Global Enduro

Highway 1, LA and the hot trip to Vegas

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

Welcome to the land of the Free!

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