I was quite sad to say goodbye to the others last night. The hard core group that came through everything and made it to the end. It takes a certain kind of person and I respect them all for that. There are some really nice people too. Maybe I’ll see some of them again, maybe not. They’re going to take a little longer to get back across to NY than me so that’s it, Adios, so long, over and out. I’ll really miss spending my days amongst them all.

I’m up at 4am. 3..2..1..Go. Let the madness begin. It’s nearly dawn, misty and cold. The sun’s dimmer switch is slowly unwinding and filling in the shadows but the mountains don’t give up their cloaks of darkness easily and it’s a slow ride up and out. Get onto the main road. It’s deserted, wide and inviting. ‘What have you got to loose?’ it whispers. This is the most dangerous time of the day. All the animals are returning home drunk from a night on the town and they’re liable to wobble out in front of you at any moment. I see a moose at the edge of the road, huge and statuesque with steaming coming off it’s back. Hit that on 4 wheels and its a car insurance claim. Hit that on 2 wheels and it’s a life insurance claim. Keep the speed down, resist the temptation to pull in the horizon as fast as possible. I’ve underestimated the temperature and I’m absolutely freezing. 120 miles in and I’m completely numb and shivering. It is 6:30 but none of the garages open this early. I can see people inside but they wont let a frozen biker in for a coffee and a warm up. I dig the heated waistcoat out the panniers and plug in then come slowly back to life as the sun climbs up and starts spreading it’s joy across the landscape.

Continue reading Coast to Coast →

Out of Douglas and we head north and quickly get to Tombstone, site of the famous ‘Gunfight at the OK Corral’. Why did they call it the ‘OK Corral’? “Hey, look at my shiny new corral. Do you like it?” “Well…it’s OK” You wouldn’t sink your lifetime savings into the ‘OK Cafe’ or ‘OK Ice Cream emporium” would you? Bonkers! On to the freeway toward Phoenix. After all the poverty and struggling we’ve seen in south and central America just to keep alive and to keep some sort of roof over your head then America just seems vulgar, vacuous and vain. Excess and waste is everywhere you look. Americans indulge themselves with as many toys, tits and tat as their chubby little hearts desire when just next door their neighbours struggle to get any pleasure out of life.

It can’t be right. Talking about vulgar, nothing exudes vulgarity like our destination today, Vegas. We peel off the freeway at Phoenix and head cross country, through vast plains of Joshua trees and up to the Hoover Dam. Across the top we go then descend out the mountains in the dark and into the warren that is Last Vegas then head straight for the strip. It’s always weird to ride your own bike down the strip, or anywhere that is so familiar but so far away. Last time I rode down here I nearly got deleted by a bus. This time is was closer, and much much more scary. We’re at some lights, there are masses of people thronging along the pavements as the stripside shows entertain the masses. The neon frenzy is on full and its a sensory overload. Lights change, I’m in front, I pull away. 1st….2nd… 3rd….. SHIIIIIIIIITTTTTT. Suddenly from one side two men emerge from the crowd on the opposite side running full speed across the road. They’re either drunk or they’ve just robbed someone. One is looking over his shoulder and the other is concentrating on getting away.

Continue reading USA to Alaska →

I should have known…. Countries typically have a “can’t be arced” attitude to the areas close to their borders. Why waste time and money on things like the roads, signs and towns out here? Why encourage the people to live close to their richer neighbours? Take the road to the border, it looks a short and easy route on the map, looks quite straight too. Fact is, the cartographers couldn’t be bothered to put all the twists and turns in because there are just too many. Tarmac quickly turns to ‘tar-kak’ too.

All the signposts have been removed and smelted down and the towns are on big turntables so as soon as you go in it’s entirely possible for you to pop out at exactly the same place. It’s all just completely random and it makes the journey a long, hot and very frustrating ride to the border. We get out of Guatemala fine, now into Mexico. I know from previous experience what a compete ball ache this can be. First, fumigate the bike. My bike smells sweeter than I do it’s been fumigated so often. There is a bit of a ‘mix-up’ with getting the fumigation ticket. I come very close to deleting a Mexi’cant’ before being pushed out his office and having the door shut in my face. Continue reading Mexico →

I want to get some Nicaraguan gifts and we’re only passing through for a day so I head for a local market in a nearby town. You take any turn off the main road and you take your life in your hands and hold it tight. We spin around and waste time before finally getting to the market behind a taxi. It’s hot today, much much hotter than yesterday, much hotter than an ice cream can stand. It drips off the stick quicker than I can lick it. We get lost, again, but this time in the capital Managua. This place is the centre of the oven it seems. I lean down to undo my boots at some traffic lights and let some air in. As I lean down a puddle of water appears on the ground beneath my bike. Water is literally running out of my sleeve. I’m thinking of starting a magic act.

‘Please welcome the incredible Human Tap. Watch him fill a bath with his bear hands’. It’s much more than perspiration… it’s irrigation… it’s mental. Out of the capital, eventually, and onto the Pan American again. Nicaragua is really struggling to keep up with it’s neighbours. Continue reading Central America 2 →

Go to get the bikes from customs. It’s still titting down,the humidity is something like 99.9999% and it’s 30 odd degrees. Even my tongue is sweating. All the usual nonsense ensues. It seems that waiting holidays are taking off here too. I’m going to make a flippin fortune…if I can wait long enough. The bikes have to be fumigated, even though riding behind a ‘red devil’ for 1 minute would achieve exactly the same thing. The locals buy old US school buses then paint them up and run them as huge private taxis. The place is full of them belching out their filth. They’re like the Bamako taxis only bigger and they don’t take any prisoners.

Panama city is quite a big city with an old colonial district full of people populated with people who’s pockets can barely carry all their cash, and a modern concrete and steel heart. The outskirts however are full of hovels and squalor with no go areas aplenty. We’ve got a brothel not 20 yards from the front door. Knock knock, clap clap. The taxi drivers tell us DO NOT walk into that area. Even taxi drivers who see us walking towards the hotel stop to warn us. There is a gang sign on the corner denominating the ownership and there is huge stain of blood on the pavement this morning.

Turn left and your possessions become someone else’s, turn right and you’re fine, the line is that clear. We ride into the city from the airport and as you ride in you approach it over a long causeway. The tide is rushing in just under our wheels, the sky is full with squadrons of pelicans, the approaching skyline is shining chrome, steel and glass. Another priceless memory tucked away. You cannot come to Panama without visiting the Panama Canal. We go down to the visitors centre which has viewing platforms overlooking the locks. Continue reading Central America 1 →

Quick stop at the equator for a picture then off towards Columbia. Through more and more beautiful scenery and 100s of miles of beautifully surfaced constant radius bends..again. Now I know I should love all this but SOMETIMES I JUST WISH THEY’D BUILD A FUCKING BIG BRIDGE SO I CAN MAKE MORE THAN 2 INCHES PROGRESS PER 10000 BENDS! SOMETIMES I JUST FUCKING BLOODY WANT TO GET SOMEWHERE. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH that’s better.

Out of Ecuador, lovely place, lovely lovely place. Todays border is brought to you by the letter W. W is for wait, wait, WAIT. Its also for wanker, waster, what when who and why. Every border we cross they have to fill out a computer page with the bike details on, fine. We’re at a stage when we could do it ourselves now. Now we appear at the Columbian customs (after getting ripped off by a money changer at passport control – My fault – I fell for a con, but I still hope the bloke dies a tragic, horrible, protracted, painful and embarrassing death) and the two blokes initially get to the computer and start. The place is quite modern, good computers, ESPN on TV, new chairs and stuff. I’m thinking this will be ok for a change but as soon as the bloke sees how many people he’s dealing with he just gets up and goes outside…for an hour…and a half. He’s doing nothing, we’re doing nothing. He says he’s called for more help and rather than starting the work he’s decided to just wait instead. I just want to ring the little fakers neck. In my head he’s got a knife between his eyes. His mate is doing even less. He’s employed to stare out the window. He just stares and stares and stares out the window. He stares all day, that’s his job. So with Capitan Starey and the work sky wanker doing the sum total of sod all we just wait. Some time later someone else arrives and some time later still he starts actually putting fingers to keys. We arrived in this office at 12 at the front front of a queue of 0. I leave at 4. We’ve had to cut the day short because of the delay. Continue reading Columbia →