Very nice indeed.
I left the next day as I could stand it no more, and in actual fact the park wasn't as amazing as everyone had made it out to be. I'm afraid my vote still lies with North Alaska. I headed back west to meet with Highway 1 and head towards an area called Big Sur. The trip to the coast wasn't very exciting, but when I reached the coastal road the views were spectacular. I would definitely say that the stretch of H1 from San Fran to Santa Barbara is the nicest, and far nicer than the section north of San Fran. The sea seems to be much bluer, and the cliffs far more dramatic, and certain points the road hangs onto the cliff so close to the edge that all you can see is a sheer drop to the bottom. This however is not a motorcyclists biggest concern, the main concern for me, once again was the tourists in their cars feeling it was fine to drive on either side of the road as long as the were looking at the view, but what with the laws in this country, maybe that is OK. Who knows?
I arrived on the section know as Big Sur, named after a tiny settlement. This area is pretty empty of towns and is therefore very expensive indeed. I passed a place I had been told about called the Eselan Institute whilst looking for a hedge to camp in. Camping was impossible for free but I had heard that the natural hot springs at this institute were amazing and only $20 if you go between 1 and 3 am, rather than the many hundreds of dollars you must pay for any other time. Therefore I thought this a good way to spend the night, and I was lucky enough to get a space.
I rode on and to my surprise managed to find a cheap ish camp ground, so pitched up and slept to prep myself for my night excursion.
Now I need to brief you with a bit of history about the Eselan Institute before I go on. It was founded back when free love was still free, HIV was still just a bad case of the Flu and new age healing apparently worked. During this period some wealthy hippy healer decided he would invest in a healing retreat to 'find yourself' and thus this pricey escape was founded, and to rich people who follow this stuff it is apparently very famous.
So at 1am I arrived at the place, well actually at the lay by next to it , as us peasants were not allowing to drive in. It was very surreal and I was worried I may have ended up at some local wife swapping hang out as other cars began to gather. These people were in fact fairly normal, and were also there for the hot springs. We were met by an employee and taken down in the pitch black to the springs. In actual fact this old skeptic was quite impressed, it was really rather nice. The sky was totally clear and no moon, so without sounding too batty about it all, you could see some very nice shooting stars etc. The hot springs were built onto the cliff edge so directly below was the sea crashing against the rocks. All very nice. The only thing that I was slightly taken aback by was all the new age types insist on getting butt naked to aid the calmer or something, so I had to adopt the old saying 'if you cant beat them, join them.' So here I was butt naked in a hot spring with a load of people who were talking about the cosmos. Normally I would feel like vomiting at having to listen to this tripe, but actually I was quite content. It must have been the sulphur or something! I leave this little story with one last point. Why is it that every person who is happy to peel off their clothes in these instances are never in the slightest bit easy on the eye, instead they look like they have just been dredged from the local swamp and released into the community. Oh well, life isn't perfect I suppose.
The next day I relaxed at the same campsite, and even hauled my carcass down the cliff for a little stroll, during which I managed to burn my back to a crisp in the hot sun. My plan was to continue the day after to Santa Barbara via an Elephant Seal colony and Hearst Castle.
I woke up in good time and rode on the short trip to both sites. I arrived at the Seal Colony and was most impressed at a/ how smelly there were, and b/how bloody fat there were. You were able to get really close, and get a real good whiff as well. Lovely. But in actual fact they were very cool, and I recon given a wash and a bit of a diet would have made interesting guard-seals, training would obviously be needed but by crikey they had bad attitudes and seemed to be always up for a fight with each other.
After checking out the bad-arsed seals I moved on just 3 miles to Hearst Castle. I was more than prepared to be really disappointed like I am with most museums in the USA, but I hate to admit it but I was really quite taken aback. Lucky for me I arrived early enough to avoid the blimps and their motor homes. I payed the extortionate fee for the 1st or the 4 tours they offer... yes 4 bloody tours, money grabbing gits! So off I went on the bus up the drive.
Mr Hearst was bloody loaded. He was a media tycoon who had a taste for the posh life, and as with all Americans he was obsessed with having a bit of 'history'. I feel I must briefly digress to point out how obsessed the American population is about having some form of history. They label everything as a point of historical interest. The other day I went over a reinforced concrete bridge which pointed out it was a US historical piece. The fact it was only 40 years old seemed to be beside the point. Seriously, you will drive into a small town which will have a sign pointing to the local Waffle House eatery, the sign will say, 'site of historical interest', you will then walk in to be met with another sign pointing towards the nicotine stains on the walls, as well as the aging waitress, and the sign will say 'point of historical interest It really is that bad. I'm starting to think the only reason why the Americans will only grant a Visa for 3 months in their country for us tourists, is that if we stayed any longer, we would become points of historical interest, and thus they would have to invest in a small brown sign to point towards us. Crazy. Anyway I shall get back to the story. So here was mega rich Mr Hearst who after buying up half of California decided to build a holiday home. Basically he got a building made out of what else but reinforced concrete, and then once again did what all wealthy Americans love to do, he went to Europe and bought all our cast-offs with which he transformed the concrete blocks into an amazing Mediterranean style mansion.
This place was epic. It had the most amazing rooms which were furnished with amazing (mostly religious) artifacts from Europe and the far east. It was crossed between a Gothic cathedral and a stately home. Very impressive. The cherry on the top for me, and I think my friends Ru and Maritsa who recently visited the place as well, had to be the swimming pool. This was as 'bling' as it gets. Overall I was happy with the tour and came out for once not feeling disappointed.
I headed on to Santa Barbara and managed to find the only hostel in the town. I met some people there who were good fun. A few from Denmark and the first two people I had met traveling who came from the UK. Small world syndrome clearly kicked in as one of them lives about 10 miles down the road from me in the UK. Strange hey. The choice of hols for these people seems to be Californian road trips, and they all seemed to be enjoying it.  The hostel on the other hand was crap. Nothing worked, they threatened to call the police as I was having a bottle of beer with my food (no beer so I was informed, whoops) and the rooms were stinking. But with no choice of where to stay we all had to make do.
Santa Babs is very nice. The nicest town I had come across on my trip down the coast. With nice comes wealth, and basically it was rammed with lots of very rich types. The bars were good fun, and after two nights of going out with the guys I had met I decided this was a good place. The beach was pretty nice as well.
The next mission was to take on LA. I rode down H1 and arrived at Santa Monica, a posh part of the city. All the hostels were fully booked in the area so I went to a motel. It was really hot by now and I was feeling stressed out about the traffic. I asked the woman at the Motel who quoted me $250 for a room!!! Clearly I said no, so she gave me a card of one for $90 up the road. I went there, and that was my first mistake. The next part of this story, I must stress is exactly how it happened...
I arrived at the motel, it looked really shabby but I rode in and went to check in. The man told me it was $90, so, feeling worried I wouldn't find anything else I agreed and paid without checking the room. (mistake number 2) After paying he pointed out the 'NO REFUNDS' sign. I shrugged it off and went to my room, weaving round all the 50 cent wanna-bees. I opened my door, and the first thing that struck me was the stench. It really smelt like someone had died in there. Remembering the no refund policy I unloaded the bike and went it. This place was hagging. I have staying in some bad places in my time, but this took the biscuit. The beds were covered in what I can only say were probably crack cocaine burns as no one is that careless with a cigarette! Also the beds were covering in dirt and dust, I then worried I would catch some nasty parasite from these beds, so ended up sleeping in my sleeping bag on the floor with clean sheets that I requested.
After unpacking etc, I had to leave the room as the stench was too much, so I thought I would head to the beach and have a look around. here comes the crowning moment..... I left my room to be greeted by a gaggle of paramedics and fire men who had got into the room opposite me, and were proceeding to remove what seriously looked like a dead man! I cannot say for sure that he was dead, but there really were in no hurry to get him to hospital, and from what I saw, which wasn't too much was that he looked pretty lifeless. So I left the motel cursing the fact that I had payed so much money for such a hovel of a place. The only redeeming feature (if there was one) is that maybe there wont be so many burns in the sheets from now on if the resident crack addict had taken a trip to the pearly gates. We shall never know, and in fact I don't intend to find out, I was just mighty relieved that I survived the night.
During that day, mainly to keep away from my motel I wondered areas of LA, and I can really say it struck me as the saddest city I have ever been to. I am trying to find a good way to describe it, and I'm sure it is lovely if you are loaded and live in Beverly hills, but most of us are not that loaded and just walking around gave me a real sense of depression for so many of the residence. I walked along the length of Venice beach where I have never seen so many freaks. They are all there trying to offer some form of entertainment, or just looking sad. It struck me that so many of these people looked as if they had come to LA to seek some illusive fame and fortune which never came their way, so instead they all head to Venice beach to waste away the days. All very lame, and in fact it wasn't just that area of the city, the quantity of bums in the area was unreal, all looking for their next hit of special brew.
The next day I rode round all the places one should see in the city, and saw everything that I was 'supposed to see', but still my views on LA did not change. The only reason that I could tell anyone visits this city is to witness extreme wealth or extreme poverty. All the famous sites looked run down and nothing like you imagined they would look from the movies. Oh well, I couldn't get out of LA fast enough. This of course is my opinion and I'm sure many of my friends who have been there as well liked the place, but as I say thats what I thought.
I left LA yesterday and slept the night in the area where the start of  Jurassic park was filmed at the edge of the Mojave desert. The sandstone structures were very nice indeed but it was painfully hot at 42 degrees C. I am currently killing time in Barstow waiting for night to fall when I can avoid the current 45 degrees and hopefully make it to Vegas without smelling like roast pork.
Next stop Vegas, hoover dam and maybe monument valley then its off to meet my friend Rups and to learn how to fly....Right I'm now off to see if it really is possible to fry an egg on the road.

The Top Gun Academy awaits

I can tell this entry is going to take a while to write as it is tricky to find any time to do it. I'm sure no one told me trying to learn how to fly in 4 weeks was tough!..... Well maybe they did.So I think I was heading to Vegas last time I wrote. I spent the day sweating furiously by a large wheely bin at  the edge of the Mojave desert as it was the only shade I could find. My plan was to ride over the desert to Vegas in the wee hours of the morning so it seemed to have turned into a waiting game. During this time killing exercise I visited a quite impressively tacky tourist attraction called Calicot ghost town (or something like that) It really was most impressive how totally unoriginal the tourist industry can make a historical piece. I'm sure almost every rock and building was embossed with the Walt Disney logo. So I wondered briefly round this 'historic' silver town, past the gold panning hut (note it was a silver town, so I'm still confused as how they can claim tourists can pan for real gold!) and finally went back to my wheely bin for a bit of shade.
After trying to get to sleep early so I wanst too tired for my 4am start, I decided this was a pointless exercise as it seemed everyone in the area with an RV wanted to drive slowly past my tent with their headlights on full beam. I finally reached the end of my patience when one RV owner decided to do a 3 point turn right by my tent, and almost ran me and the tent over. At this point I decided it may well be time to leave.
At about 3am I left to cross the Mojave desert to Vegas. The ride was pretty dull and stinking hot but after 4 hours I got there. When I went to check in they wouldn't give me my room for 5 hours as they said it wasn't ready. This gave rise to a problem of what to do in Vegas that involves spending no money at all for 5 hours. I couldn't find an alternative so accepted defeat and lost money in the casino.
Vegas was OK, and as I expected really. I'm sure if you have tones of cash to spend it is great, and I did have fun as I met up with a couple of friends I had met the week before. There isn't much else I can say about Vegas really apart from I did actually manage to turn up during 1 of the 3 days in the whole year when it actually rains there. I was most impressed.
I left Vegas to head towards the Hoover dam, then the Grand Canyon. I had also persuaded myself to ride to monument valley after the Canyon as is seemed fairly close (I realize thats not true now!) The hoover dam was pretty cool and worth a visit even if I felt like my body was melting inside all the bike gear. Not much happened on that leg apart from a small posse of fat tourists explaining they had seen me on the road earlier. I'm never quite sure what to say to that statement, so I was forced to smile and say something along the lines of 'thats nice;' normally this leads to the 'oh my god, where are you from' stage, but due to my imminent evaporation I was forced to ride off with them blathering behind me.
It was a long old way to the grand canyon, which included a stretch of 'classic route 66' featuring what else but a brown historic sign telling me so. I finally got there in the evening after riding through torrential rain and thunder storms. after being ripped off at the gate of the park I rode to the camp ground and slept. The next day was the day of sight seeing with the canyon and monument valley.
On seeing the grand canyon, I hate to admit it but one does seem to make the same gawping noise as every other person, and as well as that I'm sure I had the same stupid look on my face which either tells onlookers you are mighty impressed or mighty simple. To be fair most of the locals in this area have that look on their face regardless of whether they are looking at large gaps in the ground or not, so I can only deduce that most of them fit into the latter category.
After seeing the Canyon in the morning I set off across the desert towards Utah and monument valley. It was actually a really long way but after a constructive site seeing morning I wasn't too bothered about the ride. Early afternoon I got to monument valley at the edge of Utah. I had a look around and then planned to ride a large loop back towards Arizona.
Monument valley is in the middle of nowhere, as you can imagine if you have ever seen some classic cowboy movies. So there I am riding between a place called Mexican Hat and the next petrol station which is an place called Mexican Water. These town type places are about 40 or so miles apart and really in the middle of nowhere. This is where the odd part starts..... So I'm riding along a pretty deserted road between these two places when a 4x4 overtakes me. This is pretty normal so I just keep cruising, but the vehicle is distinguishing because of some hay bails in the back. Then after several more miles I notice the same truck pulled over on the opposite side of the road facing me. (at this point I must point out it seems amusing now, but want at the time!) I pass the truck and see the lone driver, some middle aged man making gestures at me, which I can only describe as suggestively sexual and depraved. I'm sure you can all imagine! So I ride past fairly freaked out just thinking what an odd thing to happen. Then in my mirrors I notice the truck has turned round and is chasing me down this deserted road. At this stage it was really not amusing. I tried to ride as fast as I could, but 85mph was all I could manage on the road surface. This psychotic sex pest caught up with me in a few minutes and pulled up along side me trying to get me to stop. At this stage I was really feeling quite concerned and preceded to fumble around for my trusty bear spray whilst trying to keep on the road! Would you believe it, but for almost 10 miles this homo-sex pest nutter chased me repeatedly trying to force me off the road, then suddenly pulled over, turned around and drove off the other way. All this time not one car had gone past, and 5 mins later I realized the only reason he turned round was I was 1/2 away from the petrol station at Mexican Water. All rather disturbing, and after I had recovered from the mental images of me featuring in films like deliverance and Jeepers Creepers (for those of you who have seen them) it dawned on my that this was the only time I had driven for so long without seeing about 10 police cars. Typical, they are NEVER around when you need them! Anyhow, I thought people like you Olly and Noon would appreciate a good story of my 'almost' misfortune. In fact I can imagine you laughing right now!
So after riding 550 miles in one day, just to escape Utah, and Ricky-Bobby the over-sexed maniac I categorically decided I would never be going back their again unless I'm armed with napalm or some thing similar. What started as a really quite good day turned out to be a shocker. I spent a very tired night in a slum of a Motel in Flagstaff that night. At least no dead bodies were being carted out of the room opposite this time!
The next day I rode through Arizona to spend some time in Joshua Tree national park. Little did I realize that in fact it does rain in Arizona, and in fact they have a monsoon season once a year. It just so happens I had picked the month of their monsoon, and trying to ride on an interstate at 70 mph with a 35 knot cross-wind was really not easy; especially as it was being complemented by overweight truckers seemingly trying their best to run me over. After stopping several times as I couldn't cope with the wind, to the extent that it actually blew me off the road onto the hard shoulder at one point, I finally made it to the national park.
The park is really nice, and really quiet as well. I set my tent up in a totally empty camp ground and relaxed for a while. Then what seemed pretty funny to me, a guy turns up towing a KLR 650 just like mine. Pretty odd really as there really was no one else around.  To add to this, it seemed he was a fountain of knowledge on KLR's. After chatting for ages about what else but our bikes, he gave me numerous tips about keeping the beast running, I feel this may come in handy later on this year.
The next day I really enjoyed my sight seeing in the park, and of course posed for the standard U2 style Joshua tree album photos. I then rode off, next stop El Cajon and my flight school for the next month.
So here I am, and the reason for not writing for so long. I have been busy the whole time flying planes with my friend Rupert, who incidentally is now addicted to Gator-Aid (an energy drink). You should of seen the joy on his face when he discovered wall mart sell it by the gallon! We did also find an evening to cross the border into Mexico to check out all the drunk 18 yr old Americans who can legally go to bars there. The evening was amusing enough until we tried to get back into the USA, and they wouldn't let us in for about 4 hours as we didn't have some slip of paper with us, so 6am the next morning after finally persuading them we are nice people they let us back in. I shall not be trying that one again. Next time I leave the USA for Mexico it will hopefully be for good.
I currently have completed 37 hours out of 45, and have also completed all my solo flying without getting lost (quite incredible really!) I am also starting my night rating today. Hopefully within the next ten days I shall legally be allowed to fly around in planes which is pretty cool. I have also been spending far too much money on getting the bike ready for the next long long leg of the trip which I shall continue on the 1st Sept. Right enough of this I am off to fly some more.

p.s Yeah, I have now passed my Skills test and am now a pilot, all I need now is lots of money so as I can afford to fly in the UK! 6 days till the 1st sept, and time to leave the USA.....