Having now completed a trip of some eight and a half thousand miles, six of which were in the States, I have a feel and a new respect for America in 2014. Mulling it over on those long, straight stretches of road that are part of the course here (and the only road you'll see if you're on Route 66), I'd say there are five pillars that make it work - that glue it together. For me, they underpin the American dream, are rock solid and are as embedded into the popular culture as burger and fries. So here are my five Cs that make America what it is today;
- Consumption - nothing makes an American happier than consuming things. Yes houses, yes food, yes cars, yes to more stuff (so more storage please). Stuff says success. And there is always more stuff. Most noticeable to me this time is pharmaceuticals. If you take TV adverts as an indicator, I reckon about half of them are selling drugs. I even saw a mainstream drug advertised to tackle a dry mouth - caused by taking too many drugs.
- Capitalism - the underlying political outlook of Americans is conservative - of preserving the status quo. And that means capitalism. Money talks. The political central ground is right wing. Take Obama's modestly left of centre reforms to raise the minimum wage and to increase health care costs to subsidise the poorest. Both are being fiercely opposed (sadly from all sides). Which presidency do I hear most talked about as a time to return to ? Ronald Reagan's.
- Church - "One day You Will Meet God". Bill boards like this litter the road side. If the drug companies own the TV, the church owns the road. Commonly, I will see advertised in a small town three, four or five churches with different denominations. And it doesn't feel like the tokenism & routine religion of the UK church. This appears entrenched and deeply felt. My favourite church sign reads - "Don't give the Devil a lift. He'll want to drive".
- Consensus - the American dream is so big, so complete, so all encompassing that everyone (outwardly anyway) gets it and buys it (why wouldn't you ?). This is the mass identity from tattooed teenagers, to fast food friendly families, to V8 trucks for men, to empowered women, to age defying pensioners...etc. Yes stereotypes but this is the land of the stereotype and they seem (broadly) true.
- Country - The biggest C is all about Pride (with a cap P) translated as "you're either with us or against us". Think flag poles. I watched Obama last week say (something like) "just because you've got the biggest hammer doesn't mean the answer is a nail". Words of reconciliation perhaps but easier to say when you're holding the hammer - and the American public know this.
I could have also mentioned other ever present Cs - cars, credit, crime shows, country music....but that's only because some of my duller biking days have left too much day dreaming time (plus there's other stuff like guns which don't start with a C). Overall, though the American dream is alive and well. Of course the dream has flaws. Their inability to deliver sensible gun control (with mindless killings in the daily news met with the idiotic response - "its people not guns that kill"), access to minimum standards of health care for all and reasonable income distribution is unfathomable BUT this country works. Americans love their country and are fiercely protective. Such is the "you're either with us or against us" mindset it feels wrong to highlight the flaws (unlike the UK which has so many flaws we relish talking about them). And America's isn't a phony nationalism like that drummed up by Farage in the UK. This isn't fringe, its feels embedded into the culture (I found it was consistent across all states). Want proof ? Try challenging an American on the five "Cs". You won't get far. Anyway, if you don't like it - you can crawl back to whatever godforsaken hellhole you came from..got it?
After what feels like many, many nights in motel land you grow used to growling V8s, ground shaking roars from artics engine braking , farting Harley Davidson's, glugging air conditioning, room fridges that click on and off throughout the night.... it was good to have a break from it.
Dave, Kelly, Jack & Max live in a brand new house in central Raleigh. After commenting on how grand their house was, I was told they have downsized. Their last place must have been on par with the Ewing's Southfork. But there was no stetsons to be seen here (although they may have been put away) just every conceivable mod con you could need - inlcuding a fridge that cost more than my motorbike. Spent a very pleasant few days drinking craft beer, cycling, watching bands, watching football then drinking more craft beer (including Dave's own daft beer).
From there, I headed for the coast of N.Carolina and followed it up north to Virginia. The coastal road tracks the shoreline and crosses the many inlets and estuaries via bridge networks that last for miles. The longest crossing was the bridge over Chesapeake Bay. The bridge-tunnel (as its called) stretches over 17 miles, has two tunnels and four man-made tunnels. This is the first tunnel which is about 4 miles out to sea.
Yes, Americans do things big.
Not sure why but I had expected Tennessee to be rural and agricultural - more akin to Kansas than Arkansas. In fact, it is very green and outwardly prosperous. Yes, the Forrest Gump drawl is there (although that's coming up from the deep south I think - Georgia and Alabama) and they have an aisle in Walmart dedicated to guns but this is a very attractive state to travel through.
Today's dam is Watts Bar. Moving on from dams I headed for the border (to N. Carolina) and to the Smoky Mountains. "Been up the tail of the Dragon yet ?" said the man who took this photo. "Err, don't think I have."..."There ain't nowhere in the world so twisty".
And the Dragon's tail did have lots of switchbacks keeping me busy for half an hour or so. This place is worshipped by bikers across the States. Its their biking mecca - but frankly no more demanding than a good route through the Peak District. Given that 90% of US roads are straight, its no surprise the Dragon catches people out.
On the "Tree of Shame" are bits of bike picked up from accidents. Its getting full. After all the noise and male fartery around the Dragon, it was good to just ride roads of the Smoky Mountain National Park. I had turned the satnav off so I could go with whatever roads took my fancy. It worked - sort of. I was inadvertently following a guy on a Harley with his young son down back roads when he tuned off. Thinking I was going in (roughly) the right direction, I ended up on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere. I turned back. Another time, studying my map in the tank bag, I looked up to find I had left the road and was heading down a bank. I took a long arc, rejoining the road just before a switchback.
The Smoky Mountain National Park is at the start of the Appalachian Mountains. Hopefully, the scenery will continue to be this good.
The Americans do things big - and that includes the weather. I took a cursory glance at the forecast as I left Eureka Springs. Wet weather arriving in the afternoon. I left in the morning with temperatures already close to 30C again. The roads through the Arkansas Ouachita mountains were fabulous. Twisting, mountain roads through forests and rivers punctuated with weatherboard villages that offered nothing but local services - no sign of national chains here.
I was heading for Memphis. Knowing the weather was going to turn I got onto the interstate highway. I could see the clouds gathering behind me. The clear, white sky began to become a darker and darker blue. No worries I thought as I was making progress on the interstate ahead of the storm. Twenty miles from Memphis - the interstate sign flashes "Roadworks, delays. Find alternate routes". Before I could think I was stationary. Discovered filtering through traffic is a sin in the US. Didn't stop me but did slow me down. And then the rain caught up. I arrived sodden - but this would only be a taster of what the weather could really unleash.
The reason I was in Memphis was of course to learn more about the great man. No not Elvis but Martin Luther King who was shot dead there.
At this very spot, on this balcony at the Lorraine Motel in downtown Memphis (blacks only and very similar to the sort of places I have been staying), King was shot (see wreath) . The killer - James Earl Ray - was later caught at Heathrow airport. The Motel has been turned into a Civil Rights Museum tracking the fight from the beginning of slavery through the American Civil War to King and onto today. Moving and inspirational.
Conscious that today's forecast was as yesterday - but worse, I headed off for Jackson, Tennessee about a hundred miles north east. It was starting to rain but I got into the hotel ok. Turned the TV to hear an alarm and repeated message.
This was a major thunderstorm and Jackson was dead centre on its path. Advice was "if unable to get shelter - find a ditch and curl up into a ball". Looking out the window didn't look good either.
And then it hit..
Sheets of torrential, horizontal rain, lightning and gale force winds - alarms going off, flagpoles bending. Daylight turned to night in moments. The worst storm I have experienced (luckily I was watching from a hotel room).
Final words of the day to Mr King - his request for the funeral was (there was speculation that he knew his day had come) "..not to mention that I have a Nobel Peace Award...That's not important...I'd like somebody to mention that Martin Luther King tried to give his life serving others...I want you to say that I tried to love and serve humanity". A great man.
Another few days of 30C plus temperatures had me riding in just a t-shirt. No longer boiling but definitely burning. My normal patchwork of red, redder and white body parts are now in place. After a day riding dead straight roads in the heat with the only highlights being on Route 66 in Oklahoma (yes its was straight too) and a golden eagle flying alongside and over the bike, I arrived in Arkansas and the roads changed (thanks Bill C). Switchback after switchback woke me up - not before time. Sadly, no sooner had I got into the rhythm of corner after corner, I came up to a convoy of trikes. Harley's are of course noisy, slow and clunky cornerers. Trikes are similar but completely unable to corner at all.The bandanaed pensioners all frowned as I waved whilst passing them on a no overtake corner. This would come back and haunt me.
Awoke in Eureka Springs to torrential, monsoon rain and a weather alert for thunder. Decided to sit tight. This is a historical Spa town between the Ozark plateau of Missouri and the Boston mountains of northern Arkansas. When the sun eventually came out, I had a look around. The Victorian down town encapsulates American history and is fiercely protected.
I rode at to a nearby dam expecting a wet ride but found virtually dry, traffic free roads. The dam was a great place to watch the vultures above and the swallows below.
The roads around the Beaver dam were a pleasure to ride - sweeping curves, single lane bridges and little traffic. Returning though, I was turned back after a truck had jack knifed. Clearly, the roads don't suit all. I came back into Eureka Springs via a different route and arrived at a trike event. Despite having already cut up three of their kind, I was relieved to find few people under the age of seventy. If the ubiquitous Harley attracts the middle class, middle age mainstream, trikes appear to bring out the madcap, past caring pensioner brigade. On the road, I have my doubts but parked up you have to admire them. Still can't corner though..
I was late leaving partly because I had only just realised I had past through another timezone (the third of four to go through) and partly because it was already 28C. In an attempt to explore something different to the plains of Kansas, I headed south east to Oklahoma. I passed the Red Hills in southern Kansas which are mined for gypsum. A change to the sea of wheat stretching in all directions.
But the road remained very long and straight. And the temperature kept climbing. It hit 33.5C and stayed there all day. When I opened my visor it was like opening an oven door. I boiled. The turkey vultures circled overhead, swooping down to check for roadkill. Or on me. Not sure. I stopped frequently to try and cool down. Didn't work.
As I was plodding along at the speed limit (65mph) referring to my map on the tank when something suddenly caught my eye. A deer leapt onto the road taking the last possible moment to cross. I had no time to react. Its long legs sprawling for grip it just managed to miss me. I could have put my hand out and touched it.
Soon after, I gave in and dived into an air conditioned room just over the border in Oklahoma. I decided I cannot go further south as the heat will kill me. So east it is to Arkansas. Only problem is there is big weather just north in Missouri which maybe travelling south. Could be interesting.
"There ain't nothing round here but sunsets". As an experiment, I decided to drop my accommodation standards by a notch (which were already low) and save money. I am staying 20 miles south of Dodge City in Minneola. I had cheerily asked the tired looking woman in the grocery store what goes on Minneola on a Monday night. Think I would have got the same if I've asked what happens in Kansas on a Monday night. I am the only person staying in the motel run by a friendly Indian guy (I had an Enfield back home- very heavy) who asked me for a positive review in exchange for a discount the next time I visit (!).
The road east out of Colorado soon leaves the mountains behind replaced with endless plains which endless trains rattle across sounding their deafening horns whenever possible. Such was the straightness of the road, I ended up counting the boxcars. Got to 125 on one train but may have missed some.
Colorado's eastern borders soon merges into Kansas. Here starts the real industrial farming. Towering over every small town there dominants a huge grain silo bearing its name. Fields stretch to the horizon, tractors grow fatter, trailers get longer. Cattle are kept in endless feed yards - small gated muddy enclosures with no grass. Factory beef for dollar burgers.
At the heart of this is Dodge City. Originally an army garrison to combat the rampaging native Indian tribes but after all the buffalo were slaughtered (herds of millions became hundreds after the Government paid hunters rendering the buffalo virtually extinct and ending the lifestyle of the native Indians) became the hub of cattle trading for farmers from the south. Enter the cowboy. Here is where they got paid and laid. Many, as legend had it ended up here. Boot hill.
Forget the Magnificent Seven image, this is behind a museum adjacent to a main street full of ubiquitous burger joints & budget hotels. After years of bringing his own shoot first, ask later order to the town, Wyarp Earp moved on. Wise move.
I am leaving the Rocky mountains tomorrow so there was only thing to do. Go high.
Pikes Peak is not the highest mountain in Colorado but is only a few hundred feet lower and I had heard of it as a venue for hill climb races. Anyway, 4300M is nothing to be sniffed at. The road up there starts innocently enough winding its way through the alpine forest to reservoirs created to supply water from the snow melt (as rainfall is scare in Colorado). From there the trees thin out and are replaced by increasingly barren snow covered granite. Further still, and there more ice and snow but less oxygen (40% less I was told). I was feeling a tad delicate after polishing off a 6 pack of pale ale the night before so the combination of thin air, road edges with gut girdling drops and a 20 degree drop in the temperature had me clinging to the bike. Worth it when I got there mind (although no camera could do justice to the 360 degree panoramic scene).
Felt better and better as I came down and decided to have one last circuit around the mountains near Denver. 200 miles latter I was back in Colorado Springs. Again, fabulous scenery. I stopped at a viewing point which had within sight a dozen 3500M plus peaks.
Tomorrow I head for the open plains of Kansas and to Dodge City.
Such is life in motel land, I was sat on my step trying to get a signal when a bike arrives. Zanka was from Bulgaria but now lives in LA. Just bought a '93 Firebalde from Chicago. "Tell me about your self David". I retreated. Morning and with the railroad in the background we talked." I am a motivational speaker"...Right. "Thinking is the pinnacle of the male mind". Right. "You must see The Secret - have you seen it ?" No. "Then see Earl Nightingale's The Strangest Secret...you can do anything David". Right. I headed off.
Colorado has a fantastic backdrop. Its the American ski area (think Aspen). I headed for the mountains and wasn't disappointed. The road to Silverton (an old mining town) was partly blocked by a rock slide so I had to wait for the one hour the road opened. Slowed me down but I did get see a great waterfall.
They describe this part of Colorado as a mini Switzerland. Makes sense.
With a very squared off rear tyre and a blinking oil light, I decided it was time for a service. Found a place at Grand Junction just a few miles from where I was staying. I just turned up. They were happy to help. Will take an hour. Took all day. Still I got to talk to a lot of other bikers - 90% of which were Harley riders including a bloke in a leather cap, waist coat and cuban heels who had just bought this for $36K (c. £24K).
He was 70 years old and had 20 other Harley's. Later Jersey Steve turned up. His throttle cable was broke - simple problem other than his monkey hanger bars required a cable about six foot long. So he was waiting. Used to be in a member of the Bandidos and been inside for a while. Now married to a native Indian. "Don't do BMW's - I'm too short".
With the hosepipe length throttle cable fitted, Jersey Steve made his way. Just after this pic he tried to swing his leg over the bike with some difficultly. "Goddamn leg, I lost it back in '93. As I lay by the bike, I said to this bloke - go and get my boot will ya?. Steve, I ain't picking that up its still got yer leg in it". Showed me his leg. Looked like the aftermath of a shark attack. Pointed the wrong way too.
Small niggle of US ways is needing to pay in advance for fuel. This applies if you pay by card and do not have a ZIP code. So, I guess on what I need to fill up. Not easy for a bike with a small tank. So, I headed off having only filled to three quarters ("I love your accent"). Once again the road was a gem. Second gear switchbacks around vertical rock faces
I briefed entered Colorado before returning to Utah to visit the Arches NP - an area shaped by millions of years of erosion. Huge statues of sandstone dominate the landscape which is constantly changing as a result of the unstable bedrock underground and the merciless elements above.
Although the park is famous for its arches, I found other examples of the eroded shapes more dramatic - take the balancing stone.
As I was riding through, my fuel was low & my oil light came on so I couldn't doodle too long. Plus the temperature was 33C. Too hot for me in helmet and jacket (which few other bikers wore).
From today I'm heading east. For me, west is best. That's not a political statement. Just a DRS theory. In the US that's the "how the west was won" story. Same applies to the history of the UK, Ireland, Canada (maybe), France, Australia (broadly)......etc etc. In each instance, the west side of a given country tends to be wilder, more mountainous and less governable & therefore less developed. There are of course many exceptions (e.g Spain, Germany) but I like the theory so, if in doubt, go west.
"Hey, where you from?"... "The UK". "I told you Frank that guy sounds just like that Bear Grylls". I was in Pinedale, Wyoming heading south. That roads from Jackson to Pinedale were great twisting by horse and beef ranches advertising white water adventures.
The two blokes at the filling stop in Pinedale strolled across and shook my hand slowly and very firmly each with hands the size of dinner plates. "What do you get out of this thing?"..pointing at the bike.."I can get over 50 mpg" I offered (proud of my new high score). "Seen many animals along the way?"..."well there's plenty of deer around here"..."that's because they're migrating - you're fine as long as you keep your engine smooth. Them deer don't like surprises". Right.
I was heading for Utah and the landscape was changing again. The lush, rolling farmland and fast flowing rivers is replaced by drier, unforgiving landscapes reminiscent of the big cowboy westerns.
You feel close to the desert. The landscape is harsher, steeper and more dramatic (like the approach to the Sahara via the Atlas). Temperature peaked at 32C and stayed there but was moderated a little by strong, gusty side winds. Then as you start to climb higher, the road returns to switchbacks and suddenly opens up to reveal an oasis of colour as far as the eye can see. They call this dinosaur country (as many prints & bones have been found).
I was on the back roads so there was little traffic noise bar the occasional truck grinding through the gears An osprey nonchalantly flapped by as I took this shot. Nearby a pair of hawks soared in the thermals (swainson's hawks I think). I could also hear an ominous rattle from near to where the bike stood. Reminded me this is rattle snake country.
In Walmart later buying my pale ales in Vernal, the young girl on the checkout cheerily asked "Can I see some ID sir?". Made my day.
The ride from Jackson to Yellowstone takes you through the Grand Teton NP. In hindsight, it was as memorable as Yellowstone. The Teton range is a wall of rock created by tectonic plates moving along a fault line and it dominates the landscape as you travel north.
And let there be no doubt the road north to Yellowstone is the tourist trail. Overfilled hire cars with Japanese tourists jostled with furry faced, tattooed men in cut off t-shirts with over-wide V8 trucks & V8 guts.The former will stop with no notice to take shots of each other. The latter will drive extremely slowly & take hugely extravagant manoeuvres when turning left or right. All driving no faster than 45 mph.
Think Yellowstone, think geezers, think Old Faithful. The NP is scattered with hundreds of geysers & hot springs but the dependable one is OF. So, having followed the cavalcade of tourists to said geezer, I was much amused to find long lines of size 20 plus backsides sat on benches as far as the eye could see in front of OF's steaming hole. Very Monty Pythonesque I thought. I walked off to see the more camera shy geezers. Is it possible to use the words hot, sulphurous & colourful without resorting to fart humour ?
Still, give him his due, when OF did let rip, it was impressive.
Geezers and random tourists aside (of which I am part), Yellowstone is a beautiful place. You are always reminded that this is a volcanic place. It creates an unique environment - river fishing with steaming geezers in the background.
I travelled back via Yellowstone which is at 2400M and still largely frozen.
NB pet hate for the long term budget hotel man is American cars that still have alarms that beep when you lock or unlock them (technology from the 1990s I recall). So late on, people arrive back from their fast food troughs and beep to lock. Then beep to unlock/lock to get what they've forgot. Repeat. Repeat for 30 plus cars. I am moments away from opening door naked and shouting "we live in the XXin 21st century, why do you need a beep to tell you your cars locked. Do you need a beep to tell you to have a dump!...". Perhaps not.
From Salmon, I headed south for the Sawtooth national park. Idaho has the best roads so far with winding roads following fast flowing rivers taking you from open plains into the mountains. The Sawtooth range did not disappoint. Great scenery passed as I navigated rock strewn hairpins whilst trying to spot red-winging blackbirds & golden crowned sparrows (had to stop in the end).
This area originally attracted white settlers for the fur then the gold then the land. Given the ruggedness of the terrain making home here was always going to be a challenge. East of the Sawtooth range is no easier. It leads into a lava field called "The Craters of the Moon" which, I read, played havoc with waggons and horses. No such problems for me but as I headed further east beyond the lava fields a new peril emerged. The endless desert highway. This was the first time I had ridden east properly and the landscape changes again. No trees, no bushes, no bends in the road, no animals, no people - just road. After a hundred miles or so, I was reducing to singing Stray Cats songs (Rumble in Brighton) & refusing to do anything that could jeopardise my best ever MPG score (which currently stands at 52).
Thankfully I was saved (once again) by the mountains as I started to climb up into the Grand Teton range. In the background to the north is Yellowstone where I'm heading tomorrow.
Must go. Need to do my washing. Sounds hasty but it is week three and you can only wear clothes inside out for so long. Here's a bike shot for good measure.
As you travel south you notice changes. The pine forests are thinning out. Farmers' fields start to emerge. The landscape softens whilst the backdrop of the snow capped peaks of the Rockies remains. Montana has beautiful sweeping scenery but is somehow less impactful having witnessed the scale of the Canadian Rockies. I guess you have a different perspective if you're traveling north.
Bigfork was having their biggest event of the year. Its a holiday weekend and kayakers from all over have hit town for their annual jamboree. Bigfork has one of the early hydro-electro plants meaning the river is artificially narrowed to power the turbines and as a happy consequence a fast flowing white water channel is created. After watching many a bearded teenage capsize, I headed up river to avoid the crowds. Good merganser country (hooded that is).
In the moring, I was heading back into Idaho and Indian country (the road passes through a reserve). That means more tee pees, buffalo (or is it bison) & gun shops. It also means twisty roads. My squared off back tyre tells the sad tale of too many long, straight roads. Idaho has hairpin bends and I'm happy. It also has big flowing rivers - this is the Salmon.
The town of Salmon, Idaho is a one street, cowpoke town where there's a shop that repairs stetsons and chaps. It does have a fine micro brewery (Bertram's run by a south African) where I talked shite about IPAs (they had to brew them strong so they would survive transit to India) for a number of hours. By the river, I also found it has great moths (not sure what they are but they're as big as your hand).
Had a welcome break from sitting on a saddle all day & decide to sit on another saddle. Hired a mountain bike in Banff. Unfortunately for the DRS derriere, my choice of a hard tail wasn't wise. The tracks were rough and rocky. After 20K of spine pounding I was grateful to be back on the motorbike. Still great views (albeit sore arse).
To finish the day, I walked a mile or so up to the local Hoodoos - rock formations caused by erosion. I also followed a lone wolf for a while trying to get a good photo. We eyeballed each other a number of times. Not sure why but I felt there was a mutual respect.
Only remedy after all that was a soak so the next day I headed for Radium Hot Springs. There are many natural hot springs but this is one of the better known. Natural temperature in the water is 28C.
Today (Friday), I left Canada & entered the US via Idaho. I choose a quieter crossing point (Kingsgate). There was still an hour's wait before I was finger printed & photoed. At customs, there was a certain amount of looking at the passport, looking at me, repeat as the bright red biking head & gingery grey beard told another story.
Temperature today in Montana was 29C.
