Moving to Herefordshire was one of the more challenging things to do but its lovely to see how beautiful the countryside can be.
Moving to Herefordshire was one of the more challenging things to do but its lovely to see how beautiful the countryside can be.
Had a great trip to the Algarve recently and rented a Honda Shadow motorcycle for a week. On one of the last few days of my stay there I planned a trip to the south-western tip of Portugal – Cabo de São Vicente and Sagres. However all did not go well from my start in Albufeira. As I knew I was going to be on the road for at least an hour, perhaps 1.5hours I decided to strap my rucksack to the back of the bike and I used bungees to secure it. As my rucksack as well as other rucksacks have lots of dangling bits I decided to use a waterproof cover to wrap around it and make it more streamlined.
I checked several times during the trip that the luggage was secured. However then I didn’t for a while as I was confident everything was fine. Just as I crossed the Portimao bridge I checked again and with my horror only found my bungees where the rest of my rucksack was. I few chosen words were well placed at this point and I was horrified to think what all I had inside: my Samsung Galaxy S3 smart-phone, my Nokia C2, Canon EOS 450D, my spare glasses, contact lens case, wallet, passport, a small pump-spray and an insect lotion. Needless to say there was a few things in it that would a) break and b) get stolen and would be VERY missed. I was able to turn around at the next exit and was surprised to find my bag in the middle of the opposite lane just coming out of one of the Lagoa roundabouts, 7.5 km up from where I realized my luggage was missing. I the Portuguese police are reading this I promise I didn’t break any land speed records.
Well, the damage was sort of suspected. While I was quickly going through the sorry content of my rucksack a guy pulled up claiming he was (at least) one of the drivers who failed to avoid this unexpected obstacle in the middle of the road. He was driving a Mercedes so I know my bag was driven over at least once.
Basically the insect lotion exploded and smeared itself equally over the inside of the main compartment. The chemicals in the lotion was apparently not very nice as it somehow discoloured the fabric of the rucksack. Of course the smart-phone was FUBAR. The screen as seen here and not turning on.
I was quite surprised about the Nokia. The screen was cracked and basically unusable but the phone still worked. The problem is that nowadays I call people by selecting them from a list in my phone-book so I don’t know any numbers by heart. My surprise cam when I saw my spare glasses. The plastic case they were in was COMPLETELY shattered – it was in lots and lots of tiny bits but the glasses them self were fine. A little smudged – nothing a quick clean didn’t fix. The frame was not bent and the lenses were intact. The only thing that was off was that one of the little plastic pads that sit against your nose had fallen off. I just popped it right back on. I am wearing them right now as I am writing this. Well done Silhouette for the frames and Essilor for the lenses 🙂
As the year has been coming to an end and winter seems just round the corner I decided to fill some of my inter-locuming days with a bit of biking. Hired a bike but this time something a little more comfy for the longer journeys – a proper touring bike with heated arm rests and seats would you believe it!! This time I rented a touring bike from the same Manchester rental company I used before. The bike was the marvellous Honda GL1800 Goldwing.
Started off in Manchester and then headed into a not very nice drenching storm. The rain was so bad I had to get off the road as I had problems seeing the road and other cars. Luckily there was a handy Asda carpark in Queensferry where I took refuge. The rest of the trip towards Pembrokeshire was fine, but I would still say it wasn’t really a good biking day. After stopping in Haverfordwest I travelled down the M4 and A34 to Hampshire to see relatives and then up to Northampton to meet a friend. Stayed in a local Travelodge there that I would definitely not recommend. Very dirt as seen from the photos below…
The next day on to the M1 and M6 towards Manchester.
The bike itself was great and much more comfortable than the Pan European. It also had loads more of mod-cons like heated seats, radio and it even had an air-bag. I didn’t know motorcycles even had that! One of the serous problems I had was with the windshield. It was positioned to high and once it got wet I had lots of problems seeing the road in front of me. I couldn’t get it to lowered and I thing Honda should have made it motorized like on the Pan European.
I guess a lot of seasoned bikers are familiar this skill but I had to develop olit completely from scratch and it was up to necessity rather than fancying myself taking on a skill I might not use ever again.
During my few weeks biking in the US this June I got quite good at it.
What it basically is that as a motorcyclist you try avoiding getting wet by avoiding rainy clouds as they intercept your route. You do however have another choice which is to bd a fatalist and give in to nature and … well … get soaked. I preferred to stay nice and dry so I tried my best.
I basically learnt the hard way of what it felt like to drive through a cold front and come out the other side looking like something my mother would drag out if the washing machine after a good hours soak. I knew the storm was coming but really had no way to properly avoid it. I could either stay put in a nice warm and cosy (and pricey) hotel, I could try to outrun it or could try riding straight into it and shorten the suffering. I though at the time it was to panzy to stay in the hotel, I didn’t want to turn back and you really can’t outrun a cold front just to let you know. I have also already been to Wisconsin and I didn’t particularly want to go back.
So this is what it all looked like on my phone using a weather app showing the rainfall radar.
The red dot is where I was at the time so I could see that there wasn’t much weather on the other side of that wave of rain.
But I didn’t realize at the time that I was in for some good soaking that would last about half a day. I remember at one point stopping more out of desperation at this diner next to the interstate to get myself warm on a all-you-can-drink coffee and lots of yummy egg-soaked calories with some peanut butter on the side.
Seriously, I thought I was going to have to give up and find a hotel nearby and warm up for a week. But then it started to ease off the rain. Just a little at first. Far in the distance you could see the clouds getting brighter. Then half an hour later or so … a ray of sunshine here and there. After that it cleared up big time and once I arrived in Bismarck in North Dakota the skies were blue and the the air was hot.
Once I came close to the finish line of my trip I seemed to improve my wetness avoidance skills tremendously.
I was riding towards a small town west of Chicago and I had managed quite skilfully to avoid a few storm clouds in my path. At one point I had to leave the interstate I was on and to my surprise ended on the famous Route 66. A few friends asked me before I left on the trip whether I was going to do the ’66’, however this never in my plans. Well, did managed to get on it completely by chance.
I would admit the headline is a little sensational but at the time of driving through Oregon I did think there was something odd about the Beaver state. In my many years of driving round Europe and now the USA I have found that all petrol stations have turned into self-service affairs. You get there, you you fill up your tank, you pay and then you drive off.
But in Oregon – oh nooooo. I even saw some other fellow Americans drivers puzzled by what they we and were not expected to do at the petrol stations. I definitely wasn’t the only one. As soon as I crossed the border from Washington going south and pulled-in the first filling station I got told off by some petrol station worker that I am not allowed to fill-up petrol myself.
By the time I pulled-in my second Oregon petrol station I have almost but forgot what I was told the first time – my mother will concur that I was not always known for doing as I was told. Anyway, I was told again that I was not allowed to fill-up my motorbike myself. My disobedience was encouraged by the fact there was nobody at hand at the station to actually do the filling-up for me so I just went ahead and did it.
What also amazed me was the reasoning for this and the reasons were not exactly consistent. The first petrol attendant-guy told me this was to stimulate employment which in my opinion is one of the most idiotic ways of going about this. Forcing petrol stations to employ people to do something that everywhere they can do themselves.
The second reason at the second gas station was even more crazy – that its all because health and bloody safety. Now the reason why this seems crazy to me and will probably to everyone reading this is what happens in an Oregon petrol station once you pull-up with your motorcycle: first you have to patiently wait for somebody to appear at your vehicle. This person than has to take your payment card and swipe it for you through the card reader at the pump. you then have to tell the attendant the security code which is the US is not the card’s PIN number but your ZIP – code. Then he or she lifts the filling nozzle and instead of starting to fill your precious bike with gasoline he/she hands it over to you!
So if there ever was a ‘dangerous’ part of the whole filling-up process I think swiping your card in a card reader and pressing some buttons certainly wouldn’t be that and filling your tank definitely would be, wouldn’t you think? Oh no, they leave the use of combustible fluid to you – you know, because of health and safety.
By the time I came to my third and fourth Oregon petrol station I had more or less given up on being shocked by this bureau-stupidity and let them do their own thing. However I did refuse to pay gratuity. As far as I am concerned they can go to Salem (Oregon’s capital) and ask the governor for all I care.
One of the attendants even threatened that he and I could get a fine if we didn’t comply with this rule but I did not see one signs, not even one on any of the petrol stations I stopped in Oregon. I was also quite surprised that New Jersey has similar laws in place.
Oh, and yes, in case you think I am making this up, here is the legislature – http://www.leg.state.or.us/ors/480.html
They lost me after slick surfaces and “Self-service dispensing at retail contributes to unemployment, particularly among young people;”.
The list of excuses why this has ended up and still remains a legislation is not short at all. The excuses are actually listed in the legislature text. I have sifted through it for your entertainment:
The name sounds like something from a children’s adventure book, perhaps depicting an overgrown legume, but this was an actually road-sign I saw in northern California that was inviting me to leave the route 101 and explore its mysteries.
This is actually the name of a byway, a road that runs close to the Route 101 but is much MUCH nicer. The roads twists and rolls round enormous Redwood trees, which are really sequoia trees. The oldest one there called “Immortal Tree” is about 950 years old which has survived logging, a direct lightning strike and attempts to cut it down by loggers.
Today marked the first week since I hit the road. It seems like ages since I departed Chicago and I must say the trip has given me the desired effect and changed my perspective on biking and bikers. Long I thought them to be criminal gang associated thugs. But the truth really is far faaar from that misconception. They are a really friendly bunch of people that will always help each-other in trouble. Even in the first week I have met loads and they are just normal people with a desire to explore the world. Just as an example I would mention the moment when I was riding on a road somewhere in Illinois and I noticed in my rear-view mirrors that my luggage was slipping to one side. I quickly pulled over after checking there was nobody behind me. But just as I got of my bike I car pulled up just in front of me and I was a little embarrassed when a driver checked that I was OK and if I needed any help. I was amazed.
One of the points of the trip was also to see if biking is really for me, am I really for it. To be honest after the escapade in Yellowstone and all the wet and cold weather I had to endure I realy realy miss my car, the fact that I push the button and warm air starts blowing in my face, the fact that even if it is cold outside my fingers don’t get frozen onto the steering wheel. If I would encounter a buffalo for example I would at least have some thin piece of metal between me and the hairy beast.
This was written upon my return to the UK…
After the second week most of the stuff I had to deal with was becoming a routine. I still had some issues with filling up as it seemed that every petrol station had a different way of doing things. The rest was not difficult at all. The biggest challenge was to decide where to go and where I am going to sleep but in truth the latter wasn’t actually that bad. Towards the end of the day, about 5pm I would start to think about this and I either tried to look for a campsite but that required more time as I had more work to set up the camp and tent. The quick(er) and easier but more expensive way was to find a hotel. A campsite usually cost about $20-$33 and a room would set me back from $70 to $110. I wanted to find good deals by using apps from Hotel.com or Trivago but for that you need a reliable mobile broadband which wasn’t always there to deliver. In fact the Hotels app would often tell me I need an internet connection and just wouldn’t do anything despite the fact I could browse the internet.
One thing that (sort of) felt worrying was a casual observation from a few people I met on the road who thought I was quite brave of travelling round a foreign country, on a motorcycle and on my own. However, I didn’t have a feeling at all that I was doing something brave (or ‘stupid’, which could be philosophically a different way of saying ‘brave’).
But as my general experience of the whole trip goes I really liked how the whole trip helped to detach myself from the day to day rubbish and problems of my life. Now I just had to stay on the bike (meaning not fall over) and not get the bike stopped (ie. run out of petrol). I managed to do both just fine. There was that little incident in Custer state park where I nearly fell over … what happened was that I had to stop for a warden to pay the entrance fee. The road was slightly on a decline and as I was sitting on the bike and kicked out the stand the bike rolled and the stand folded back nearly tipping the bike over. Got the warden to help me keep it upright but it taught me a valuable lesson about keeping the damn bike in gear when on a hill. For those who don’t know … these bloody things don’t have a handbrake. I also quickly learnt how to park the bike in carparks as a lot of them slope down towards the kerb. Not really noticeable when you park your car but damn noticeable when you almost give yourself a hernia trying to reverse the motorcycle. Also, and you have my word on this, this procedure does not look cool 😉
Distance travelled: ~8,000 miles (just under 13,000 km)
The 17 states that I had a chance to see:
People met: loads
Technical issues with the motorcycle: almost none, substantial oil addition in Utah at about 6.125 miles into trip. When I wrote this article I seemed to have completely forgotten about my problem getting the bike started on Day 1, when I was still on the Eaglerider carpark in Chicago. The damn thing wouldn’t even go in 1st gear. The mechanic needed to change the battery. Coincidence? This is the second rental and both have had electrical problems relating to the battery.
This bit is a retrospective note and was not part of the original article. A few people have asked me what was the longest distance I rode in a day. Well considering that I stopped a lot at the beginning it would definitely be towards the latter part of my trip. From Grand Junction in Colorado to North Platte in Nebraska is just over 500 miles (800km). However the last BIG riding day by far was the day after that so from North Platte, NE to Davenport on the most eaters point of Iowa and that was a whopping 580 mile ride (933 km) !!!
Basically I could have done a round 1000 km as I was riding around the area to find a good and not to expensive motel. In fact I probably did do it. These distances are based on Google Maps calculations using a direct route. On the day the actual distance I travelled was a little longer.
Here you can see all my stops, where I slept (letters A, B, C…) and major stop-overs (pink dots) on the way.
Drove from Morris, Illinois in the morning straight downtown. Although sometimes glitchy the built-in Android turn-by-turn satnav saved the day by giving me good verbal instructions to guide me to the Monaco hotel where I stayed until my flight on Tuesday. Left most of the luggage there and then drove to the Eaglerider shop at the Chicago, Countryside Harley-Davidson branch. Very thrilling ride but not that difficult. Unlike a lot of parts of the country Chicago is actually well sign posted.
Had a quick look round Chicago and ended up on not very impressive Navy Pier. On Sunday I went on a “Southside Gangster” bicycle tour. We covered the mafia bit of Chicago’s history and actually saw some real life mobsters.
They still hang around in some neighborhoods in plain view and the guide could almost point them out to us. Some of them apparently knew what we were about and the tour we were on and even interacted with us … albeit very briefly and one of them used some sort of code.
For lunch we stopped at a restaurant near the Bridgeport area. The place is frequented by many people …. I including some of the mafia guys and even the police. Apparently they do very good pizza so food seems to be a good common ground. I tried their lasagna pizza and it actually was good. Multo bene 😉
The whole Bridgeport neighborhood area had a very old style Chicago feel to it – I was told, of course. Wouldn’t know that myself but it was definitely an experience. Would advise the tour to anyone. Except young kids. As its a mobster tour there are some PG details that are mentioned involving the activities of “the outfit”. And so of course I don’t mean they they were into their Lego-making.
Saw other very nice parts of the city but not all, by far. There are at least two good viewing platforms. One is the Skydeck, but its on a building quite south of downtown. The more recommended is to go to the Sears/Hancock building. Very central and gives you apparently better views of the city.
After completing my wish of seeing the Grand Canyon I realized I need to start towards Chicago. The day before sort of already was a travel east but it was more south-east than northeast which it should have been. I started from the Colorado town of Grand Junction.
The previous day travel was not pleasant at all. More like excruciatingly hot. It felt like I was in a stove and the air just kept getting hotter and there was no way of getting out. The official temperature was 36°C but I think it was higher on that overheated tarmac. I was so hot I literally escaped to a little diner in Colorado where I indulged in ice cold lemonade. The heat was bad enough but the biking gear at that particular moment did not help much. The biking jeans are quite thick and lined with Kevlar. Then there are the biking boots. Can’t do much about either but to cook or stew, whichever your cooking preference. My feet and legs were also very very close to a very very hot engine and exhaust.
Anyway, the next day was hopefully going to be a bit better. First of all the air was cooler in the morning but also I was starting the ascend crossing the Rocky mountains. Some really lovely scenerey ran pass my bike and I also saw the location of the FIS ski events in Vail, Colorado. However after descending on the other side my hopes that the air was cooler on the eastern side were quickly dashed. It was again back to the oven. The heat finally eased the day after, about 100 miles west of Omaha, Nebraska, when I drove into a severe storm system that lasted for a couple of hours. Managed to avoid one of the storms that was producing a tonne of lightning by going for lunch to Denny’s. The second storm I caught full on and I had to quickly escape off the motorway to hide under a tiny bit of roof of an abandoned shed. After that it was back to sunshine but this time without the oven-like ambience.
By the way, Nebraska not very impressive so anything was going to be an improvement and Iowa did not disappoint. Not that I have anything against Nebraska but most of the way there was a prevails long smell of pig feces that only got intermittently exchanged by the smell of cow feces.