Here's the hardy contingent of the reunion club, minus some bods very noticeable by their absence, like Canuck, who came for a while but wasn't able to stay (sobs), and Sue, and The Caddman, who couldn't get here for the party at all (wails, gnashings of teeth), and ToFeather, who.... ??????? You guys were all VERY missed! This photie was taken this morning, outside Rosie's Cafe in Tamworth, where we dragged our tired little butts (nothing all to to do with being hung-over from that cool party over at Brian and Beth's place last night!!!) out for brekkie. After we had the platefuls of eggs and the bottomless coffee, we all set off to ride the breathtaking Kankamagus Highway,
ALL of the celebratory qualities that combine to make me the "extraordinary person" people keep describing me as, I received as gifts from my parents. The joyful passion for all things shoe-related, the love of bright colours and animals, and the desire to keep going out there to examine the world, are all sunbeams from my Mother (R.I.P.). The gun-fun, the fine line I walk between bravery and madness, the imagination to make anything I want happen, and the determination and energy to put as much of it as I can in place, and the ability to laugh at illogical stupidity when I recognise it (even within myself) all come as moondrops from my Dad. The motorcycling and the adventurous spirit that go hand in hand with it are lightning bolts from them both (biker in the womb, Mum urging Dad to "go faster" - what chance did I have?).
However, the bloody-minded insistence on doing things my own (admittedly sometimes illogical and stupid) way, and the huge fault of a very real inability to empathise with or have much respect for all the easy-road couch potatoes and "gunners" I meet in life (i.e. people who spend all their energy moaning about how crap their lives are, and blaming other people, and TALKING about stuff they wanna do or change but never actually doing it)? Well, those qualities are mine alone to own up to, and I do. I make no apology for it either because, as the intelligent among you already know, just about anyone can do any of the things I've done. I'm not, in all truth, that extraordinary. I've just made choices that pretty much anyone else can make, and some do, and some don't. The fact is, anyone can make the decision to at least TRY to find a way to make whatever it is they want for themselves happen. Anyone can be giving of themselves in some way to someone else, knowingly or otherwise. Anyone can make a conscious decision to get off the sofa and dance through life, instead of watching it all through a window or - worse - a TV screen, and anyone can choose to spread happiness around as they dance, or even spread it inadvertently, and touch someone else's life in a positive way with their own moondrops and sunbeams and lightning bolts, as they spin by. We all have those gifts, in various forms. Its up to us , whether we use or ignore them.
I have always said, the worse thing imaginable for me, personally, would be to be facing the end of my life, thinking "I wish I'd done .............................." . I'd rather be there saying "I'm so glad I did that thing I wanted to do" or at the very least, "At least I TRIED to make it happen" .
So whatever your dreams are, blog-watchers, just try to make them happen. Get help if you have to, preferably from people who care enough about you not to attach any kind of price or complaint to it, and GO FOR IT. Some of the things I've done in this life already have had a HUGE amount of planning, organising, re-arranging and all that stuff attached to making them work, and I've needed a lot of help at times. That's ok. If this trip has taught me one thing, its that nothing really worthwhile and rewarding is achievable in isolation. People are an important part of everything that works, and I've met so many good people, as I've gone along, that it really does bring a lump to the throat to remember their extraordinary, random acts of kindness and positive responses to requests for assistance. I want to say thank you, again, to all the friends I've made in the USA on this particular adventure, who have given me practical and emotional help at times when I really needed it. Some of the strangers I met for brief moments along the way were more kind to me than some of my so-called friends have ever been, and they don't know about this blog, so they will never know the level of my gratitude for the bright beacons of light they were to me when I found myself in dark tunnels, and the level of positive difference their contributions made. The people who drove me 20 miles to get my oil bung and get me back to my bike, the gun-toting, patched biker at the gas station who loaned me his phone to make a critical call when mine wouldn't work, the woman who gave me gasoline and water and refused payment, the office receptionist who stood up within two seconds of my asking her if I could access her internet, when I couldn't find a computer and needed to transfer funds immediately online to a bank account I could access, to pay for my hire car in LA. The list goes on and on, and it all comes back to the same thing. The importance and significance of individual people. I make a conscious choice to let people in. I get a little burned sometimes, of course, because not everyone is kind, or interested, and there are people out there who have described themselves as friends to me, but who have ultimately u-turned and attacked me, directly or indirectly, in their own small, petty ways, for reasons that say more about themselves than they do about me and my choices, but I don't let it colour my perceptions. I still believe in the inherent goodness of the human race, and this trip has re-inforced that one-hundredfold, and I am a better person for it. To all of you who have affirmed my place in your hearts... I haven't enhanced your lives by accident! The reason I'm there in your hearts is because you trusted me to give you a place in mine. We're all just mirrors reflecting back what we get, give, and get again. Its bloody fantastic, if we all do it right.
Power to the next big dream, people... yours, and mine...
The temperature in the Mojave (Mohave) desert reaches in excess of 110 degrees farenheit in the heat of the average summer day. It was a hot trip thru here, and as you can see, its an uncompromising wilderness of epic proportions. In the few areas where water can be found or accessed, towns and cities like Las Vegas, Flagstaff and Kingman have sprung up, literally out of desert wasteland. From the air it must look strange, especially at night, random pockets of habitation surrounded by vast expanses of rock and sand. Aside from those valiant places where people live with relentless heat, alongside scorpions and rattlesnakes, its literally hundreds miles of desolate wasteland. Its boredom personified, that trip, and after several hours it starts to test concentration. On my way thru I had to skirt around a 40-ton 18-wheeler that had somehow overturned and skidded on its side along the road. I didn't see it happen, but I got there just afterwards, just as the police were setting up the road block, and before the traffic started to bank up. It didn't look too bad, as accidents go, and no other vehicles were involved that I could see. An hour down the road, though, I saw one on the other side of the freeway, same situation, only it was a lot more of a mess. The rig had managed to get itself turned thru 180 degress and was on its side, a mangled wreck, facing back the way it came, and there were other cars stopped around it. The police were there too, waving people on our side of the freeway along, and an ambulance was there, and the traffic going east was banked up for twenty miles behind it all. Nasty. I've prayed, every day, along this trip, that I wouldn't have to even SEE anything like that, much less be involved in it. When those big rigs go out of control, it can happen in the blink of an eye, and they don't tend to take many prisoners. On a more optimistic note once I got to the other side of the desert, reaching the mountains that separate it from the rest of the civilized world, it happily got noticeably cooler!
Hello from Arizona. Cherry and I spent the night in Flagstaff at the noisy but cheerful Howard Johnson motel, right beside a railroad track with the noisiest freight train horns in God's creation, at all hours of the night and morning, (the motels sells earplugs at the check-in desk - you have to laugh!) but with the compensatory bonus of a "beer barn" right next door!, me and Cherry felt we could overlook the racket. This photo of me and Carlos The FireFighter from Florida, a biker on his way home from Sturgis (via Arizona... go figure...) who pulled into the same motel just minutes after I did, was taken in that very beer barn about half an hour after the fact. Carlos was riding with his friend Al, who declined to be sociable, owing to legitimate exhaustion, but Carlos and I had no such prudent sensibilities. As it was only 9pm, as knackered as we both were, we felt it would just be too rude not to have a couple of beers, really just as a justifiable anaesthetic against the traffic and the trains. Carlos was a pretty cool guy. He'd done a lot of miles yesterday too, and we decided we both needed alcoholic beverage refreshment. Its BLOODY hot here. REAL hot. "Hotter 'n Hades", as someone said last night. Over the last few days I've been drinking several litres of water each day, to replace what the sun and wind take out of my body. The hot wind, in particular, is a hazard because its hard to know how much moisture your body is leeching out when the wind dries you before you even know you've broken into a sweat. Motorcycling creates its own wind, of course, in addition to that around you in the air across the desert plains, and it can funnel through in peculiar weather patterns shaped by the landscape at the plains' edges, bringing dry dust with it. Dehydration is a serious hazard under these conditions, and its really critical to replenish the moisture the body loses that it really needs to function efficiently. Water alone doesn't replace the electrolytes, sodium, and other critical minerals you lose through sweat. I'm having at least three high-energy drinks each day too, in addition to the water, so my mineral content doesn't suffer. I've also been wearing a cotton bandana under my helmet, and have been soaking it in cold water at each stop and putting it on dripping wet, to keep my head cool, but within ten or fifteen minutes back on the road, its dry again. Its over a hundred degrees farenheit out here in the desert. The whole country seems to be in the grip of a heatwave, actually, that sees some places, like Atlanta and southern Texas, with extreme heat warnings advising people not to go out, except to check on vulnerable people in their area. Apparently these conditions are not unusual for this time of year, but its hard work at times. Between the baking heat and the thunderstorms, it makes for interesting travelling, especially through the plains across the desert where you can actually see the storms and where they are located...
...once a booming 1800's mining town with no less than 300 saloons and houses of ill-repute just in Main Street alone. Nowadays, the bordellos have given way to hotels, restaurant and gift shops selling all sorts of native Indian crafts and jewellery, t-shirts etc., but most of the original buildings remain. 
I'm in Colorado. Got here about two hours ago to Durango, having ridden through the most stunning scenery I have ever seen in my entiere life, and I aint kidding! I've seen a lot of places over the decades, a lot of countries, and a lot of seriously cool stuff, but NOTHING beats what I saw today. From the Rio Grande Gorge leaving New Mexico...
... there are just not enough words to describe how beautifully, how unbelievably, the hand of nature has carved this part of the world. No photo, no postcard and no jigsaw puzzle box picture does it justice. As I made my way through that area, up and then down through winding steep roads, vista upon vista of the most incredible scenery imaginable just kept on unfolding in front of me. I held my breath to take it all in. By the roadside, about half way through, a deer stood, impassively staring at the cars as they went by. The Bomb's engine caused her to run for the trees, but before she did, I was treate to a prancing little dance from her, while shde decided which way to run, and that put a smile on my face ten miles wide. About a mile further up, there was a dead deer in the road. Sad, but a good reminder of the need to be careful and vigilant through that area. The Bomb had a wee splutter and a couple of farts along the way. I think the altitude caused her a few glitches, but it was nothing serious. It was pretty chilly up there, and after the heat of the desert, it felt kinda weird to feel cold for a while! I'd forgotten what that was like...
I arrived in Taos (yet another AT&T blackspot - yawn) about 3 hours ago, took Cherry Bomb to a local bike shop for a check over and a power wash. She was looking pretty ropey after the Oil Incident, and subsequent hot days in dusty desert wind. They wouldn't touch her initially because they're Yamaha people and "don't do Suzuki" but after I explained where I was from and what I needed, they literally sprang to attention and couldn't have been more helpful. In particular, Dave D (who I secretly believe is The Most Gorgeous Man In America - believe it girls, he is TOTALLY HOT), who had been to EnZed himself, went the extra mile checking my girl over. They were all very impressed that I've done three thousand seven hundred miles already (6000km) with still a ways to go.
The scenery in from Santa Rosa, thru Las Vegas NM, thru the Mora Valley into Taos was really spectacular, as well. I went through a mountain pass area where there's a ski lodge, which apparently gets pretty busy in winter. Not much wildlife seen around today. Chipmunks are very cool little critters, though. They're everywhere there's forest, and they always make me smile.
A really lovely ride today took us through Arkansas' Ozark Mountain region, which included a pitstop at the old soda house in Calico Rock, and a look at the Wolf House (above). We stopped in the middle of the Ozark National Forest to have lunch in Gastons restaurant which overlooks the beautiful White River. Unusually, the place is full of bicycles, hung from the ceiling (!), and the restaurant is dominated by the stunning panoramic view of the river, from floor to ceiling picture windows, where you can sit and eat and watch people in boats fishing and pottering about on the river, and the loveliest thing of all is the little dishes of treats hung outside the windows for the hummingbirds to come and take. They are delightful little birds to watch as they flit about. The food was good there! If I'm ever in that region again, its a must re-visit!
Hello from Arkansas! This picture was taken about an hour ago while I was in the pool with Kim and Kathy, at a barbecue at Kim and Chad's in Mountain Home, West Arkansas (correction -Central North Arkansas, I'm told). Today has been one of relaxation, cool tubs, carp fishing, barbecues and smiles. Jay, the angel that rescued me last night, has checked over the Bomb and pronounced her fit for the next leg of the journey, and all things loose have been tightened and battened down. Oil has been topped up, filter has been checked, and tomorrow its back on the road with Red Dog and Kathy as escorts as far as Eureka Springs, West Arkansas. I have been given clothes by the lovely Kim and the equally lovely Amy, to replace what got burned in yesterday's fire, and we've driven though some really amazing scenery today, including Norfolk Lake and the dam at its head. What a day! The ankle is rested now, too, and I'm raring to go.
It was with much relief that I left the state of Tennessee yesterday, after a few days there with plenty of drama. The spill on Cherry earlier in the week when I arrived in the state was the first thing to hit me. I sprained my ankle quite badly, although I never realised it until later in the day, and it really didn't help that it took a full 36 hours to be able to get a bandage on it. The second thing was yesterday, after I'd topped up Cherry's oil, and was too distracted to remember to put the bung back in before I set off. I left it in the driveway of the place I was staying at, and drove ten miles to a gas station to find, of course, oil everywhere, the bike covered and smoking with it, and of course I couldn't ride back to get the bung and couldn't get anyone back at the house I'd left (just ten minutes earlier!!!) to answer the phone. I was pretty much stranded and panicking and, in the end, a Kind Stranger (No.1) and his wife saw what was happening and took me the 20 mile round trip back to get the bung and go back to the gas station. 
And did things get better? Not immediately, no. Gas stations off the freeway in that part of Missouri are few and far between. I picked up a signpost to a gas station, left the freeway to look for it, and when I found it, several precious reserve-tank miles away from anywhere else I could get help, it was derelict and boarded up. U-turn, on the last thimble-full of fuel, to cough up to a farmhouse, where the third Kind Stranger of the day gave me water and gas. I'd called in there to ask directions, because I was pretty disoriented at that point, with no clue where the nearest gas station could possibly be that I could make it to, and she refused to take any money. Instead, she plonked me into a knackered old golf cart and drove me around the back of the farmhouse to the gasoline tank, filled a container, and drove me back down the long driveway back to my bike, with two bottles of water as well.
Luckily, this was one rare place where I could get mobile phone coverage, so I called Red Dog and Kathy to let them know what had been happening. I made it to their place in Arkansas after dark, having been met 100 miles down the road by Jay, Red Dog's mate on his beauuuutiful bright yellow beamer and escorted back. As I rolled up the driveway, splattered with bugs and with wobbly knees after negotiating their gravel driveway in the dark (me and gravel aren't best buddies, even in daylight!), and quite traumatized by a long day of thoroughly surreal experiences, a bunch of people there in the driveway were leaping up and down, waving, cheering and holding out their arms to me. I got off the bike to huge hugs, an ice cold beer, a garage area for Cherry and a hot bowl of spaghetti - the first thing I'd eaten all day. That welcome was extraordinary, and much appreciated. All those beaming faces, with every single person just waiting to hug me, is something I won't forget. I had to pinch myself toconvince myself I'd actually made it! Today is Sunday. I'm doing very little today, apart from letting Jay check the bike over, resting the ankle, and hanging out with these nice people at this lovely house, where Red Dog has been known to stroll out of the den into the carport and shoot a venison dinner without having to go any further. There's a small lake on the property that is stuffed with fish (Kathy is a keen fisherwoman), and there's a cold tub in the garden! During the week they call Dog Days here - the hottest of the year - what a blessing that tub is. I'm headed there right now!
