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 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.
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.
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.