Life on the road means never knowing what comes next!

It’s been two years and a bit now, since the last post. I spent 4 weeks in England, catching up with old friends and family, drunk a lot of beer and reaquainted myself with the North East. Herietta would be arriving in Australia, it had been held up because of the devastating storm in New York but was ok and would be leaving soon. I was feeling I had unfinished business in OZ, so it was time to head back, I thought a summer in Perth would be just about right after two years on the road moving around. Get a job spend some time on Swanboure beach, something I hadn’t done for years. I was also looking forward to spending some time with old friends, and family. I arrived back early November 2012 in time for the Bridgetown Blues Festival which was one of my annual must do’s while resident there and also the home town of my Brother and his family.

The plane touched down and after about an hour I walked through the doors to be greeted by my old mate Craig, or cabbbie as he is affectionately known. “Hey what’s happening”? “Ah! same old same old” he say’s, his usual response. “Brent say’s there’s a room at his place, if you need some where to stay” “Fantastic! lets go”. It takes about 45 min to get to Scarborough from the airport, we walked in and there was Brent in his usual place on the couch, with the big Kiwi towel/flag draped over the back, Clyde the staffie was already leaping all over me, tail wagging waiting for his scratch, “Hey what’s happening” “Ahhh! the usual, you know,  How you doing, wanna beer?” “Yeah!” “Pipe?” “Yeah!” “I’ll get on the phone and order some Pizza’s then?” “Yeah!” Just then Jay walks in, the other occupant of the house, “Hey how yer doing?” ” Fantastic!”” What you up to these day’s?” Supervising a bunch of cleaners for a cleaning firm” “Ahhhh! need any cleaners?” “When do you wanna start?” “I’m going down to Bridgetown in a couple of day’s, how about next Wednesdays?” “Ok, I’ll set it up” “Fantastic! All I need now is a car!” ” I’ve got a little Suzuki out the front I’m not using, I’ve got a company car, Wanna use that?” Yeah!” “Ok!”…. I am a lucky fella to have such good friends, I’d been back less that two hours, I had somewhere to stay, a job and a car to drive until Henrietta arrived, I was fed, a little stoned, I was back! ain’t life grand.

Perth is a great Place to be!… In the winter, which is really only June to September, people hibernate and things quiet down. In Summer, it comes alive, the beaches are some of the best in the world, the sun shines, the winter cloths are packed away till next year and the streets are full of walkers, runners, skater’s, surfers, biker’s, all scantily clad and lapping up the sun, sea and surf. I drove up the coast to the big house on the hill that I’d left a couple of years earlier, the missus had found a buyer and it was time to find out where we were at? All was good but It became very obvious that after thirty years of life together, I was no longer part of her life. I was EX! I’ve never really understood that term and still have difficulty using it, so what am I now? expired, extinct, excommunicated, excused, expelled, extinguished,? or am I extra special, extraordinary, exceptional? With a bloke on each arm, a smile as big as a new moon and a glass of chardonnay in each hand, the reality hit and the unfinished business was well and truly finished.  After thirty years of cohabiting What I was mostly, I think, was exhausted!!

I got word from the States, Henrietta would be arriving in Brisbane in a couple of weeks. My son was on a 5 month trip in Asia surfing his heart out and was heading back soon. We arranged to meet in Brisbane. I hadn’t seen him in 2 years so was really looking forward to a trip down the East Coast. I hired a camper van, we spent a week on the road from Brisbane to Sydney, it rained all day every day but it didn’t matter. He got the odd surf in on the way and I got his company for a whole week. I dropped him at his mates place in Bondi, “see you in Perth son!” I headed back up the coast to Brisbane where Henrietta was waiting to be picked up stayed with my old mate Jim who goes back as far as our school day’s while I got all the paper work sorted. I was back on the Bike, Brisbane – Perth 4500 kls, I had 4 day’s to attend a wedding, wasn’t sure I would make it but I’ll give it a go, I was on the road in NSW, the road stretched as far as the eye could see off into the horizon, a beautiful day to be alive, ah! the open road, does it get any better, not another vehicle to be seen, wait a minute, a car coming the other way, someone to give a wave. As he got closer I saw the blue light, looked at the speedo, 120, I didn’t wave, just watched in the rear view as he turned around light flashing, he got out smiling, “120” he say’s, happy as a pig in shit,” you got to be kidding, who am I gonna hurt out here”? “you might hit a kangaroo” “in the middle of the day”? $450.I hope I made his day, he certainly spoilt mine. Prick!! I made it to the wedding.

It was April, cooling down a bit, it had been an interesting summer, I was feeling rejected, dejected, affected, suspected, infected, disconnected! I’d spent thirty years trying to be the man I was expected to be, without success, it was time to be the man I was. So! I closed that door and wondered what I might find on the other side of the next one.  Costa Rica had really grabbed me while I was there, I decided to head back. The wet season in Bali was over, so a couple of weeks there, on to England to see my mother again, then on to Costa Rica. I booked the ticket to Bali.

I am….THE LONESOME TRAVELLER…. The Journey Continues….BE HAPPY!

The Liberty Bell, Philadelphia

I started looking on the web for somewhere I might hang around for a few days and found an old mansion in Fairmont Park, Philadelphia that was being used as a hostel. Perfect! Just 2 hours south of New York, with the best of both worlds….countryside and city…. One days ride and I was there, giving New York a wave, as I passed through on the interstate highway. It was late when I arrived and after checking in, I rode out of the park looking for a bar, where I might get a drink and a meal. I walked into a full bar and the whole place turned and looked at the white guy! The only white guy, in the whole place! Oops! Now, I have travelled the world for many years, there have been times when I felt uncomfortable in my surroundings, this was different, I was a minority. I squeezed up to the bar and ordered a beer, I felt the eyes on me and the bartender seemed a bit slow serving me, looking like she was wondering whether I should be allowed in. I looked at the bloke next to me and gave him a nod and a smile, he looked away, I was back in time, only the tables were turned. I was experiencing racism, now I understand! I drunk that pint, and ordered another, I walked to the small hatch in the wall where I got some fried chicken and chips, she also seemed reluctant to serve me, I ate, drunk my beer and left, without speaking to a soul apart from staff who seemed like it was a chore to them. Now I know how it feels!

I’d been to visit the Liberty Bell, I’d had my Philly Cheese Steak sandwich at Jims, I’d done the stuff expected of me in a new city. I’d been in touch with Steve from Rinkens who was shipping Henrietta to Perth, and still had a few days before I could drop her off in New Jersey. I was only 4 hours away from Winchester Virginia….. Mornin’ Cindy….. How’d you like to look after an old Geordie for a couple of days? So there you go, I got another taste of Jay and Cindy’s amazing hospitality, got to cuddle the redheads again and do the final farewells. Two days in Nu Joisey to drop off Henrietta and on to Manhattan, where I walked around Central Park, The Empire State Building, Times Square, Brooklyn Bridge, Statue of Liberty, over to Staten Island for a beer with Danny, the new Twin Towers, down the road from where I stayed in Lower Manhattan. So much walking, my last stop was to the cobblers, where I got new soles and heels on my boots and finished off sitting on the high chair getting a shoeshine.

I’m as east as I can get on this continent, so it’s time to cross the Atlantic and head for the old Country, to check out old friends and family. The hire car is waiting for me when I get off the plane at Heathrow and I am once again driving on the left. The M25 is a scary road, thundering down at 70 miles an hour, with a car only inches from your rear bumper. After a 10 hour plane journey it takes it out of you, on to the M1 North, which isn’t much better these days, means I have to stop for an hour and have a sleep at Watford Gap, before continuing north to Newcastle. There she is, the Angel of the North, a huge statue on the A1 looking out over the North East. Just another few minutes up the hill and I’m knocking on the door of my Mother’s house in Wrekenton. “Eeeee yer bugger what the hell yee deein he’ah, ah wasn’t expetin yee til Noavemba.” “Sorry Mutha ah tuk a wrang torn doon the road and he’ah, ah, am.”

I am….THE LONESOME TRAVELLER….travelling east….BE HAPPY!

Henrietta and the Old Guy

I headed east for a spell, to Gettysburg, the front line, in the civil war, north through Amish country, back west, then north to Buffalow and Niagara Falls. It was getting late when I arrived in Niagara, I found a motel on the US side and walked down the river which you wouldn’t want to fall into; it was fast and ferocious and ended up cascading down to the lower level…The Falls… I was expecting more, the city that’s built up around it kinda blew it for me but its Niagara Falls, so is to be expected. I looked over the river to the Canadian side; the high rise city was even bigger but after crossing the border the following morning, I discovered this was where all the photos were taken from, this was the spectacle and very impressive. I was back in Canada, on my way north to Toronto, then onto Huntsville, where my friend Torie has been working the summer season on the lakes. The last time I saw Torie was on the west coast of Canada when she showed me around Whistler and Blackcomb Mountain; it was good to catch up again. She had a nice place on a lake with her friends Katie and Michaela, the season was ending and they were planning a road trip east to Montreal, Quebec City, into the States, through Maine, on to Boston and Finally New York. I was going to be on the same route and after a few days rest I got back on the bike and headed for Montreal via Ottawa.  It was a good ride, I had the layers of clothing back on, so I was comfortable but it was fresh and exhilarating, it’s the fall, the leaves were turning and the colours were fantastic, earthy, red, gold, orange, brown, it was early, so plenty of green too. I’d met a couple of young fella’s riding Harleys, in California, who were from Montreal; it was time to see if the cats bike made the distance. I gave Derrick a call and arranged to meet in a pub downtown, Derrick, an alias, he uses, because it’s easier than correcting the English speaking world, when they try to pronounce Etienne, which is his real name told me, it was his bike that gave the trouble, not the cats, an alias I gave him, as his name is Felix. Felix was studying in Quebec City and would be down for the weekend; Derrick was telling me the story. They decided to give Sturgis a go and were on their way, when Derricks exhaust melted and he had to put it in for repairs, eventually hitch hiking to Sturgis, where he ended up in a cell for the night, for being drunk (I expect there was a lot of that in Sturgis) Derrick is a young man in a hurry I think, no doubt he rode his sportster so hard, something had to go. Felix the more laid back of the partnership, probably nursed his bike along, there were bits hanging off his old lowrider when I met them but he got back and was still riding it now, Etienne’s was tucked away for the winter awaiting repair.

It was all about the ride for me now, I’ve probably tried to fit too much in, each city I get to, just blends in with the last and I’m beginning to wonder where I am when I wake up. I left Montreal, on to Quebec City, down through Main where the colours were magnificent; I had all the layers on now thermals and all. It was fresh with beautiful blue skies and sunshine, as long as I was on the bike I was loving it, I got to Boston Massachusetts, found a place to stay for a few nights but was itching to get back on the bike. I had a week and a half before flying out of These United States but didn’t want to spend that long in New York; I’ve had enough of big cities.

I am…. THE LONESOME TRAVELLER….travelling east….BE HAPPY!

The Redheads and Grateful Red

I feel like I’m coming to the end of the road, especially when I arrived on the lake.

Jay and Cindy have a beautiful home and it was wonderful to sit back and enjoy the comforts. After all the hugs and hellos, the two redheads included, Cindy showed me to my basement. I had my own little flat with a pool table and a fridge full of beer, “stay as long as you like” she said, “I may never leave” I told her!

We were booked into the premier at the local theatre where Cindy had donated her time and expertise decorating the rest rooms; I was looking forward to a night out and meeting with the gentry of Winchester Virginia, I left the tux at home but Cindy ironed my only shirt and I was all set. The play was Death Trap, the theatre was small and intimate, probably about 60 seats with lots of fancy food and wine to eat and drink. I was introduced to so many people my brain was in overload but I would meet many of them again in a few days, as there was to be a party with the ladies and gents of the lake. The play was dragging on and it seemed like it would never end but I was enjoying being out and socialising with the elders. It was here I met Pat who is the local Tai Chi teacher, doing Yang style; I invited myself to her class later in the week and was pleased to hear on arriving, she had met my mentor, Grand Master Fu Zhong Wen, who was the founder of the academy in Perth, a well respected member of the Yang Tai Chi Family, now headed by his son Fu Sheng Yuan.

Paul and Rita were hosting the party and on arrival I was escorted to the garage, to see the Harley Super Glide and the map showing the many journeys, that Paul had done on his bike, including many trips to Sturgis, I would paddle the canoe across the lake later in the week, to plan the next stage of my journey with Paul, who at 74 wasn’t riding so much. We went on a three hour drive down to Richmond in rural Virginia for a Barbie with Raymond, Marianne and Danny, old friends of J + C from Staten Island Nu Yawk, don’t know why but I always thought the Bergman’s were from the Bronx? A musical night, with Raymond, his son and Danny on guitars, Marianne singing and when they played a Stones song, I think I may have been a bit vocal myself!

It was Saturday, every day seems to be a work day for Jay, he sits at the lap top and consults, it seems 8 – 10 hours a day, but on Saturday old mate Gerry turns up and its pool, drinking and relaxation all day, I surprised myself when I was able to get a few balls down. Jay gave himself a day off and we loaded up the car and went to Washington DC walked around the many monuments and memorials with the rest of the tourists, passed the house that’s white and saw Michelle’s vegie garden and bee hives, stopped off for a pizza, got home, loaded up the red heads onto Grateful red and cruised around the lake at sunset, an all American day. I was getting far too comfortable here, I’d been able to organise getting Henrietta to Oz, with the help of Jay, his scanner, printer and expertise, it was almost done, my tour guide and Mom, was off to Nu Yawk to look after her brother, who’d broken his leg, I was thinking of the road ahead.

I am….THE LONESOME TRAVELER….travelling east….BE HAPPY!

Elvis the Pelvis,Memphis Tennesee

I have been riding free for the last few weeks, Arizona, Colorado, Wyoming, South Dakota, New Mexico and Texas, all give you, the rider, a choice, whether to wear a helmet or not (whatever happened to choices?) Today I ride into Louisiana with the lid back on and my neck muscles ache, as I strain against the wind drag, I could wear a full face but then I might as well be in a car, the full face is ok, if you’re on a race track looking ahead but on the road, I don’t feel part of the surroundings anymore and I can’t see nottin’. It’s a beautiful day and I see the first sign for Baton Rouge, from here all the way to New Orleans or N’Orlins to the locals, it’s me Janis and hey, hey, hey, Bobby Mcgee. Can’t get the song out of my mind, I’m still singing as I approach N’Orlins and see why, if they get too much rain, they get flooded. Water, water everywhere and lots of it, the same level, or a little lower, than the land, the roads and sidewalks still potholed from Katrina but a feel that tells me it’s gonna be good here. I got myself settled in the garden district and went exploring in the French Quarter to check out Bourbon St and the Mighty Mississippi River. Bourbon St, as expected, was the usual tourist strip, full of bars and strip joints with music and hustlers all around, a walk a little further and I am in Frenchman’s St and find a Smokey little club with live jazz. The Spotted Cat was exactly what I had in mind when I thought of N’Orlins, patrons in much of the US have a choice, to smoke, or not, or stay away if it bothers them, I come from the land down under, where our choices are disappearing rapidly as governments legislate against living. Isaac was coming and I wasn’t hanging around to find out how big it was going to be, the home of Jazz explored, it was time to head north to the home of the blues. Straight through Mississippi to Memphis Tennessee where Beale St is the big attraction, I love the blues but Memphis wasn’t grabbing me, I put Henrietta in here for a service and new front tyre. I walked into the bar next door and met Animal, “where can I get some live music away from Beale St” I asked, “come and see us” he says “we are playing tonight.” Animal was the drummer and I found myself in a biker bar in the suburbs listening to ACDC and the like, rocking the night away and meeting some top people, after a couple of days I headed for Nashville, the home of country music, no sign of Keith + Nicole!

By going south from Denver, I have missed Chicago, which was on my list, it’s a 2 day journey back north west to go there, or keep going to Jay and Cindy’s in Virginia. I find I am getting tired of hostels, bunk beds, motels, junk food, being lonesome, I decided to forget Chicago and carried on east to Winchester Virginia to see some familiar faces. The countryside was changing, it was getting green and mountainous, I’ve got used to the lid again and don’t notice it so much, I’m enjoying the ride and looking forward to seeing Jay and Cindy who I haven’t seen for many years and I’ve heard so much about the lake, I have to see it for myself. I’m beginning to think of settling somewhere for a spell, getting a job, a place to live, having a few comforts, I thought that place might be England but the closer I get, the more I think that’s not going to work. When I get to Virginia I will look into shipping the bike back to Oz and maybe go back there for the summer, I have another 5 weeks in the US so need to decide whether to ship or sell Henrietta.

I am….THE LONESOME TRAVELLER….travelling east….BE HAPPY!

Cadillac Ranch

It all seemed a bit pointless after Sturgis; we rolled into Denver on 85, Greg pointed to I-70, which he would be taking to New Mexico, I pulled up alongside and without ceremony and with clenched fists touching, we went our separate ways. Denver turned out to be OK, I walked around the corner and found Stoneys Bar and Grill, sat at the Bar and immediately got talking to Gill, a sports writer and commentator for a local radio station, “this your local Gill?” “One of them” he said “I have a few, I get free food and drink, I’m a bit of a local celebrity”! I told him my story and like most, he thought it was cool but he was on such a good wicket, he didn’t feel the need to say, Oh I wish I could do that! Instead he called out to the barman, “give this young man a drink and put it on my tab” (free drinks all round). He finished his burger and chips and went off to review a movie…Another one of his roles… I looked around the bar and that was when I met the lovely Lidia and Scottie, not quite so lovely but a nice fella anyway, “So where you going next” asks Lidia “don’t know? I was thinking maybe New Orleans but not sure which route to take” “Ah well, you should go south to San Antonio via Amarillo, then east to New Orleans, I will print out a map tomorrow and bring it in tomorrow night.” Fantastic! I was all set for the next leg of the journey. The journey was taking control now; mostly I have known where I was going, what I was doing, I was in control, but like living with a woman, the moment you think you’re in control, the game changes and you realize you’re not!

Back at the hostel I met Juan and Diane, a couple of sociology lecturers from Chicago, in town for a conference, who invited me to go to a baseball game, not having been to a baseball game I accepted, I left after about an hour, I’d seen enough, baseball isn’t for me. I picked up my Insurance and headed south, through New Mexico and into Texas, spent the night on Route 66 just west of Amarillo and in the morning stopped in at the Cadillac Ranch to visit a bunch of Cadillac’s  stuck in the ground with graffiti as thick as elephant skin. Through Amarillo and on to San Antonio to visit the Alamo, where Davy Crocket, Jim Bowie and a handful of Texans met their maker, when Texas was part of Mexico. That night I pulled into a small town motel and sampled a bit of good old southern hospitality. On arrival, a couple of good o’l boys were well into the carton and invited me over, they were laying a pipeline close by, for the oil I’d seen being pumped out of the ground, by the insect like pumps I’ve been seeing all over the place, after a bit of bullshitting and drinking, we jumped into the V8 350 Ford and drove over the road about 20 metres away, to the drive in burger joint picked up some fat which they insisted they pay for, drove the 20 metres back and after dishing up my share, they disappeared into their own rooms, “Ya’ll take care now!” They had a 5am start the next day, I never saw them again. I was on the road to Houston, the sky was looking black up ahead so I stopped to put on the wet weather gear, I needn’t have bothered, the storm hit. I’ll ride through it soon, ten miles, I’ll ride through it soon, 20 miles, I’ll ride through it soon, 30 – 40 -50 miles. Just about now, I began to question my sanity, the wet weather gear wasn’t made for this, I was wet through, puddles in my boots, I couldn’t see, the trucks were flying passed throwing up spray, I’ll ride through it soon. After 70 miles Houston was all around me, although I couldn’t see much of it, I was going to go straight through when I set out this morning but I was never going to dry out, even if I rode through it soon. I pulled off the I-40 into the city, found a place to stay and dry out. After about an hour the sun came out, the following day when I got to New Orleans, 200 miles down the road, I discovered that it had rained all day, I was following the storm, so I would never have ridden through it.

I am….THE LONESOME TRAVELLER….travelling east….BE HAPPY!

One Street of Many

Henrietta was looking as bad as I was when I arrived in Denver, so she needed sprucing up to shine like the rest of the Harley’s around the place. We went into town, where for $20, I could hand her over to a couple of bikini clad young ladies, who would make her shine again, while I watched with a beer in hand. The sun was shining but the thunder was constant as the stream of Harley’s arrived into town. When this rally started all those years ago, I expect there were a bunch of bad assed bikies, terrorising the town, these days, it’s a consumer and commercial paradise with bankers, lawyers, mechanics, bums from Australia, young folk, old folk, families, all in their leathers, wandering around, soaking up the atmosphere and spending big. I picked up the bike and headed back to the chip to check out the amphitheatre, where every night, starting tonight, there would be a concert of three or four bands, tonight was Journey and War. I remember back in Falls Creek asking the young guy behind the bar if that was his music playing, “if you can tell me who it is, I’ll give you your beer for free” he said, “that’s War” I said, “they did an album with Eric Burdon back in the seventies”…Cisco kid was a friend of mi-ine…! Now here they were telling me Eric was there, only coz the record company insisted he sang. I went for a wander and was accosted by a couple of lovely’s, shaving heads, for the wounded warrior project, I was one of the first as things hadn’t really got started yet, later in the week, I went back and had another shave. Whatever you think of the politics of this nation, the people are trying to compensate, by making a huge effort to make these young men and women proud of their efforts. I saw many older guys with a patch on their vest which read Vietnam Vet, we won’t forget, they of course came home and were ridiculed. There were a lot of ex military at Sturgis; I ended up riding with Greg from the, MC MC that’s Marine Corps Motorcycle Club but they were here from all branches of the military. I made a mistake staying at the buffalo chip, they were partying all night, and I mean all night, so it was hard to get any sleep and I had to get up by 9am as the tent turned into a sauna with temperatures in the 80’s and 90’s during the day. The days were spent riding around the Black Hills which are fantastic, Custer, Hill City, Crazy Horse, Deadwood, Mt Rushmore, Devils Tower, and many more destinations. At night there were plenty of choices, The Full Throttle Saloon, The knuckle Saloon, Easyrider Saloon and the Chip of course, everywhere, bikes lined up.  I was starting to feel the effects of too much alcohol and not enough sleep by the end of the week. It was time to move on but where too, I hadn’t given much thought to where would be my next destination. Greg was heading down 85 to Denver, on to New Mexico and eventually Texas, I decided to ride with him as far as Denver, there should be a letter waiting for me there. We were riding side by side cruising down 85 south, he was Wyatt or Captain America (Peter Fonda) I was Billy the Kid (Dennis Hopper) I was 15 again, watching Easy Rider in awe of the choppers, I kept wondering when the rednecks would show up and blow us away, it didn’t happen. Instead I noticed a lot of bikes all of a sudden coming the other way, there had been a head on, further down the road and the road was blocked, no one seemed to know exactly what was going on but a guy stopped and said the road would be blocked for 5 hours, there were no bikes involved. The detour south would be 250 miles, we hung around for a while wondering what to do, watching bikes going this way and that, like a bunch of worker ants heading back to the nest not knowing which way to go. I said to Greg I’m going back to Newcastle which we had come through 30 miles back, get something to eat and stay in a motel, we can get an early start in the morning. It was decided, the Geordie Boy was back in Newcastle, Newcastle Wyoming, that is!

I am….THE LONESOME TRAVELLER….travelling east….BE HAPPY!

The Crazy, Full Throttle Saloon, Sturgis, South Dakota.

It was the same problem as Monterey, so I’m beginning to think something is causing this to happen and that means the gear box, I’m getting 2000 miles before the bearing starts whining, shit I’ve bought a lemon! Jim, a strange name for a German, was pulling the primary case off again, he seemed to be very particular in his examination – I like this – I told him the story of Monterey but he wasn’t paying much attention to me, concentrating more on the bike – I like this also – I left it with him and called later in the day for the verdict, “the bearing was replaced” he said “but the race it sits on wasn’t, they did half a job and that’s what has caused it to happen again”. Good news, if he is right? We will see in another 2000 miles. This time I decided to go north to Colorado after Jim told me I should ride through Monument Valley, North Arizona, where most of Easy Rider was filmed, a far better ride he said. So after losing another couple of days, I was back on the road, Henrietta purring beneath me. Monument Valley is just before the Colorado border and the sky was looking black ahead, here it comes, another drenching. Doesn’t matter, I usually ride through and then dry out, not this time son, I did come out but arrived into a sandstorm and cross winds that were trying real hard to blow me and the bike into the desert. On with the helmet and bandana over my face and away we go, I came out of it after a while and continued on to Denver, found the hostel I was looking for and approached the reception. “Can I help you sir”? “You certainly can young man, if you have a bed I can sleep in”! “Err yes, we can put you downstairs in the workingmen’s quarters”, “no problem, do you have anywhere I can park my bike for the night”? “Yes there is a place out back next to the bin” “Ok, back in a bit”. I went down the road where I’d parked the bike, brought it round back where I was told to and on my way back to reception, stopped in for a piss, I went to wash my hands, saw my face in the mirror and had a little giggle. No wonder he looked at me strangely and offered me the cellar, I did dry out, but the sand had stuck to me and I looked like one of the black and white minstrels. We both had a little giggle and he gave me a bed upstairs with the regular folk! A well deserved shower, a good night’s sleep and I was ready to go to the post office to pick up my insurance that I know Dave has sent from Monterey a week earlier. “No nothing here for you sir” (the people are very polite in America), I on the other hand was getting very pissed off with the US Postal Service. It took me no time at all to decide to forget about the fucking insurance and get on the road to Sturgis which I was beginning to think wasn’t going to happen! Riding through the Rockies from the Arizona border to Denver, was a real treat but North of Denver on 85 into Wyoming the countryside changed into wide open rolling hills, perfect grazing land that had me thinking of those Sunday afternoons as a kid watching westerns. The names of places I’ve come through, Laramie, Durango, Cheyenne, I am in the Wild West, in another time, I’d be on a horse. The Iron horses were becoming more visible the closer I got to South Dakota, every service station was packed and the camaraderie was evident, there were registrations from all over America, all heading for Sturgis for the 72^nd Black Hills rally. They’re here from as far away as Perth, Western Australia and the countryside is changing again as I we approach the Black Hills of Dakota, through Cheyenne Crossing where people and bikes were already congregating for a beer and a bit of lunch, over the mountain to Deadwood, where the bikes lined the streets and finally into Sturgis. Wow! I was expecting big, what I got was, ENORMOUS, The rally hasn’t started yet but the rumble of the V twin was everywhere, I was looking for the Buffalow Chip camp ground, which I eventually found, out the other end of town, I checked in, pitched my tent and after 40 years of dreaming about it, I was finally here.

I am….THE LONESOME TRAVELLER….travelling east….BE HAPPY!

The Corner

“I was standing on the corner in Winslow Arizona with Henrietta on my mind” Take it easy, Take it easy, don’t let it get to you, or you’ll go crazy.

The ride from Monterey was fantastic, I really feel like I’m in America now. Through the Salinas Valley, rich with agriculture, irrigated from the Salinas River. Once on James Dean highway, the countryside started to dry out, enter the desert and straight roads, for as far as the eye can see. I could see hills in the distance but wouldn’t get to them for a long time yet…. there’s Injuns in them there hills…! Now I’m getting the feel for how big this place is, all of a sudden there are thousands of insect like pumps working hard, pumping oil out of the ground, supplying America with the fuel they need to keep all these huge V8’s and  RV’s running, at less than 50c a litre, affordable, for now? The road winds through the hills and straightens out again. The temperature must be at least 110, I’m riding in short sleeves and the wind is burning, a mirage in the heat haze and I can see Vegas, it looks miles away but before I know it I’m riding in and down the strip. The punters are everywhere, the traffic is crazy, I thought I might ride straight through but decide to stay a couple of days, found a bed for 16 dollars and settled in. The place was a haven for the hustlers, all winners; all they need is a stake, they have nothing left to pawn so are working on the backpackers. “Lend me a hundred, I’ll give you 2 back tomorrow”, “yeah coz you’re a winner right”?  The queue at the pawn shop down the road is a mile long at 10 in the morning, every morning, all winners, maybe they are today but chances are, they will be back at the shop in a couple more. I couldn’t find a bar to sit in so walked into a casino, found a bar with nowhere to put my beer unless I put it on the electronic gambling machines which lined the bar. A fascinating place, if you come here with a bunch of people and a lot of money, there is fun to be had, a huge playground in the desert. I had my own playground to get to, so was back on the road and on my way to Flagstaff. Down 93 to Kingman where the longest stretch of Route 66 starts, 73 miles to Seligman, after Seligman it starts getting a bit cooler and greener as the I 40 takes you up to 7000 feet into Flagstaff, Arizona. South of Flagstaff is some beautiful country, rock formations with the rich red colours of rust, hills, canyons, rivers and desert. A ride north to the Grand Canyon and the country changes again, now it’s pine forests and grazing land. Just as I get to the canyon the storm starts and in 2 minutes I am wet right to my bones, then the sun comes out and I’m dry again and walking around the rim of the canyon in awe of the breathtaking views. Carrying on the circular route back to Flagstaff I’m back in the desert, in Navaho country, through the reservation, I can see the storm ahead and I know I’m gonna have to go through it, the lightning is getting scary, at least I won’t know much about it, if it hits. Back in Flagstaff soaked again but just loving the ride, the country, the freedom, there are no helmet laws in Arizona, so I am taking full advantage and riding free. It’s time to head northeast to South Dakota but I can’t decide whether to go east along what would have been Route 66 to New México and then north to Colorado, or go north to Colorado and Wyoming then east to South Dakota. The decision made, I headed east on I 40, Route 66 is visible occasionally along the way but there is not much left, at Winslow I came off 40 to check out 66, that’s when I heard it, Henrietta was whining again. Flagstaff was 50 miles back and I knew there was a Harley shop there, Albuquerque New Mexico was 300 miles ahead, guess I’ll have to go back.

I am….THE LONESOME TRAVELLER….travelling east….BE HAPPY!

Derrick and the Cat loading up

If I hadn’t bought the bike, I may not have got out of Costa Rica, Henrietta though was waiting for me in Monterey. I’d rung Bill just to make sure she wasn’t stuck in some corner and been forgotten about, all good, she was waiting for me and they hadn’t had to do too much. I flew into LA got the shuttle to Union Station, the train to Salinas and bus to the Hi Monterey, from San Jose to Monterey took 36 hours and I was ready for bed. I went to Bills the next day and I was mobile, Colin in Olympia still had my Insurance, I’d messaged him to send it to the hostel 2 weeks prior and that was all I was waiting for before finally heading east. I’d been doing a lot of north and south but very little east, now was the time. Colin reckoned he hadn’t got the message and said he would be sending my mail on Monday,  when it hadn’t arrived by Friday I got sick of waiting and hit the road, I’d planned to go via Yosemite but after so long in Monterey I was going straight to Vegas.

Dave was the manager at the Hi Monterey, I’d meet him when I was here before and we got on well, we had a few drinks together and I liked him. I felt confident he would do better than Colin getting my mail to me. He told me many stories about Monterey and Salinas where he was from. Monterey was Eden and Salinas was east, in Steinbeck’s East of Eden. There are two Mexican gangs in Salinas originating from one of the three prisons in the area, the American Mexicans had to form a gang to survive after the Mexicans from the south didn’t like the fact that they didn’t speak Spanish, he told of when he was a boy one of the older kids took him around town writing gangster stuff on walls and before he knew it he was right in amongst it. He said Salinas had the biggest murder rate per capita than all of the US, I went into Salinas, a very quiet town with few people on the streets and it didn’t seem possible. Unless you knew the place you could never imagine the undertones that must be prevalent here. A couple of young lads from Montreal turned up for a few days on Harleys, they had ridden across Canada, had a good run around BC, had ridden down the west coast, were on their way to LA and would ride across America back to Ontario. Derrick and the Cat (not their real names) “they were too difficult to pronounce”, so Derrick and Felix it was. The cat’s bike was falling apart at the seams but he had managed to get this far, a trip to Bills for some work, was necessary though, before he went much further, I would love to run into these guys down the road a bit to see if that bike was still going.

It was 4pm on Friday 20^th July when I finally got away, no mail today the mailman’s gone away. I’d emailed Colin before leaving to confirm he’d sent it and he mailed back saying it left on Tuesday, when it did arrive on the Monday, David said it had been sent on the Wednesday, it is now Thursday 26^th  I am In Flagstaff Arizona, on Route 66 and David will send it to Denver Colorado, where hopefully I will pick it up in about a week, hope I don’t get stopped on the way. So east on 68 to Salinas, 101 south to Paso Robles, onto 46 east, or Jimmy Deans Highway, where James met his end. Just before getting onto the I 5 south, I stopped in a little place called Lost Hills, which was just a crossroads with motels and service stations and nothing much else….Going down to the crossroads…the following day I got on I 5 south, 58 east and onto I 15 into Vegas.

I am….THE LONESOME TRAVELLER….travelling east….BE HAPPY!