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.
