Three years ago I bumped into Jim in Mexico, and then later crashed into him twice in the same day, somehow we have still remained friends. This time my bike was much better behaved and kept her panniers a decent distance from Jim's.

Jim found us outside a bike shop in Eureka, California, as we were about to hunt out a marine upholsterer to get my non working jacket zip replaced. He had ridden over 600 miles from south of Los Angeles and slept in a rest stop overnight, just to ride a portion of the Californian and Oregon coast road with us.

The idea was to ride some roads called the 'Lost Coast' and wild camp. But as we bounced around the rough and gravelly back roads we came across a number of road blocks, there was a man hunt on for a triple murderer in the area. We still camped, but went for an official site. Safety in numbers.

Over the next 3 days we bimbled slowly north, enjoying the roads and camping out, riding the 'Avenue of the Giants' and being tourists.

In between I needed to buy a new rear tyre, our detours had killed it. We have a set each waiting in Vladivostok, an added expense I could do without. But the cheapest was sourced and fitted.

At a Starbucks Internet stop we were had just settled in, laptops up and running, when a white haired woman of senior years came over to us and congratulated us 'three old men' being able to use all the new technology.

After all the hard work of riding the clear, sweeping roads, flanked by giant trees to the right and the craggy Oregon coast line to the left, roughing it next to babbling creeks and cutting logs for the fire, it was time to get back on route.

Finally we parted company with Jim at Portland, he turned south, we continued north crossing into Washington state and trashing the first motel room we came across.

The Oregon coast is green for a reason. Stuff needs drying out before we crate the bikes and have them flown to South Korea.