Against recommendations I set forth to the frypan of Death Valley, hoping to experience the hottest of what nature could throw at me. As luck would have it however, my desire to experience two wheeled evaporation was thwarted by a coolish day of 104° F (40° Celcius)It was certainly warmish, but I’d already had 108°F (42°C) in Phoenix, and had the technique down of dousing my shirt and helmet liner with water - worked like a charm. Whenever someone saw me in my leathers pants however, I just got these looks like they thought I was crazy, but I preferred that to leaving bits of myself on the asphalt anyday.

Dantes View, Grand Canyon

After a night in Bishop I headed for Yosemite National Park, man was that ever scenic riding at it’s best. The lowered speed limit suited me fine as I gawped my way along through the park, even saw a black bear on it’s way across the road to wreak havoc on a bunch of unsuspecting campers. In the middle of Yosemite I caught up with, (or rather they caught me), two German girls heading south towards Mexico, Susi & Claudi. www.girlsontour.de . Riding an F650 and a Transalp, these two seemed to having themselves a great time.

Me, Susi and Claudi

From Yosemite I headed straight for San Francisco, and having lost an accomodation offer thanks to a certain Finnish newly wed, I headed for the famous Green Tortoise hostel in the heart of the city. The Green Tortoise is a huge established hostel which sleeps countless bodies from all over, and it wasn’t long before the party started in earnest in the main common room.

'The Group' at the Green Tortoise, click here for a larger view

The group you see above was having a fine old time until a round of joke telling got a tad out of hand. I had the misfortune to misjudge the sense of humour of a British girl named Beth (middle bottom row), who took exception to receiving the whale joke punchline. Her laughter turned into tears, and the tears into two healthy slaps which left which my face stinging. Eventually she had to be held off while I exited stage left, and apparently she was searching for me the rest of night to exact some unknown revenge…

While in SF I was lucky enough to get a seat watching the San Francisco Giants play the Pittsburgh Pirates at the Packard Bell Stadium. I had just missed Barry Bonds hitting his 600th home run in the previous nights game, and he was prevented from another by getting walked by the Pirates pitcher - poor sport I reckon.

One of the SF Giants hitting out at Packard Bell Stadium, click here for a larger view

One of those classic SF street perspectives

Leaving San Francisco I encountered a gaggle of TV crews on the exit of the Golden Gate Bridge, all doing there thing with the fog shrouded bridge in the background. After establishing they weren’t there for me, I discovered there had been a possible terrorist threat on the bridge the previous day.

One of the reporting crews next to the Golden Gate Bridge

After all the hot riding of Death Valley it was an absolute pleasure to ride up highway one on the west coast, until that is , I had to put all my thermals on to prevent freezing. My wallet also started to freeze up when I had to pay up to 25 USD just for the pleasure of pitching a tent !

On a cold morning in Fort Bragg the bike made a nasty back fire which seemed like a haemorage, and a small cloud of steam or something puffed out from the motor. It started on the next attempt, but a few kilometres down the road I saw the bikers nightmare in the oil sight glass, a mayonaise colour which could only mean there was water in my oil….

As luck would have it, I’d registered a motorcycle workshop only a 5km’s back down the road, and I head gingerly back to assess the situation. Steve Colombi, the owner of the workshop, took one look and pronounced water in the oil, so it was into the shop. I’d been carrying a spare water pump all the way from Buenos Aires just for the occasion, so we promptly got to work. Upon draining the oil it didn’t seem like there was much water there at all, but we went ahead anyway. In hindsight I reckon the backfire blew some coolant past the seals towards the seal, but I figured replacing the water pump and seals was good preventative maintenance. The impeller shaft did show some scoring from the seals which confirmed the need for the change.

The offending water pump, click here for a larger view

Spending the morning with Steve was enlightening in itself. During our conversations he revealed that his son was recently killed when the bike he was riding got collected by a drunk driver on the wrong side of the road. Apparently the lady served some incredibly short term and is back on he road again. When I left Steve, he asked if I needed some reading for the trip which I gladly accepted, a copy of the new testament thrust into my hands.

The balanced individual he was though, as a trip to his loo uncovered some more anti Bin Laden sentiment….

Toilet humour, Osama in his rightful place

I continued up the coast until I got fed up with the cold, then cut inland in search of warmer temperatures along highway 199. Hot is exactly what I got, confronted with Oregon’s huge biscuit forest fire in the Siskiyou National Forest. The day I rode through was the 14th of August, and the fire wasn’t contained until the 5th of September. In total the fire consumed 499,570 Acres of forest.

A closed cafe at Elk Creek, dwarfed by the smoke from the Biscuit fire

At it’s peak there were 171 firecrews, 40 helicopters, 200 engines, 120 dozers and 114 water tenders involved. The heat nearby was intense, with my El Cheapo temperature gauge showing just over 120.F (48°C)!. Needless to say the bike seat got hot that day.

The hottest day of the tour by a long shot, click here for a closer look

Via Grant ( the Horizonsunlimited master ) I learned of a BMW rally in Nakusp, British Colombia, so I turned right entering Portland and shot for the Cascade border with Canada…