Three becomes Four, become One!

Staying off of the Interstates, it was still a fair pull across to the Blue Ridge Parkway The BRP extends for 469 miles along the crests of the southern Appalachians and links two eastern national parks – Shenandoah and Great Smoky Mountains, so we knew that we would probably end up a little short of our goal. Our new team of four ran like clockwork, with Dawn fitting into the group as though she had been riding all of her life. Caroline, as usual, had the route all sussed out, and the rest of us were very happy to follow her lead, although occasionally, at her behest, I took my turn at the front. We found an RV / camp ground just off the highway and whilst it was a bit expensive, as the cost was now being split four ways it didn't work out too bad. The ground was anything but flat, but with Dawn in her hammock we managed to find enough space for our two tents and whilst Caroline started on our dinner, I set to on my bike to try to stem the oil leak which we had now discovered was blowing past the head gasket; not a good scenario. Removing the rocker cover the cause of the problem was immediately obvious, though far less obvious was an easy solution! The top, front stud which had been Helicoiled back in Creston had failed and the nut wasn’t even finger tight. I fitted a second lock nut to the stud and screwed it back in as far as I could get it and then tightened the head nut as much as I dared without stripping what was left of the stud. I was far from confident that it would hold, but even if I had stripped the head, I still didn’t feel that there was a lot of hope of it holding. I would just have to keep fingers crossed that I could make the last 1000 or so mile up to Halifax, Nova Scotia by simply keeping a close eye on the oil level and topping up regularly.

 The following morning, Dawn and I left a little earlier than Jim and Caroline as I was set on getting a new set of spark plugs and Dawn needed oil, having checked hers for the first time on her trip and found that it wasn’t even showing on the dip stick. Jim and Caroline meanwhile were set on visiting a nearby mansion, Biltmore Estate, but as we were all heading for the BRP, we felt that we would all probably meet up later in the day. However, just in case it didn’t happen, once more, I said my fond farewells to a couple with whom I had now become firm friends. Dawn and I headed off to Waynesville as it looked the closest town to where we had camped that would have our joint requirements and sure enough it was AutoZone to the rescue once more.

Navigation was now in my hands, which is never too good an idea if you want to get to a specific point! To make matters worse, the map we had of the Parkway was a strip map which didn’t have a correct north/south orientation. My plan, such as it was, was to drop down via Maggie Valley so as to hit the Parkway before its highest point. After a couple of u-turns and a stop to ask some other tourists, I finally got us on the right road and heading in the right direction. Dawn, to her credit, didn't even say “I told you so”.

In many ways the Blue Ridge Parkway was similar to the Natchez Trace, in that it was a single continuous road from which all commercial vehicles are banned. And at 469 miles against the Natchez 444, it is even a similar length. The Blue Ridge however, runs at a higher altitude, with the highest point of 6047ft, being towards its southern end. The views, when you can see them, are simply magnificent, looking out on range after range of distant mountains which take on the characteristic blue tinge. We did meet up with Jim and Caroline again, spotting them in one of the many overlooks. They had ended up running in front of us as the admission cost to the estate was prohibitive at $120 for the two of them, and so our little team of four reformed, but unusually, with Jim at the front and Caroline at the rear. With so many wonderful Vistas to gaze at and to photograph, we made less than 200 miles before camping up at another State Park campground. Whilst I was loving the company and really enjoying riding in our little quartet, I made the decision over night, that in the morning I would head off quite early and run on alone. When I announced this at breakfast, to my surprise and delight, Dawn said she too wanted to push on and would ride with me. It felt strange leaving Jim and Caroline and heading off with Dawn, not knowing when I would see them again. However, that is the nature of Adventure travel, you meet many wonderful people along the way, a few of whom become really special friends, but at some point your paths diverge and you have to go your separate ways.

Dawn and I pushed on up the Parkway, still making the odd stop for photos and just to gaze in awe at the spectacular views. We wanted to cover as much ground as our early start would allow. By around 3pm we were at the Rocky Knob camp ground. We stopped for a quick look and to check prices but decided that it was too early to call it a day, so pushed on. The next camp on our map was at Roanoke Mountain a further 50+ miles on. As we passed the Virginia Visitor centre, I realised that we had missed it and fuel on both bikes was getting quite low. A woman at the visitor centre (which had just closed) showed us her book of the Parkway, which indicated that the camp we wanted was in the Mill Creek State Park just a short ride up a side road. We back tracked about 5 miles and soon found the camp… except that it had been closed down and was now just a rather sad looking picnic area. We spoke to a couple of people who were there walking their dogs. I was all for camping anyway, as I felt that the chances of a ranger coming around was very slight; Dawn was somewhat hesitant to do anything that she considered to be against the law, but the thought of doing yet another 35 miles after our already long, tough day, won her over. Thanks to the couple of dog walkers, we found a perfect spot, well hidden from everyone and everything along a nice tarmac path, which whilst slightly overgrown, was perfectly rideable and enjoyed a quiet and peaceful night’s sleep, all on our own in the huge camp ground.

Then there was one!

Now it was Dawn’s turn to want to push on faster. With the weather turning colder and wetter, she wanted to get home to Pennsylvania the following day. We rose before the sun and left our little haven at first light. It was a cold start to the day which slowly got worse. At first Dawn was going to ride to the end of the BRP with me before heading off, but as the weather closed in and a heavy mist came down she decided to cut off the Blue Ridge and hit the highway. She reckoned to be home in Warrington PA by around 3pm, whilst I was sorry to lose her company, I understood her dilemma. I pushed on for the last few miles of the BRP, stopping at Waynesboro for a coffee, WiFi and food supplies before running straight into the Shenandoah National Park to ride the Skyline Drive up to Front Royal. With the clouds hanging low and the rain intermittent, it wasn’t the easiest or nicest of rides. By 5pm I had covered a little over 80 of the Skyline’s 105 miles and called it a day at Matthew Arm campground, where I thought it was about time I had a day off of the bike to do a bit of maintenance and general sorting out of my kit as well as get some writing done to bring my blog up to date before my final push for Halifax via Gettysburg and possibly Washington DC

After a lot of overnight rain, the weather slowly cleared, even giving a little warming sunshine by around lunchtime. Late in the afternoon I got into conversation with a group camping a little way down from me who turned out all to be in the US Army, flying Black Hawk Helicopters. They are from a base near Washington DC and having a weekend off thought they’d relax by going camping. The first beer they offered me slid down very well, as did several others subsequently. Then I remembered that I’d left the Jambalaya, which I’d made for dinner sat slowly simmering over the log fire along with my drying boots! I walked up to my camp along with two of the guys, both called Mike, who wanted to look at my bike. Both Boots and Jambalaya were fine, with boots safely in the tent, I took the meal which was far too big for one anyway, back to the party. It ended up being shared around along with the hot dogs and burgers that they had brought and were cooking on the open fire. Later in the evening, one of the girls produced an electronic Catch Phrase game which she insisted we all play which was the cause of much hilarity until the Ranger came around and 10pm and rebuked us for making a noise after the start of “quiet hours!.  Mike produced a bottle of Jameson which was passed round liberally and that rounded things off very nicely A great end to a fun afternoon, once more that Random Act of Kindness shining through.  The two Mikes are heading over to Ireland in March, and will be passing through Wales enroute, so I look forward to meeting up with the guys and returning just a little of the kindness shown to me by their group of 6. 

I now sit in my little tent hoping that the rain that has lashed down all night will abate a little before I start packing up. Otherwise I may even spend a third night here as I must confess I'm not too keen on getting a thorough soaking just for the hell of it. I still have ample time left to get up to Halifax, assuming of course that The Beast behaves and I have plenty of photo editing to keep me occupied as I sit snugly in  my little nylon nest!

Well, the rain stopped, but the mist didn't lift, but I bit the proverbial bullet, loaded The Beast and I'm now sat once more in McDs drinking their revolting coffee just to bring you all the latest updates... I'm off the Skyline Drive and have dropped out of the interminable mists of the Smoky Mountains for the run north on Hwy 340 to Gettysburg and a possible reunion with Dawn later today or tomorrow, although it will probably be only for a coffee as I think she has had enough of motorcycle travel for the moment....

We shake the Dragon's Tail !!!

Leaving Nashville, we eschewed the speed advantage of the Interstate for a more sedate and scenic route along Hwy 70 which ran almost parallel to it for much of the way; but we were in no hurry and all three of us dislike the hustle of the Interstates. The route, whilst running east, also dropped in a slight southerly direction. It was a pleasant though unremarkable ride apart from the town names through which we passed. Lebanon, Sparta and Athens all came and went, quite an international trip without ever leaving Tennessee !We had lunch at a Subway shop and then rode on until we stopped for our dinner supplies at a Walmart in the town of Englewood. As we pulled away from the store we stopped up at a set of lights alongside a guy riding a Honda Magna. Caroline leaned across and asked if he knew of any campgrounds in the area at which he beckoned us to follow him into a store car park. Having given us full instructions to a State Park which, as usual, had a campground, we all set off once more. However we hadn’t gone but a few hundred yards following the Magna before he again pulled off and beckoned us to follow. George had had another idea, and suggested that we could all camp in his garden for the night! After a brief 3 way chat, we all agreed and set off to follow George to his little homestead. Arriving at a cute, pale blue painted, traditional wooden home on a sizeable corner plot, complete with the usual collection of vehicles, some running, some not, we discovered a small flaw in Georges cunning plan…. The Wife! Mrs George was not quite as keen as her motorcycle riding husband to have their garden and their lives invaded by a bunch of scruffy, foreign bikers. George did his best to persuade her but when the subject of “bathroom” came into the equation she stood her ground and we beat a hasty retreat after thanking George for his attempted kindness and good thoughts. We even went so far as to invite him to join us at the campground during the evening as he seemed a genuinely nice guy and really keen to meet and talk to real travellers and fellow bikers..

Dawn with her Suzuki GS500F

The campground George had suggested was in the Hawasee State Park, a little way south of Etowah on Hwy 30 and only a few miles from his home. It was a good choice (apart from the little fact that there was no other option close by). A pleasant little site, it conformed to the usual format of such sites with a ring road along which the individual sites radiated on either side of the road. Running our usual routine of a couple of circuits of the site before selecting our nights abode, we spotted another bike at the far end of the site on which sat a lone young girl, we all waved as we passed but continued on our way to a large site we had spotted near to the start of the loop and convenient for the toilets and water. Once we had set up camp, Jim went for a stroll around the loop and encountering the girl once more whom seemed to be all on her own, he invited her to pop down later and join us later.

Dawn arrived just before our dinner was ready but as she was a veggie, she refuse our offer of food, assuring us that she had already eaten; George, much to our amazement, arrived shortly after! We hadn't thought for one moment that he would be allowed out after such a faux pas. However it was very evident that his cell phone went unanswered throughout the evening in spite of ringing loudly several times!!! George had recently retired from a career as an History teacher in a local college. He was a fable sort of guy and was interested to hear tales of our various travels and adventures, as was Dawn. Now you know that it is always said that there are three taboo subjects when it comes to after dinner conversations; Sex, Politics and Religion. I’m not sure why, but I always seem to have to buck such conventions and it sure makes for some fun conversations as long as having started the ball rolling you don’t take it all too seriously; or at least not as seriously as the person you have goaded into full fledged rant!!!!

Unfortunately (or fortunately, if you’re looking for fun!), George, whilst on the surface a gentle, unassuming family guy, underneath, just like the cartoon character, he was one of those All American, small town, narrow minded bigots that you meet from time to time. I, in all innocence (and nobody who knows me will believe that) asked George what he thought of Donald Trump! Having seen the odd clip on TV and on-line over the past few weeks of his various foot in mouth gaffs, I was curious as to how he was being perceived but the average American. As a retired professor I thought George would give a soundly reasoned response. Oh, and boy did he! He saw Trump as something between a God and Saviour, certainly someone well worthy of (and likely!!) to become the next most powerful man in the world, The President of the United States.

I’d like to say that that shut me up, but of course it didn't! From there the conversation ranged from the Ku Klux Klan; whom though they were “Misunderstood” and a great organisation, doing lots of good in the community; to the inevitable Religion, where I think he astounded us all by spouting huge texts from his bible ( I say “his” as I have no idea what version it was, but it certainly didn't sound like anything I had heard before) in which he basically advocated the extermination of all “non-believers”. Sounds a bit like the rhetoric I have heard coming from organisations like IsIs to me. And this from a man who had access to the vulnerable, and impressionable  minds of youngsters to radicalise with his bigotry. All in all, quite an entertaining evening. Like all who practise the ancient art of Devil’s Advocate, I just sat back and let him go, with of course the odd interjection to keep things flowing!!!! Amazingly, we parted as friends who just held rather different views of the world, but I don’t think I’ll be keeping in touch.

Dawn, having been invited to join us for breakfast, then asked if she might join us for our ride north as she was heading home to Pennsylvania which was roughly the direction in which we were all heading, or at least, I was; with Jim and Caroline still a little uncertain. I think like me she was getting a bit lonely travelling alone and was happy to have company if only for a day or two.  We had decided to stay two nights on the Etowah campground to enable us to run The Tail of the Dragon unhindered by out baggage and somewhat top heavy machines and dawn was happy to come along for the ride. Leaving the campground, Caroline, as usual, took the lead with Dawn, at 22 years old and by far the least experienced rider, following, me at number three and Jim bringing up the rear. It worked well in that way, as Caroline has a phenomenal, almost photographic memory for routes and road number, whilst she and Jim have an intercom so can keep in touch if either Dawn or I were to make an unscheduled stop. Caroline is also a very, very good rider. Although she has only been riding for a little over two years, she has ridden virtually every day during those two years, in more countries and in more different conditions, than most riders will cover in a lifetime. Whilst she may not be the fastest rider on the roads, she makes damn good progress, rides very smoothly and most importantly, safely; in fact she is a joy to follow, and it’s not often I say that about another rider. I generally prefer to either lead or play tail end charley at the rear, where either way I can set my own pace.

The four of us left the Hiwasee Campground quite early as we had kit to worry about packing. The plan was to head up the Tail of the Dragon via back road through Tellico Plans and then drop around to the south west to run the Cherohala Skyway on the way home; it would be a very full days riding totalling around 240 miles over some allegedly testing roads; 318 bends in 11 miles should test anyone’s mettle! And so yet another myth get de-bunked! Yes, The Tail was great fun to ride; a little to stop-start for my taste, there was just no way you could really get a nice rhythm flowing. I had taken the lead a little before we hit the first of the bends at Caroline’s suggestion. and was happy to do so, as it also enabled me to pick up the pace just a little. As I have already said Caroline is certainly no slouch and rides the bends beautifully. It seemed that it was over almost before it had started. One of the great joys of US and Canadian road is that they go on, and on, and on, and…. At 11 miles you come to Deal’s Gap, a burger joint and gift shop where Caroline kindly bought us all stickers and I bought… yes, yet another T-shirt; well it would have been rude not to! Then instead of taking the direct route to The Cherohala Skyway, we hung a left and took the long way round on a road that in my humble opinion was every bit as good as the Tail. Lunch stop was the ubiquitous Subway and so back to base for a delicious barbecue kebab dinner, fresh giant prawns for Jim and I, veggie for the girls.

Dawn had obviously enjoyed her day as next morning saw our little team of three become four as we set route for Asheville and the start of the Blue Ridge Parkway.

Nashville - Music City USA

The guys at the bike shop in Lafayette, where Jim and Caroline had booked in their bikes, were great and got the work done in record time, allowing us to at least make a few miles north before camping up for the night. Our route north was almost a retrace of our route down from Clarksville, but just a little further east. In fact my Sat Nav was showing our northerly route right over the top of the trace of our southward journey for the first part of the ride.

We left Lafayette on Hwy 61 running up through Baton Rouge and Woodville to Natchez where we stopped at the visitor centre and Walmart for supplies. The plan then was to run up the Natchez Trace Parkway all the way to Nashville. Now I had never heard of the Trace and had completely missed it on the maps, but Caroline, master of research, had it all planned. And what a ride it turned out to be! 444 miles of the most beautiful tree lined road I have ever had the pleasure to ride. A road from which all commercial traffic is banned; A road without a set of traffic lights, a roundabout, a stop sign or even a give way sign for it’s entire length. It does have a 50mph speed limit, but that was fine with us. As I’ve said before, we are touring, so why would you want to rush through such an incredible road; an historic road which predates the 1814 battle of New Orleans. Indeed it was the very road along which General Jackson marched his men to that iconic battle. Merriwether Lewis (of Lewis & Clark fame) not only travelled the road but spent his final hours in an inn adjacent to it and is alleged to have committed suicide here and is buried by it. . No, it wasn’t spectacular in the way that the Transfagassen Pass or the Bear Tooth Pass is spectacular, but it was still a joy to ride with just a few RVs. due to our missing the holiday season, handful of cars and the odd clutch of Harleys and Goldwings to contend with.

The road is fringed with American Oak, Maple and Dogwood trees amongst others, with a few pine trees thrown in for good measure. As we rode through, the colours were just beginning to change to their autumnal hues. In another couple of weeks I’m sure they will be spectacular. All along the 444 miles are roadside markers showing historic places and events over the centuries and maps are freely available from all the visitor centres making navigation very easy. From the end of the Trace it was just a few miles left to our (expensive) apartment just a mile from the centre of town. Caroline had arranged to meet the owner at 2pm and we made it more or less on the dot. By comparison with the New Orleans pad it is quite sumptuous although a little odd in missing a few of the basic necessities such as tea towels or washing up kit!

Nashville was incredible, everything I had expected and more! As you walk around the town just about every bar has music of one genre or another booming from it’s doors and windows (most have open spaces where the windows should be!). Ok, the main centre i.e Broadway, was in many ways,  much like New Orleans with the addition of mobile bars which drive around, picking up passengers that then peddle the contraption along whilst drinking copious amounts of beer. I really felt for the poor guys (and girls) that had to pilots the “vehicles” through the town. However, once away from the swarming, drunken masses, there is enough music of just about every genre to satisfy even the most picky (me!). Unfortunately there was nothing on at the Ryman Auditorium on Saturday night; Friday saw Billy Idol playing to a full house, but we came up trumps at another local venue. The Ascent Auditorium had the first lady of country music, Loretta Lynn, playing along side Steve Earle and a full support cast. We booked on line and all enjoyed a fantastic night out. However, earlier on Saturday Caroline and I did the rounds of the town, taking in the Ryman, and the Johnny Cash Museum enroute. We did the full backstage guided tour and I also took the opportunity to record a CD, my first and almost certainly my last… I won’t be giving up the day job LOL. At the end of the tour, we watched a film about the history of the Ryman, which to be hones.t was worth the entrance price on it’s own. I’m not sure whether it was just 3D, or if they had used holograms, but the result was spectacular. The whole package was certainly worth the $47.50 it cost. Oh and I got the t-shirt and the sticker! If that lot makes me a bit of a saddo, so be it, but I loved it. The Johnny Cash museum was Caroline’s idea, but again it was very well done, and fascinating with lots of video and film clips plus of course loads of his music to listen too, including many songs that were completely new to me (and to Caroline). As the concert was scheduled to start at 4.45pm we then wandered back for a spot of lunch before the walk down to the Ascent.

The Ryman Auditorium 

Old Grumpy cut his first ( last!) CD at the Ryman 

We arrived at about 4.30pm, in good time so we thought. Bags were being searched as we entered the gate and of course I had my camera bag with me. Looking at the camera the girl asked me “ does it have a removable lens?”  “Yes” I replied in all innocence. “well you cant bring it in to the show!. I tried arguing and pleading but in the end I just had to hot foot it back to the apartment drop the camera. A round trip of a little over three which I accomplished in a reasonable time… considering I had a 15 minute wait at a level crossing for one of the huge freight trains to pass!  I was so annoyed I even contemplated not going to the show, but in the end common sense prevailed and I damn glad it did. The show was fantastic with all the acts on the bill giving first class performances. Obviously, Loretta was the icing on the cake, but Steve Earl, a name I knew without ant appreciation of his music, wowing the audience with a terrific set. All in all a grand finale to our couple of days in Music City Nashville

Sunday morning saw the Three Amigos back on the road looking for more adventures and heading east towards Asheville and the Blue Ridge Parkway, but not until we had ridden the infamous Tail of the Dragon. 311 bends in 11 miles sounded just like our cup of tea.

How do you like my new side line....?

Jambalya, Crawfish Pie and File Gumbo….

After two fantastic nights in New Orleans it’s back on the road at 7am this morning and heading about 150 miles west to Lafayette, where Jim & Caroline have their bikes booked in for various service items such as new brake pads, rear tyres and oil changes. We have all been well impressed with New Orleans although the apartment we booked through airbnb, whilst very convenient, could have been better for the money. We arrived quite late on Saturday afternoon after going to the local Apple store to get Caroline’s iPad fixed. I also tried to get my phone repaired but the cost was way to high, to say nothing of the wait.

We checked into the apartment, quickly showered, changed and headed down to Bourbon Street. On the way down, Caroline accosted a guy, who just happened to be a local tourist guide, to ask about good places to eat. We followed his recommendation and struck gold. The Gumbo Shop is definitely a “must do” if you’re ever in New Orleans. It has an enviable pedigree and the food is to die for! We opted for the set menu at $23.50 each but had just two menus between the three of us plus a portion of Alligator sausages. We started with two different Gumbo dishes, one chicken and one seafood with sides of spinach and corn. This was followed by two Jambalaya dishes and finished up with Pecan ice cream and Bread pudding with whiskey sauce. The two menus were more than enough to satisfy three hungry bikers with every morsel eagerly devoured and delicious. They even had a recipe book containing all the dishes that they cook, which Caroline bought, although it will probably cost her more to send it home than to buy! On the way down to the restaurant it was great to see all the wonderful old French style Art Deco buildings, most of which were in really nice condition and being lived in. We were already looking forward to seeing them in daylight.

Time to hit Bourbon Street and to sample to beers and the music… well, chaos comes to mind! It was more like Benidorm on a mass stag weekend than the Jazz Capital of the US. There were drunken tourists everywhere, we got ripped off $7.50 each for a pint of beer and were asked for $20 cover charge in a bar just to listen to the music. It really wasn’t what any of us were expecting or looking for so we wandered off so see a few more of the sights and then headed home for an earlier than expected night. Perhaps we were just too tired and weary to appreciate the revelries. I don’t think it helped with it being a Saturday night, or having a huge cruise ship docked in town.

Sunday morning and time to do our tourist bit! We wandered slowly back to Bourbon street, which in the cold light of a Sunday morning looked even better, but that could also have been due to the streets being almost empty. Amazingly, any debris from the previous evenings antic had already been cleared and the whole ambience, even without the accompanying sounds of jazz was fabulous. From Bourbon Street we headed down to the French Quarter and yet more beautiful streets and buildings. By this time Jim’s knee was starting to play up, so we left him with a pint and a book in a nice shady park whilst Caroline and I headed over to the water’s edge for a bit more exploring! Back at the park we enjoyed a couple of Peach ce cream Daiquiris and some fresh roasted corn before heading back to base for rest before starting all over again. Caroline’s internet research again paid off when she found a music venue for our evening’s entertainment; The Spotted Cat. No cover charge and sensibly priced drinks was the line that hooked us.

We had decided that we would try a different food stop and opted for the take away from which the tour guide had just emerged the previous evening. Again we hit the jackpot! I had the ribs, whilst Jim opted for the Corned beef sandwich with all the trimmings and Caroline the roast beef. At less than the cost of a McChuckup, it was superb value and very, very good. And so to the Spotted Cat and another 10 out of 10! They had a great little Jazz quartet playing and the girl vocalist was particularly good, reminding me somewhat of Diana Krall and as the web site had stated, the drinks, whilst not the cheapest  we had found were indeed sensibly priced. All in all, a great evening, in an incredible town. New Orleans most definitely ranks alongside Dawson City and Halifax as one of my favourites of the trip. Although it must be said, that the great company I was travelling with helped a lot. I think we were all a little sorry to say goodbye to New Orleans but it was a bright and early start Monday morning for Viator Performance in Lafayette to get the work done on Jim & Caroline’s  bikes, whilst I changed brake pads and riveted up the base of my pannier which I managed to damage rather badly by slipping off on a gravel road a few days back whilst doing a U-turn.  On the way across to Lafayette we passed such places as Baton Rouge and Blue Bayou in fact just about every town we pass in this part of the States is recorded in song somewhere! 

Way down yonder !

My first glimpse of the Mississippi

After two and a half days plugging along Interstate 40 I finally turned off about 50 miles short of Memphis and headed….                   South! Yep, that was an unexpected turn, even to me. I picked up on Facebook this morning that Caroline and Jim where heading down to Clarksdale today, so I’ve come down with the hope of meeting up; I’m feeling in need of a bit of a laugh and some good company. I swung into a gas station and dang ma britches, I’m in the deep south! I couldn’t understand a word that was being said. As I sat and enjoyed a cold drink a black guy in the next booth started talking to me about my trip, I felt a complete idiot as I struggled to get to grips with what he was saying. It was worse than being in Gambia!

The Shack up Inn

However, I’m now at the quirky and quaintly named “Shack Up Inn” in Clarksdale, Mississippi, home of the Mississippi Delta Blues, after finally catching up with Caroline and Jim at the Delta Blues Museum. Clarksdale; possible inspiration for the Monkeys hit, is an eclectic mix of old and new; rich and poor, modern and classic. On the way to the Delta Blues Museum, I rode through a part of the town that was virtually empty and derelict, or so I thought; until I saw a young black woman pushing a pushchair with child into one of the buildings; so it seems that at least a few are still inhabited. It was one of those parts of town where you really didn't want to pause for too long. Clarksdale was also home to Ike Turner . Various plaques around the town testify to the fact and also, something I didn't know, that Ike had a band and was playing and singing blues, way before Tina came on the scene

 As we came out of the museum we met one of the Delta Bluesmen; Razorface. We didn't make it to his show at Morgan Freeman’s club, which is almost next to the museum, as we opted to stay at the hotel, where there was also live blues, but Caroline and I both got a signed “Live” recorded CD from him. Something I’ll look forward to playing when I get home.

So once more my trip takes a little bit of an unexpected twist as I set off further south with Caroline and Jim, heading for that iconic city of the jazz world, New Orleans. We should make it by Saturday without too much trouble. So hopefully it will be Saturday night on Bourbon Street! That’s assuming we can get some accommodation in town at a sensible price. It’s funny how things work out sometimes; I’d guessed that as Jim and Caroline were running the Mississippi that they would go to New Orleans, so I’d reckoned on riding with them for just a couple of days before heading back north to Nashville. Now I find out that they too are heading up to Nashville, so if all goes well with us travelling together, we may well end up there together; indeed they are even taking about running the Blue Ridge Parkway… It would certainly round my trip off nicely, travelling with such good company, but I’ll have to wait and see how it all plays out over the coming days.

Of course it won’t have missed your notice dear readers, that when (if!) I get to New Orleans, I will have visited all four coasts of the North America, which will certainly give me something to think about in the years to come. Additionally on this trip I will have traversed the continent north to south and east to west and back again. So a few notches clicked up over the past few months I think.

I want one !!! Captain America here I come...

So that was Route 66 !

Today has been an unexciting ride, but that’s not to say uninteresting. I’ve been running hard and fast (for me!) on Interstate 40, interspersed with sections of Route 66. Total mileage was about 450 with 9 hours in the saddle. As I run a self imposed limit of about 4250 rpm or about 60 mph, I don’t think I did too badly,. I’m now in Arkansas and camped in the Osark’s State Park, having passed through Texas and Oklahoma. If anybody bothers to come round to collect the camp fee, it will cost me $10, for that I get not only water, but hot showers too, pity there’s no temperature control, as a cold shower in this heat would be more appreciated. Oh well, you can’t have everything, never happy some people!

I've found Route 66 a bit less than inspirational too, if truth be told. For most of the day and a lot of yesterday it ran right alongside I40, and when I took heed of the signs and routed through some of the towns, I found then downright depressing. It’s fairly typical of where any town on a major route is by-passed; the town just dies through lack of passing trade. The towns I looked at were full of shuttered shops, boarded up buildings and derelict depots. In fact I was reminded once again of the Nancy Griffith song about the Great Depression. “The train goes by our silos, silver in the rain, leaves our pockets full of nothing but the seeds of the golden grain.” So in the end I took the easy option and stayed on I40!

But once again I jump on too far and too fast. Two days ago I visited Taos Pueblo, considered to be the oldest continuously inhabited community in the USA. I took the 30 minute guided tour, made all the more interesting as it was taken by one of the inhabitants. It’s quite a small village and as one would expect, there were plenty of “locals” selling all sorts of crafts and refreshments to the hoards of tourists and good luck to them. I can’t say I would fancy being under continual scrutiny from them. Although there are official “opening hours”, I’m sure there must be some that disregard them and wander hither and thither without a thought for the poor inhabitants.

Going back even a little further, on the way down through New Mexico to Taos, just before crossing the Grand Canyon of New Mexico, I passed a bewildering array of “alternative” off-grid homes. They were all clustered in one quite small area, where apparently the whole thing was kicked off by one man. I’ll have to do a bit more research on that one when I get home as some of the buildings were incredible and very futuristic in their designs.

From Taos it was then a case of following Hwy 518 across the mountains and finding a camp ground, which I did up yet another forestry road. But not before I had met a delightful couple of GS riders when I made a photo stop at the very top of the mountain. Danielle was riding a brand new F700  whilst her partner, who’s name escapes me was on a 1200. We talked for quite a while  and as we turned to leave, Danielle, herself an Afghanistan Vet, presented me with a pin which is given to US families who have lost a loved on in service of their country. I’m not ashamed to say that we both has tears in out eyes as we parted.

Yesterday would have been Sam’s 36^th birthday and to be honest I really don’t  remember too much about the day’s ride! I’d probably have been better to have stayed in my tent for the day. As I wrote on the 5^th anniversary of his death exactly 2 months ago; it may be 5 years that have passed but to me and to Alison, it still feels as raw as ever. Time may ease the pain a little, but it certainly does not heal!

One thing I do remember is seeing that iconic (irrelevant?) line of graffiti covered, cars, half buried in the desert. Yes I stopped and took a few photos, but I’m afraid I left thinking to myself “why?” Oh, and I got my phone out of my pocket to send the first text of the trip and… yes, I dropped it and smashed the screen. A perfect ending to a less than perfect day!

 On a lighter note. You may remember that a few days ago I stayed at a rather unusual camp situated behind a Quality Inn Motel in Tuba City. As I checked in the girl did the paperwork and handed me a sheet with a big 2B scrawled on it. Of course I just had to say in my best Shakespearian voice, “ or not to be, that is the question!” a few other in reception chuckled but I don’t think Shakespeare would have been on the Navajo School curriculum!!!

Another day, another State!

I was away from Harry & Kathleen’s early on Sunday morning, continuing east on the 160 through Durango, where I knew there was a big bike rally being held and on to Chimney rocks. I had no real idea however, of what to expect when I got there! There were more Harleys on the road than you could shake a stick at, once I was through Durango, which incidentally was where Bob & Debbie, that I had met back in Tuba City, were spending the weekend.

Chimney Rocks National Park was easy to spot as I approached from the east. The twin towers of rock standing out way above all surrounding mountains, my only issue was how to get closer to them! That was soon solved as I spotted a sign pointing off to my right. A little way along the road a further sign to the right, indicated the Chimney Rocks National Park. I turned in and parked up at the visitor center. Speaking to the rangers at the reception, the first thing I was told, was that the two and a half mile road up to the top car park, from which the guided tour left, was very rough, far worse that the short stretch of gravel road into the park which I had just ridden. As there were no restrictions on ground clearance for cars, I guessed that I would be fine. Indeed the only problem was that there were a couple of short patches of rather nasty washboard. At the top car park, John, our guide gathered us all together and did his health and safety bit, then we all toddled off to the first of the buildings. John, had certainly learnt his stuff on the whole Ancient Pueblo culture, but as I’m not an archiologist much of it was on me. Then it was on up to the very top on the mountain, just below the Chimney Rocks themselves. It was a fairly easy scramble, and once again, the centre at the bottom had made far too much of it, although to be fair, one or two of the party struggled a bit. The views from the top were fantastic, and the old buildings themselves, very interesting. John, when talking about the finds during the excavation work mentioned that they had found two corn different corn seeds in one of the storage jars and I caused a bit of a laugh when I suggested that they were probably the only two in the world that Monsanto hadn’t managed to get hold of!!! The whole tour was about 2 ½ hours, which to be honest was a bit over-long. But then again I guess it depends on how interested in the culture behind the ruins you are.

From Chimney Rocks it was a run South Easterly along the 164 to Taos, another Pueblo village, that Taz & Joel had marked for me but this time one that is still lived in. Before then I would need to find a camp ground, and it was a beauty! I turned left up a National Forestry road which ran quite steeply up hill. It was at least a couple of miles before I found what I was looking for; a nice flat, secluded spot in the trees. There was a caravan at the very entrance to the area, but it didn’t look as though it was being used. Even so I ran quite a way down so that we even if it were used we wouldn’t actually be able to see each other. It was amongst mature lodge pine trees, which left a nice view of the sun through the canopy. The only thing that could have improved it would have been a little stream for my morning shower; hey ho, you can’t have everything.

When I got up in the night to answer the call of nature (no not the bears)  a thin sliver of a crescent moon was peeping through the tree canopy and the stars were shinning brightly in the inky black sky. I stood for ages just gazing up in awe at the scene. My night was otherwise undisturbed by man or beast. Had I not been on my own it would have been absolute perfection.

It was still quite a run down to Taos, something around 120 miles so I was up at about 6.30 and on my way before 8am. Back down the forest road and onto an empty road in the early morning sunshine and before the heat had begun to pick up, although I had camped at around 7300ft so it was somewhat cooler anyway.

Help! I've lost the plot...

It’s a bit of a funny old trip  his one! I’m used to not knowing that day it is, but what with hoping back and forth between time zones and States, I’m in danger of losing that illusive plot altogether!!! Matters weren’t helped yesterday when I stood straddling 4 States all at the same time, quite a feat eh? Wel nol, not really, it was at the Four Corners National Monument. The only place in the US where 4 State corners coincide. Other than a round plate on the floor and a load of Navajo stalls selling tourist tat, it really wasn’t much to get excited about, but as I was only 5 miles north of it, I thought I might as well tick the box. The weather was quite funny too, as I rode east towards the monument after coming through Monument Valley I could see really black rain clouds to my right, then as I got closer I could see the rain heading my way like a wall of mist! I kept hoping the road would swing away from it, but no it turned south and straight into it. I’d already taken the time to stop and put on my rain jacket and heavy waterproof gloves so I just ploughed on. The monument was only 5 miles down the road and by the time I arrived the rain had passed and blue sky could once more be seen.

After the 4 Corners, I had to back track North over the same 5 miles to put me on the right road once more for Mesa Verde, but by the time I reached Cortez I’d had enough. My gouty ankle was killing me, and both the heat and the pills were starting to wear me down, so I started looking for a camp ground. The first RV site I tried didn’t take tents, but phoned another site just up the road for me. Bingo, I had a pitch and it was on a nice little bit of grass, right by the shower block. A result! I’m sure the camp host must have wondered what had happened to me as no sooner had I got the tent up, I was in bed. I think the combination of heat, pain and pills had just about done for me. I didn’t even bother with any dinner; it was ear plugs in and spark out till daylight dawned. I can’t say it was the most restful sleep I’ve ever had but both I and my ankle felt a little better for it. Eggs and bacon went down a treat for breakfast with a couple of cups of coffee and I was ready to take to the road once more.

It was another of those camps where I had stopped just short of where I really wanted to be; in this case Mesa Verde. As I ran into the park I spotted a camp ground just inside the entrance and though I might book in early and even stay two nights if the Park was as good as I had been told. I nearly fell over when I was told the price was $29 per night, I’d thought my RV site back up the road bad enough at $21, so thought I would try my luck elsewhere later in the day, depending on what I found, not knowing at this stage that this was just a precursor for yet another Random Act of Kindness!  The road in was surprising busy as not only was it Saturday but it was Labour day weekend; a three day holiday and also effectively the end of the holiday season in the US. At a branch in the road I opted for the right branch as not only were there few vehicles heading that way, according to the squiggle on the map I’d been given, it looked like it might be a right good ride; the map didn’t lie!  The 12 mile long road wound it’s way through some great scenery as it climbed the views over the flat adjacent land really were magnificent.

There were two different options at Wetherill Mesa, a short self-guided tour and a much longer one with a guide. I really wasn’t sure whether my ankle was up to either, but I popped a couple more pain killers and headed off on the short one to Step House first. It was only about a 1.5 mile loop but involved quite a steep gradient plus a lot of steps. I made it down OK, only to take 1 photograph and my camera battery go flat! Damn, that would mean I’d have to do it all over again as there was no way I was leaving without some photos. Back at the top, battery changed, a bottle of ice coffee and the most peculiar packed lunch-in-a-box I’ve ever eaten and off I go again. Meanwhile I’ve been talking to Jan, the guide who would lead the next tour to the Long House, seeing me hobbling around she was understandably a little reluctant to take me along on what was in total actually not a lot longer than the Step house loop. But then I didn’t have a ticket either, so unless their was a small group I would be able to go anyway. I almost ran around the the Step House loop the second time, determined to show that I was plenty fit enough for the tour, but it was all in vain as the assembled group was huge. So sadly I didn’t make the cut in spite of setting a near record for the Step House loop…  In conversation with one of the young rangers on duty at the visitor centre, he told me of another monument which was in his opinion even better than Mesa Verde; Chimney Rocks, which just happened to be on my route for the following day. Time was getting on and as I hadn’t a clue where I was staying (not that that was unusual) I thought I’d better head off, but not before I taken in another site he had mentioned at Mesa Verde; Far View.

I headed back down the twisty road to the entrance , turned right and headed on towards Chimney Rock and ultimately Taos, in New Mexico, yet another new state (other than putting a foot into it at Four Corners!). Before  I found a camp site though I really needed to go shopping for groceries as my supplies were to say the least low; in fact without shopping I would be down to my emergency rations of tinned sardines and rice. As I arrived at Mancos I spotted the requisite store and pulled over. Amazingly, right next door to the small supermarket was an independent BMW workshop with, of all things, an airhead parked on the roof as a sign! As I parked up, and headed for the store the owner approached me and introduced himself, asking if there was anything that I needed. Now s it happens I’d been thinking of replacing my front tyre, as whilst there was a reasonable amount of tread left it had got to that point where at slow speeds if I lifted one hand from the bars the bike started shaking it’s head; not nice! He confirmed that he had a front Heidenau K60 in stock so after buying my dinner I rode the bike next door for the tyre to be fitted. Harry specialized in airheads, so it really was my lucky day! In his workshop were 4 airheads in various stages of restoration, and very nice they were all looking too.

Tyre fitted, bill paid, and just as I was about to set off the heavens opened and the biggest downpour I’ve yet witnessed this side of the pond hit Mancos. We pushed my bike into the workshop to sit it out for a bit. Harry asked where I was staying, I didn’t know. After a slight pause he said “ well we’ve got futon if you don’t mind sleeping on that” I laughed, mind? It would be luxury and the rain was till not showing any signs of stopping. A quick call home to Kathleen, his wife, and all was set for my nights accommodation. By the time we left the shop the rain had more or less stopped, so the short ride back to their home was all but dry. It turned out that they had only moved into the house 2 weeks earlier and yet here they were welcoming a complete stranger into their home. As it happened there was a huge American Camping Trailer parked adjacent to the house and Harry suggested “of course you could always sleep in there” Perfect, what more could I have possibly asked. I dined in style with Harry and Kathleen, bored them with videos of the Scoots trips and retired to write and sleep in the caravan. Although to be fair “caravan” really doesn’t do it justice! From the outside it was certainly not new, but inside it was a little palace on wheels, and I slept very soundly in my sleeping bag laid out on the very comfortable queen sized bed. The following day was Sunday and Harry was working at home. So after a couple of superb coffees, I said my goodbyes and left them to enjoy their day together. A lovely couple whom I feel privileged to have spent time with. As I said earlier, another Random Act of Kindness, a feature of this trip that is going to be long remembered.   

The missing bit !!!

When I camped up at the Lee Vining campground last night, I hadn’t realised just how close to the town of the same name I was. What I did know was that it got quite cold over night but then the camp ground was at 7300 ft, I had hoped to get a bit lower and warmer, but I’d had enough riding for one day. As I headed on down the road next morning past a huge lake, instead of staying on the main road, I took a smaller turning which headed also straight on. Whilst I had lost a little altitude, it wasn’t a lot and initially I though I had miss-judged the road from the map, It rose and fell gently for the first few miles along a wide plateau although the mountains, which are never far away in this region, could bee seen lurking on the horizon. Then the fun started as I once more found some twisty’s to play on and the road started to drop more precipitously as I headed down towards Benton Hot Springs (which was virtually a ghost town) along a road marked on the map as “closed in winter”!  A short stretch on Interstate 5 heading north  then I swung south once more on another fairly minor road via Dyer and 

Oasis before I finally made my grand entrance to the infamous Death Valley!

I had heard all sorts of tales of Death Valley, not least that I was mad to ride it in August or September when it at it’s most lethal, but then I’ve crossed the Sahara quite a few times without incident so how much worse could this be? I turned at the oddly named Scotty’s Junction. And after entering the Park came across the castle of the same name! Walter Scott, was a fraudster of the top echelon who claimed to have found a gold mine in Death Valley and persuaded other to put up millions in capital, with which he built his very grand Scotty’s Castle. I stopped for refreshments and of course to take a few photos, before riding on into the valley.

The scenery was stunning with multicoloured rocks towering over me as I rode towards the Death Valley centre. I slowly lost height and of course as I did so the temperature started to rise. It maxed out ar 46c (114 F), plenty hot enough for me and certainly slightly hotter than I had experienced on my Sahara rides, but not by much. Arriving at the centre, I was surprised to find two out of the three camp sites closed, not that it made any difference at all as to which I stayed at; they were all just as hot!. The remaining one was about a half mile before the “village” and having set up camp and got out of my heavy biking gear, I suddenly had the thought of popping back to the shop for some beers and a bag of ice. Thinks I “ I'm in Nevada and it’s only about half a mile and I'm sure you don’t need helmets in Nevada”. So off I go wearing shorts, tee shirt and sandals. As I pay at the checkout I ask the guy if I’m right about the helmets. He replies, “ Could be, but we’re in California not Nevada! I’d apparently cut across a very small corner of Nevada and re-entered California! Oh well, I’m only just up the road, so jump on my bike, swing out of the car park to see… yes, you’ve guessed it, a Cop car coming towards me. My heart sinks as I look in my mirror and see his lights come on as he executes a very quick u-turn. He is on my tail as I turn into the camp ground. Fortunately he was a very nice and understanding Cop, who listened to my tale with a grin, checked my licence, shook my hand, and wished me good day. Phew! Just my luck, the only time I have ever ridden on public road without a helmet and I nearly get nicked. The heat was far more apparent without helmet and jeans, it was  as though I was being blasted by some huge infernal hair dryer.

Reading through the brochures I had picked up at the visitor centre, I learned of an point from which spectacular views could be had as the sun rose. I checked my Sat Nav for sunrise time, and was up early enough to catch some amazing photos as the sun lit up the mountains and rock faces. Surprisingly, I was not alone, others ahda apparently also read the brochures and I was in a small group of about 50 people witnessing the spectacle. I retraced my wheel tracks down the mountain to hit the lowest point in the valley, in fact the lowest point in the entire continent of North America at -252ft. It was still early as I headed west towards Las Vegas, not somewhere I’ve ever really wanted to go, but the road across towards the Grand Canyon went right past the door, so I felt it would be rude not to at least ride along the main drag and get a few pictures. It was everything I had imagined and more! I didn’t really even get off the bike, Bright,  brash and glitzy just about sums it up. I headed on toward Kingman for my first little taster of Route 66 and thence to then Grand Canyon.