Surviving La La Land

Let me preface that by saying I'm not including all the amazing, friendly and welcoming people we've met and had the good fortune to share this trip with, but on balance, the good old US of A has more than it's fair share of quirks and it takes a little getting used to. I'm also generalising wildly of course - we've seen little more than a fraction of a percent of this enormous country and the vast majority of that experience has been great.

So I should probably back track a little. When I last wrote we'd hit a bit of a road block with our problems crossing the border in Victoria, BC. When Evan got turned away on our first attempt, we spent a couple of weeks in Vancouver making plans to either store or sell our bikes and bought flights to Mexico with the intention of buying different bikes in Guatemala. Luckily we could stay with my old housemate from Toronto, Laura, who now happens to live in Vancouver. We spent a week with her and her lovely roommate Monica and then went to a dual sport bike camping weekend in Abbotsford with a tentspace guy we met, before going back to White Rock on the outskirts of the city when Monica's boyfriend John very generously offered us his apartment for a few nights. The kindness of strangers never fails to amaze me.

It was here that we randomly met Martin, a guy from Germany riding a BMW who has been on the road for five years now. Unbelievably, the previous day we had been talking to someone who had told us about him and then we walk into a random Tim Horton's in a random Vancouver suburb and there he is, on the day he'd arrived back in Canada after spending some time in the US. Without us even asking or telling him about our situation, he told us stories of the hassles he'd had at various US borders and his tactics for dealing with them. It seemed like an omen of sorts.

It was while we were in White Rock, a few days before we were due to fly to Mexico, that Evan's mum called to say some key papers that were supposed to take 6+ weeks to come through had arrived. She posted them to us next day delivery and they indeed arrived the next day along with Evan's driving licence that he didn't realise hadn't been returned to him when he was asked to provide ID for a motel room back in Calgary. I should mention here that that was thanks only to Evan's elderly relative, Doris, driving across town to collect it and then post it to us because the motel refused to. Thanks Howard Johnson, very helpful of you and great customer service!

So, papers in hand, we decided to go back to a different, small land border - Pacific X-ing - and try again. This time we encountered only lovely, helpful border staff who applied common sense rather than asserted power and after a bit of a wait we were clear to go. The woman who processed our papers suggested Evan should carry them with him in future because other border officers we might encounter in the future might be assholes. Just goes to show it's the luck of the draw. Or maybe it was the haircut and shave that Evan decided on last minute to look more 'respectable' that did it, we'll never know, but I'd like to thank the people we dealt with at that crossing. They did indeed treat us with the respect and dignity that their posters claim and were capable of exercising a good dose of common sense. Hell, I even had a relatively lengthy discussion with the guys who processed me at the border about how best to deal with getting another Esta visa waiver on the way back and they also neglected to ask me any questions about my travel plans or to fill in the green form, as I discovered later when I tried to leave the country.

My first impressions of the USA were good, my only observation was that many things are more than a little behind the times. It was like stepping into the UK around ten years ago. Miles instead of kilometres, signatures rather than chip and pin for card transactions. Most of these quirks were just a bit baffling, like the lengthy instructions on the back of bathroom doors about how one should not only wash their hands after using the toilet, but then use toilet paper to turn off the tap and to hold the door handle to open it to avoid contamination, or dark beers being served ice cold, but one thing repeatedly drew expletives - not being able to pay for gas at the pump unless you can enter a zip code. Five digits. No pin numbers, god no. Zip code or else you have to guess how much gas you need, get off your bike and go inside and pre-pay, fill up and then go back and get a refund for the difference. Really? You can't just use chip and pin??

The first night we were lazy and still somewhat shell-shocked at suddenly and unexpectedly finding ourselves in the US, we opted for a cheap motel just outside Seattle. You know that kind of motel room that the bad guy on the run in old Hollywood movies always stays in? That's what this place was like. 70's dark wood paneling, that hooker-and-stale-smoke scent, toilet that doesn't flush, there were even some glow in the dark stars stuck on the ceiling left by what was no doubt a longer term resident. In fact that wasn't all that had been left - when we pulled back the sheets we found the bed had sweet wrappers and loose change in it. Not a great start.

Things quickly picked up though as it sunk in that we could continue with our original plan. Luckily for us (although not for the poor people of Puerto Vallarta) the hurricane that was beating down on the southern coast of Mexico on the weekend we had booked flights we now no longer needed meant that we were given full credit for our flights rather than losing a hefty cancellation fee. Every cloud, as they say.

So how is America on a motorbike? I have to say, I noticed a big difference from riding in Canada. For a start, the roads through much of Washington State were very poor. Potholes patched and re-patched, studs dividing lanes, a ton of sealant on the cracks. Not much thought was given to motorcycles when a lot of these roads were laid out. In many places I noticed permanent fixed signs which said 'Motorcyclists take care on our shit roads'. Ok, maybe that wasn't the exact wording but it was what was being inferred. Obviously fixing the bad surface or problem was a lot more trouble than putting up a sign to tell you to be careful. Another irritation was the tendency to deeply groove the road surface on faster roads. I'm sure this is great for grip for other vehicles but not good for bikes. When my first set of tires were near their end this made for some squirly cornering, especially in the wet. In terms of other road users, it's not much different to driving back home - fast, arrogant car and truck drivers whose need to get to their destination is far more important than yours.

Talking of signage, this was also something that made me smile many times. All the warnings written on the roads are backwards. This means you have to either read things as if you are Yoda or learn to turn your brain around. CLEAR KEEP! AHEAD STOP! And my personal favourite, especially in Venice Beach - BIKE YOUR WALK! It's like someone has used Google translate to run a phrase through several different language conversions before settling on something random.

The USA has been great though. We've met and stayed with some lovely people and for a time always seemed to find exactly the right help when we needed it. We still had a few things we wanted to do or fix on the bikes before we crossed the border into Mexico. When I needed tires we just happened to find ourselves staying a couple of nights with a guy in Boring, OR who not only had exactly the tires we needed, but also the means to change them for us. Evan's fork seal on his pitted tube gave up the ghost while we were staying with a guy in Bend, OR who just so happened to have a fully equipped garage and a buddy who could sand down the tube on his lathe, saving us a fortune on having to replace it. Those are just a couple of examples, there have been many more, but synchronicity when you're travelling is a truly amazing thing.

We've spent most of our time either camping or finding cheap motels and I have to say, we've enjoyed camping a whole lot more than I thought we would. Many times we've got to a stage where we've looked at each other and said 'let's find a nice camping spot away from everything tonight'. We've used a combination of sites listed on www.freecampsites.net, Tentspace and in the absence of a suitable spot on either of those, campgrounds and RV parks. They range from great to downright shocking in terms of value for money. Some don't have tent pitches generally but most have found us a spot somewhere when we've asked. Toilet and shower facilities vary, showers are usually an extra cost, a few minutes for a dollar. Or more precisely 'exactly 30 seconds less than you need to rinse the soap off properly'. In one place I was told I would get nine minutes for $2. Nine minutes is a very long shower for me, so I scratched together exactly two dollars in change and managed to shave exactly one and a bit legs before the box refused to give me any more water despite happily eating my money!

And so we made our way down through Washington State, Oregon and into California. California is a state of two halves. We spent a few days riding down Hwy 1 along the coast and it's stunningly beautiful. Winding roads, breathtaking views and some beautiful camping spots. We took a detour out to Folsom to meet up for lunch with Ita and had undoubtedly the best pizza I've ever tasted. I liked northern California a lot.

As luck would have it (that synchronicity popping up again) my friends Helen & Guy, who now live in France, happened to be visiting friends a little south of San Francisco, so they very kindly invited us to stay too. I was excited to see some more of the city having spent a short time there some years ago so the timing couldn't have been any more perfect. As it panned out we ended up rolling into Montara on Halloween evening in the dark and heavy fog, only to run into hundreds of ghouls and ghosts, not just kids, but adults too. It really was unlike anything I've ever experienced before. What followed was an evening spent at various local parties, followed by a couple of days exploring San Francisco, first by way of Tony's wonderful driving tour (in a Volvo 940!) and the following day via BART with a visit to Alcatraz and riding the cable cars. We've met some wonderful people along the way, but I'd like to say a special thank you to Joanne and Tony for welcoming us into your home. It was one of my favourite stops on this trip so far and I hope you'll come and meet us somewhere further down the road!

Then we hit southern California and it was a complete about turn. It's funny how different parts of the same state can be so polar opposite. Remember in 'Into the Wild' when McCandless lands up in Big City, California after spending time in the wilderness and just wants to escape again? That sums up So Cal pretty well. I guess it's just like 'cat and dog people', I just didn't like much about it at all. It was vaguely interesting to see LA, Santa Monica, Venice Beach, Hollywood, etc but not enough to make me want to go back there ever. Before anyone gets upset, I'm obviously not including every single person we met in this sweeping generalisation, but I found people to be rude, fake and thoroughly disagreeable on the whole. Drivers are just a bit angrier and more aggressive than anywhere else we've been. Campsites were full of inconsiderate drunk twenty-somethings who continued their self important, competitive and very loud attention seeking into the small hours. Customer service advisors on several occasions looked at us with clear disdain when we wanted they help because it meant we were interrupting their conversation with each other.

The only reason we went anywhere near LA at all was because Evan wanted to get a tattoo at a shop in Hollywood that had a special significance to him. While he was being tortured I spent a few hours walking around the Sunset strip and Hollywood and happened upon the Solutions wall quite by chance, so that was kind of cool. Finally his tattoo was done and such was our desire to get the hell out of that city that we ended up leaving LA late Friday afternoon at the start of rush hour, headed east. Two hours it took us to crawl less than 40km. We ended up riding until gone midnight that night before we go finally found a remote campsite at Salton Sea.

That was also the only night on this trip that I have felt unsafe anywhere. In our search for a place to stay the night we'd considered a couple of possible camping places at Desert Hot Springs. A brief stop at a 7eleven as we arrived in town quickly changed our minds though. A group of black teenagers hanging out in the parking lot eyed us up as soon as we rolled in and, while Evan was inside buying drinks, one of the girls made a point of walking past me closely as she said very loudly something about 'that white bitch getting what's coming to her'. Another girl did try and engage me in conversation and seemed harmless enough, but she was too drunk or high to make much sense. We conceded to our gut instincts and left town as quickly as we could. Later we had more than one person look at us like we were crazy when we said we'd been to that town. It was a good reminder to always be aware of our surroundings wherever we are.

The good people we've met have far outweighed the sketchy ones though. In one place we walked into Burger King and a guy who was impressed with how far we'd ridden gave us some vouchers he had for free burgers, told us to help ourselves to whatever we wanted. People in cars stopped next to us at traffic lights often ask where we're from and where we're going to, or we get a thumbs up out of a window as people see our plates and realise we're a long way from home. We've been reminded many times too not to pre-judge a situation. One that sticks in my mind is a young homeless kid who stopped us outside a laundromat in a suburb of Tuscon, AZ. He sounded upset and asked if we had a phone he could use because he'd just left his wallet in a taxi and he wanted to call the cab company to try and get it back. We declined, having heard of this phone theft scam multiple times and as he walked away we raised our eyebrows and shook our heads. Ten minutes later we walk outside to see him talking to said taxi driver on a phone he'd borrowed from another kid, overjoyed that they had his wallet and would turn around and bring it back to him straight away. It made us feel very uncomfortable to not have helped him. Just goes to show how wrong appearances can be.

It was while we were waiting for our laundry that I had my second funny encounter of the morning when I popped over to Walgreen's to buy shampoo. While ringing through my purchase the white, middle-aged American woman on the till asked me 'Where are you from hun?' I replied 'England'. She then asked me 'Oh cool! So, what language do you speak there...German?' On telling her we spoke English, she looked confused and said 'Oh, I didn't realise you spoke English there too!' You really couldn't make it up.

From California we headed into Arizona and then New Mexico, on a bit of a mission to be in a couple of different places by certain dates. The first was a great evening spent in Apache Junction with John Downs at his sister Susan's winter home, arriving a little later than planned after we ran out of gas ten miles short of the next gas station on a particularly sparse section of the I-10. John is the guy from Nebraska whose ride report detailing his trip to South America on a little 250cc Super Sherpa with not much money was instrumental in shaping our ideas for this very trip. It was great to meet him and we talked into the night and for much of the following morning. From there we set off east and John set off for the airport to fly back to South America to continue his own motorcycle adventure.

We visited various places in the days that followed - the Pima Aircraft Museum (home of the famous 'Boneyard' plane graveyard in the desert), Tombstone and the Space History Museum at Alamagordo - before turning back west and heading for Las Vegas. I liked AZ and NM a lot. The desert was harsh and endless in places and very cold at night but the scenery made up for it. One of my favourite places here was the White Sands dunes in New Mexico. Visually one of the most stunning places I've ever seen, it was fun to ride our bikes through them.

The sand, being gypsum, solidifies under the surface when water permeates, creating something akin to plaster of Paris, so they are quite easy to walk on, unlike regular sand dunes. Amazing place. Our furthest point east was Roswell and it was on our way here that we were stopped by the New Mexico police for speeding. Seems they are a little more reasonable than they would have been had we been stopped for the same thing in the UK and after running our licences the officer very reasonably all let us go with a warning to slow down.

We left ourselves three days to get from Roswell to Vegas and our plan was to do this via Monument Valley, Antelope Canyon and the Grand Canyon, but sadly the weather turned on us just as we were least expecting it. We spent a couple of days debating what to do, disagreeing about weather forecasts and generally staring each other down before I got tired of the whole thing and reluctantly agreed to just make a straight run for it down I-40 back to Nevada. I still think the route further north taking in those places was the way we should have gone, with favourable temperatures to the route we took, but I guess we'll never know for sure.

As it turned out we had the longest, coldest and scariest ride yet that day. With temperatures barely above freezing as we left Gallup, NM in the morning we never really warmed up despite wearing numerous layers. When we reached Flagstaff, altitude 7,300ft, the rain turned to snow and we spent a tense hour or two pressing on and hoping it wouldn't settle. For our final push into Las Vegas it was dark, wet and the road was badly lit. The wind had also picked up to what we later found out were gusts up to 60mph as we came past the Hoover Dam. It was downright scary, feeling so invisible and having what felt like so little control, but there was nowhere to stop. We got through it though, talked on the radios and didn't admit until we were safely tucked up in our surprisingly-nice-for-less-than-$30-a-night motel room in Fremont that we were both terrified for that last part of the ride.

Fremont turned out to be a pretty cool area despite all the warnings not to stay there. The motel was the best we've stayed in, the area provided more than enough great people watching opportunities, especially as the annual Rock n Roll night-time half marathon was in full swing as we rolled into town. If we thought we had it bad riding in that wind, imagine what it did to those poor runners!

It wasn't until late the following afternoon that we went down to the Strip to see what all the fuss was about. The winds were still strong and it was bitterly cold, so there were few people out and about, but still we caught the Deuce bus as far south as we could and after walking down to the iconic 'Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas' sign, we walked back all the way to Stratosphere in the north.

I was surprised by how Las Vegas made me feel. It was as very different place to what I had been expecting. I have always visualised Las Vegas to be an extravagant playground for rich people that constantly has you thinking WTF?! But it's not. Or at least that's not what I took away from my time there. I found a depressing and overrated city, smaller and far less glamorous than I expected. We walked through casino after casino hoping to find something that ignited that spark, but all we found was excessive prices, bored looking staff and sad people sat for hours by their chosen machine, desperately waiting for that big 'win'. We talked long into the night that night, trying to make sense of the place, but we really couldn't. As Evan said, it's just like Robert DeNiro said in his monologue at the end of Casino, the era we imagined had long since passed.

That's not to say our time in Las Vegas wasn't enjoyed though, far from it. The following day we spent with Suzie and her friend and Linda & Tam as they renewed their wedding vows at the Elvis Chapel. Bizarre? Yes. But totally wonderful and wacky at the same time, I wouldn't have missed it for the world. It was lovely to catch up and a perfect end to our time in the States.

I guess one of the biggest things I'll take away from my time in America is the polar opposites that we've experienced here, both good and not so good. This trip has had so many twists and turns and extremes. One day we've been camping in the parking lot of a seedy motel in a run down area cooking packet pasta on our little stove, the next we've found ourselves wandering around Googleplex in the heart of Silicon Valley, visiting NASA and staying at Stanford University and eating at very nice restaurants. We've seen some amazing things - elephant seals laying on the beach, Joshua Trees, humpback whales. I also got to ride down Hwy 216 in Oregon, something I've wanted to do ever since I first saw My Own Private Idaho when I was about 16. Despite the hoops we had to jump through in order to do so, I'm extremely grateful that riding through the USA has been a part of this trip after all.

So have I enjoyed every minute of this trip so far? No, I haven't. There have been days I've questioned what the hell I'm doing, but those times have been rare and few and far between. Slowly I've learned my daily limits, which are usually less than Evan's. Wind fatigue gets me eventually. Six hours is fine, but after that I start to tire. Seven or eight hours and I'm a passenger. It has also been interesting to experience peoples attitudes to what we're doing. Something I wasn't so prepared for was the number of passive aggressive male bikers whose attitude towards me is that I'm unwelcomely encroaching on their world in which I'm not 100% welcome. Not that that bothers me, and it's certainly the minority I'm referring to here, but nonetheless the attitude exists and that's kinda sad.

I've also learnt a lot about what I enjoy and don't enjoy. For example, dirt roads and packed gravel is fine - sand, mud and snow not so much so. I also (to the shock, horror of most bikers) would pick straight roads over bendy ones if it means I can look at the scenery rather than having to focus on the road. I always knew it would be, but it's certainly proved to be a huge learning curve for me and a voyage of discovery in a completely different way to backpacking using buses.

Now we're in Mexico, heading down the Baja peninsula and everything has changed again. That's what I love and about travelling like I do. No two days are the same and with no plan I never know what will happen next. I'll keep you posted (hopefully a little more regularly!) as we head south, but in the meantime I'm gradually uploading my photos as and when I have wifi so check them out here https://www.flickr.com/notatree/albums. Also, Evan's ride report is here and is updated every couple of days http://advrider.com/index.php?threads/out-from-under-the-dome.1089896/

Right now though there are fish tacos to be eaten and 30p beer to be drunk as we sit and wait to see what becomes of Hurricane Sandra. Life is pretty good, I have no complaints.

Trans-Canada

What a difference a day makes. This has seemed to be a running theme throughout this trip so far in more ways than I can even start to remember.

We've just reached the end of our first month on the road as I write this sitting on a very comfy sofa in Vancouver listening to the rain falling outside. It seems fall has finally caught up with us, although I can't complain; we really have had far better weather than we could ever have hoped for.

I'm aware that I've been extremely tardy in my writing since we left (part lack of energy, part very limited wifi, even larger part just enjoying the moment and not wanting to spend more time than I have to staring at a screen) so let me go back a little to where this trip began and fill you in.

After a week of catching up with people and making last minute preparations, we finally left Big Bay on a Thursday early in September and headed for the Tobermory ferry. It felt a little odd to finally be setting off after talking about it for so long but we caught the ferry by the skin of our teeth with barely 30 seconds to spare and we were on our way. All the things I'd thought might be problematic or hold us up didn't, the biggest of which was registering my bike which turned out the be unbeliveably easy - walk into office, hand over driving licence, pay fee, get plates. Done in less than ten minutes.

Averaging around 6-7 hours riding a day we rode through so many places that after a few days on the road it was hard to remember what day it was or the order in which the previous days had played out. I should add here that Evan is writing a ride report on ADVRider so feel free to check that out for more about our day to day happenings: http://advrider.com/index.php?threads/out-from-under-the-dome.1089896/

Sitting on a bike alone with my thoughts for hours at a time was something I soon got used to. Watching the landscape change as we passed into each new province also brought a whole new range of intriguing place names - Sunshine, Happyland, Echo Lake, Porcupine Plain, Smoking Tent Creek - and helpful signs - 'Large vehicles require more room' in huge letters by the side of the road and 'No fish are kept on site between May to September' at salmon hatcheries which reminded me of the notices you see on the back of work vans about no tools being stored in them overnight. It also made me realise just how vast this beautiful country is.

In order to avoid crossing into the USA and thus starting the 90 day countdown on my Esta Visa Waiver we chose a route a little further north and stayed on Canadian soil, something that maybe in hindsight wasn't a good move, but meant that we were able to ride through some pretty remote countryside. It seemed somehow serendipitous to watch and hear the geese starting to migrate overhead, smiling to think we were doing exactly the same.

Always at the forefront of our minds was keeping an eye out for wildlife along the road, but we actually saw very little. Lots of deer, a black bear by the side of a remote road in the north of Manitoba and another on Vancouver Island, but no elk or moose, in fact the only animal I even came close to hitting was a rather agressive golden retriever that charged out of a front garden determined to take my bike down near Drumheller. Our only other close animal encounter was a herd of very enterprising deer stealing our dinner right off the table at a camping ground in Manitoba.

Gradually we honed the equipment we were carrying until we had a basic kit we were happy with. Our used tent we purchased before we left and had sent from Thunder Bay we ironically returned to a thrift store there after it proved to be a little too small to hold us and our luggage and the zip started to play up. We found another though, just after we'd given up looking, in an outdoor store we came across by chance while searching for pizza. Interestingly it had not only a porch but more 'handy pockets' than any other item of camping equipment we own. Maybe I'm odd, but I find it funny how many sales people feel this is a major selling point for tents, sleeping bags, etc.

We managed to find a whole list of bike bits we hadn't managed to track down along the way thanks mostly to Kijiji. A skid plate and crash bars for my bike, and even more importantly handlebar risers to solve the problem of an old shoulder injury that had been causing me some issues a week or so into the trip. We also seemed to happen upon the best bike shops to fit the bits we couldn't do ourselves. In Calgary this was only supposed to be a rear tire on Evan's bike, but ended up being a clutch lever, foot peg and turn signal too after he ditched his bike in four lanes of Saturday morning traffic on the way there. The biking community really does seem to come together when a problem needs to be solved.

The first part of the trip was fairly straightforward, a long slow slog on mostly highway. We were very aware that we were pushing our luck as far as the winter closing in and wanted to be through the mountains without getting caught in snowfall or sub zero temperatures. This didn't mean we didn't divert from the direct path though. In Manitoba we took an extra couple of days to detour north and take a road between two lakes, expecting some stunning views. Unfortunately all we saw for 1000km was trees and road, but it certainly gave us a sense of just how vast the areas between places can be. Several years ago I spent days at a festival trying to see a band called the Wilderness of Manitoba (eventually missing every set) and I can appreciate now just what they're referring to. On a plus point we did see a bear and it gave us the one and only opportunity we've had in a whole month to test our gear for waterproofness. The verdict? Not at all in the case of my cheap 'bone dry' boots, but extremely so as far as my Armr jacket was concerned.

Otherwise we've been ridiculously lucky with the weather. I can count the number of hours we've ridden in rain on one hand and for only two days did we decide to stay where we were rather than spend a day riding in the wet. Admittedly, we were camped at a place with hot pools at the time so it wasn't any hardship.

The further west we've come the more the long straight roads give way to winding mountain roads and the slower our progress has become. That's fine though, it's what this trip is all about. From the time we entered BC we've found ourselves zig zagging north and then south through beautiful mountain passes and snaking roads, exploring logging tracks and gravel roads, something that has been a steep learning curve for me with my minimal experience. My bike, a Vstrom 650, is a little heavier than I'd ideally have liked, especially with luggage added, but I like it. It didn't take me long to lay it down for the first time - the balance with the boxes added caught me unawares in a gravel car park and I had to let it go. On another occasion I missed a change down to first gear on a particularly steep uphill hairpin, instead putting the bike in neutral by accident and toppled off into the ditch. Luckily, as Evan was some way ahead of me on a road that wasn't easy to stop and turn around on, a kindly truck driver stopped and helped me pick it up and I was on my way again. I guess all those years of riding (and falling off) horses when I was a kid had some lasting benefit.

As with any trip, it's all about the people you cross paths with along the way that make it what it is and this has been no exception thus far. A side shoot of an adventure bike forum we've been reading for some time is something called 'Tentspace'. I guess the easiest way to describe it is cross between Couchsurfing and the Warm Showers networks, but for bikers. It's an extensive network of riders, conveniently tagged on google maps, who offer space for those on trips to pitch their tent, have a shower and perhaps borrow some tools. Find someone near where you want to stop for the night and send them a message. In some cases, as with Couchsurfing, you meet people who go above and beyond in the most unexpected ways. Our first tentspace encounter was with Scott in Cochrane, a little north east of Calgary. He replied to my message to say 'sure, come and stay'. He added that they were just on their way back from a camping trip and they had some other friends staying so it'd be busy, best make it late afternoon and so we headed over. It turned out that the reason for their additional guests was that they'd just got married that day!

Our next tentspace hook up was in Peachland, BC with Mike and his wife Odette. Upon arrival we were made to feel incredibly welcome and Mike advised us that they had plans to head to Vancouver for the weekend but that we were very welcome to stay and make ourselves at home for a few days. As if that wasn't already more than enough, he offered us a comfy bed in a downstairs appartment as an alternative to our soggy tent and invited us to join them for dinner. What followed was a fantastic few days, being able to catch up with everything, dry stuff, do laundry and most importantly ride through the beautiful Okanagan wine region and out towards the desert-like terrain of Greenwood and Osoyoos without having to carry all our luggage with us. Still there when they returned we shared another dinner and when we left Mike rode with us for most of the day, showing us back routes and dirt roads we wouldn't have found by ourselves (sorry for holding you both up, I'll get the hang of it eventually!). And that is what these trips are all about - meeting interesting people, sharing stories and enjoying good company.

When we parted company with Mike we continued on our way to Lillooette to meet up with a riding buddy of his at a free campground provided by BC Hydro. He suggested a steep, windy gravel road with stunning views that we should take the following day and again sparked the debate that is never far from the surface that smaller enduro bikes might be the way to go for the rest of the trip.

Our plan for our last few days in Canada before crossing into the US was to spend them on Vancouver Island. I wasn't really sure what to expect of it - everyone I've ever met seems to agree that it's a magical place, but my first impressions were that whilst it's a nice place, it's very much like anywhere else in BC. We spent a night in a RV park near Nanaimo, another at a surf camp near Tofino. The latter proved a sleepless night for Evan at least (despite having free use of a hot tub and sauna) after we saw our second bear of the trip crossing the road right by the entrance to the camp.

We spent a further night camped in the grounds of a very enterprising motel in Port Alberni and then happened upon a cute little German run campsite on the outskirts of Victoria. The owner had the usual German dry sense of humour - when asked if he has been back to visit Germany recently he replied 'There was a war on when I was last there'. We decided to stay a couple of nights allowing Evan time for a trip down memory lane in the city and to relax for a couple of days before our crossing into the States. Of all the places we spent time on the Island, Victoria was probably my favourite. For a city it had a similar feel to Toronto about it. It's a place I'd like to revisit some day.

At the campground we discovered our site neighbours, Keith and Di, were from Collingwood so we shared some beers and stories and this resulted in them very kindly offering to take some things back to Ontario for us to save us posting them. They also kindly leant us their truck to go and get groceries for dinner and the following morning brought us coffee when they returned from their Tim's run. The kindness, generosity and trust of strangers when you're travelling never ceases to amaze me.

It was at this point that things turned a little pear-shaped. The night before we intended to cross the US border between Victoria and Port Angeles by ferry I had some very strange dreams. This is unusual for me because regardless of what my dreams are about I very rarely remember them when I wake up. On this occasion though I woke several times during the night to the realisation that we were still in the tent and it was still dark and a sense of relief that the series of dreams I had that night weren't real. In each one we were at US border control and the officers there were refusing us entry on the basis of ridiculous things. First it was that they were not allowing motorcycles across that day, only amphibious vehicles and no amount of pointing at all the cars boarding the boat would sway them. The next time it was because our bikes were the wrong colour for that day. Ridiculous, stupid reasons, but they were rude, dismissive, thoroughly enjoying the distress they were causing by asserting their power and there was no reasoning with them.

Over coffee that following morning I told Evan about these dreams and we laughed about them before packing up our things and heading for the ferry. At the port we bought our tickets and waited in line and eventually they asked us to go and clear customs. Evan went in first and I waited outside. And I waited. And waited. After about half an hour I started to get a little concerned but I rationalised that because we were going on an open ended trip and had few plans they were probably being a little more thorough with their questions. When I was eventually called in the woman asked if I was travelling alone and when I confirmed that I wasn't she barked at me to wait outside. At this point I knew something wasn't right. I'd already been asked to go and move the bikes from the lineup to allow those behind to proceed and eventually the guy in charge of loading apologetically told me that they couldn't wait any longer, the ferry had to leave.

Long story short, it seems that despite the fact that Evan has travelled in and out of the US with no problems many times over the years, a 25 years old mischief charge that he committed when he was a kid had shown up on his record and they were refusing him entry. To make the issue even more ridiculous he had received a pardon for the said offence and therefore official records of the charge no longer exist. Nonetheless they were adamant that he would not be crossing the border and we had no choice but to leave. Interestingly we weren't the only ones turned away that day, there were several more including a woman in tears who was turned away with her two teenage sons after taking six weeks off from her job to visit family. She said she didn't understand why they seemed to take such delight in turning her away and why they had to be so rude. Obviously the notices that state you will always be treated with respect by border control officers don't count for much.

The rest of the day we spent visiting the RCMP, city police and calling anyone we could think of to try and get a copy of a record that no longer exists, but it started to become clear very quickly that there was no quick solution to this issue. If US border control say no then the answer is no. The only solution to the problem it appears is for him to apply for an official waiver which takes months to complete at a cost of many hundreds of dollars in application fees. We'd hit a totally unexpected brick wall and the options were very slim. Suddenly the $20 bribes at the borders of countries further south in the Americas seemed a far more sensible way of dealing with issues. As we rode towards the ferry back to the mainland that afternoon, the signs along the highway said it all 'US border and road to 1 Hope'. If I had a sharpie I'd have been very tempted to add 'or no hope'.

Luckily I have a lovely friend in Vancouver, Laura, and she and her roomie Monica stepped in and offered a place for us to stay for a few nights while we tried to work out our next move and that's where we find ourselves now. Over the last few days we've racked our brains to try and find ways to move the bikes to Mexico - fly them, ship them, get someone else to ride Evan's bike down - but everything is either prohibitively expensive or not possible due to import restrictions. In short, we're screwed.

Or at least our original trip plan is. The next thing we had to decide was whether the best option was to postpone the whole thing, store the bikes somewhere, go home and work and pick the whole thing up when the lengthy waiver process was complete. Or adapt and find a different way to continue. Neither of us were keen on the former option so we're working on a new plan. The more we've talked, the more it has become clear that this could actually be a positive thing. We've talked many times about only needing the bikes we have for the cross-Canada part of the trip and that they might not be the ideal bikes for the areas further south so maybe parting company with them now isn't such a bad thing after all. A shame in some ways because I really have grown to like the bike, but I can't help feeling smaller and lighter will be better.

So our plan now (as far as we have one) is this - store the bikes we have until the spring (or sell them if someone makes a good enough offer, but I'm not holding my breath in a country where the riding season is all but over for the year), fly to Mexico (which we can't do for two weeks for a sensible price, so we have some time to figure things out), make our way to Guatemala, learn Spanish, buy smaller, lighter enduro bikes (which apparently we can do fairly easily down there) and carry on. Who knows, maybe this will become the trip we originally envisaged.

The quote on the bathroom wall where we're currently staying says 'Sometimes your only available transportation is a leap of faith'. I think that's pretty fitting right now.

Lots more photos... https://www.flickr.com/photos/notatree/albums

On the road again!

It’s funny how differently time works when you’re getting up like clockwork at a set time and following a routine. You go onto autopilot and days run into weeks, weeks into months. When I first came back to the UK I struggled to get my head around the idea of falling back into that. I didn’t think I’d be able to. Then it happened and suddenly nine months have passed. I really have no idea where that time has gone. I bump into people while I’m out and about and they ask what I’ve been up to since I got back and my honest answer is ‘not much’. Because it’s true. I’ve worked, I’ve eaten, I’ve slept…work, eat, sleep, work, eat, sleep. Rinse, repeat. Occasionally I’ve punctuated the routine with throwing a few things on ebay or doing battle with a new section of the garden. I even went to a wedding once, but for the most part work has dominated.

It has been interesting working for money again. Having got Christmas out of the way I realised that having to actually find a paying job was a necessity if I was to save enough for the next chapter. A quick visit to an agency I’ve worked for before and I had some work lined up. In typical agency style it involved being given an address and a time to be there and no more detail than that. It turned out that it was an admin post working for a company that provides work based training for adults with learning disabilities. I can’t say it was ever an area I’d considered working in, but for the most part I’ve thoroughly enjoyed it. I’ve had the privilege of working with some wonderful people, both colleagues and customers, and whilst I can’t say I’ll miss the routine and recurring process of ‘work’, I will miss the people immensely and that, after all, is what the very best things in life are about; whether working or travelling, it’s the people you meet who make it a good or bad experience and this has been no different.



I did do one big thing while I’ve been back though - I got my motorcycle licence. My two main reasons for coming back to the UK (apart of course from being able to spend some time with my parents and catch up with friends) were to replenish my less than healthy bank balance and to get my motorcycle licence. The first was simple enough thanks to my wonderful parents, who although not pretending to like the idea of my next adventure, have been unwavering in their support, allowing me to stay and feed me and even to welcome into their home the various people that I’ve met along the way when they’ve come to visit. The second proved a little more complicated than I first anticipated.

In January I took the first step towards getting my bike licence – my CBT. And it scared the life out of me. Ok, maybe that’s a little overdramatic, but it certainly opened my eyes to just how vulnerable you are on the road without a protective metal shell surrounding you. I figured that although our plan was always a budget trip on a small, cheap bike, I might just as well get my full, unrestricted licence. I can't say I particularly enjoyed my CBT on a little 50cc twist and go, but it did the job and the next stop was my Theory Test. After standing in line with a group of what appeared to be a dozen high school kids (who probably thought I was there to retake my licence after losing it for some misdemenour) we were asked to roll up our sleeves to prove we didn’t have the answers written on our arms (seriously!) and we were let in. It was simple enough, only one question wrong about urban clearway restriction times and I was done. I’m really not sure about the purpose of the Theory Test. I know it’s necessary to test knowledge of the rules of the road, but one of my questions was ‘Why are trams environmentally friendly?’ I'm really not sure how knowing the amswer to that makes me a safe motorcyclist.

Then it was on to Mod 1 - I'd read plenty of horror stories about it and indeed I failed it the first time round after scuffing the cone with my boot on the avoidance, much to my frustration, but passed on the second attempt.  I did a little better with the Mod 2 test – a pass first time with zero minors. I had a good feeling about it on the day of my test. That morning I'd been greeted by a timehop post on my Facebook wall with a photo of a racoon on a man's shoulder in a bar asking me if I realised it was exactly a year ago that I was in Hopkins and thus exactly a year to the day that we first rented that little motorbike in Belize that first gave birth to the idea of the trip.



I should pause here and say a HUGE thank you to Stephen Cook at All Bikes Motorcycle Training in Colchester. I found him quite by chance but as soon as he answered the phone on my initial enquiry I knew I’d found the right instructor. I told him that I’d never ridden a bike but that I needed to get my licence because I was going to buy a bike and ride it to South America and he didn’t bat an eyelid. He didn’t say it was a crazy idea or suggest that I focus on something a little bit less ambitious, he just said 'yep, ok, let’s do it'. And we did. We went out a few times and he focussed on building my confidence  gradually rather than having to work towards a looming test date and then when I was ready for each test I just went and did it. I can’t imagine there is a better instructor in Colchester. If you’re thinking about getting your motorcycle licence then he’s your guy. www.allbikesmotorcycletraining.co.uk.

It’s funny, as soon as I passed my second test it was like a huge weight had been lifted. It suddenly made the trip very real and that feeling I had when I set off with a one way ticket last time came back. Kind of a cross between ‘small child waiting for xmas’ and ‘small child on the way to the dentist’. Bit of fear, bit of anticipation and more than a bit of excitement.

My last few weeks of work dragged. Every day seemed like at least a week and then suddenly my last day came and went and reality hit. It was really happening. My flight to Toronto was tortuous in terms of the speed at which each hour passed, but was ultimately uneventful. A last minute change of plan meant I didn't stop in the city as I had intended but headed straight up to meet my bike.



And that really is where we're at. The last few days have been a combination of visiting, shopping and bike fixing-up. We're on the final straight now though and our aim is to hit the road probably on Thursday. But then if we don't, you know what? It doesn't matter, because time no longer matters, nor do schedules. It's been a long nine months getting to this stage but I'm excited now it's here. Photos and more adventures coming soon!

Settling in

Today seemed like a good day to write. It’s a Friday, so it's the end of the week. Not that with my lack of gainful employment of late I really have the right to look forward to days off, but I do still feel a little less like I should be doing something productive on Saturdays and Sundays nonetheless. This week I’ve achieved quite a lot actually. I found a job and bought a car. Today I went and did my Motorbike Theory Test. This involved a visit to the hell-hole that is Ipswich (never have liked that place) and sitting down to answer a series of multiple choice questions about road safety and traffic signs and bike maintenance, followed by watching a series of clips to test your perception of hazards, or rather the DSA’s perception of when something becomes a hazard which is an altogether trickier proposition. It was funny, like being back at school again waiting to go into the exam room, exchanging nervous, conspiritorial glances with the other candidates. You have to turn in your mobile phone, show them you don’t have the answers written on your arms and you’re good to go. I am relieved to say that I passed it with flying colours, so onwards and upwards to the scarier, but infinitely more fun bits. Suffice to say, I haven’t been sitting around doing nothing since I’ve been back, lying in bed till lunchtime and being lazy.


Rewind a little though...

On 22nd November, a cold, grey and very uninspiring day, I arrived back in the UK after 17 months out of the country. It was a time of very mixed emotions, sadness at leaving people I love in Canada and a little nervousness at how I would deal with being either back at square one (if I’m being pessimistic) or at the start of a new chapter (if I’m being a little more optimistic).

My first feelings when I landed at Gatwick and headed in search of a way to get to Victoria Bus Station were how bleak everything seemed. After the initial pleasant surprise of walking straight through the e-passport channel and out through customs in 5 minutes flat without actually having to interact with a single human being, I found the bus ticket desk was closed and no-one could tell me where I could buy one instead. Nor did they care. In fact just about everyone I asked for help looked at me like I was inconveniencing them. After waiting for the EasyBus for far too long - the first couldn’t let me on without a ticket, the second was empty but the driver's card machine was broken and they can’t take cash so he couldn’t sell me a ticket, and the third was full! - I gave up and decided a few £’s more for a National Express bus was my best option.

As I sat waiting for the bus I noticed the chewing gum patterns on the floor and the McDonald’s wrappers left on the seats and I seriously wondered what I was doing back here. I reflected on all the bus stations I’ve sat in over the past months and decided that this one certainly came in the bottom 10% in terms of facilities and cleanliness. Sad really, given that all but one of the others were in some of the poorest countries in the world. Fifty pence to use the toilet and no free wifi. Anywhere. With a couple of hours to kill, I went to a little café nearby where I was promptly ignored as I sat at the table waiting for someone to come and take my order. For the first time I truly appreciated the concept of table service and would have quite happily tipped for it. To make matters worse the coffee was awful, the food mediocre and a quick conversion in my head to Canadian dollars had me reeling at the prices.

As we finally set off, I realised it felt very strange being back on the left side of the road and the obsessive health and safety rules on board the bus amused me. The driver refused to start the journey until he had checked personally that every single passenger had fastened their seatbelt correctly. He then had to blow a clear breathalyser sample in order to be able to start the bus. First though he had to mediate in several scuffles between passengers who felt they should have the right to the seats with more leg room. The selfish sense of entitlement from these angry, miserable people shocked me. The bus driver turned out to be a cheerful enough guy though, giving an impromptu audio tour of London as we passed through and soon we left Victoria Coach Station bound for Colchester. I was almost waiting for him to start a rendition of ‘the wheels on the bus go round and round’. As luck would have it, I found myself sitting next to a lovely lady who proved to be good company as we sat through what seemed like endless traffic jams and put the world to rights. Eventually, several hours later I arrived back in Colchester to a warm welcome and with a much clearer understanding of why the train costs more than the bus. I’ve made a mental note to fork out the extra in future.

So now fast forward two months…

My initial resentment at being back here was actually short lived. I hibernated for a bit, but then started venturing out and reconnecting with people and I realised something – that there are a lot of good people here. In the first few weeks I had a lot to sort out and get straight. I reclaimed my old mobile phone number thanks to the very helpful guy at O2 who gave me free credit so I could reactivate my number. Then the lovely Inland Revenue people gave me a tax rebate for the money I’d overpaid them just before I went away as I was well under my allowance for the year. The Student Loan Company followed suit and donated another couple of hundred pounds to the cause and before I knew it I’d made almost a month’s wages without even lifting a finger! Then that stopped and reality set in. I decided to allow myself until after Christmas to start looking for serious work and in the interim period I’ve sold various bits and pieces on eBay to earn a little to tide me over.

It was just before Christmas that I received some of the best news that I could possibly have hoped for – Evan decided to come to over and spend Christmas with me. Having just got my head around the idea that I probably wouldn’t see him until at least March, and only then if I could raise some proper funds, suddenly he was going to be here in two weeks.

Finally that time came and we spent a wonderful week together. We visited Brighton, Cambridge, Southwold, Aldeburgh and Lavenham, and spent a day being tourists in London. We went to the Tower of London (along with what seemed like a million other people), HMS Belfast and walked around Westminster, ending the night with a ride on the London Eye. We even tracked down gluten-free fish and chips in Islington...only to later discover that both my local fish and chip shops actually offer this option! I realised how nice it was to be a tourist in my home country and to be able to share those things with someone I care about very much...well, I couldn’t ask for any more.


So I think it’s fair to say that England is growing on me. Far from being the stagnant, oppressive place I left behind, I’m discovering that being back here is exactly where I’m supposed to be at the moment. It’s actually a place full of opportunities, not least due to the wonderful support I have from my parents in providing me with a roof over my head (again!) whilst I frantically work out how I’m going to get to a stage where I can leave here again, hopefully in August or September. They’ve gone way above and beyond in their efforts to help me achieve this and I’ll always be grateful to them for their unconditional support. That too extends to my other lovely friends here. So many times since I’ve been back I’ve happened to bump into the right person at the right time or I’ve made connections with helpful people in the most random of ways. It makes me yet again question the concept of coincidence and reaffirms to me that there really is no such thing.


This week has been pretty good. I’ve caught up with so many friends, made plans to get some bike practice in, start seriously learning Spanish with a couple of lovely ladies who also want to learn and I tracked down a bargain deal on a car - a Volvo V70 of course for those of you wondering! I’ve signed up with an agency and will start work with a vengeance next week...first assignment some data entry for a scooter shop! Finally my patience is paying off in so many ways. Life is pretty damn good right now. I’m calling it - 2015 is going to be an even better year than the last.