All Americas tour - 2007-2008Hi, Im Les Kay and my travelling partner is Cai, my 18yr old son. We live in a small village in North Wales, UK. Cai has just finished his pre-university exams and is spending his gap year on a fairly epic bike trip covering a great deal of the American continent. Me, well Ive spent the last stage of my life self employed, doing a variety of jobs; from posing nude for artists, to delivering bouquets of flowers.
There's only one way to depart for a big trip, thats to get all your friends together and PAAARTYY!!!
Well, it could be said a good time was had by all! I certainly hope so, it went on for long enough and there was so much consumed. Mrs Doubtfire made a very good impression and I'm glad to say I retain my reputation for coming up with a damned good costume.
We arrive very late in Los Angeles, at least the cities roads are almost deserted and navigating out to the Pacific Coast Road in made so much easier.Wow, what a journey! Delays at every possible opportunity. First at Manchester for three hours, then four hours at Chicago. We got into Los Angeles at 3.30 am Thursday, instead of 5.15 pm Wednesday. That was a trip lasting nigh on thirty hours, thanks to British Midland! Immigration wasn't as bad as expected, neither were customs.
Devastation hits where the purest joy had been present only seconds before.
Oh, how I'd love to tell you about the wonderful purchase of our bikes. What a joy it was to finally decide and buy two brand new Kawasaki KLR650's. We viewed the bikes last Saturday (30th June2007) and were so impressed by them we went for it, even though they were $1000 more each than I'd budgeted for.
After a week of solid hassle I get the confirmation that Cai's body will be flying out of LA 7.00am Tuesday 10th July. I can at last return home myself and be re-united with friends and family.
Home is no longer where the heart is. Things are hard back in North Wales but so nice to be able to see other friends. I miss California though, and the new found friends who helped so much when the shit hit the fan.
So many visitors and so much help. Its all been appreciated but my head is reeling.And how do we feel today after a visit to Madame Toussourdes? Remarkably unfazed! Im glad Ive been to see Cais body, but it bears little resemblance to my son and offers no extra in the way of closure. The biggest wish for most people who say the body is why they couldnt see his hair; his trademark! Personally I wondered why any sane person would dress an 18 yr old mans body in a white satin cover, with a friggin bow at the neck. Poor lad, he had so much more style when he was alive.
And so for the funeral of my dearest friend, my son, what I thought was my whole life.My head is scrambled and my emotions are in tatters! The numbers present at the crematorium were staggering, and so many people attended the wake. It was heart rending to meet friends of Cais whod only just found out. What a nightmare, get back off holiday to meet news like that. So many I didnt get a chance to talk to and so many I could find no words for. Thank you, to all of you; for the tears, the hugs, your looks of sorrow or devastation.
With the funeral, wake and even the scattering of the ashes over there seems little to occupy my mind before gonig back to the states to carry on with the trip.Its strange to say things in an open and honest way, the wrong people have this bad habit of thinking its making a point about them. I could so easily swear with frustration. For anyone who has doubts about their actions in connection with Cai's death: DON'T BE BLOODY STUPID!!! We all need to deal with death in our own way. Giving support to those left alive is just as important as grieving for Cai personally.
Very slow achieving anything here, looking forward to getting back to the states. Numb and empty sounds such an awful way to feel, but its not! They're much better than devastated, guilt ridden or angry, but so far from happy, joyous or even content. So I guess being somewhere in the middle can't be too bad, however precarious that balance is. Trouble is how easy it can be for the crap feelings to flood back again, yesterday it was seeing the latest report in the papers, today a tear rolling down a friend's face. I expect this will continue for some time!
A last night, sleepless in the Uk and then a flight back to LA. Depite trepidation over the last couple of days I'm back in the States. Yes, it is nice to be back; but it doesn't make me feel like I'm where I should be. But there again. where the hell should I be? Anywhere that feels OK for me at the moment!! And that is where the problem lies; I don't feel right, that I belong anywhere right now! If I ever felt lost and adrift its now. Having freinds at home was great. But they couldn't make up for the loss of Cai, however good the support they offered.
Journeying starts, but the emotional strain seems to take its toll; for better or worse?So, at long last I've restarted this god foresaken journey. It was nice to be on the road, despite it only being a four hour journey to Plaskett Creek. I had a nice bit of windy road from Ojai for about an hour and then a couple of hours thrash up the freeway. Once off the freeway the ride was a wee bit manic, the sun was low and blinded me every time I got halfway round each bend. I so wanted to wind up the throttle and crank it round the bends.
On the road at last, but feeling vulnerable. On the road, even if its only a very slow one; in milage covered rather than speed travelled. The Sespe Wilderness I passed through yesterday was awesome, about a 50 mile ride of continuous curves. It was all so scorched, not just by the sun either! It was so clear how vast an area had burnt down in recent years. Apparently one in every four forest fires is found to be started by fire fighters; I guess thats one way of ensuring job security!
Such great riding, starts to bring me into a more positive aspect of greaving. It still hurts like hell, but it feels better now.Seems strange, here I am writing away just the way I normally would in my own journal and then I get these people sending in comments that never fail to bring on the tears. Well keep it up people, its good for me. I could also do with a better sense of self worth, its been missing for too much of my life. And Cai can't personally help me with this anymore: but his memory can and does.
Waah! What a fantastic last couple of days, especially as its only a couple of days. It feels like a decade, so many phenomenal sights, sounds and smells. Riding into San Fran and over the Golden Gate Bridge was definitely an anti-climax. Freeway into SF, which was dull, not even shouting "wanker" at big rig drivers improved it.
Leaving California and riding up through Oregon saw a big change in much of the scenery. And then came Washington.And I thought the wilderness classed camp was basic! Last Thursday, day of last blog entry, I stayed in an environmental camp; which is a wilderness one without the facilities. I had to pack my stuff in for about a half km. So much for the reassurance of the bears from last night, its a bit different when completely alone in the pitch black. Every noise heard had me shining my rather puny wind-up head torch into the surrounding forest.
I'm so made up over being allowed close enough to stroke Bonkers. Now she's gone that far I feel I can actually put her picture on the blog. Unfortunately she's been so badly treated before Nick and Emmah got her it'll take a lot more than a few days to become a friend in any way. But hey, she didn't shy off between each tidbit I fed her just before I left.
Recommended if you like water life.Yesterday was a bit of a hack along the long main coastal highway, which I'd been so adament about avoiding as much as possible. The truth of the matter being I'm running out of time to get up north and start the ride through the Rockies. If I don't get a move on I'll be snowed in at some point and I can't be arsed to get in a place for days; unless its by choice. So I got away early from Port Alberni and only stopped for a late brunch. Luckily the route wasn't too boring there were still nice scenic views for much of the way.
Canada sure takes some beating, if only I hadn't been delayed for a month I wouldn't be freezing my gonads off.
Knowing my good friends from home, Creative Recycling, are on the look out for a new truck I thought I'd help them out.
At last I enter the Rockies, even if its short lived.
Route 1 from Watson Lake only took me to Contact creek, from there it was south on Highway 97; for two days. The map shows the Rockies starting around Watson, it was another hundred miles before they really came into view. They got me really excited, it was after all, what we originally planned to come here for.
Tedium doesn't begin to explain the ride from Fort Nelson to Fort St John on route 97. A straight road and very little to look at, I hardly even had to stay awake (Actually been finding it hard to do so, maybe its a slow diminishing of my energy levels; maybe have a couple of days rest soon). This river view was one of the only worthwhile things to look at.
From McBride it was Route 16 right on down to Jasper. A night's camp in cold conditions saw me fit for the next leg, expected to be one of the highlights! Highway 93, all the way through the glacial fields and on into the Montana.
From Canal Flats on Highway 95 I took a forest/logging trail to White Swan Lake, and camped the night. Following morning (Monday that is) I decided to follow the track for about 100 km, making it a total of 125 km; supposedly. I rode at an average of 40 mph for 90 minutes, a bit slower for another hour, and then a sign said another 100 km. As my trip meter got broke I didn't know how far it actual was. I can only say over 100 miles, and leave it at that! I came out at Galloway, and headed down to the US border.
Many thanks to kind hearted Aunts, eh? Not even my own aunt, that of Sioned, friend and late employee from home. Amazing how people can rise to the occasion and come up trumps. Iona didn't even know to expect me, yet when I called she steered straight through my own awkwardness and invited me to stay.
Wow, what a few days I've had. As I left the library from writing the last blog is was pouring with rain, and I mean pouring. Not one to shy away from a bit of water I just donned the waterproofs and got on with the ride.
I don't think I can take anymore about the weather at home, it ain't got a patch on what I'm facing here now. In the last few days I've had snow laying around me, slept at 9,500ft in heaving rain, rode for hours in thunderstorms and smiled for most the way.
The weather has failed to detract from the amazingly beautiful scenery I've been constantly passing through. Not one place can be given precedence over any others, they're all magnificent. Each mile, each hour, each day, each state has been unique and I feel so privileged to have been able to do this.
I finally left route 191 at Vernal, it had taken me a lot further away from the Continental divide than a wanted to be, so zig-zaging it has to be. And wasn't it just worth it, I've now crossed it numerous times and experienced a continuous variation in the scenery and roads. The roads and directions I've taken make no sense, mainly because I choose each day as it comes.
Its good when things just happen, you go with the flow and are well rewarded. I got away from the motel as late as I could, and buggered around in the library for a couple of hours too. But it was worth it, being unsure of which scenic route to take south, a chance meeting with another biker decided for me.
A nice and early start, tainted only by the onset of a hangover. It didn't really start until after visiting the cliff dwellings, grogginess was the only initial set back. Strong coffee and magnificent views were enough to delay the pounding headache, which persisted for the whole afternoon's riding.
From my dismal experience of Tuba City it was a pleasure to get away, heading further west on the 160 for another ten miles. 
Route 89 provided a link to route 64, which followed the Grand Canyon east along the southern rim, then on down to Williams. And there the real manic, non-stop slog started!
After being in Ojai for two weeks I've come to a stand still, no blog, no writing in my journal and no riding the bike, except down the shops. In this time I admit, I've done little to write about. There hasn't been any exciting roads to thrash along, no awesome scenery to slow me down, my grief has taken a back seat and I've relaxed into obscurity. Actually, not quite!
Sunday morning found me hung-over from the fall party at Alasdair and Laurens. Not too bad though, I took painkillers before suffering too much. The main feeling was not being very with it to play croquet; I buggered up every shot I took just about. My game did improve a bit towards the end, after having a couple of beers.
Before leaving Ensanada I had to find where to pay my tourist tax for Mexico, it could be more hassle than it's worth to be stopped and not have it. It would certainly involve a fine, and I don't know if I'd have to return to Ensanada to get one then. Better get it sorted, then I've no cause for concern.
Phew! I almost expected a torrent of comments after my last blog entry, I'm glad there wasn't. It was so good to be reminded how hard I found it when I first set out from Ojai. There were days of enormous insecurity, miles of tear laden road, and an overwhelming desire to turn back and be with loved ones.
The morning after my last blog I awoke to the sight of four vultures, perched above me, watching me. Im sure it was with no innocent intent, without succumbing to paranoia it could only be dealt with in the best of humour. Id love to say it filled me with foreboding, but they were powerless to deliver anything worse than whats already happened.
I personally never found the deserts I encountered boring, they have seemed varied and interesting. For sure they've induced torpor and sleep, only due to the extreme heat while travelling through them. Even on a motorcycle this can be a potential problem, keeping hydrated is vital. Also concentration can waver easily, mind you mine can at any time.
What better way to finish a nice chilled out time on the beach than to get completely plastered on the last day! Tequila and lashings of beer does the job nicely, a 300 mile ride tends to work it out the system too. I must be mad, whatever possessed me to get so faceless the day before leaving.
What a plonker I am! One of the most basic things to teach new riders is the necessity of making "life saver" observations every time you adjust your position on the road. Shame I didn't do that today, If I had I wouldn't be hobbling around with a bent and buckled bike to fix. I got hit in the side as I went to overtake this morning, great hey?
Maybe, for those people who don't live their lives with excitement and risk, it sounds strange for me to be so carefree about having an accident, it could easily have seen my permanent downfall. Riding bikes for so many years has seen me have a number of accidents, maybe I'm a poor rider, maybe I take unnecessary risks.
Nearly a week has gone by since I saw the trauma specialist, so hows it gone? I obeyed his masters voice, actually rested for a full four days, took my medication as prescribed; oh, I forgot the hot and cold compresses, and went for a short walk each day. But that couldnt be helped as stated before, I had to eat!
With my knee seizing up it was imperative to exercise it, to keep mobility. And exercise it I did. At least once an hour, despite it's reluctance to cooperate, I put it through it's paces; bending it backwards and forwards. Pain is relative, more pain, more gain; actually not necessarily! Fate sent a German paramedic to the hotel, he expressed his concern over my knee, bastard!
Nothing is permanent, not life, not incarceration, and not my injury! I do feel as though Ive been shut up here, against my will, forced to relax and take life slow. Maybe I needed to, I sure as hell didnt want to, but bide my time I did; with grace and patience.
Back on the road at last, it was a fifteen hour ferry journey but the time passed fast enough, it´s amazing how a belly of beer can help you settle down and sleep on such a boring journey. There was doubt about getting a ticket, I didn´t worry; very few ships are too short on room to fit in a motorcycle. I only had to wait for six hours at the ferry port, a good lesson in patience!
Excuse the length of time with no entry on this blog. I have been continuing with my travel, please see:
http://lesandcai-americas.blogspot.com