Enroute across the USA

Falling in love with South California, well, Mission Bay anyway.

I've really become lazy, it must be almost two weeks since I last opened this diary. Not much has really happened; I've mostly been resting on the laurels of the trans-continental ride. I may have told you much of this earlier, I am sure I spent an hour or so in the DelMar library updating my diary but I can't find any trace of it in my sent box so must have managed to lose it somehow.Whatever. I did very little for the three or so days we were at DelMar, or if I did I can't remember it. Went down to the beach a couple of times, the water was frigid and I didn't go in. Tuesday practiced town driving with Leslie, found the library parking lot and tried to improve my low speed turns, get the circle radius tighter, with not much success, finally dropped the bike, damn, damn, damn. A slow left turn, felt the bike starting to tip so stopped it and put my feet down, gravel underfoot, bike canted over a little, my foot slipped on the gravel and over we went, ended up trapping my heel under the riding peg, of course this left me sprawled full length on the ground,there was a horrendous squeal of brakes and I thought, no way, I'm in a parking lot, false alarm, in seconds two guys came running up, they saw the bike go over and stopped their pickup, hence the squeal, to come and help, lifted the bike off my boot, no damage to me( thanks again, Phil, for the boots) then we picked the bike up, they both drove large Harleys and apparently when you drop them almost without fail the driver's foot is trapped and often sprains and broken bones result, both of them had done it, wanted to take me to the emergency at the hospital, it took quite a lot of persuasion to convince them that I was fine, which I was. I'd just love to get sufficiently good to not drop the bike. All I can say is that it is now over a week and I haven't come even near to dropping it, so maybe I m getting better. All this happened just outside the del Mar Library, I went in, well,limped as I did bruise my ankle a little, it was fine in a couple of hours, and spent an hour updating my log, there seems no trace of this so mysteriously, it has vanished. This is very frustrating, it happened a lot on my trip to Turkey; this is the first time it has happened here. And of course, by the time I discover that 'send' didn't work I've forgotten most of what happened. Actually there is a problem with this bit of the log because as I remember it I included Wednesday's entertainment. But I must have written it on Tuesday, must have been a time jump, common these days. We'll never know as after all, I ended up losing it.Wednesday afternoon I drove over to Mission Beach to see where the cottage is and found it easily, it is quite charming, literally a stone's throw from the beach. Looked like it was empty and being cleaned. That evening we went rock climbing with John Lohr, a good and terribly energetic friend, he flies, climbs, sails, always on the go. Some years ago he decided that he would climb the highest mountain in every continent, he has now done them all except Antarctica, apparently it is not a difficult climb, just expensive to sort out the logistics and Mt Everest, sensibly he decided that this is now not a proper thing to do. That is John, both an adventurer and also very concerned and sensible. I drove Leslie over to the parking lot where Emilia is working, General Atomic, and then Emilia picked me up and we followed John to the climbing site, it is a hill, maybe a mountain, about a thousand feet high covered in granite boulders, the largest are house sized. We hiked up the access road for the antenna at the mountain top and just before we got to the summit we turned left off the road down a trial through the boulders to a collection of the largest. Here we met up with the rest of the group, this is a regular Wednesday evening outing, by the time we had all assembled there must have been twenty or so. The better climbers and they were very good, rigged three or four climbs and time to go. Three of the climbs were crack climbs, never my strong point. The particular one I kept trying had a crack just wide enough for me to jam my fingers in, up to the knuckles, the idea is I wedge my fingers and thumb into the crack and then try to wrap the fingers around the thumb, this is meant to jam the hand in the crack and then it will support my weight. I've never thought this was a good idea, it messes the fingers and knuckles up something terrible and never works for me either. On the first climb I could get about ten feet up then my hand just wouldn't hold my weight, it painfully slid down the crack. I gave it my best two or three times, all it did was draw blood and leave me pretty shattered. John had generously loaned me a pair of boots, he has enough gear to support a climbing school, they were even tighter than climbing shoes are meantt o be, which is murderously tight, after an hour or so they really hurt. Finally I gave upon the crack, there was one climb that looked promising, a vertical flake, I gave it a try, it went well, I just wrapped my hand around the flake and powered up. No problem. Made me feel better, I went back to the crack in the hope that it would work this time, all it did was remove a lot more skin. So it goes. Forget the other side of the boulder, the crack there was really hard. Down the hill a little way to the fourth climb, called Girl's Crack, I think. It had some fairly dainty but easy face moves and then about six feet of really tiny crack, barely get my fingers in, I could work it as a lay back but halfway through there was a transition to a face climb, with the crack too small to get my fingers in it was an almost impossible move, of course for the girls with their small fingers it was somewhat easier. Maybe. Fortunately my belayer was wonderful and frankly I just ratcheted up the crux, never mind, she said some of the others were an even more blatant winch up. Very generous. I was pretty tired, Emilia and I headed back ahead of theother s as I knew I'd be pretty slow on the way down. And, needless to say, somewhere we missed a turning and ended up on the main road elsewhere from where we had parked the cars. Damn. Felt like we were too far right so we turned left and started walking down the road.John's mobile rang but he wasn't picking it up, turned out it was in his pack and he didn't want to take it off and dig the mobile out . Wemust have walked a mile or so, it was now essentially dark, was now clear that we were not going to find the car, truth to tell, quite lost, but turning back seemed a bad idea, at least we were walking along the road in the direction the group would drive back t o San Diego and surely they would see us and pick us up. Ultimately we arrived at a sign that said, 'Welcome to Poway, Population 48,000'. We sat on the railing and called John again, this time he answered, after the normal mix up he sorted out where we were and within five minutes came and picked us up, took us back to the car, we drove in convoy to the Pizza restaurant, another car load had become lost so we our stupidity was hardly noticed. They were a delightful group, all very good climbers, I was a trifle embarrassed to be so out of shape. Avery pleasant evening. Back to GA to pick up Leslie to discover that the headlight fuse had blown again, had to leave her in the parking lot. We asked if it was safe and were told, 'Yea, pretty much, of course Anne Blue (the wife of the very rich owner of the company, Neil Blue) had had her Cherokee SUV stolen right out of the same parking lot not too long ago'. Well, thanks. I added my wheel lock, not much else I could do.Next morning, Thursday, we checked out of the motel, Emilia dropped me off at the parking lot, to my relief Leslie was still there, I cautiously drove into San Diego, to make sure the cottage was ready, I planned to check it out, and to find some fuses, when the fuse blew the first time I had bought some spares but naturally I couldn't find them. Didn't find any fuses but did find 'Sandpiper Cottage' ready for us, worked out how to open the lock box in order to get the cottage key, now it is ours. The cottage is delightful, fifty yards from the beach, I can see the surf out the window as I type, well, I could ifit wasn' t dark. It has an open living dining kitchen space, a double bedroom and a small single, a bathroom and a second loo, a space outback with a washer and dryer and an outside shower to wash the sand off, a porch out front. I could live here. There is an assigned parking space across the road, which is, of course, dead end at the sea wall so it is very quiet, at night the only sound is the surf.We've discovered a framed old photo of the cottage, taken probably in the late twenties, with a magnificent open auto with huge round headlights, wood spoke wheels, looks late twenties, a man standing alongside wearing a cloth cap and smoking a pipe and two women sitting on the fro nt steps holding a sign covered with illegible writing.Emilia came over for lunch and we moved in. Thursday night we had dinner with Ed Lazarus, an old and very dear friend whom I've known since the Oak Ridge days, we had a Californian dinner, a very complex meal, a mixture of tastes and flavours all laid out on the plate in an extravagant fashion. Surprisingly it was quite delicious.Friday, need to start sorting out Leslie's fuse problem, I asked a passing San Diego utility truck where the nearest auto parts store might be, they gave me excellent directions and within half an hour I had a pocket full of fuses, put one in Leslie and the headlights are back on. But I have not fixed this problem. Friday night we walked down the beach to Garnet St., the focus of this touristic zone and had a delicious dinner, fish for me and crab cakes for Emilia, it was almost a surprise to have an evening just the two of us. Saturday we tidied up the house, had coffee in a nearby coffee shop owned by a delightful Turkish girl, idled the day away, evening we drove into Poway to have dinner with a Korean scientist, the guests included John Lohr and a really entertaining Korean Post Doc, John is teaching him to fly.Sunday another lazy day exploring the neighbourhood, in the evening we had dinner with Phil West, another long time friend dating back to my Oak Ridge days, he has one of those Californian houses that one expects to see in a movie, certainly not in real life, not extravagant, just lovely. Must be Wednesday. Sitting at Torrey Pines point, aka Torrey Pines Gliderport, watching the sea, the pelicans, the paragliders, there's an orange and white dual flight paraglider coming in to land, he makes about three passes in the growing wind, then gently plants it on the ground. And a Rogallo wing, well, hardly recognisable, high performance wing, just takes off. Behind me a very pleasant fellow was flying a radio control glider, actually it is a power model of a Russian twin, oddly with a GB call sign, he has taken the engines off and flies it as a glider, a real lead sled. About an hour ago Emilia and I came here for lunch, I've finally , after three days, got Leslie on the road again, drove over to General Atomic, where she is working,Emilia picked me up, we drove here, had a BLT and coffee each at the cafe, to start with the wind was very marginal, there was a pilot practicing bunny hops, then the wind picked up and he took a short flight. Emilia went back to work, I came back to watch, now the wind is really blowing, land and sea I guess, and the field is alive with pilots. The rigid wing is now at least five hundred feet above launch so the cliff is really working, there was a line of clouds about three or so miles off shore, this has now moved inland, and the wind is really blowing, a bit gusty. Of course I can't see the computer screen, sitting out here in the sun watching all this, but the keys are readable. Another dual paraglider canopy fills with wind and the pilot is walking the student out to the ridge, a larger step and they are in the air, it looks like if he slowed up he would drift backwards. A couple of sailboats visible well offshore, occasional planes and helicopters fly past, now a line or V of pelicans flies past.The last three days I've been most inefficiently working on Leslie.You'll remember, I left it at GA when Emilia and I went out to have dinner with Ed, when I picked it up after dinner the headlights had gone again, the fuse has now blown twice. Had to leave her there overnight, drove back next morning. I'm pretty sure there is a problem with the added electrics for the bling lights. I bought a box of fuses at an auto parts store about a mile from here, thank you Ed for the bicycle, that fixed the problem for the moment. When I went to start her on Monday, no joy, she wouldn't start, flat battery. My assumption was that I'd left the ignition turned to that odd position just before steering lock where the side lights are left on, so spent the morning looking at whether I should buy a charger, a new battery or get it charged at a garage. Decided to get the charger, went to take the sea toff to remove the battery and discovered that the bolts that hold the seat and associated bling require a 13 mm or ½ inch wrench. Back to the auto parts store, they didn't have a 13 mm wrench, I bought a set of Imperial, only $5, for the ½ inch wrench. Finally got the battery out, discovered it barely had any water, topped it up, put it on charge.. All this took most of the day. Emilia went out after work with John Lohr to listen to the Indigo girls, the performance is by a lake and most of the audience sits in boats to listen to it. John provided a number of kayaks and inflatables and they all had a good time, bobbing up and down in the waves. Emilia was charmed by the kayak experience, the music, well, "Some of it was OK". Tuesday I called Ed and proposed lunch, he said he'd come over, he came on his yellow Honda scooter, we had a very pleasant day, sitting and chatting, come evening his bike wouldn't start, guess what, another flat battery, so we took it out and charged it for an hour, thecharger is looking like a decent investment - the parasail just did a couple of one eighties and has now vanished below the cliff, has helost the lift? No, here he is, climbing out off to the left – after the short charge Ed's bike fired right up and off he went. I went tomove Leslie and she wouldn't start, dead battery. Damn. Time to buy anew one. Wednesday I was up early, bike seat out again, this must bethe third or fourth time, battery out, on the bicycle to the autoshop, buy the new battery, for some unknown reason it was one half the cost they quoted two days ago, no complaint there, took it home, added the acid, left it for half an hour for the bubbles to escape, put it on charge for an hour, the instructions said thirteen, well, don't have the time, put it in Leslie, hope it all works, put her back together. Lovely lady, she fired up just fine, headlight still working, drove over to GA, Now I'm sitting watching two paragliders doing aerobatics over the launch zone, not ten feet from me, the FAA would kill me if I did that, wow, they just bounced canopies, now the higher one is paddling the lower canopy with his feet, looks a bit dangerous to me. What do I know? Lloyd, this has to be the perfect place to get time, a solo pilot just lifted off, the wind is pretty strong and he had a struggle with the canopy, but once he got it sorted he lifted off with no forward ground speed and simply ascended vertically, he is now a good two hundred feet above the field. I would guess he can stay up until sunset, the wind looks totally steady. A bit like driving Leslie on the interstate, easy to get lots of time, not too sure the skill level has much profit though. Someone told Emilia this morning, paradise on earth, well, there is a bit of that, the sea, surfing, sailing, the cliffs, soaring, parasailing, etc., etc. The dual is coming back,three sixties over the field, heading off again, be hard not to stay up in these conditions.I feel I've been wasting a lot of time, I've spent the last three days mostly getting a new battery and poking at Leslie's electrical problems. When I had the seat and side panels off I could see the absolute nest of wiring that has been put in for the bling, it is areal mess, many of the wires have come loose and are just naked, I've taped off the ends, hopefully the problem will either go away or remain a low frequency intermittent one where periodic fuse replacement will be an acceptable solution, it would be a real hassle to fix it properly, the only real way would be to remove the entire nest of bling wiring and try and restore the harness to its original state, looks hard as appears as if quite a lot of the harness has been cut away and the extra wiring added in a very haphazard way.This log has grown like Topsy, I wrote the Gliderport segment first,then realised I hadn't sent the segment about the climbing trip so had to go back to Del Mar, try and remember what happened and write that,now it is Friday but I'll send this segment off and try and catch up tomorrow, time is fast running out as I leave for the UK Sunday crack of dawn. Sad to say I'm really falling in love with San Diego, well, Mission Bay to be exact, I have tried really hard not to but it is just so lovely and everyone has been so pleasant, lots of cycling, been fighting the surf for half an hour or so most days, laid back, most enjoyable, the time has simply flown.It is late and time for bed. A very good weekend to you all.

Phil Edmonds

May 25 Thursday May Pine Mountain Valley, California.

Cool, brilliant clear blue sky, mountains sharp in the background, arooster cowed early this morning, at night I can hear the wind in thepines, not bad at all. After logging off I drove down the hill to Alpine, a fairly largetown, very touristic, maybe all of California is this way. There was aranger station there and a lovely, helpful ranger lady, sharp as atack and extremely pretty. She clearly doesn't like people too muchbut as I was only one she was very pleasant. Told me I had made theright decision to check into the motel, the entire region willapparently be a zoo, crawling with city folk, all the nearby campsiteswill be full to overflowing, a mess of adults, children, idiots onmotorcycles and ATVs, the most distant campsites will have space butthey are so remote you really would need to have everything, fromwater up, and you can never tell if your neighbours won't be a crowdof beer swilling noisy rednecks. She had a lazy soft way of talking, Icould have listened to her for hours. She suggested a number of routeswe could take on the bike, once she realised I was touring the US andwasn't a crotch rocket rider or an off-roader, she got over her 'hatethose bastards on motorcycles' and confessed she actually owned oneherself. So I have two suggested routes that should avoid the realcrowds, I am getting the impression that come the weekend all thispeace and quiet will be history. Meanwhile I checked into the hotel, Iasked the manager why everything in California was so much moreexpensive than elsewhere and he said, 'supply and demand', and grinnedevilly.By the time I had shut down the bike, had a cup of tea, unloaded theLeslie, it is amazing how much stuff I have loaded on the poor lady,it was past seven. I drove over to nearby Italian restaurant ( thecommunity consists of a gas station, the sheriff's office, a librarybranch, an Italian restaurant, a diner, the motel, unexpectedly acoffee shop, and it's not too bad either, a store I won't mention andthat is about it) to discover hanging from the door knob a sign fromthe electric utility informing the owners that if they didn't pay theelectric bill within twenty four hours the power would be turned off.Clearly the restaurant was closed. I walked across the road to thediner, when I had lunch there they told me they would be open untileight and it was now about seven thirty, it too was clearly closed.So, to my embarrassment, I ended up eating a hamburger from the FrostyBurger, the last business in Pine Mountain, the one I planned not tomention. I picked up two books from the library and read for a coupleof hours, then shower and to bed.Today Emilia is flying in from Austin, her plane arrives at 1:30, shejust texted me and it is delayed thirty minutes, the plan is complex,I will drive to the airport, about forty five miles, I hope, park theLeslie, Emilia will pick up a rental car, we will both drive out toPine Mountain, unload her enormous Suitcase, then drive back to theairport, return the car, climb aboard Leslie and drive her back here.We will stay here until Monday or Tuesday, making day trips andgenerally resting, then, to be planned, get Emilia and the Suitcaseand Leslie to her motel in San Diego, we stay thee for a couple ofdays when the house on Mission Bay she has rented becomes available.So, we'll see how it all works out. As it will be Memorial weekend andeverything reputedly shuts down, I'll be off the air for a while.Actually, pretty much at the west coast, my first destination, andalthough I don't have a plan for the next two weeks or so, I don'texpect to be doing anything noteworthy, I may not have much to say.It has been just a super adventure, my mind keeps playing back sightsand sounds, everything has happened so fast I've only managed towrite, remember, so few. If I can I'll try and put some of themtogether. But now it is time to have a cup of coffee at the Javahouse, buy a micro-waveable mug so Emilia can have a cup of tea whenshe arrives, I'm micro-waving water to make tea, principles are allgood and well but pragmatism surely reigns. Then back on theinterstate, west, to San Diego.So, regards to all, thanks for all the replies, have a brilliantMemorial Day weekend (sounds incongruous, Memorial Day plus weekend).

Phil Edmonds

Enroute across the USA May 25 Thursday May




Pine Valley, California

A rest day in the cool and the mountains. Puerto Penoco never got anybetter, there was a karaoke bar across the street and it came alivearound ten, finally I stuffed the ear plugs into my ears and all wentquiet, I slept for a couple of hours, when I woke up the karaoke barhad fallen silent so I took the plugs out, mistake, actually it wasgoing full blast, the plugs really work wonderfully. Morning, up,pack, head out by eight. The town looks equally miserable in themorning. On the outskirts I stop for fuel, then head back north. Nottoo much traffic, the wind still blowing from the south and east,streamers of sand blowing across the road, the sand accumulates indrifts wherever there is a wing shadow and these drifts extend wellinto the centre of my lane, everything that is above the sand iscovered with the remnants of plastic bags, all flapping in the breeze,it was a bit like returning to Ghana. Except this country is a lotless livable as at least Ghana had the rainy season. On the other handGhana has a large population and this barren wilderness appears quitedeserted. It is an hour or so north to the border, I stop in thewretched café where I was short changed by the machine and then head onwest, just south of the border. The first sign tells me that the nextfood, fuel, accommodation is 180 km away. I think, hell, that's onlyabout 110 miles, no problem, it is only twenty or so miles further onthat I remember that I had already driven sixty or so miles fromPuerto Penoco. Well, it should still work out but it is amazing howoften I am watching the gas gauge. For the next 100 miles I drivethrough some of the bleakest country I have ever seen. The surface isgood, two lane, the edge of the asphalt drops six inches or so tosand, sometimes the drop is several feet or more, no hard shoulder, nostopping. Every twenty miles or so there is a collection of shacks bythe roadside, a café or a repair shop, some have a hand painted signthat say gasolina, the exit is a six inch drop off the road into softsand. I stop to take some photos and manage not to lose it in thesand, oddly when I go to put the kickstand down the bike is deepenough in the sand that I have to kick a little away before I can putMarks yellow foot down and lean the bike the right way. Getting outworks fine except I bottom out on the road edge. The road runs throughsand desert with occasional mesquite and creosote, some cactus. Thearea is volcanic and small hill spoke up though the sand, dark red,grey, a forbidding black, the sand has been blown up the valleys.After two hours of driving I start to reach civilization, it consistsor a crowd of militia stopping everybody looking for drugs, smuggling,whatever. I unload the bike and the militia poke around, then wave meon. Almost the entire route has been alongside the US border, a row ofvertical stakes maybe six feet high and a yard or so apart. Just pastthe check point this row of stakes has been replaced by a six or sofoot high fence, then in a mile or so I approach St Luis, the bordertown, the fence becomes a more impressive barrier. I stop for lunch,stay with the pescado empinazado, really good, then on to the bordercrossing. There is a line of cars maybe a mile long, no way I can inchup with them, I take the leftmost lane and just keep on driving. WhenI get to where the border traffic turns right I stop in the centrelane, the border guard immediately waves me ahead, I slowly drivearound all the barriers, road studs and other obstacles to safe bikedriving, get to the actual border, the guard stops me, I show him mypassport, open at the photo page, he waves me on. What did he see? I'mwearing the helmet, a bandana low over my eyes, dark glasses, well, hedid see, the white beard? Back in the States, everything different,this is a very sharp border, once I'm out of the line of shoppingmalls I drive north past green irrigated fields, north for abouttwenty or so miles, I'm pretty tired, I realize, into Yuma. I musthave taken a bad turn, end up on the wrong side of the Colorado River,enter an Indian Reservation, make a 180, wander through Yuma for abit, finally get onto the interstate, west again. Immediately intoCalifornia, Leslie, we've made it, you've done beautifully. And backinto the desert, sand dunes line both sides of the road, the dunes onthe left are all marked with vehicle tracks, the California playland.I stop in a desolate rest area to check maps, I plan to drive toDescanso, turn right and camp in the National Forest. Slowly a rangeof mountains grows ahead of me, I consider the poor miserableimmigrants from way back, struggling across the seemingly endlessdesert, the dismay when this mountain barrier grows ahead of them.Soon we are in the mountains, they are barren and waterless, it musthave been absolute murder dragging wagons across them, the road climbssteadily and it rapidly gets cooler. I stop at four thousand feet forfuel, it is actually cold. I'm just getting ready to head off, puttingon my gloves, helmet on, earplugs in place, when someone looms overme, I'm looking into the sun so I can't really make him out. He asksme, "How many women have you loved, in your life?" I mean, I mean,what kind of question is that. I feel a bit like Arlo Guthroe. How toanswer? I struggle with a reply, that the word love covers manyemotions, that I've really loved, I mean, totally irrecoverably, thatmagic, only four or five, that I've been terribly lucky, they were allwonderful, and that to this day I still keep in touch with them orknow how their lives are going. I mean, what kind of question is that?He is entranced by my answer and by now I've had to take off my helmetand my earplugs, he is an Hispanic, half Panamanian, his wife isMexican, they are off to Mexicali, I tell him I just returned fromPuerta Penaco, terrible place, hew is puzzled, he has been there andthought it was great, well, what can I say, he introduces me to hisson, gives me his card and phone number, will I please call him when Iget to San Diego, he wants to show me his home, meet his wife. Nevermind anything else, I've just been on the bike for the last six or sohours, this tends to numb my mind as well as my butt. We part withgood wishes, back on the road. I'm getting tires, to tired to camp, Idrive past a sign that says Pine Mountain Motel, I take the exit, findthe motel, a very attractive motel, wood built, set in the pines, Icheck in, expensive to my mind, I tell myself it is only thirtypounds, not too bad, unload, brew up, tea, life is better. It isalmost dark, I'm outside cleaning the windscreen, checking oil andcoolant, this chap comes up and we stand talking, his name is Chet, exVietnam, when he left the army, in the mid seventies, he bought an oldHarley and set off to spend six months driving around America. "I gotto the Mississippi and decided that was as far east as I wanted to goso turned back west and north."" I'd just travel, always on the back roads, when I ran out of moneyI'm find a bar and convince the owner to go take a holiday, gofishing, I'd look after the bar for him, we'd put my Harley in theback room and I'd make a little money."" Well, it was in Wyoming, some little town, I don't even remember itsname, late one evening, well, early morning really, I'm just closing,three local farmers sons come in.""I tell them that I'm closing, they say, 'that's right, keep onclosing, then pack up and go, you've been here long enough'.""It was the girls, they were just loved me, I was so romantic, I'dtraveled, I didn't have any ties, for me it was a great time, but itmust have made them farm boys so mad.""I loaded up the Harley, it was maybe two or three in the morning,fired her up and headed out."" They followed me in their pickup, the 30-30 rifle resting in the gun rack."" I'm thinking, 'Hell, I survived two tours in Vietnam to be blownaway by a bunch of jealous rednecks, what a bummer'."" I keep on driving, real careful."" We get to some kind of border, maybe the county, must have been theedge of their territory because as I drove on I saw their headlightsturn away and soon the red rear lights as they drove back home.""Well, that was the end of my adventure, I drove home and haven'tridden a bike since."Thanks Chet, his family came from England, always meant to go visit.We say goodnight and I go in. Emilia and I have been trying to findsomewhere to stay over the Memorial weekend, it looks like all thecampsites are booked up, I suggest I drive up the road and explore inthe morning. While we are on the phone I realize that I wasn'tactually cheated with the ATM at the border, I was confused by thedollar sign and the peso sign, both countries use the same $ sign, I'dwithdrawn $100 and received $100, peso both time. Emilia checks mybank account and yes, around $9 was withdrawn. Just a complete stormin a teacup. I also find the $150 I've been missing since yesterday, Iput it in my shorts hip pocket. Another stormy teacup. And I pretendI'm an experienced traveler. I sleep extremely well, it is cool, I'mat four thousand feet. I can hear the wind in the pines.Morning, I'm moving very slowly, tea in the microwave, not too bad,pack, load up, while I'm loading I have a chat with a couple of guys,construction workers, who have just rented a monster SUV next toLeslie, and they are trying to discover how all the bell sand whistleswork, like how to steer the rearview mirrors. One of them, a tallstringy guy, tells me that a couple of years ago he bought himself amotorcycle, taught himself how to drive it, went out a couple oftimes with one of the local groups, then one day he was out on hisown, making this left turn, as the road straightens up he finds he haslocked up on the steering and can't turn away from the oncomingtraffic. He hurtles right across the left lane, miraculously managesto miss everybody, ends up stationary, uninjured, on the oppositeverge facing the oncoming traffic. Didn't even drop the bike. Shakinglike a leaf. Called his wife, she came with the trailer, loaded thebike up and hasn't driven it yet. I suggest he take lessons, they willreally help both his self confidence and his riding skills. They pileinto the SUV and head off. The sun is up, the sky is blue, it ispleasantly warm. I fire Leslie up and head off to find a campground. Iget lost and drive in circles for half an hour, when I find it theytell me they are fully booked my only chance is a federal campsite upthe road past the Laguna, they have a few sites you can't reserve. Idrive to the ranger station and ask them whether there is any room,they call the campground and then tell me, I'm welcome to try butthere is a queue outside waiting for people to leave, he doesn't havemuch hope. Well, I'd talked to Ray, the manager at the Pine MountainInn and he said if I had a problem he'd try and fit me.I'm at a library and they have asked me to log off, so for the moment, bye--

Phil Edmonds
Enroute across the USA


The Western Sea, well, sort of Puerto Pensaco, Sonora, Mexico.

Out of Deming, stopped off to fill up, guy at the gas stationrecommended a cafe for breakfast, decided to have a cuppa so took sometea bags in with me, the water was lukewarm, ah well. Then on, westand west. It’s a Saturday, not too much traffic, just rolling along,remembering, thinking. At Bakersfield, back aways, there is this hugewind farm, Indian Hill, maybe I already wrote of it, in the midst ofthe oil country, now that is covering your bets. What with catching upon my log I had a rather late start, the land is flat, very littlechanges as the miles roll by, Lordsburg, then Wilcox. I pull off, Iintend to drive south and east to the Chiricahua National Wilderness,high up in the mountains, I stop of fin Wilcox and buy provisions,some milk, OJ, a tin of beef stew, bananas, packet of high energybiscuits, there is a Starbucks in the Safeway supermarket and I have acoffee and cake, then back out into the blinding sun, all the cloudshave evaporated and it is baking under the sun, must be four thousandfeet above sea level and the sun is like a flame.I fill up, then check the oil and water in the gas station parkinglot, this involves removing two large pieces of pairing from the righthand side of the bike, I carefully place them behind me so as not tostep on them. Then I check coolant, fine, oil, it is about half waybetween the marks, time to buy more oil, there is a car parts shopacross the way, I’ll test my tire gauge as I’m uncertain that it isreading right as the tire pressures have been too high since I boughtthe gauge. I drive over to the parts store, buy the oil, explain myproblem, they loan me another gauge, I go out and check the tires,they are frighteningly high, around 45 psi when the manual says 33 and36 cold, of course they are hot, but hardly as I’ve been driftingaround town for the last hour or so, I let them both down to 39 psi asa compromise and decide to ask Jerry as a research project, should Irun my cold pressures low when I’m riding in hot country or just usethe owners manual values and let them look after themselves, go forit, Jerry, I return the gauge, as I get on the bike I realise, nobloody fairings, I left them behind the bike, at the gas station.damn, I hurtle back, actually It is just across the road, and therethey are, glinting in the sun. sigh of relief, lesson, put thefairings in front of the bike where I can see them before I drive off.Lucky, I need to get my head back in shape. This over, I get lost inWilcox, now this is a small town and that was quite an achievement,then head off on the thirty five mile run to the park. A strong crosswind, an empty road, hey, lookie, tumble weed, it brushes against myheel as I drive by. The road is a challenge, it is gently curving,over rolling country, the bends are always on the downside past thetop of the hill so each hill top has to be taken carefully as anythingcould be on the other side, one thing there is not is much traffic, bythe time I’ve driven ten miles past Dos Cabezas I’ve seen one vehicleand for the rest of the drive, none. And this brings me to the fogline, this is the white line on the right side of the road, I’m toldto make my left hand curves from fog line to fog line - with a delayedapex, for the initiates - well, take this with a pinch of salt. forstarters many of these roads have a steep camber and it is reverse forthese turns, don’t get close to the fog line unless the bike isupright. Then as you move into the rural country the fog line getsgritty, sandy, rough, even on the gravel. I’ve move my turns away fromthe road edge. And as I try and stay not to close to the double yellowthe result is my curves are getting more and more wimpy, well, bettersafe than, etc. After an hour or so I drive into the park, discoverI’m eligible for a golden pass, this costs $10 and gives me everythinghalf price, so the campsite, a lovely spot in the pines costs me $6.Can’t beat that. I get the cooker out, then discover. No tea.Disaster. Of Himalayan proportion. I must have left it behind at thecafe, I vaguely remember just leaving the container on the rear rack,I must have just drive off. At least I’ve got some milk. so I drinkhalf the milk and half the bananas, put up the tent, the ranger saidmossies were a pain, then heat up my stew. Carrying the stew from thecooker to the table it comes loose from the handle and falls to thegravel gritty ground. At least the pot ends up right way up and I onlylose about a half, the rest is animal feed. so I have a rather poormeal, the stew isn’t very good on a good day, I eat it with cheese andsome cold tacos. Not doing too well, must concentrate. After mysumptuous meal I fire up and we drive to the top of the mountain,around 6800 feet, to watch the sunset. Fairly recently, about 26million ago, a nearby volcano blew up, about a thousand times morepowerful than Mt St Helena, and dumped a hundred cubic miles of stuffinto the air, this tufa eroded and differentially uplifted to producethis mountain range, then the rock eroded into the most strikingcolumns, and balancing rocks and weird formations. The mountain is a'sky island¡, separated from nearby similar mountains by miles ofdesert, so each mountain has a slightly different set of flora andfauna. As the sun set two groups of astronomers arrived and set uptelescopes to sky watch. I drove back in the dark, thinking of deer,and to bed. While in Wilcox I succumbed in a very cowardly fashion andbought a cheap sleeping back so finally I have a warm night, I amstill not sleeping too well. morning, exciting breakfast, the OJ, theenergy biscuits with milk. Strike camp, load up, drive back to thetop, take a short walk, then down the hill, north to Wilcox, restockas I plan to drive to Organ Pipe National monument, buy tea, anothercan of stew and a sandwich for lunch, coffee at Starbucks and offagain. West to Tucson ,another incredibly unattractive town, allsitting in the middle of a dust blown desert, shabby developments, Iturn south, this country is huge, I underestimate the distances andagain I had made a late start, it is mid afternoon and I have a good180 miles to go, the road unwinds seemingly endlessly, past the townof Sells, it has a gas station and as there are several more towns Idecide not to refill, the tank is essentially full as I tanked up inTucson, then a long run through an Indian reservation, quijotoa, anfinally the town of Why, interesting name and I don’t have to askmyself the reason for the name, it is a T in the road. But there is alarge convenience store, a gas station, and yes, a casino. I’m verygrateful for the gas, I enjoy the coffee, I visit the casino, it isjust row on row of slot machines, I really don’t approve of gambling.Well, not my business, out and south to Organ Pipe monument, the girlsaid it was just four miles, it is about six and I’m feeling reallywasted. As we leave Why I see a sign that says, Organ Pipe CampgroundClosed. This is the Sonoran desert, there is absolutely nothing here,I decide to risk it and drive on. The park boundary is just four milesaway but after fifteen miles I discover the park entrance is anotherten. I arrive, turn right, everything is deserted. While I’m sittingthere getting my thoughts together a jeep turns up with two beautifulyoung Berkeley students, he is a surfer and she is lovely, energetic,shorts and a halter top, they plan camping here, we have a chat and Idecide I’m going to camp here whatever, they are all for theinsurrection and we drive the two miles to the campground, there are acouple of campers there, they tell us that actually the campgrounddidn’t close until the next day, now today, so not even a problem. Idecide to sleep on the table, brew up, finally a cup of tea, eat mysandwich, I haven’t really stopped since Wilcox, it is enough. Theplace is full of birds that essentially ignore me I use the fadinglight to photograph a few, then find a standpipe without any cactus,strip down and shower off, hang everything off the bike, climb into myback and watch the sky darken an the stars come out. Another warmnight, still restless, up early, hang around till the rangers arrive,pay my dues, see the video, decide to drive the five miles to theborder to see it. When I get thee, have a cup of coffee, chat with thecouple from the campground, insurance costs $23, so I pay up, we getback on the bike drive through, no checks, no nothing, Mexico. Becareful. I stop off at a large store with an ATM and change money,something goes dreadfully wrong and although I change fifty dollarsthe machine only gives me fifty peso. The manager says he can’t helpit, other people have had the same problem, it is with the US cards, Ishould complain to HBSC, whoever. I gather the exchange rate is about10 peso to the dollar. Damn. Gringo. Not to worry, we head off south,a long dusty drive, as we go south, the road is the direct route tothe coast, behind Baja California, clearly a large tourist resortlooking at the signs for real estate, condos, time share, etc., as weget closer the wind picks up and the road becomes obscured in blowingsand, sometimes visibility is only a hundred feet or so, I rememberthe last time I drove in these conditions, in Ghana, road obscured byblowing sand and dust, I came of on a longitudinal rut and wrenched myknee, at least here the road surface is good. I come up behind acamper van, maybe the statutory hundred feet, considering overtakingthere a couple of cars coming the other way, when they are maybe twohundred yards from him he pull straight into their path to overtake aslow moving truck. Suicide. Quick check, no one behind me, I hammer onthe brakes, my first real hard stop, she handles like a lady, at thelast moment the camper driver wakes up and brakes and swerves madlyback into my lane, a moment of adrenalin. Every thing is over in asecond, no problem. I chug along behind him till I have a clear runand then rocket past him, don’t need that, thank you. The wind getsworse and I slow down to fifty, the dust is just covering everything,what a hell of a place, we round the corner and there is the city.covered in blowing dust, all the streets except the few main roads aredust, the town is terribly ugly, well, I find a motel, check in, restfor an hour, drive around, down to the coast, rocky volcanic stones,have a delightful lunch, pescado empanizado, cruise, nothingattractive, back to the motel. It is truly astounding, the town isreally awful yet the place is a hive of construction, hugedevelopments line the coast for miles to the north, all for sale torich Americanos, I would guess, and this is such an unattractiveplace, stuck out in the middle of nowhere, the desert ends at thebeach, nothing grows. Apparently, from the old ads, very popular asa place for the Easter break. Figures. I can not imagine either havinga holiday here or living here. Well, I hope they enjoy it all. At themotel the water is on, I shower, sleep till about six, cup of tea,then find an internet cafe, write this. Amazing, not to boast, becareful, but two no error days in a row.Night all

Phil Edmonds
Enroute across the USA


The Guadalupes and into New Mexico.

A troubled night, still haven't totally recovered from the dreaded'red sauce'. Up fairly late, am at the library doors as they open,nine, I log in, check my email, thank you all for your letters andencouragement, I'll get to Carol later. I send the sorry tale and amout a little after ten, cruise down the drag one more time, and thenbreakfast. The day is fairly cold, overcast with low ceilings, theweather forecast is mostly for late afternoon thunderstorms, north andwest rain and mist. I dither and then decide to continue with myadventurous plan, to drive north to the Guadalupe Mountains and toturn west to El Paso, stopping off at Hueco Tanks State Park on theway. The weather specifically said it was raining at Hueco buthopefully it will have cleared up by the time I arrive.So, north, the road is delightful, it runs fairly straight throughgrass and stunted shrub country, mist enshrouded mountains on bothsides. Very little traffic, in the hour or so it takes me to drive tothe Guadalupe Mountains I meet a VW camper van, two enormous pickups,it is a good job Leslie is big or else she would be totallyintimidated by these monsters, instead she can hold her place, aSuburban and two motor cycles, we greet each other warmly. I find it abit unsettling, this more or less untravelled road and yet the surfaceis superb, I compare it with last years trip to Turkey, even the mainroads were a mess of potholes and diversions. Well, this is America. Iturn left towards El Paso, a little more traffic, but nothing serious.I road runs through a brilliant white salt flat, then past the ruinsof an old abandoned motel and gas station, I think that fifty or soyears ago there were more small motels and people stopped more oftenin small places. I drive for miles, not a building, no one seems tolive here now.I'm on a stretch of road with a double yellow centerline, a carbehind me. It's been getting warmer, perspiration is starting totrickle into my eyes, the sunscreen stings a little, nothing I can doabout it, with gloves, glasses and the helmet, then abruptly theirritation becomes severe, my eyes start to water, then both fill withtears, the pain is quite excruciating, I can't see anything, I canbarely keep my eyes open. Blinking furiously I signal, I catchoccasional glimpses of the car behind me and the road ahead, slowdown, hope he is aware, pull over, stop on the fog line. The carbehind continues, I shut down, sit there, for a few minutes, the painsubsides, I take my helmet off and wipe my eyes with the bandana Iwear just over my eyebrows t prevent this very thing from happening,shortly everything is normal again. I take a short walk to pull myselftogether, it was a most unpleasant few minutes. And another lessonwith a very unclear moral, presumably don't wear sunscreen above theeyes.I head on west, fuel gauge once again moving into the red, I think myrange is over two hundred miles, I don't intend finding out, I've beendriving about a hundred and sixty and have at least thirty to go, well,can't worry about that. I get to the Hueco Tanks turn off, a pleasantlazy ten miles into the park, I pay my entrance fee, watch a quiteinteresting video about the park. The Hueco Tanks are three huge pilesof rocks about five hundred feet high, a granite like rock, reddishhued. They have weathered to produce hollows that fill with water,Hueco means hollow, and these remain fill ed with water all year,producing a sanctuary for plants and wildlife. The Indian lived herelong since and left rock art, I take a stroll, photograph the cactusblooms and some of the rock art, then back on the bike and away. SoonI'm approaching El Paso, let me tell you, this city doesn't look likea place I'd want to live in. Extensive ugly developments extendingmiles to the East, barren rocky ground. The road I'm on is swarmingwith law enforcement, I'm passed by the sheriff, then by a StateTrooper, then by the police. The police suddenly turn their lights onand make a U-turn, then the state trooper turns his lights on andpulls a car over, he didn't seem to be doing anything remarkable tome, then a border control truck drives the other way, I hope the speedlimit is fifty five and mind my own business. When I get to thecircumferential freeway I turn right and sweep around El Paso, gaugenow definitely getting into the red. The freeway ends and I'm on alarge multilane road, ahead I see an interstate and behind it onlymountains so I pause to fill up, the people in the gas station andmini store are a tough looking lot, not to argue with them, then Iturn right, after maybe five miles I realize it is the wrong road, Ipull off at a car wash and take out my map.A cheerful man comes over, asks if he can help, explains I'm on thewrong road, gives me directions for the over the mountain route to theI-10, you'll love it he says, tells me he owns the car wash and wouldlike to give me a free wash, I decline, Leslie had a good washyesterday, he tells me how wonderful the British are, such a solid andsteady ally, we shake and I head back, pick up the mountain road, oneither side is a military training ground, the yellow signs warn ofunexploded ordinance, we don't plan stopping. Then we drive throughFranklin Mountain State Park, as barren a place as you'll see thisside of the moon, down the other side, I overshoot the interstate andhave to make a U-ey, then west again. Lots of traffic, quite asurprise after these days of empty interstate, apparently they make itall in El Paso.I stop at the New Mexico welcome center, they are so generous, first,coffee and delicious cookies, then they let me use their internetconnection, fifteen minutes it says but they say, don't you worry, Itry and catch up, it seems to be a rule that I'll never get current.Roswell is very close to here and the welcome center sells littlegreen Martian Buttons. Carol tells me that most of our current crop ofpoliticians were born near here soon after the alleged landing, maybethey are the result of a pairing between Martians and the local sheep.Actually I simply hate politicians, even worse than lawyers, so thisis not really a political statement. After an hour I leave, it is pastfour, or maybe five, and I plan to stop at the Rockhound State Parkand camp. Ahead are several streets of thunderstorms, the raintrailing from the clouds like a long leash, as the road heads back andforth it looks like we are making for the center of the biggest of thestorm, I have a fabulous view, can see the lightening, cloud to cloud,cloud to ground, I wonder what happens if it strikes me on my bike, Idecide that if I find it likely I'll slow down to maybe thirty so thatat least the emergency folk can follow the events. At Los Cruces muchof the traffic heads north, the road curves away from the large stormand we pass it to our right, but ahead are a whole slew more, I drivethrough intermittent showers, some of the strikes are quite close, acouple of miles I'd guess, we pass through an inspection and controlpoint, slow down to walking pace and get waved on, I stop under theshelter to bury the camera in the camera bag so that if we get hit byheavy rain it won't get too wet, then back into the rain, the drive isreally fun, fabulous visibility, a very striking range of craggymountains to the left, a long view to the right, dark clouds overhead,rain streaming down, occasional views of the sun through gaps in theclouds. A strong crosswind but I'm getting used to it. By the time Iget to Deming it is either six or seven depending on the time, I feelit is too late to eat, then drive down to the park, and with all thesestorms it could be an unpleasant night, I cruise the main drag inDeming and check into the seediest hotel I can find, $29 plus tax. Thecourtyard is ball bearing gravel, Leslie and I make a very undignifiedduck walk, Mark would bury his head in shame, but we don't drop. Icheck in, the room smells like a bar, I ask for a non smoking room,they only have one, no phone, I take it anyway, It is quite pleasant,window opens, we are close to the train line and frequent trains,miles long, ramble by. I walk across the road and have dinner in aMexican restaurant, This town is more Mexican than Mexico, the waiterdoesn't speak any English and doesn't understand my Spanish, the mealis OK and the flan delicious. Light rain, I walk back to the motel,nothing to watch on the TV, shower and bed. Another restless night,maybe this time I'll blame the previous dinner, up early, fill up, getbreakfast, across the road is a stand of cactus, in one of them acactus wren has made his nest, I photograph the nest and the cactus,then the angry bird watching me. Find the library, and hen, heavenhelp us, I'm up to date. You all have a good weekend, you hear!

Phil Edmonds Snr.
Enroute across the USA Van Horn, TX -



Across the Pecos.

The night at Llano was brutal, the bed was hard, it was cold, justthat level of misery that freezes one but doesn't quite give incentiveto do something serious like put all my clothes on. Then a rare andhighly endangered nightbird set up it's territorial corner in thethorny bush right by the tent and spent all night shouting at top ofit's voice, “dimwit dimwit dimwit". Well, it had that right. Morningwas cold and overcast, brewed up, loaded up Leslie and was away. Thesky looked threatening and soon spats of rain started to appear onthe windshield, soon it was cold pounding rain, if I sit comfortablyat sixty I keep dry, only my gloves get wet, thank you Rod, they'vebeen great. If I slow below thirty then I get drenched. I took thefirst exit, refueled and then hid in a restaurant, a lazy breakfastwhile I waited for the rain to at least diminish. Every one in therestaurant was interested, they've all been to the UK as service men,now they have family in Iraq, as one lovely man told me, it is areally hard to come to grips with the reality, how can we believe itis a complete waste and wrong and a totally lost effort when we havefamily out there dying? There was nothing I could say but sorry. Theylove the UK because it is the only real US friend, come fair or storm,maybe they have a point, temporary loyalty isn't worth all that much.The flags are back at half mast, the paper said the war in Iraq hascost five hundred billion dollars, this is real money, a lot of peoplehave made fortunes out of the pain and tragedy. And we are in debt tothat amount, around ten thousand dollars for the 50 million workingAmericans, this is a guess. And we know that the only real incomesource for the government is tax. So some unpopular government isgoing to have to bite the bullet, meanwhile we pay a fortunemaintaining the debt. While we chew on all this the rain lets up, theywish me well and We are away, a steady but light drizzle. The road isempty, the surface good, I'm fairly flying along at seventy, Theterrain changes from the lush grass and live oaks of the hill countryto a sparse grass coverage with straggly bushes scattered about, thecalechee yellow white ground shows through. as I continue west all thegrowth gets thinner and thinner. The country is desolate, an endlessplain cut deep by the rivers, I take the Sheffield exit, one of myfriends in the cafe new it well, had stayed at the motel long ago, nowthere is nothing, he says, a few families, even the school is closed. Istop to take a photo in the ten minutes or so it takes me to take thephoto several vehicles pass by, all stop to check I'm OK, everyone isso generous and thoughtful, I'm so grateful. Linda had given me a pairof ear plugs, I tried them out in the morning and they really make thedriving less stressful, only problem is one has to modify drivingtechnique as otherwise I'm blasting along at eighty five when I thinkI'm doing seventy. Somehow taking the photo I lost the earplugs, Isearch but no luck, I hope I can get a replacement in the nextpharmacy. Back on the bike and on again. Today has been a bit liketaking a dog for a walk, I keep stopping, one thing or another. I stopon the escarpment overlooking the Pecos river, it is a magnificentview, made more beautiful by the mist and rain shrouding the hill sonthe other side. I drive down into the valley, a decent of five or morehundred feet, back into the rain, through Sheffield, three or fourabandoned motels, a couple of car parts stores, ubiquitous in smallUS towns, no gas station, no school, another town dying. I cruisethrough and soon am back on I-10. My plan is to drive to the Balmorheaexit and gas up at the intersection, stay the night in one of themotels, visit the park in the morning. None of this happens, the emptyroad seems to run on forever, the I-20 joins us and there’s moretraffic, then the Blamorhea exit, damn, nothing, not a building, justa road heading south to the park. So I keep on, watching the gas gaugeslowly sinking into the red, hope rise4s at every exit but none ofthem have anything. Finally I see a Chevron sign on top of a hill, Itake the gravel ramp off the interstate, wind up the hill along agravel road and fill up, finally a decent price, 3.49 a gallon,could well be a little more than half the price in England. Fill up andhead on to Van Horn, the rain has let up, the road is drying, I pullout to overtake a truck, wind up to eighty to get past, when he isabout fifty yards away he vanishes in a cloud of spray, in an instantI’m lost in the downpour, torrential, can't see anything. Probablystupidly I decide I'm committed and keep straight and level, I canfeel the front wheel moving around on the surface, a couple ofterrifying seconds, gets the adrenalin going, then I'm past him, Ikeep speed up of another few hundred yards to get well ahead of him,then pull over and gingerly slow down. Around sixty I feel the tiresbite again, I drop back to fifty five, the rain squall fades away, theroad dries out, back to speed, moral is pay more attention. The rainstops and I pull into Van Horn, a virtual oasis in this endless space,cruise the only street, choose a motel, $30 plus tax with breakfast,check in, brew up, rest a while.Written in New Mexico at the welcome centre, thank you folks for yourhospitality.

Phil Edmonds Snr.

Enroute across the USA


The Texas Hill CountrySunshine Café, Junction and Llano State Park, 5 mi south Junction, TX

Had a delicious Brazilian dinner with Emilia and Zack, so didn't doanything about getting ready. There was a glorious thunderstorm duringthe night, great flashes of light and booms of thunder, severalstrikes really close, we could hear the ripping sound of the actualstrike before it was lost in the peals of echoes. I just lovethunderstorms. I woke up with very little energy, it is a bit likestarting a car, there has to be enough energy in the battery to startthe engine before real energy is available,, I considered delaying thestart to the next day but finally got going and staggered out of bed.Took forever to find everything, and to get it packed, cycled over toUT to have coffee with Emilia to discover the coffee kiosk was closedfor exams or whatever so we cycled to Spider house for Cappuccino,then back to UT, a few phone calls to extend the rental car and tomake sure my AAA membership is real, it's 1230 by the time I'm on myway.Enough traffic out of Austin and for the next twenty or so miles westto be nasty but once past Dripping Springs, home of the legendaryfootball player, Bubba Springs with a steady and permanent nasal drip,the traffic clears up and I get comfortable. It still takes me abouthalf an hour before I'm really focused and driving right, until then Iforce the focus, burning energy. Past Johnson city I catch up with aqueue of cars following the largest load I've ever seen on aninterstate, it consists of two trucks loaded with two cones, accordingto the long load sign, the vehicle is 120 feet long and the leadingtruck, with the wider end of the cone, twenty feet wide. They arebarreling along at around fifty five and are a complete obstruction asthe front truck takes up both lanes and a bit more besides. I drivethrough Fredericksburg alongside the second truck, it feels that thetube is infinitely long. The rear truck has about six sets of wheelsbefore and must have some kind of remote steering, remarkable. I peeloff at the Fred'burg café for breakfast, even though it is now abouttwo thirty. Feeling stronger I'm off again. The road fromFredericksburg runs through the rolling Texas Hill country, mostlystraight with a few lazy curves. Hardly any traffic, often not avehicle in side ahead or behind, the surface is ideal. The road vergesare ablaze with the late spring wildflowers, yellows and reds, thefields are a haze of blue with the last of the bluebonnets, a flock ofsheep under the live oaks, sheltering from the sun, then half a dozenlong horn staring moodily at the road, their horns must be a handspan, five or six feet, remarkable. I pass a rest area with a motorcycle on it's kickstand, the rider is spread out on the table top andlifts his hand lazily as I drive by, this is a real pleasure. The skyis cloudy and the clouds are building up, this keeps me comfortablycool, yet there is enough sun for the little dips in the road tovanish in a shimmering mirror mirage reflection of the sky.After an hour or so I join the interstate, I-8, traffic still verysparse, the speed limit is eighty, a far cry from the double nickeldays of yesteryear, Leslie cruises very comfortably at seventy, aboutfour I pull off at Junction to assess, I had planned to stop at Ozonabut with my late start this will get everything pretty late and I canfeel my concentration slipping. Time to hang it up. There is a statepark just five miles south of Junction, Llano River State Park and Ifill up and succumb to temptation and drive the six miles south to thecampsite. Twelve dollars for the walk in camp site, I pitch my tent ina tiny clearing back in the woods, hopefully the ground won't be toohard, mostly everything is pink granite gravel, pea to marble sizedbut I pitch on thin grass. Brew up, tea, rest for twenty minutes, backon the bike and drive the six miles to Junction, cruise the town, finda lovely café, "The Sunshine Café", run by a bustling round cheerfullady. I have tilapia, it is delicious with the red sauce, no so sureof the latter. I plan an early start for Balmorhea, about 250 milesaway but another camper said he'd just come from there and it was along and tiring day. We'll see.

Phil


Trans Pecos in the Rain Van Horn Public Library,

Friday May 18th

Last night the trip back from the restaurant was more exciting than Ihad expected or needed. A couple of miles south of town I saw a largeblack obstruction in the road, maybe two hundred yards away, by now itis getting to late twilight. As I slow down and approach it resolvesitself into a road kill deer, must have been hit while I was havingdinner, and four or five black buzzards or vultures or whatever havinga late supper. As I get closer the buzzards take off, heading in everydirection, one makes straight for me. These are big birds, I wouldn'tbe surprised if their wingspan is five or six feet, and they look evenlarger at dusk coming straight at my windshield. Two fingers alreadyon the brake in preparedness I pull on the grips hard, the damn birdflying directly towards me. Bird, head up, eyes out!. We are a coupleof feet apart when he finally sees me, he makes a violent bankingturn, sideways across my windshield, misses me by what seems likeinches but was most likely several feet, I feel the gust of air fromhis wings as he pulls away. Somewhat shaken I pull over and it takesme a couple of minutes to get myself back in order. I drive on verycarefully, every bush hides a deer ready to leap out in front of meand I don't need any more excitement tonight thank you.

Phil Edmonds

Enroute across the USA


Austin May 15: Report 10 - Old and New Friends

Well, been here a week now and it hardly feels like it has been morethan a few days. Been helping Zack out around the house and in hisworkshop, he has the most complete of house building tools I've everseen which is hardly surprising considering he has just built himselfa house, it is truly remarkable, no architect, no plans, he and hisbuilder simply designed and built it on the fly, and it is reallyimpressive. People walking past in the street constantly stop andgaze, take photographs, every day one or two walk up the steps andtalk abut how marvelous it all is, Zack has about had this and prettymuch simply ignores them until they go away. I've been sorting thebike out, tightening up the nuts and screws on the bling, half a dozenparts had lost their attachments by the time we arrived in Austin andI've sorted them out, hopefully fixed the coolant problem, the bikemust have been very low on coolant as I've added almost a quart to aone gallon system. Flamenco Motors get on my Sponsor list as they gaveme a pint of antifreeze and wouldn't allow me to pay for it, "Anyfriend of Zack's is a friend of ours", the generosity of Austinites isproverbial but still very warming. I've spent lots of time at SpiderHouse enjoying the peace and quiet and the delicious coffee, haddinner at Trudy's, evenings we've either hung out with Zack and hisfriends or gone out, a lovely evening with Charles and Diane Radin,dinner with Mike and Camille, Sunday with Roger and Billie Bengtson,today lunch with Toni Liguori, so many friends and so little time.Emilia organised an open house on Saturday afternoon and that wasgreat, lots of friends showed up, Richard was so taken with Leslie, hejust glowed with pleasure when he sat himself in the driver’s seat.That was a super evening. Spent a fair amount of time catching up onthe trip reports, washing clothes.Sunday Emilia and I fired Leslie up and drove the hundred miles westand north to Enchanted Rock, a beautiful pink granite dome, themorning was cool and the roads almost deserted, then we climbed thefive hundred feet odd to the top, spent an hour or so soaking up thebeautiful view across the north of the Texas hill country, then droveback. We persuaded a another visitor to take a photo of Emilia, Leslieand myself and I attach it, well, if I get that worked out, I'llattach it. (You can also just see the tiny stuffed toy rottweiler thatToni gave me, she runs a rescue home for "Rotties" and Rottie isattached to the left fairing behind the windscreen.)A fair amount of traffic and about half an hour out it we drovethrough several rain showers, I'm still very edgy driving in the rainbut no problems. Also on the way back we pulled off into a farm shopselling peaches, fortunately I was very careful as the surface turnedout to be an inch or more of gravel, it was exactly like driving overa pile of ball bearings, I straightened everything up and slowed down,ever so carefully and yet just before we stopped the front wheelsimply locked and slid the last few feet on the round stones,fortunately I was going slow enough that I didn't have any problems,once stopped Emilia dismounted and I very carefully duck walked thebike in a large arc to end up facing out the way we had come. Butthere was simply no directional stability on the loose gravel, a goodlesson. It was a truly lovely day.Leslie really doesn't like the endless four way stop signs and all thestop and go traffic and we decided to get a rental car, a bit ofextravagance to make our lives easier. The best deal was at theairport and on Thursday morning I cycled over to college and caughtthe airport bus to Bergstrom, the new airport. The bus costs 50 cents,but as I'm over 60 for me it is free. I'm the only one on it. When Iget to the airport and try to checkout the car I discover that I needa credit card and I only have a debit card, beats me but never mind,this is only costing time, I take the bus back to Austin, back on thebicycle, get my credit card, back to the bus stop, back to theairport, this time it works, but what with travel time and waiting forthe bus time, the service is every forty minutes, it takes the entireday. It is a real shame, here is this fantastic affordable service,from all over downtown Austin, and it is hardly used, the car parks atthe airport are packed, the bus is essentially empty, in my threetrips the total number of people was about eight, including me.At the party I asked Camille who is our leading light in GlobalWarming, what event will have to happen to actually get people'sattention, she replied, it has already happened, the coral reefs aredead and dying, the snow line on Mt McKinley is two thousand feethigher, all the snows on Mt Kilimanjaro have melted, islands in theBay of Bengal are being abandoned as the sea levels rise, apparentlyNew Zealand is accepting the people from one island as immigrants.Head in the sand, I certainly have to pled guilty, flying back andforth across the Atlantic, driving this huge motor bike, what can Isay?Pretty much everything is now sorted in Austin, I've got to add someclutch fluid to the clutch reservoir, pack the bike, ready to go. I'veabout thirteen hundred miles to go, I hope it will all be asuneventful as the last leg, a lot more desert and empty spaces, can'tfind too many campsites along the route so expect to be motellingmore. Emilia and I plan to meet up in or near San Diego on Thursday,gives me a fairly modest daily target, then we'll spend Memorialweekend holidaying, no serious plans yet, probably bike camping in theSierras, Emilia wants to drive the pacific coastal road but I think itdoesn't really start until Los Angeles. We'll see when we get there.I would like to be heading out tomorrow morning but may not get awayuntil Thursday, we'll see. Anyway, off to sort out the bike, pack,load, see what happens.Love to all,

Phil

Enroute across the USA

Day 4: Sunday - Rustum towards Austin

Sunday. I sleep extremely well. Up early with the dawn chorus, kettleon, fold and pack all the camping gear which I had spread out thenight before to dry, drink my tea as I load the bike, getting betterat this, check tire pressures, they are a little high, should I letsome air out, one of the many things my mind gently teases at when I'mon the highway, by a little past seven we are done, checked out and onour way. Day looks like it is going to be hot. Plan is to drive acrossthe Texas border, pick up a map, then turn south to Carthage, thensouthwest on Hwy 79, it looks like a very decent shot to Round Rock,about twenty miles north of Austin. We'll see how it goes. Verylittle traffic, sometimes as far as I can see ahead and behind, theroad is deserted. After an hour I stop to check my oil, this is one ofthe minor irritations, I should check oil, water, tire pressures everymorning before I start. However I have to check the tire pressurescold and the fluids hot. So I try to remember to check the oil and,when I discover how, the water, in the evening and the tires in themorning. But by the time I've made my destination I'm too tired tocarefully remove all the plastic trim and covers that get me access tothe oil dipstick, never mind the coolant level so this gets done at myfirst stop. Oil is fine, water gauge looks OK so I'll continue andplan to really find out how to check the coolant. The manual simplydoes not describe how to get to the level gauge. Meanwhile I'vedeveloped a navigation technique, I write in large block capitals alist of all the roads and exits and towns on route, it has to fit on asheet of typing paper folded into three which slides into a clearplastic envelope Linda found for me that is velcroed onto the fueltank. Today the list ends with exit 236B in Austin. Hopeful. Aboutnine thirty I pass a road sign that says Hwy 79 – Carthage. I'm stillin Louisiana but decide I don't really need a map so I turn off I-20,its been a great run, thanks, almost exactly nine hundred miles. Myinitial apprehension that this will be a small slow road crawlingthrough town after town turns into delight as I discover it is agreat scenic drive through open country, fast with few intersectionsand excellent visibility. This is oil country, there are a few ofthose nodding oil pumps, lots of fields filled with storage tanks andcomplex piping, roadside businesses are drilling and disposing tosaline water, presumably pumped up with the oil and a waste, stacks ofpiping, I stop in a rest stop to have a drink and an entire rollingfactory drives by, drill rig, power plants, trailers loaded withpipes, trailers loaded with shacks, almost a city on the move. Thecountryside is beautiful, open, magnificent houses line the road, allwith long driveways, clearly lots of money. I drive through Carthagewithout stopping then, half an hour later, stop at a your basic cementblock roadside café, The Pit Stop. It is totally East Texas, at anearby table a group of three men sit in earnest discussion, one istall and thin with hair tied back in a ponytail, one is solid,muscular with an impressive beer belly, the third is tiny, wiry,looking quite evil. Presumably oil workers on their day off. I chatwith the waitress, Gwen, she takes a photo of me in the café, Iphotograph the trio, then after breakfast Gwen wants to see Leslie sowe go out and I take a photo of her alongside it, I can see thelonging in her eyes to travel, to see the world. I hope it works out,Gwen. Back on the road, Henderson, then the town of Buffalo, to allappearances deserted, just the traffic rolling past, I stop for abreather, take some photos. Gwen told me it was about four hours toAustin, it is now a little past midday, maybe I'll get there, onagain. Now I'm also racing the rain, storm clouds are brewingeverywhere, a couple of times the windscreen is spattered with dropsfrom nearby storms. The route is very popular with othermotorcyclists, every half an hour or so I pass a convoy going theother way, we acknowledge each other reaching out with our left handsto give a virtual handshake, in Carthage I caught up with a lovelyvivid yellow bike and we have been riding more or less together for anhour or so, I stop for a drink and a breather and he is away. Skygetting more and more threatening, I take the bypass around Tylor, I'mreally close now, not more than forty miles, I estimate. I stop forgas, I'm also getting tired and very nearly drop poor Leslie butmanage to catch her in time. I've been having trouble with my mobile,most of the time since the Mississippi I've not had any signal, buthere it is working again, I call Emilia and tell her I'm an hour or soaway, she is so surprised she almost sounds angry, but also delighted.In the shop I ask how far to Austin and another customer tells me totake the toll road, and it is only twenty five minutes. So close. Theinstructions are rather confusing so I decide to do what I know how todo and head off to Round Rock. It starts to rain heavily, thewindscreen keeps me completely dry, I can see that the storm is off tomy right and I'll soon pass out from under it so I keep going, soonI'm in the outskirts of Round Rock, the rain lets up, traffic isgetting heavy, it is about four or four thirty on a Sunday and all theweekend traffic is returning home, lights, stop and go, neither Leslienor I like this kind of stuff. I detect a smell of antifreeze as ifshe is getting hot, the gauge is on scale. Not good, must, must checklevel in Austin. Then we join the dense intersection that leads toI-35, entrances, exits everywhere, then I'm on the interstate, thetraffic is nose to tail, bling to bumper, all going sixty five, I keepdropping back and traffic keeps swerving into my lane, I drop backsome more, like entering Atlanta but worse and also I'm tired, it hasbeen a long day. There are eighteen wheelers mixed in with thetraffic, one pulls alongside me, the raw heat the emanates from theengine is impressive, as is the noise of the engine and the size ofthe tires, then he drops back and pull in behind me, I can see himlooming in both my rear view mirrors, I almost feel like some rabbitfrozen in the road by an oncoming cars headlights, after what feelslike an eternity, he pulls over to the right lane and exits, I relax alittle. Entering Austin, some of it is vaguely familiar, I rememberthat the interstate splits into two just north of downtown and I haveto take the branch that has the University exits, otherwise I'll be insouth Austin before I know it, it all works out, I take the correctexit, heading west, somehow I get lost in a maze of small streetaround St David's Hospital, familiar but not familiar enough for me toget sorted, every intersection is a four way stop, I feel Leslieoverheating again, gauge still reads everything OK, hopefully not lowon coolant, but getting worried, not smart when I'm tired, somewhere Imake a very wrong turn and find myself heading south and arrive at theuniversity. At least I now sort of know where I am, I work my waywest and a little north and then on my right is the stream and thelittle park with a road on each side, Zack's house is somewhere upthis road. I don't know the number and I'm sufficiently tired that mymind is going numb, I slowly cruise up the road looking for a brandnew house, Zack designed and built this house himself, had his housewarming just a week earlier, I don't see anything new looking so pullover and stop to get sorted, it has to be within a hundred yards ofwhere I am. And Emilia comes walking up the road, it takes mybattered mind a couple of moments to recognise her, but I do, I'vemade it. I shut dear Leslie down, she has been heroic, thanks ever somuch Richard, gently onto the kickstand, I'll leave her where she isand get myself a little rest before I move her. Must be nearly five,although Emilia says it is only four, maybe I'm still on East coasttime. As soon as I sit down in the cool of Zack's veranda, this is alla veritable haven, so delightful to see Zack again, haven't seen himsince my operation, been years, I realise how tired I am, reallytired, I just sit and have a glass of water, then a pot of tea. Ifinish off with a bottle of beer and that is the end of my evening.Done! Four days, essentially all interstate. I've enjoyed it all somuch. Now a week to rest and catch up with friends and then to planthe next leg.

Austin, May 13--

Phil Edmonds

Enroute across the USA

Day 3: Across the Mississippi

A much better night's sleep, amazing how quickly one adapts, onlyproblem was that my $10 fleece sleeping bag came with an inflatableplastic pillow which fitted into pocket in the bag, while strikingcamp yesterday morning I knelt on the pillow and apparently sprung aleak as all the air leaked out. It must have rained intermittently allnight because whenever I woke up there was the sound of water dropsfrom the tree pinging on the tent. At first light I was just gettingready to get up when the rain started to fall in earnest, it rainedheavily for about an hour. Nothing is as delicious as lying warm in adry tent, snuggled into the bag, with the rain drumming on the fly anda thin mist drifting in through the tent vents. The tent was totallydry so the waterproofing was a success, this time at least. The rainstopped around 7:30 and I crawled out of bed, made myself tea, startedstriking camp. Of course the tent fly was soaked and everythingweighed twice normal. As I took the tent down I discovered, snuggledup under the fly, my dark glasses, great relief, they weren't evenwet, I imagined them grinning evilly to themselves, lens to lens, withmalice as I searched and cursed last night. Glad to have you back, Ihave this stupid habit of tucking them into the top button of myshirt, I must have put them there and bending over pushing pegs in,out they slipped. Feeling much better I loaded Leslie up, the coverkept her perfectly dry, seemed a lot less than the night before, well,I had gone through all the things I wasn't unloading every day and Iput them all in the right pannier so hopefully I now only have to loadthe right pannier, the rucksack and put all the little stuff in thecentre pannier, I wonder what it is called, probably the trunk. We areoff and away, very carefully, seems to be always very carefully, firston the campground gravel and then on the wet road, a really lovelydrive back out of the campground, pools of mist fill the road and theforest on either side, gently driving the curves, starting to followthe proper line automatically, then back on the interstate, just outthere, cruising and touring, I tell you, this is an addictivepleasure. A long run past Tuscaloosa towards the Mississippi border,around 10:30 I exit for gas, there is nothing but the gas station, arestaurant serving breakfast and endless rolling countryside. Now Ihave to confess, I've been very lax about checking Leslie's bodilyfluids, still haven't discovered how to check the oil, as the bike hasto be level to check the oil and I've only really managed this withRod, he sat on the bike and kept it level, turned out the level waswell over max, remember she was serviced in Raleigh, but it is time, Ifind a level part of the parking lot, take all the covers off theright hand side, loosen up the dip stick, sit astride, level the bike,discover it is very easy to reach down and remove the stick, wipe itclean, reinsert it, check the oil, still OK. Once again breakfast isall you can eat buffet, I'm getting good at only taking smallportions, I can't understand what any one says, bad as Bulgaria. Butas always, so friendly. Back on the road, past Meridian, acrossNatchez Trace, Many years ago Gill and Gillie went on a trip aroundthe south and returned up that route, they really enjoyed it, surelooked tempting. But Robert Frost and all that, miles to go before Isleep. Into Mississippi, getting a lot hotter, the weather has beenvery consistent so far, cool overcast mornings, hot humid cloudyafternoons and storms building up and rain in the late afternoon.Through Jackson, the freeway is really messed up and lots ofintersections, I'm very nervous of taking curves on these reallypotholed badly maintained roads. But it all works out, frequent stopsfor water in and water out, the road running through mostly levelcountry, lots of marshes and rivers run alongside freeway, buzzardscircling low, working weak thermals, very comfortable. mid afternoon Icross the Mississippi, too late I realised there was an overlook ofthe river, a photo opportunity also overlooked. Cross the river, stopat the welcome centre, now I'm in Louisiana, the very pretty girlbehind the counter tells me there wasn't any hurricane damage this farnorth, actually looking about there doesn't seem to be much to damageanyway, flat endless cotton fields, the transition from East to Westacross the river is startling. Off again, an hour or so later stop forwater and to check my route I realise I've been having so much funblasting down the interstate that I've overshot my exit for the turnsouth by a hundred or so miles, a quick replan and I decide to turnsouth in about sixty miles, drive around thirty miles to the statepark and camp, on again. About twenty miles short of the exit, timeis about four, I see a sign pointing to a different campsite, alsosouth, the direction I want to go, I take the exit, check my map,about twenty five miles to go, head of down a very rural winding road,after about five miles I check my gauge and realise I'm low on gas, Ialso realise I'm getting too tired to make proper decisions. I turnback to the interstate and exit at the first exit with a motel sign.The town is called Rustum, I turn left, enter he town, it almost looksabandoned, as if Katrina had been here, or perhaps a couple oftornadoes last year, really rundown, sidewalks covered in weeds,storefronts boarded up. I find the motel I'm looking for, TheLincoln, it is perfect, an old, shabby, perhaps fifties motel, littlechalets arranged around a central square, parking outside each unit, Istop Leslie, get off, realised how beaten down I am by the long dayand the heat, check in, it costs $30 dollars including tax, can't beatthat, drive over to my room, park outside, open the door, I'm met witha blast of tobacco smell, leave the door open, turn on the windowunit, clank, clank, it picks up speed, really cools the room, I strip,into the shower, turn it on full cold, heaven. Brew up in thebathroom, then stretch out on the bed and drink three mugs of tea.Life comes back into focus. This place is shabby, paint peeling,carpet battered and stained, the bed is huge and comfortable. Closethe door, the room refrigerates, perfect. After an hour or so I rinseout my clothes, put on jeans and my leather jacket, outside, fire up,the hotel clerk told me there was an Italian restaurant across theinterstate and a Chinese one this side, I check out the Chinese andcan't find it, cross the interstate, there is a lot of new developmentthere, clearly the town is being abandoned in favour of the areasaround the strip mall north of the interstate, so sad, the town has somuch potential and character, the malls and suburban development is sosoulless and I can't help thinking about the day coming ever closer,when we'll have to rethink driving everywhere, never mind for themoment, can't find the Italian so give up and choose a BBQ, outsideare parked two gleaming cruisers. Inside I ask for a little beef,some beans, potatoes, salad, I get a plate fit for an entire family.The café is connected to stock car and drag strip racing , the wallsare covered in signed photos of drivers standing beside theirvehicles. Halfway through my meal one of the bikers comes up to meand asks whether it is my bike outside as the lights are on, I gooutside and yes, I'd left the ignition switch in that weird positionthat leaves the parking lights on, an invitation to flatten thebattery, I turn them off and we stand and chat, when they discoverthat not only am I riding across the US but that I started out inNorth Carolina, by now maybe nine hundred miles away we get into thehow long have you had the bike, etc., I explain that I bough it a fewweeks ago, took lessons, now I'm on my way, their natural friendlinessturns to an embarrassing level of respect. So totally unearned, as Itold them, I just get on the bike in the morning and point it west, notrouble. They just laugh and congratulate me on working on theirdream. We say farewell, I go back into the café and my plate has beencleared. For the better. I'm probably losing weight, at least I havea lot less trouble each morning fitting into Phil's leathers. Ormaybe they are stretching. They left me my day's notes so no problem.It is getting dusk, I drive back across the interstate, stop off tofill up, inside the gas station shop I see cans of beer floating in acooler, I haven't had a beer since I left Raleigh, I'm not tempted.Back to the motel, text Emilia with my day's SMS report, I've aboutfour hundred miles to go, be kinda nice to get to Austin tomorrow, Sunday, well, we'll see. Time for bed

Phil

Thursday, May 3.



Up Early.

Up early but takes forever to pack, finallyeverything is ready to go, carefully walk the bike out of the drivewayand into the road, the kerb is high enough that the bike scrapes if Idrive it, have added a little pressure to the rear suspension and thishas hardened it up a bit. Then Linda takes a couple of photos, I’mready to go, a constant stream of traffic, then a lady stops to let methrough, a bit panicked by all the traffic I head off with too muchleft turn on the steering, feel it tipping out of control, the bike isa lot more unsteady with the load, I stop, and a then very slowly theweight of the bike overpowers me and I gently drop it on the left..Damn, damn, damn, I had hoped I was past this. Linda helps me pick itup, start it up, wait for a gap in the traffic, try again, away we go,a couple of wobbles but past the light and south through Raleigh, pastthe pet food factory, a farm of towering silos, then left and south onI-40, picking up speed, hearing Mark in my ear, "head up, eyes out, beaware". Getting comfortable, traffic lessens as we escape the morningtraffic, soon out in the country, at last, I'm on my way. A very hazymuggy day, cloud cover keeping the temperature down. There is apromise of storms, I'd like to get to Columbia my first night's stopearly before they break. I'm in full leathers, pants, top, boots,gloves, hot but not uncomfortable. Soon it's South Carolina, where Imeet up with I-20 which I will follow east until I pretty much enterTexas. I stop at the welcome station and get instructions to thecampground, Sesquicentennial State Park, quite a mouthful. I stop forbreakfast, a Shoneys, food's OK but I eat too much, then on again.Leslie is a bit top heavy at low speeds, probably the rucksack sittingin the pillion seat, next time I pack I'll try and get the weightlower down. Traffic is light, when the eighteen wheelers pass me thereis a slight bow wave but what really shakes the bike is the downwindwake, it buffets me back and forth, initially quite terrifying but asI get used to merely uncomfortable, certainly not a threat. Close tothe trucks the turbulence is correlated and knocks me from side toside, occasionally close to resonant with the bike's own resonance andthis is still scary, but simple to drop back and then no problem. Infact as I get accustomed to it, it is all a bit exciting. I stop to gasup and drink of water, on again, this is getting really enjoyable.About forty miles short of Columbia I stop for a breather at a reststop and to check the route, I still haven't developed a decent way ofroute finding as there is no way I can read a map, while back inRaleigh I printed out in large print simple directions, theinstructions I collected from the South Carolina welcome centre werequite different. Then at a totally different intersection there is asign to the State Park, I take it and am soon meandering along arather minor road, to my relief if ends at Two Notch road, the roadthe campsite is on, my instructions were to turn left and as I exitedthe interstate early, left it is, I continue for maybe five miles andend up back on I-20. Clearly the instructions from both the map andthe welcome centre were wrong, I make a one eighty, all very exciting,head back, past where I turned left, in about a mile, there it is.Turn right into the park, I fell all the tension draining out of me,traffic and finding my way are still very much al earning experience.I drive though the park, find the campground road, it is gravel. Imake a recce on foot and select a campsite, then back to the Leslie, Iconsider leaving her on the asphalt outside the campground but decide,have to bite the bullet, I've already practiced gravel with Mark, sofire her up and gingerly drive the gravel to the campsite, no problem.Now Mark gave me little yellow plastic plate to place under thekickstand so the bike will stand on a soft surface so I carefullyplace it on the ground, kick it under the kickstand, carefully leanthe bike onto the plate, everything holds, shut the engine off, breatha deep breath. Made it. It is a little after four. The weather islooking very threatening, I hear a rumble of distant thunder, a fewdrops spot the windscreen, I quickly put up the tent, brew up a cup oftea, just before the campground entrance I had stopped for some milk,consider the day. A great day, very encouraging, very exciting, asmuch for being rather unexciting, right now I can do without realexcitement, thank you. After tea I fire up, carefully turn aroundand drive back out, circuit the campsite, there is a large lake,swimming not allowed, I tell you, a swim right then would have beenperfect. The campground office is open, check in, pay my dues ($18),then back outside looking for dinner. I'm very tired and not tooparticular, soon I find a fish restaurant, looks perfect, a decentmeal but a huge quantity, unsettlingly the restaurant is filled withoverweight customers, I eat half and guiltily leave, letting the sidedown. Back to the campsite, carefully on the gravel, cover Leslie up,weather looking bad again but no rain yet, crawl into the tent, it istiny, to bed. Day one successful, made my target, super.

Phil

Wednesday Evening, Raleigh

Planned to leave this morning but the weather forecast last night wasfor a violent front to move through today, rain and thunderstorms, Idecided to delay departure to Thursday. In reality the day was clear,calm and hot, this evening clouds are gathering in the West, I hope itall passes through as I plan an early departure. Tuesday stillpreparing, tried the phone charger, it didn't work, after a lot offetching remembered that I have to have the ignition switch turned toaccessory for the accessories to work, obvious, isn't it, turned theswitch and yes, phone charges. Important as this will allow me tocall the AAA if I have problems, of course I won't, t hat is the wayof insurance. Getting better on the bike every day, left at the sametime as always for my lesson and arrived thirty minutes early. Markand I just chatted for half an hour or so then headed out, wired forsound again, me following from the front. First through the town ofApex, practicing traffic, stoplights, left turns. Right turns, thenonto the freeway, more overtaking, I'm generally getting much morecomfortable. Now the I-40 always has a major blockage for trafficentering Raleigh from the West, we drove past them going west, looksterrible, says Mark, reminds you of home. So a little later we did aone eighty and drove back though it, excellent experience, lanechanges, lane closures, Then a long run just to settle down, stop fora drink and gas, then a run through the lanes to practice curves,getting the line right, we stop in the same church parking lot where Idropped the bike last time, gets me a little nervous but works outfine. Almost dark, I drive the thirty or so miles back, left my clearglasses at home so everything is darker than it ought to be, but noproblems, still really tired when I get home, hope the road isn't soexhausting. Wednesday a lazy start, need to get all the things Istill haven't got, drive north up the dreadful Capital Hwy again tothe Auto store to get brake fluid, pressure gage, oil for Linda, verycomfortable, thanks again Mark. Stop off at the Third Place forcoffee, make my farewells to Gil and David, back home, bicycle over toSeebord for lunch, try again to get the bike on the center stand, nota hope, well, never mind. Pack, then unpack, throw half out, packagain, this time everything fits, excellent. Drive over to thesupermarket to get tea, matches, iced coffee, then home. Actuallypack the bike, lock it, dinner, ready to go.All the American flags are permanently flown at half mast in mourningfor those killed in Iraq. As I travel around I have this constantreminder of the tragic consequences of the ill thought out war, Howdid everything go so wrong?. Now it is such a terrible choice,soldiers, civilians are still dying in this destroyed country, to whatend? I guess very rarely does anything good come from really baddeeds. So terribly sad.Time for my last comfortable predictable night's sleep.

Cheers all, Phil

Monday evening April 30

After my lesson I carefully drove home, arrived about a quarter pasteight, slugged down a can of beer and essentially shut down for thenight. I was totally shattered. But it was fabulous. I wore theboots Phil loaned me, real Gestapo style, jeans, the leathers I feltwould look much like I knew what I was doing, and it was rather a hotday, and Phil's leather jacket. Naturally I became lost in the maze ofmultilane highways that seems to define Carey, found the Coffee Perkshop with no time to spare, not a good way to start. But Mark wasn'tyet there so great relief, ordered an iced tea, went out to secure thebike, this neat trim white BMW comes drifting handily into the parkinglot, Mark arrives. He is a solid, extremely neat pleasant andfriendly man, turns out to be a quite magic instructor. We sit downand he goes over bike theory with me for about an hour, it is an eyeopener. For starters he asks me about my experience, he is filling ina registration form, when I finish telling him about my studentadventures, the odd ride in the US, my year or so crashing aroundGhana, he tells me to write "minimal". He is so right. Attitude, eyes– look where you are going to go, head-face where you are going to go,head up, etc. Trouble is that there is so much that it tends to pileup and get forgotten. Then we go outside and Mark shows me how to geton and off the bike, high side. Now he is a law enforcement officer,he instructs the police how to drive bikes, it shows, grasp the righthandlebar with your left hand, place your right hand on your gun,well, in your case, hip, and step off. He has a great sense of humour,dry but natural. We start off, I follow him out, he moves so fluidly.We drive around the quiet streets for maybe half an hour, he is infront, just following him is a lesson, his position, posture, again, apoliceman, that lovely slow casual confident turn of the head as helooks about him, then we head for a church parking lot, he lays out aslalom course with little road cones, and I practice riding thecourse, I fell a real increase in my skill and confidence with eachlap Every time I make a turn there he is, signaling to me, look thisway, heads up. . But I feel something rather strange is happening tothe left boot, the heel keeps catching on the footrest when I changegear and when I put my foot down. Around seven thirty we call it aday, I drive back home, getting dark, I'm exhausted. Taking the bootsoff I realize the sole on my left boot has become almost entirelyseparated from the rest of the boot, it has been flapping up and down,gotta get that fixed. Thursday I am up late, the lesson really took itout of me, weather looks very threatening, I'm half hoping that I willcancel. We spend the day mostly running chores, take the boots to theboot shop, the cobbler, and he is an authentic cobbler, gets a lot offun, gives me a pleasant hard time, out of how old these boots mustbe, both soles easily pull off, the boot simply comes apart, all thestitching is rotted out, we agree that Phil must have bought them whenin his twenties and that's pretty much twenty five years ago. Hepromises to fix them for me, take a couple of days or more he says.Time for my second lesson. As I'm wearing my normal shoes I decide toat least dress up in full leathers, I tell you, I'm going to cook.Knowing the route the drive is much easier and I'm there early, Markturns up, glowing with energy, we do a review and then move on to theproper line for curves, procedures for overtaking, after an headoutside, Mark has a wireless intercom system however his head mountedmike isn't working so for the first half an hour or so I hear thecarrier come on and then try and guess what he is saying. We start offdown the interstate, I follow Mark, again, it is a real learningexperience just keeping behind him, then he signals and overtakes, Iguess right and signal and overtake, we play leapfrog for the nextcouple of miles. All this at sixty five, scary. Then he signals toexit and I follow him onto a rural winding road and learn how to takethe turns, get the right line, much of this is counter intuition andalso against my little learning so I'm having to undo alreadyingrained habits. Concentrate. We pull over into a church parkinglot, these are so useful, he critiques my style, all good stuff. ThenI pull out to turn left, at the last moment realize that the edge ofthe road is all gravel, I think of running into it, lose myconcentration, stop, drop the bike. Very gentle. Mark is very kindand also shows me the most valuable lesson, how to pick it up, hemakes it look easy. I try and at my full strength just manage. Stilland good. Off we go again, now Mike is using his headset so wheneverhe talks to me he is holding the radio in his left hand. And I canhardly lift my hand from the grips to signal. Two is better than one,give both turn signal and hand signal. Off we go for another ten orso miles, then turn around and head back. Halfway back I see a carcoming past us both, overtaking on a curve, a hill and across thedouble yellow lines. Mark warns me about it, then a moment lateranother one. Let me remind you, Mark's bike is as close to a policebike as you will ever see, with blue reflecting tape and all. After acouple of miles we pull into a gas station to get gas, Mark is stillhoping with fury at those two guys, if they had pulled into a gasstation, he said, he'd have gone over to them and given them alecture, incidentally he was most upset about them risking hisstudent. And, he went on, if they gave him a hard time, he'd show himhis badge and tell them that they were talking to a sergeant in theState Police, he could take their license right there, sent them thecitation in the mail, and they'd be walking home. So they'd better notbe too sassy. Fortunately none of this happened. We drove back intothe town of Apex, he turned onto a graveled road under construction,just to give me experience. “Keep cool, drive slowly, the bike may movearound a little, you're doing great". Mark, I think you are simply onefabulous instructor. Then twenty minutes following him in a dancearound a parking lot, that was enjoyable. We sit and chat for a fewminutes, arrange to meet Tuesday, he asks if I plan driving in therain, I say, as little as possible, well, he says, just drive slowly,be careful, don't drive in a downburst. Do I intend driving at night.Not if I can help it, I say, we both start laughing as it is alreadylate dusk and I've half an hour or more to get home. I head off,initially the wrong way but an illegal one eighty sorts that out, it'spast nine by the time I get home. Shower, bowl of soup, bed. Sleeplike the dead.These lessons have been so valuable. Friday and Saturday Linda and Icontinue to sort out her workshop, Pick up the boots. Drive Bling upto the Honda shop for the owners’ manual. Saturday afternoon we driveout west to the Carey library to leave some brochures, takes us hoursto find the place, everything in construction, the entire area hasclearly been turned from forest into subdivisions within the last yearor so, already thousands of people living there. The library is huge,lots of people although if one lived in Carey this makes sense asthere can't be anything else to do. Lots of bicyclists, cycling isreally catching on. Working very late Saturday night trying to get theweb site updated.Sunday morning I'm up around six thirty, The guys at Honda Performancehad invited me for a ride Sunday, apparently every Sunday morning theygo for a ride to a café maybe eighty miles away, ninety minutes or so,there will be half a dozen of us but around two hundred at the café.Can't miss this, very generous of them, I turn up at a quarter toeight, place deserted, I decide they must have meant seven, but rightat eight one of them turns up, we sit and chat, by eight thirty thereare eight of us, six rockets, one huge Honda made Harley look alikeand myself, the only tourer. We fire up, form a line heading awayfrom the exit, as each bike makes they turn speed up, then turn rightonto the road, already doing twenty. I've never made this maneuverabove walking pace, follow as well as I can, gotta scramble, alreadythe leaders are a couple of hundred yards ahead, we're doing overfifty five in the thirty five zone, I'm just terrified but hang on aswell as I can, every couple of miles there is a stop sign which webunch up for, or a red light, I barely keep up, the Harley look alikeis in front of me and he very helpfully drops back whenever I havetrouble keeping up. Tail end Charley appears to effortlessly keep upwith me. I'm riding right at my limit, well, no, really past it,screaming down the straights to try and catch up, taking the curvesmuch too fast for my comfort, total concentration. Halfway through wehit the freeway, the column just accelerates indefinitely, I call itquits at eighty, feel a little tremble in the bike, probably meshivering with fear, fortunately it's only a short run, then back ontoprobably beautiful winding country roads but I'm much too focused tosee the view. After about an hour an a half we slow down, turn leftinto a mall and park. I go over to the Honda Harley and thank him forlooking after me, he laughs and say, no, I was flat-out, these rocketsjust go so fast, different machines. I think he was being kind. Sitaround, relax, coffee, breakfast, wander around chatting to people,everyone very supportive and helpful. Almost all the bikes wererockets, I was the only tourer, one magnificent chopper. Every bikedifferent, no two the same. It was a lot of fun, and a goodexperience. I thanked everybody, they wished me well, and then I drovedirectly and sedately home. I'm finding all this keeps me exhilaratedbut tired. Stopped the bike outside Linda's, shut it down, then putit down on the kick stand, it just kept on going, damn, I gently laidit on the ground, forgot to put the kick stand down. Damn, damn. Butat least I now know how to pick it up, every muscle at the limit,slowly she comes up, balance, kick stand down, done. Wow, brilliantmorning. Rod and Terry came over for dinner, we had a great time, Rodand I tried to get the centre stand but neither of us is heavy enough.And I need to be able to do this as every morning the bike has to belevel for the oil and water and tire and suspension checks. Add thisto the sort it out later list. Am planning to connect the car chargerfor my mobile phone to the accessory output on Bling so today spentsome time finding and inspecting the fuses. The maximum fuse for theaccessory is five amps but Richard had a thirty amp fuse installed,counting up the lights on all the bling there are about thirty or mores maybe he needed this large a fuse. I've removed the fuse,disconnected the bling electrics and will install my cable tomorrowwith a five amp fuse. Starting to pack, about the only thing I neednow is a set of knives and forks, spoon. Will it all fit? Plan toleave Wednesday, if I can get away early, otherwise it will beThursday.Enough for now,

Phil

Les Bling In which not much happens.

Linda, who for those of you who don't knowher is a watercolourist and illustrator, has a watercolour workshop inJune and is already preparing publicity for it, so for the next fewdays we spent much of our time preparing the brochure and, in my case,printing it. We are printing it on double sided glossy paper, andonce one side has been printed the print the dried print sticks on theclear sheet below it in the printer feeder so when we are printing thecopies I have to sit next to it and slip a blank sheet of paperbeneath the page just before it feeds, I have to hold onto this blanksheet so it doesn't feed. It takes about three minutes to print eachside, high resolution, glossy, so to print the hundred or so we planprinting is going to take a lot of time.Most days we trundle over to our favorite coffee shop around tenthirty, chat with friends, then home for lunch, in the afternoon runerrands, a little shopping, later I find a nearby parking lot andpractice figure of eights, getting better all the time. The rearbrakes are essentially totally ineffective, need to get them fixed.Also really need an owners manual, too many things on the bike aremysterious. Friday called my friend Norm in Triangle Cycles, Durhamand he recommended Performance Honda in Raleigh for my brake fix,needless to say they are ten or so miles north up the dreaded CapitalHighway, an eight or more lane road with traffic lights every halfmile or so, all stop and go traffic, the road is lined with anapparently endless succession of strip malls all selling the sameunnecessary consumer products. Needs must so Linda and I gear up, shedrives the Volvo and I follow, it all works out well. The Honda shopis a bit like a cathedral or cave, a large dimly lit space filled withgleaming motorcycles of every imaginable size and shape, salesmentalking in hushed tones, very impressive. The service section is alot more down to earth, we leave the bike, I explain, ratherapologetically, about all the bling and that if they have to take someof it off for access then please not to put it back. Then with reliefI climb into the Volvo and we head back. Starting to call the bike'Bling". Still printing brochures.Saturday started off pretty lazy, Linda had arranged for us to go to alunch with some celebrity Public Radio who does a cooking show, veryexpensive part of the Public Broadcasting pledge cycle, which I hatewith passion, it seems that whenever I come to Raleigh they schedule aspecial pledge fortnight just to keep my passion in tune. Just beforewe are due to leave the cycle shop calls to say the bike is ready andas they are closed Sunday and Monday, so we rush north to the shop,now running very late. They've fixed the brakes, changed the oil, newfilter and , wait for it, removed a lot of the bling around the frontwheel. All this for a hundred dollars. Now I'm calling the bike, 'LesBling', only a temporary name until we find a better one. She is ashe, never mind the size. After sorting out the bill, I'm ready to go.But the bike won't start and needed a jump, another thing to worryabout, then exiting the parking lot, I dropped the front wheel into apothole filled with gravel and, damn, damn, dropped the bike, again.One of the mechanics came out to help me lift it, he must be anOlympic weight lifter in his spare time as one heave and it was up,stupidly I had tried to lift it before he came over, heave, noresponse but a bit worried I may have pulled a muscle in my back.Then back to Raleigh down Capital Highway, still terrifying, butdriving faster to keep up with Linda. After Lunch, I personallydidn't find her interesting but Linda enjoyed the exercise and all fora good cause, we drove out thirty miles or so into the country, pastChapel Hill to the Benjamin Vineyard to drop off the brochures for thewatercolour class. Lovely day and lots of cyclists traveling in smallgroups, all in bright colours, this is new, clearly cycle touring isbecoming more and more popular. The state is pushing this hard andthere a lots of signed cycle routes. Benjamin Vineyard is a veryattractive vineyard in beautiful rolling countryside, very interestingtalking to the owner, five years now, may soon make a profit, sad newsis that some of the vines, mostly the Chardonnay, hit by the frost,the buds little blackened nubs. A very pleasant trip, then back towhere the bike is parked outside the restaurant. Well, before going tothe vineyard I'd changed out of my jeans and leather top and shoesinto shorts, sandals and shirt. I really can't face asking Linda todrive me back home, there to put on the bike gear, then back, so I puton the smaller helmet which is in the pannier, it fits pretty well,and drive back looking like a real cool biker, but for an absolutelearner living a bit too close to the edge. Everything worked outfine, although my back is still rather uncomfortable, better livingwith Ibu.Sunday is a rest day. It is just such a lovely day, clear, pretty hotin the afternoon, back a bit dodgy, not too serious, decided a lazycycle would be fine, cycled down to Johnson lake and then once aroundthe lake and back. Became well lost on my way out, added a good fiveor more miles to the ride but did give me a good excuse to stop andhave an ice cream and ask directions. Probably twenty miles for theentire round trip. Felt a lot better after all this.Then on Monday I woke up with really painful back, and am very worriedit may persist until my lesson on Wednesday, so I spent a very quietday Decided to go back to large scale Ibu, 1800 mg helped no end.Tuesday keeping up with lots of Ibu, back much better, coffee at theThird Place, met an incredibly literate total bore with teeth full ofmetal, evidently seen to every movie ever shot, simply talked toanyone within range, all rather sad. In the afternoon decided that Ireally had to get back on the bike, the back was pretty silent underthe weight of the Ibu, so rode (note the use of the word 'rode', willcome back to this much later) motorbike north up Glenwood, anothermultilane with endless traffic lights and stop and go traffic, toCircuit City, looking at cameras, then around to find K-Mart, I takethe wrong exit, wander around for a while, get totally lost, end up onroad under construction, all dug up and gravel, terrifying but I don'tfall off, reassuring but I can feel the sweat running down my leatherjacket, then in Campus police parking lot find myself faced with a 'noentry' sign on a steeply cambered road, I make a rather panic stop andbike rolls to the right, lost again, drops on the downhill side, damn,damn, all over again, as I bail out. I'm concerned the thousand poundrig will tip all the way onto the side so I launch myself well clear,with out any thought, just automatic, into a parachute landing fall,tuck shoulder and head down, land on shoulder, roll a complete roll,come up on my feet, half running, it all works out, all I do is tearmy jeans on the gravel, a small graze. A passing truck unloads anotherapparently professional weight lifter who lifts the bike up, they arevery concerned for me but I'm fine, my sore back has apparentlycompletely recovered and no screws appear to have come loose. Gotback home to find an almost angry Linda walking down the road towardsme, I'm late again. We then drove over to the airport to pick up Terryand Rod who just spent a week in Paris. Dinner in a new restaurantright around the corner, looked really chi-chi but the meal wasdelicious, they have an outside up on the second floor, under thestars and the moon, and it was a really delicious meal, and the two ofus, with drinks, all for twenty five pounds. Cruel.And now it is Wednesday, afternoon, just had a nap to get my energy upfor my first lesson with Mark, we have arranged to meet in Cary, Caryis a bit the dark side of Raleigh, a new development, the area is amaze of multilanes, intersections, malls, parking lots, housingestates, I'm mostly permanently lost there. Several years ago we wentthere to see an obscure Russian movie, about the Hermitage, well, weleft Raleigh in time for the first showing, we became lost and missedboth the first and the second showing driving from mall to mall,endlessly, before, to my immense relief, giving up. Linda said,"Please don't be mad at me". Well, I was certainly not, I reallydidn't want to see a Russian movie, commentary in Russian, about theHermitage museum. But now I'm off to Carey, I've given myself an hourto get there, hope I'm not too late.Phil Right, now the introduction. I wrote this before I wrote the prefacewhich was written to get all the email addresses sorted. Confused?I'm sending this from Raleigh, already I am in process of writing thefirst of the actual trip reports, soon to follow. Hopefully by theend of the week I'll have caught up. Now, to get you all up to speed.After Emilia's successful couple of months in the Land of Oz sheorganised a summer trip to California to continue her surfingresearch. Well, not entirely surfing, actually she is off to theSherwood meeting in Annapolis followed by four weeks in Austin, thenanother four weeks in San Diego. Back to surfing, I should mentionthat the cottage she has managed to rent in La Jolla is on the beach,Mission Bay. To add to all this travel confusion Emilia is includingabout three weeks in Spain around Easter, before heading off to the USand another three weeks or so back in Spain after finishing off inCalifornia. The question was, what was I going to do while Emilia wasbusy working in Texas and California, I've found it isn't all thatmuch fun accompanying her on these work trips as she is, basically,working. I was up in Nantwich with elder son Lloyd and his wife Julieand we were talking over this when Lloyd said, "Why don't you simplydrive across the US? No, on better thoughts, have a real adventure,ride a Harley". "Yeah, sure, look, I can barely ride a motorcycle,never mind across the US." But the fantasy was tempting, just to thinkabout. I did a web search and discovered it was prohibitivelyexpensive to rent a Harley, the fantasy dimmed a little. Couple ofweeks later I was having dinner with younger son, Phil, and his wife,Tamsin, told them of this fantasy folly, Phil said, "Hey, looky here!"and vanished upstairs to reappear a few moments later with a full setof bike leathers and boots, "Try them on". After a bit of a struggleI climbed into them and they fitted pretty well, certainly do for astart. Hil, my long time stout and loyal friend from Ghana who waswith us, said that I certainly looked the part, "Phillip", she said,"No choice, you've got the leathers, now you have to do the ride!"This fantasy was slowly coming together. Just for entertainment Iwent out on Google looking for second hand bikes in Raleigh, to mysurprise there were a ton of them. I had to educate myself as towhich bikes were dirt bikes, or crotch rockets, after a bit ofsearching I came up with around three or so different versions thatlooked suitable. After a few days of searching I found this YamahaVenture, looked perfect, at a real low price, $2000. So I skyped LohnJohn (not his real name) to find out if the bike was still for sale.First I talked to his wife, Anna, she was really quick on the uptake,that I was calling from England, John would be back in a couple ofhours. I called a couple of hours later, "Uhu!". "Is that LongJohn?". "Uhu". There was a lot of this, with difficulty I found outthat it was still for sale, he was prepared to go down to $1800 asthat was the trade in price for it at the Harley shop, he was buyingan Electroglide. I tried to find out where he lived but that died onhis conviction that I was calling from Rocky Mount, a town about anhour's drive from Raleigh. Finally we agreed, if I got him the money,he'd keep the bike until I arrived, I was calling in early March andmy arrival in Raleigh will be mid April. Seemed to me the quickestway would be to send a check to Linda in Raleigh, I did this,'expedited mail'. Pretty much every day I called Linda, no check,called Long John to try and convince him I was serious. After a week,still no check, and Long John started to act strangely, well, morestrangely. Then I noticed that the bike was back on sale atraleigh.craigslist. Damn, I called Long John and he said, "Sorry, Isold the bike". Well OK. Back to looking, or should I see this as anomen and give up on the folly? The check finally arrived after aboutten days. Apparently it had made the Wilmington transfer centrewithin twelve hours, almost certainly simply sat in the Raleigh postoffice for the remaining nine days. Then about a week later the samebike reappeared on the craigslist ads, I called Long John, his wifeanswered, she was clearly having a hard day with Long John because shetold me that I sounded like a nice person and so she'd tell me, betternot to have anything to do with Long John, "He's just trouble", shesaid.Moving on. I checked on half a dozen more machines, slowly raising myprice, mostly sold or not really suitable, then there was this HondaGoldwing, '88, "75000 miles, real nice, spent $2000 in the last year,new everything, $6500". I called Richard and he agreed to sell it tome for $6000, he was buying a Goldwing trike, So Linda and friendKarl, a biker, went down to see it, just a few miles out of Raleigh,with the money to buy it if it looked OK. Karl was a great help,Linda says, "Wow! It's huge" and "Look at all them buttons" wereapparently his major contribution to the acquisition (withhindsight, having now seen the bike, absolutely right on the money – itis a monster). Never mind, now I own this mega machine, bought sightunseen. Richard has the bike, Linda has the papers. I'll get to seeit in two weeks. All quite terrifying. It's a go. The adventure ison.Planning the trip. For the moment am planning to stay in State andNational Parks, National Forests, camping. Will take the more thantwenty five year old backpacking tent, last time I used it in Italy itrained torrentially, and a lot of this fell inside the tent. Needswaterproofing. How far in a day? I've talked to a lot of motor cycleriders and the general opinion is between two hundred and four hundredmiles a day, I'll start at two hundred. Try and stay off theInterstates as the large trucks simply blow you off the road. Ride theslabs, just set up, stay out of the truck convoys, it's a dream, well,take your pick.Now I'm not really very well experienced on motor bikes, and whatlittle I have, from my college days and Ghana, were on light weighttrash bikes with poor reliability. I have certainly never driven morethan seventy miles in a day. Thinking about this and feeling I neededtraining I discovered that a lot of US colleges give training on motorbikes. So back to the web and searching, lots of very friendly peoplewho were terribly helpful but none of them had courses to match myschedule. Then Norm, from Triangle Cycles in Durham gave me the phonenumber of one of the trainers, Norm said he might be prepared to help.So I called Mark Brown. He was so helpful, very enthusiastic,totally positive, suggested we do a couple of hours a couple ofafternoons, I check my calendar, and before I'm sure of what I'm doingI've put together a plan where he'll teach me the rudiments onWednesday and Thursday, April 25 and 26. And he suggests I shouldlook at his web site, motomark1.com. Which I do and I am embarrassed,he is clearly one of the top trainers in the country, well, he hasalso worked with the Met Police in London, so England as well and yethe is so generously giving me two afternoons of his time. I'm reallylooking forward to it. Yes, it is all coming together.Then Wednesday a week ago I was talking to my car mechanic, Dave, atthe Costa coffee place in Abingdon and he offered to loan me a jacket,he said he has several he never uses – Dave owns the most beautifuland enormous Harley you have ever imagined - so when I took Paulaover for a checkup before the trip to Spain he loaned me this fabulousGoretex jacket. And I found this rather strange motor cycle shop nearBanbury that specialises in the Russian Ural bike but had a great dealon gauntlets, I drove up there and bought a pair, Garth Vader wasnever so well protected.All that was left was to print out the maps of the first week, Raleighto Austin, load up Paula, catch the ferry to Bilbao, now I'm inMadrid, doing maintenance around the apartment and riding my bicycleup and around Casa del Campo.So, many thanks to all my sponsors (look, it is the year two thousandand seven, one has to have sponsors), Lloyd for the concept, Phillipfor the leathers and the confidence to go for it, Emilia foreverything, Hil for not laughing at me too much as I climbed into theleathers, Dave for the top-ranking jacket, Richard for the toleranceto sort out the mess of my buying the bike and his looking after itfor me, Norm for his help and pointing me to Mark, Mark for teachingme how to safely ride a motor bike and Linda for all the support shehas supplied from Raleigh, for letting me join her AAA membership, for buying the Goldwing, well, for everything as well.And now the adventure begins.

Phil Edmonds Snr.