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Six Weeks, a Tent and a VFR - Updated November 12th: Traffic with a Capitol "T", Hollywood and the Score: Wind 1: Olive 0 (Day 41/48)


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Harleys, the riders wearing the standardized uniform of vests and black dot-approved-salad-bowls.

:laughing6-hehe: :laughing6-hehe:

maybe they were meeting others who were bringing the fruit.

Nice work O.

If only everyone knew what G-Spot got into in Vegas, it'd make ya shiver....

Sooo..that would make them a "fruit salad bowl" rider?

You better hope Reid doesnt see this :laugh: :laugh: :laugh: :laugh: Oh wait..he did lose his full face helmet on the way huh??? :laughing6-hehe:

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If only everyone knew what G-Spot got into in Vegas, it'd make ya shiver....

Probably BEST to leave it in Vegas than.

You better hope Reid doesnt see this :laugh: :laugh: :laugh: :laugh: Oh wait..he did lose his full face helmet on the way huh??? :laughing6-hehe:

I DID mention RoadRashReid adding to the sport with the wildly bouncing helmet a few posts back. Really glad that I wasn't there to play dodge'm with Aussie and Wheatie, or to witness the sad end the helmet came to. Their vivid description in Flagstaff with wild arm gesticulation drew enough of a picture to include that story in the report secondhand.

As for Reid or Aussie seeing this thread... well, it's a VERY good thing that I live in a different country. I wonder how many PMs Aussie got as a result of my post a few days ago... :laughing6-hehe:

It's great to hear from so many of my readers - that's the applause that keeps me writing. Next instalment up tomorrow evening folks! Keep posted.

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July 6 (Day 39/48)

When I stopped in to visit friends in the greater Atlanta area I was teased about being the vortex attracting Weather (yes, that's weather with a capital W). They may have had a point.

If you have been reading this ride report in its entirity there is no doubt you remember the snow, heavy driving rains, high winds and flooding in Saskatchewan, the incredibly thick fog in Newfoundland, the stormy weather of the New Jersey Turnpike, the hazardous tree-felling storm on the Blue Ridge Parkway... and that's only a brief overview.

Of course it doesn't stop there. In Telluride I attracted rain, thunder, lightning, hail and a bit of hail. At least Aussie and Cruz assure me that there was no doubt it was indeed hail, although I debate that because it was too small to really count. Guess I'm spoiled with the type of hail I hit closer to home... where there is little doubt that you are being pelted by large chunks of ice hurled from the black, threatening skies above. And of course riding through Utah and Arizona I found rain, lightning and rolling thunder.

In my previous post I wrote about finding the edge of what appeared to be a dust storm in Arizona - I really didn't like the look of it so I decided to turn back to find a place to stay for the night. Visibility was poor and grit from the storm was everywhere. That was when I found another thunderstorm. I have to admit that it was really odd to be riding through very dusty air during a rainstorm - the rain was falling in large, muddy drops. What a mess! The bike looked like I had been using it for motocross in the mud, although I don't recall doing any offroading.

After I turned tail and ran north away from the dust storm I continued riding back towards the cleaner rain north of Phoenix and towards Flagstaff. I had even snagged a room rather than trying to find a place to pitch my tent in the rain. The majority of the time I spent my nights in tents, but when I was forced to spend the money on a room I made the most of it. Since the room had complimentary coffee I sat down in the morning with a coffee and turned on the morning news. My coffee almost became part of the room's decor as the breaking news story came on the national news... a massive dust storm, also known as a Haboob, had rolled through Phoenix the previous night. The mile high storm was estimated at 100 miles wide with wind speeds of 50 to 60 mph. The storm grounded flights, caused power outages, blew over semi trailers leaving a broad path of damage, dust and debris in its wake. But if you live in North America, I'm sure you remember seeing the front page news story. (http://tucsoncitizen...nix-dust-storm/).

Apparently it was a good decision to turn back the previous night. A very good decision. I had found the edge of Phoenix's dust storm of the decade. Not optimum riding weather.

It was incredible to see some of the photos of the storm on the news. From my perspective the previous night the storm didn't seem that bad, but I had only seen the edge of it. I watched the news coverage a few times before I sent a few emails to friends who knew I was in the area to reassure them that I had not been an unwilling participant in the storm, and that both me and bike were in one piece and not freshly sandblasted.

Getting off to a later start than planned, I set off once again for Tucson. At one of the pull offs along the road I took these pictures. The dust was still settling and visibility remained poor. Once again I was grateful that I had turned back the previous night.

Arizona 2011 Dust Storm

Arizona 2011 Dust Storm

Arizona 2011 Dust Storm

A few hours into the ride I stopped at a McDonalds for a cold drink and a cup of internet. Fast food restaurants like McDonalds were a guaranteed source of free WIFI that I could hook into with my mini notebook. At least in the rest of the States and Canada they were. After a few failed attempts to connect I discovered that this particular McDonalds charged for WIFI. With a bit of additional poking around I established that many of the McDonalds locations in Arizona were franchised by the same holding company, and there was no free WIFI to be found. Putting away the mini laptop I pulled out my Blackberry and tried to use the even tinier screen to figure out where in Tucson I could locate Cruz.

Now that I had a GPS, I didn't have to worry as much about preplanning a route, however I still like to have an idea of where I will be riding and the approximate route plan. The rest of the ride south was relatively uneventful. I was eager to reach Tucson, and didn't stop for many pictures. The ride through straightandflatistan wasn't very exciting, and the dusty air did little for visibility. The hot sun beat down from overhead, but despite the sun and heat the dust gave the air an oppressive quality, almost feeling drab and overcast despite the fact there wasn't a cloud in the sky.

I finally turned into the parking lot where I could find Cruz. Parking in the shade, I unzipped my hot gear and stepped inside to find an air-conditioned showroom and a very friendly dog. After making friends with the dog I introduced myself and settled in to wait for Cruz. I had to wait quite a while and entertained myself by doing some writing while I enjoyed the cooler temperatures found indoors.

Eventually Cruz came out and greeted me enthusiastically. We had parted ways a few days previous, and it was good to see him again, and to get a feel for his context. He invited me to pull the bike around to the back, and I parked inside the shop. The bike was just shy of 17,000 miles and it was time for the second set of tires of the trip. Backdraft also stopped by the shop and gave us a hand mounting the tires. The rear tire was brand new, and the front was lightly used. Cruz likes to have matched tires on his bikes, and had recently between the Bridgestone BT21 and BT23, and replaced the front at the same time as the back. I don't worry about mixing tires – about the only time that my bike has the same brand of tire on the front and back is when it is new. Front and rear tires rarely wear out simultaneously, and when I am touring I have limited options on which tire to purchase. The mix of a brand new rear and a lightly used front was the ideal solution. (Thanks Cruz!).

We hung out at the shop and visited for a few hours like old friends will do. Backdraft's wife, son and daughter had also come down with him. His daughter was very curious about the world around her, and thought it was neat that I was on a long trip. We sent her over to my bike to see if she could figure out which country I was from. Smart as a whip she came back and proudly delivered her answer “You're from Wild Rose Country!”. Blink. Blink-Blink. After a moment I clued in to her answer. On a technicality I suppose she was right. The slogan printed on an Alberta license plate is “Wild Rose Country”.

It was late and the sun had already set. It wasn't the best situation to go looking for a campground, especially since I was in the middle of Tucson. Cruz and Backdraft recommended against the inexpensive motels that I had seen advertising on the highway on the way through town. They guys, as usual, were looking out for me. I think they wanted to ensure that I still had a bike the following morning. Following their recommendation I checked into a nearby Red Roof Inn and called it a night.

Stay tuned for the next update where I arrive unexpectedly in Arrivaca, meet up with Border Patrol and my cell phone purportedly takes a trip to Central America...

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I finally turned into the parking lot where I could find Cruz. Parking in the shade, I unzipped my hot gear and stepped inside to find an air-conditioned showroom and a very friendly dog.

Is Cruz a dog? I thought he rode a VFR??? :tongue:

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I finally turned into the parking lot where I could find Cruz. Parking in the shade, I unzipped my hot gear and stepped inside to find an air-conditioned showroom and a very friendly dog.

Is Cruz a dog? I thought he rode a VFR??? :tongue:

Thanks Dutchy!

Try this...

I finally located Cruz's business, and parked in a shady spot in the lot out front. I unzipped my gear and stepped inside to find an air-conditioned showroom and Kent's very friendly dog.

If you want to know if Cruz's dog rides you will have to check either with Cruz, or his dog.

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I've been called that before :laugh:

and much much worse :laughing6-hehe:

:offtopic:

Well if they play this in the doghouse...... call me a dog!

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Wow... I leave the post alone for a few days and it really goes to the dogs!

The next chapter where I give a proper Arivaca break-in to my new tire, appreciate the beauty of cactii close up and wonder if I am in Mexico will be continued in the ongoing saga of Six Weeks, a Tent and a VFR. Update will be posted this weekend... stay tuned!

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July 7 (Day 40/48)

Waking up in Tuscon I took the opportunity to pull out a map and explore my options. My basic plan was to head for California and tour up the Pacific Coast Highway. I wasn't sure quite where I was going to join up with the PCH because I wasn't terribly eager to discover heavy, congested traffic but there were a few portions of the PCH I had missed out on my trip the previous year after departing the coastline at San Luis Obispo to source a tire in Bakersfield.

Making a few notes on my map, I threw a leg over the bike and headed south out of Tucson promptly missing my turn for the 86. (At least I was prompt!) The city gave way to countryside, and I debated turning around, but decided instead to explore. I passed through Green Valley and then reached Lakewood Estates where I spotted a gas station right across the road from the Longhorn Grill. Someone used a lot of creativity building a gigantic cattle skull complete with horns on the front of the building. The whitewashed skull with long sculpted horns formed the doorway into a building that looked like a cave buried in a rocky hillside. Painted hieroglyphs subtly adorned the side of the rocky fascade.

Arivaca, Arizona

It seemed a little out of place this far away from a major center. Unlike large cities there was little competition for restaurants, and the way it was situated with the front facing away from the 19 it didn't seem to be marketing to highway travellers. In small centers everyone knows the eateries, and they are chosen not for the decor but the quality of food and staff. Large centers depend more on attraction when vehicles race past hundreds of options stopping at the first one that catches their attention. The building wouldn't have looked out of place in the middle of any large city.

Across the street the unpaved gas station had pumps remniscent of the 70s. I headed inside to prepay and the woman inside just waved me back out telling me to pay when I had finished. That was definitely unusual for the United States. Once I finished topping up the tank I headed back into the tiny store to pay for my gas. The dark interior was lit by dim bulbs hanging over shelves displaying an array of groceries. The combination gas station grocery store was much more in character for rural small town USA.

Right beside the station I noticed a stop sign topped with a small green road sign advertising Arivaca. Arivaca? Arivaca!!! Cruz often refers to Arivaca as his own private racetrack and it was definitely worth the detour since I was parked not five feet away. For breaking in a tire could there be better place than Arivaca?

Arivaca, Arizona

Pulling onto Arivaca Road I pulled up to speed. I learned a few things about Cruz's favourite raceway. From his descriptions I was expecting good pavement and a smooth run akin to a track. (Cruz? You and I are going to have a few words about this... I was basing my expectations of the Arivaca run on your past comments about your own private race track.)

One of the first things I encountered was border patrol camped out on the roadway. Orange pylons and temporary road signs indicated that all vehicles must stop for the checkstop. Tall spotlights with generators, uniformed officers, heavy artillery. This didn't look anything like the border I was accustomed to.

Pulling to a stop I flipped up my visor and a gruff guard curtly demanded “Are you a US Citizen?”. Keeping it equally short and to the point I replied “No.” pulling off my sunglasses.

The guard seemed to stand up a little straigher at this answer and peered into my helmet trying to get a better look at facial features that were partly shaded by my visor.

“What country are you from?” was the next question.

“Canada." I responded, "Would you like to see my passport?”.

He relaxed, smiled, and waved me through “No need for that. Have a nice day Ma'am”.

Ma'am? Ma'am?!? Since when have I become a Ma'am?

Just beyond border patrol yellow signs flagged no passing on the curves ahead. I pulled to the side to readjust my gloves and get a couple of surriptious photos of the checkpoint and the surrounding parched countryside.

Arivaca, Arizona

Arivaca, Arizona

Arivaca, Arizona

I learned a few things on that road.

Apparently there has been recent flooding pulling gravel and dirt all over the road. One spot on a curve had a mound of gravel - about a foot deep, road width and three feet long. It reminded me of the extra large speedbumps many cities are introducing under the moniker of traffic control measures. In retrospect I probably shouldn't have taken it across the middle of my lane where it wasn't at all well packed. The rear wheel of my bike skewed sideways as the bike ploughed through the rocky ridge, straightening out as I found clean pavement just beyond. Slowly I released the death grip my legs had on the bike.

That was something Cruz didn't warn me about.

The next lesson of Arivaca was snakes. They move like quicksilver slithering across the baked asphalt roadbed. Obviously very prolific because I found quite a few stationary on the pavement posing as road kill. I had no inclination to stop and take a better look to determine if they were actually dead, or just sunning themselves waiting for unsuspecting two wheeled prey. I did learn something important about the snakes though – they are very slippery on a curve.

That was something else that Cruz hadn't warned me about.

Although to be perfectly fair Cruz didn't realize that Arivaca was on my daily itinerary, and when he found out he was a little irritated that I hadn't taken him along for the run.

After my initial two surprises, I approached the road with a bit more caution. I now understand why Cruz refers to that road as a rollercoaster - the road runs over the hills and curves around them constantly. A few of the rises, if caught quickly enough, give you the feeling of your bike flying off the suspension with just the wheels dangling below to barely touch the road, and the surge of power as the bike once again gripped the pavement. The grin spread across my face - now this was a road built to be ridden!

I passed through Arivaca. Small buildings dotted the side of the highway. It felt like Mexico – old trucks, brick buildings with stucco partly obscuring the bricks, tin roofs and laundry drying outside on lines. Pictures tell the story better than words can communicate. Arivaca was a worthwhile detour and definitely was a good way to wear in the tire.

Arivaca, Arizona

Arivaca, Arizona

Arizona

Reaching the 286 I had two options. Turn left and go to Mexico. Turn right and continue riding through the States. I was a mere 11 miles away from Mexico, however I didn't have Mexican insurance and decided that it might not be the best idea to take that trip solo. Certainly I knew that RRW would have a few words with me if he found out I was riding in this territory solo, and I don't think he would have approved of an unscheduled deviation into Mexico from my unfiled flight plan.

Continuing onwards I passed by quite a few border patrol vehicles. The first few times I had a white truck with a roof mounted light rack pull up behind me I was being very cautious with my pace. After being passed by impatient border patrol vehicles placing little importance on the posted speed limit I relaxed and quit worrying about them.

Finally I met up with the planned route once again, after having taken a fantastic detour. The detours are sometimes the most interesting part of the trip! I took a few photos on the Arivaca loop, but there were few good places to stop on the curves - and to be perfectly honest I had no interest in stopping when the curves were calling my name.

Arizona

Arizona

Arizona

Arizona

To the south a hilly ridge stood in the distance. Something about it looked familiar – a white domed building. It was Kits Peak Observatory! I always found it strange on my trips when I spotted a landmark like this, because I had no idea where Kits Peak was actually located. A lapse I had corrected with first hand knowledge.

Arizona

Along the side of the road I continued to pass through a desertlike landscape dotted with cactus. The sun beat down relentlessly, and I continued to add on the miles. I stopped in Sells to top up the gas tank and for a cold pop. I found a couple of small shelters constructed using dead cactus wood over a concrete picnic table beside the gas station to sit for a few minutes. A small lizard raced across the hard cracked ground, pausing to taste the air with his tongue. A large bus with bars over the windows pulled into the lot and parked for a while. It appeared to belong to border patrol – perhaps they expected to be busy.

Arizona

Back on the road I passed through another border patrol station. Pulling over to the side of the road I had a better response to the expected query. “Are you an American citizen?”

“No. I'm Canadian.”

After a quick glimpse inside the helmet I was once again waved onwards. And once more I was called Ma'am.

The next stop was in a small store at the side of the road – the Why Not Travel Store. A whitewashed fascade gave it a decidedly western look. The glossy plastic sign advertising travel insurance for sale seemed out of place in the landscape, two very different times intersecting. Once again it was an opportunity for something cold and liquid and to take a break from the triple digit temperatures.

The small store had a display of flowering cacti out front, and a few tables. An oasis in the middle of a desolate environment. One of the tables was under the shaded awning. A local sat at one of the tables watching the world pass by drinking a can of Pepsi and smoking a cigarette. From the looks of the ashtray on the table in front of him he had been sitting there for quite some time. He smiled at me with a toothless grin. One or two brown stained teeth crookedly sat in his gums at an odd angle, looking out of place like a carved Jack 'O Lantern.

Arizona

Arizona

I headed back towards the bike and pulled out the camera to take a few pictures. The flowering cactus looked totally out of place in the barren landscape, but made for some fabulous photos. The rest of the tables were out in the hot sun, not a sliver of shade to be found.

Arizona

This particular cactus almost looks like it was the inspiration for an alien being in a science fiction movie - green tentacle monster from outer space.

Arizona

Back on the road it was time to pass through another border checkpoint. I was waved through quickly, almost as if recognized and continued riding through a fantastic landscape. The desert was flat and boring at times and I turned up the tunes to provide some distraction.

It wasn't long before I passed through Ajo. Whitewashed buildings with domed tops seemed a little unusual in the middle of the desert. Some beautiful architecture. Outside of Ajo I passed through some military lands. Some rocks broke up the flat landscape.

Arizona

Arizona

Next stop was in Gila Bend. I found the sign to be amusing – there is something to be said for honestly in advertising. Gassing up I stopped for a quick bite to eat, the airconditioned building a welcome break from the heat of the day.

Arizona

Crossed over four border patrol checkpoints during the daily ride, and my phone sent me multiple messages welcoming me to international roaming as I encroached Mexican cell towers.

After I returned home and received my cell phone bill I had a debate with my cell phone provider specific to my riding during this portion of my ride. I will digress into that at this point because in hindsight it is highly amusing.

Some of the data roaming charges on my cell bill from July 7th didn't make any sense. At no time during my trip did I cross into Mexico, and I was definitely nowhere near El Salvador. That is the point where my debate with the cell phone company commenced.

After patiently dealing with their call center, I was able to get them to track the phone charges in detail. I was in the USA at 14:02 pm, I was in Mexico at 14:04 pm and in El Salvador at 14:12 pm. The billing was high because my data roaming didn't cover either Mexico or El Salvador. I can understand their billing corresponds to their records. However their records obviously had little to do with reality.

I guess I can understand that the Mexican cell tower picked me up because I was within ten miles of that country, and the ElSalvadorian cell tower picked me up because I was within 2,400 miles of that country. Wow! That's some cell technology!

So another lesson learned was to power off your cell phone when you are within 10 miles of Mexico and 2,400 miles of ElSalvador. While I won my debate with the cell phone company it took a while to convince one of their managers that there was no way that I had travelled 2,400 miles in 8 minutes on a motorcycle trip within the States.

The most amusing part of the conversation was when I was asked if it was possible that I had accidentally ridden into El Salvador without noticing. (Yes, yes, entirely possible... the requirement to pay in Pesos and the multiple border crossings wouldn't have registered as a potential sign that I had taken a wrong turn and was no longer in the States. The additional 5,000 miles on my trip odometer might have been a clue as well.).

I remained calm and avoided making any comments about being very diligent about avoiding riding through folds in the time space continuum during my trip. Obviously this manager had never looked at a map - he even pressed on with his list of approved questions, querying if I had taken a side trip by boat or plane that possibly entered El Salvadorian air space. Even an X-43 wouldn't have taken me 2,400 miles in eight minutes. (Although I had been through Roswell, and had my bike taken a side trip to Central America during my pass through that city it would have been less of a surprise). Towards the end of the conversation I interrupted him, "If you open up a map you will notice that El Salvador is located in Central America, over 2,400 miles away from the US Border. I can assure you that I didn't leave the United States, although I was close to the Mexican border. I can also assure you that my phone was with me at all times. Please reverse the charges or put my call through to someone who can.". (That sentence almost ended in "...or put me through to someone who passed grade school geography", but I thought better of it. ). Finally I hung up the phone having succeeded in having over $300 worth of data charges on my phone eliminated. My phone seems to have more fun on a trip than I do!

But I digress, and return the flow of this thread to the regularly scheduled trip reports.

Tune in for the next installment when I discover Traffic with a capital “T”, take my bike past Hollywood and have an incident involving the wind.

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Hey, thanks for the turn on, Dutchy. Seasick Steve is relatively unknown over here, or I'm just a media recluse. But I see he has 3 gold-selling albums and a silver in the U.K. Impressive for a 69-year-old blues dude that didn't get "discovered" until late in life!

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Olive - 30,000 views of this thread and counting . . . ! :fing02:

Wow... that is cool! Thanks for pointing it out Cogswell! It tells me that although I can be verbose, a few people online are following the tale. :rolleyes:

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Noticed the read sign aproaching the checkpoint.......

Is Cruz moonlightning or are the law enforcement officers really that bad in AZ?

:tongue:

I will be at my best behaviour at border control, not keen on a "Casablanca" moment...

Been to the US a few times (before 9/11) so I can only imagine things are even more "business". :unclesam:

I'll save my jokes for the evening sessions... :tongue:

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Noticed the read sign aproaching the checkpoint.......

Is Cruz moonlightning or are the law enforcement officers really that bad in AZ?

:tongue:

I will be at my best behaviour at border control, not keen on a "Casablanca" moment...

Been to the US a few times (before 9/11) so I can only imagine things are even more "business". :unclesam:

I'll save my jokes for the evening sessions... :tongue:

:laughing6-hehe: No Dutchy, I'm not moonlighting.

O, ya didnt have to stop on the way out there, just on the way back. Most of the time at checkpoints they wave bikes thru. At least on the back road check points anyway.

That road is not for beginners and can bite you hard even if you know it well. The road out to Sells sucks, they should just grade whats left of the asphalt and make it a smooth dirt road.

Too bad you didnt take the 9 mile ride up to Kitt Peak, its in good shape and like Vaca, not patrolled. :cool:

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O, ya didnt have to stop on the way out there, just on the way back. Most of the time at checkpoints they wave bikes thru. At least on the back road check points anyway.

Perhaps that is why I got the third degree?

That road is not for beginners and can bite you hard even if you know it well. The road out to Sells sucks, they should just grade whats left of the asphalt and make it a smooth dirt road.

The road to Sells wasn't that bad.

Too bad you didnt take the 9 mile ride up to Kitt Peak, its in good shape and like Vaca, not patrolled. :cool:

Uhhh... Cruz? You are a couple months late mentioning that road to me... Does this mean I need to come down there again? :idea3:

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Noticed the read sign aproaching the checkpoint.......

Is Cruz moonlightning or are the law enforcement officers really that bad in AZ?

:tongue:

I will be at my best behaviour at border control, not keen on a "Casablanca" moment...

Been to the US a few times (before 9/11) so I can only imagine things are even more "business". :unclesam:

I'll save my jokes for the evening sessions... :tongue:

I don't think you'll be able to wait that long... :laughing6-hehe: I'll bet $5 that you will make at least one joke with them. Any takers? :unsure:

c

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July 7 (Day 41/48)

It is always a neat feeling to ride from one landscape into another. The road wound through rocks and hilly territory as the road climbed through mountains. The gusy wind proved to be a challenge as the road climbed up and curved around some small jagged mountains, before dropping back down into well populated areas.

Arizona to California

Arizona to California

I had another option to take the exit for Mexico.

Arizona to California

Arizona to California

As I rode I passed a very unique motorhome. It looked as if someone had used hammer and nails to fasten siding to the vehicle, some of which was partly hanging off and flapping in the wind. The vehicle suspension didn't look quite up to the task either, so I quickly passed the potential hazard as quickly as possible. The road slowed as it approached another border checkpoint. This one was well organized waving vehicles through quickly, although a few were pulled to the side and were being carefully examined by the guards. RVs and RV parks dotted the landscape. RVing was definitely big business down here.

The road passed through a changing landscape. Desert sand gave way to trees, and once again into the sparse dry cracked landscape. Roads widened and traffic started to build as I approached LA. Roads got wider, traffic became heavier and I found myself wishing that I had taken a more northern route. The skies clouded over and the rain began to drizzle. I took a meandering route, heading away from populated centers and heavy traffic on the 74, and then looping back into LA travelling through the city during rush hour. Rush hour on a Friday was interesting to say the least. The roads crawled past Hollywood and Beverly Hills. I spotted the trademark Hollywood sign on the hillside to the the north, and street signs indicated a driving tour through the neighbourhood. I chose to press onwards instead through the endless population centre.

I considered the advisability of splitting lanes, as I saw a few other bikes filtering the slow moving traffic. My bike was fairly wide with the side panniers and I wasn't accustomed to this type of traffic - I had avoided it for the majority of my trip, with a few notable exceptions such as the New Jersey Turnpike, Florida... well, you get the idea. I remained in my lane slowly creeping along. I pulled off the road to fill the tank and went inside a McDonalds to wait while hopefully some of the traffic snarls worked their way out.

The first order of business was a visit to the ladies room. I discovered a coin operated door with a paper sign taped to the door advising customers to pick up a token from the counter. Since I was intending to be a customer I headed to the front, picked up a token, and fought with the door. Apparently it wasn't built to be easy to operate. It seemed very unusual to find a coin/token operated door, but California can be a different place.

I ordered a small bite to eat and a cold pop. The heat of the day had reached the three digits and it was time to take a break. A tow truck driver parked beside my bike, checking it out carefully. The restaurant was very quiet, and he sat at a table near me striking up a conversation. I was the only biker in the building, and not quite what the driver expected. A single woman riding alone from Canada... that always attracts attention.

Leaving the airconditioned surroundings behind, I discovered that the traffic was still as heavy as it had been the hour before, and resigned myself to getting a workout with my clutch hand as I crept along.

I must admit that I wasn't very impressed with the heavy traffic and slowly crawling road speeds, and was relieved when I finally found the far side of LA and returned to the coastline. By this point in the day the sun was beginning to get low on the horizon. Along the side of the road parked vehicles lined the beachs, campers in RVs lined parked on the side of the road in the name of camping. I would have loved to pitch my tent on the beach, but there was no room to park, not even for a bike. I continued riding along the edge of the coast as the road wound around the tall rocky coastline.

By this point in time I had left the big city far behind and was on the #1. Signs indicated tourist information and I pulled off the road to check their posted maps and hopefully locate a campground. In the parking lot a few other bikes were parked, mostly cruisers. I pulled in and parked beside a large cruiser towing a trailer. The biker had the trailer propped open and was working on his tail lights with a screwdriver. We chatted briefly, and he gave me a tip on locating a great campground. I thanked him as I headed back out onto the road. I rode. And rode. And rode. There was no sign of the campground, and the dusk began to give way to full dark.

The wind was gusting strongly, catching both me and my bike pushing around on the road. The high winds reminded me with each gust that my helmet was past due for replacement cheek pads. The pads were well compressed, allowing the helmet to shift around uncomfortably on my head. It seemed that the helmet needed fresh cheekpads every 15,000 km, and I was well past that marker on this trip.

As I came around one sharp curve a very strong, sudden gust of wind snatched my helmet and tried to twist it off of my head. The helmet started turning, my head started turning with it, and then both head and helmet reached the logical end of range of motion. It felt like I had an Orangutan sitting on my back trying to tear off my helmet. My bike bobbled with the violence of the wind as it snatched at it's prize, but I easily regained my balance.

As I approached Lompoc I was ready for a break. Spotting a McDonalds I pulled off the road and parked. It was quiet for a Friday night, and after I finished a cup of coffee I was ready to continue my search for a campground. It was proving to be surprisingly difficult to locate a place to pitch my tent. I was tired, the heavy traffic of LA had really taken a toll on me. My neck was sore, and the wind kept on gusting, which wasn't at all helpful.

The visor on my helmet seemed to have taken a bit of a beating by the wind as well, and it wasn't moving as smoothly as it had been earlier in the day. It was now a two handed operation to open and close.

Continuing along the coastline I eventually reached San Luis Obispo. Definitely a little further than I had planned for the daily ride. Remembering a hostel that was very affordable I circled around town trying to locate it eventually pulling up in front of the building. Reading the sign on the door I realized that it was too late - they had already closed for the night. I circled town a few times looking at options, discovering camping was full and everyone thought Friday night was a good time to be officially on holiday. Finally I pulled into a small motel. Their rates were far too high, and they had little interest in bargaining with me.

Getting back on the bike I rode across the street and tried again. Once again, there seemed little room for negotiation. I made a counter offer on the room, and she refused to budge, stating no discounts. I thanked her for her time and started heading back towards my bike. The owner called out after me, and decided to accept my counter offer. I guess some money was better than no money – it certainly was late enough that they weren't expecting much drive-up traffic. I had an affordable room for the night.

Unlocking the door I was a little surprised by the room. It had two huge king size beds in an expansive space. Very nice accomodations! I had a shower, and climbed into a real bed. My neck was definitely sore from the battle with the wind, and a pillow was very welcome. It was probably best that I hadn't pitched a tent.

Stay tuned for the next instalment where surf's up, Elephant Seals bellow and I explore some of my favourite coastline in the fog.

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  • 3 months later...
  • 3 weeks later...

Seven days left and after reading nine pages I'm left hanging..LOL :tour:

Good writing! Keep it up!!

I drove across country to Arizona twice for my friends to deliver cars for them.

So cool to see the differences in each state as you drive through to the next.

Someday I'll take my bike!

I may never want to leave when I get there.. :smile:

Oh, and Mexico there I have no desire to go to...

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  • 6 months later...

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