DTR flick book

DON’T THINK RIDE
A short bike trip across America
NATHAN & SARAH MILLWARD

ISBN 978-0-9572297-3-0
© Copyright 2015 Nathan Millward, All rights reserved.
See www.nathanmillward.com for more information on my travels
Published by Dot Publishing

Make it count.

INTRODUCTION
America remains as one of the great places to ride a motorcycle.
For some it might not be seen as particularly adventurous or
far enough off the beaten the track, but for those who want to
enjoy their miles, see some incredible scenery and get lost on a
relatively manageable adventure then it still has a lot to offer.
What appeals to me is the scale of the country, and that within
that vast area of land there is so much difference and contrast.
The scenery changes from state to state and even from valley to
valley. So do the people, their culture and their food. It might be
one large nation but it feels much like lots of different countries,
all interlocking and without borders, meaning you can ride as far
and as wide as you like.
This wouldn’t be my first time across the country on two
wheels. Back in 2012 I had ridden a 105cc Australian Post bike (a
Honda CT110) from New York to San Francisco, then up through
Canada to Alaska. It was a trip that followed on from my original
adventure on that bike from Sydney to London.
In total I rode for over 35,000 miles, and whilst a cruising
speed of 40mph wasn’t always ideal, it did allow me to see the
world and get a taste for a life of two wheeled adventure. Above
all else, it showed me that it doesn’t matter what bike you ride,
what kit you ride in, or even where you ride, just that you get out
there and ride.
Time moves on though, and the appeal of the big solo
adventure just wasn’t there anymore. Certainly, there are many
enjoyable miles, but there are also very many miserable and
lonely ones as well. And being on the road for months or years
on end can take their toll. It isn’t sustainable; you can’t live a life
like that forever. And so for me it was a case of finding a new way
to travel that was more manageable, but also no less rewarding.
This is how I came to be planning another trip across America,
this time on a slightly bigger bike and this time with someone on
the back. I’d never done a two-up trip before, and my pillion had
never been on a bike until we met 9 months ago on Plenty of Fish.
Our plan was to fly the bike into Las Vegas, travel around for
just over a month, before finally returning the bike to England
via a boat out of New York. For us it was a manageable length of
time, and both of us were very much looking forward to it.

The bike we would be riding is a 2014 BMW R1200 GS. It
stands as the polar opposite of the postie bike I rode across the
world, but for me it was a bike I always enjoyed riding. After my
big trip I got involved with the motorcycle magazine industry,
and through that got to ride pretty much all of the big ‘adventure’
bikes. The GS was always my favourite, and despite it having a bit
of a pipe and slippers image - and it being bashed by some for
being too big, heavy and complicated for ‘proper’ adventures - as
a bike for a trip like America it was ideal.
The bike I bought was an ex training school bike from the
official off-road training school over in Wales. It was one year old,
had done 3,500 miles but obviously had had a hard life, being
used and abused by every novice rider learning to ride off-road on
the two day skills course. They seem to take the abuse pretty well
though, and you still get a manufacturer’s warranty with them.
When the bike came up for sale I couldn’t afford it outright
and never for a minute thought I’d get finance on it. It was up for
sale at Bahnstormers BMW in Maidenhead for £8500, so a good
few thousand pounds less than a bike that hadn’t been used as an
off road schools bike. When Steph, my friend who worked at the
dealer, rang and said I’d been approved for finance I didn’t have
the resolve or will power to say actually I’d better not. Instead I
just had to figure out how I was going to afford the £247 a month
the repayments were going to cost me. I was excited though. I had
a new bike. And I think regardless of which brand or model you
go for, you should just buy the one that excites you the most.
Admittedly, I crashed the GS off-road a few times and wept at
the extra damage I put on it, not to mention the cost of broken
parts I had to replace. I quickly discovered that riding a big
expensive bike off-road can be a big expensive hobby, but it was
nice to know that I had the bike sat in the garage.
After six months however I started to question the amount I
was paying on it and the use I was getting out of it. It was a lot of
money to be paying every month for what you might call a luxury
item. I began to struggle to justify it.
It came down to a decision to either sell it or do something
with it; by do something with it I meant, take it on an adventure.
With rent to pay, a partner to be there for and a desire for
adventure but no thirst for one as long as the last, I came around to
thinking about America, and how it would be the perfect bike for
exploring the country on. When I mentioned this to my potential
pillion passenger it was met with interest and excitement.
Both of us have jobs that allow us plenty of time off, at the
expense of earning any money during that time off, meaning time
wouldn’t be a problem, and the money we could just about scrape
together. The biggest hurdle with ideas such as these is taking the
idea and making it actually happen. Good intentions can soon
get swept away by the wave of doubt that always comes sweeping

along after the making of any great plan.
As a result, it took at least a few weeks of umming and ahing
before we sat down and booked some flights. For me that’s
always the best place to start; book something in, whether it’s
flights or accommodation... just something. By doing this you
are committing to it, and I find that once you’ve got something
booked in then all those decisions you’ve been agonising over
involving the trip suddenly seem so simple, and you spring into
action, and things get done and no matter how much time you
have you always seem to have enough time, just because you need
to make it happen.
It was a no brainer in taking my own bike for the nigh on
five week trip. By taking your own bike you’re committing to the
adventure and taking something of a risk, especially with a bike
that was still being paid off on finance for the next few years. The
fear is of damaging it, having it stolen or devaluing it significantly.
On the other hand, it’s good because you know the bike; you
know its history and how it rides. You can pack and prepare it
how you like and it adds to the sense of excitement, being on a
foreign plated bike in a land so far from home.
Despite my previous travels I was nervous and a bit scared.
The fear was of being responsible for a pillion passenger, as when
you’re on your own it’s just you you have to look out for. Now I
would have someone who meant a lot to me on the back, and so I
had to ensure their safety, and enjoyment, as well.
To get the bike ready I’d already fitted a full set of AltRider
crash bars that had previously saved the bike from damage on
numerous occasions. Also some Metal Mule panniers and back
rack, an Oxford tank bag and a new set of Continental TKC70
tyres, which I hoped would last the length of the trip.
The plan was to fly into Las Vegas, along with the bike, with
the return flight booked out of New York nearly five weeks later.
This would give the trip a start and an end point. What would
happen between these two points, at this stage we had no idea. We
were just going to get on the plane and go.

8

SHIPPING A BIKE TO AMERICA
Sending your own bike to the States isn’t as
difficult as you might think, and for anything
over three weeks it can actually work out
cheaper than renting. We used a shipping
agency by the name of James Cargo, who I’d
used before on the postie bike trip.
The process is relatively straight forward,
dropping off your loaded bike - ideally with less
than a quarter-tank of fuel - at the company’s
depot near Heathrow. They then strap it to a
pallet, build a wooden frame around it and
the next time you see it is at the airport in
America. They generally need the bike a week
before you intend to fly, with you even able to
travel on the same plane if you like.
In terms of costs, for my bike it would be
£1125 to fly it into Las Vegas and £795 to bring
it back out of New York by boat. On top of that,
you need to insure the bike against third party
liability (it also covers theft and damage). For
this we used Motorcycle Express, who provide
a policy and breakdown cover for just under
£400 for two months. The only other fee is a $50
payment at the cargo depot. The only paperwork
you need is a free letter of exemption from the
Environmental Protection Agency.
By comparison, to rent a 1200 GS in
America for the same amount of time would
have cost around £4500.
9

AT THE AIRPORT
Probably the hardest task of taking a bike
overseas is the bureaucracy that meets you
at the other end. Compared to places like
East Timor or Nepal, collecting a bike out of
American customs is fairly easy and obviously
helped by having a shared language.
The main thing to remember is just to
be patient, get there early, expect it to take a
couple of hours and under no circumstances
loose your temper as this will only make
things worse.
In the case of collecting the bike at the
airport in Las Vegas, the process is to start
by finding the cargo depot, then locating
the airline the bike was sent through (in this
case Virgin Atlantic). Once located, you hand
them your paperwork. They’ll give you more
paperwork to take to customs, which in Las
Vegas was back in the main terminal building.
Sometimes you might have to explain what
you’re trying to do - temporarily import
your bike - which is allowed for up to a year.
Customs will then stamp your form, you take
that back to the cargo terminal who not long
after wheel out the crate with your bike in it.
Crack open the box, dispose of the wood
(in this case the staff were a great help), and
with fuel in the tank you just fire up the bike
and ride away. Simple as that.
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MAKING A PLAN
Riding from the airport in a foreign land
on a bike that you brought from home is a
very surreal experience. You feel exposed,
vulnerable and conspicuous. But once the
nerves settle it’s just a case of making a plan
and getting on with it. We flew into Vegas
rather than anywhere else because I knew that
from the airport a few miles of riding and you’d
be out in the desert. It’s an easy place to start
from, especially carrying a first time pillion.
Making a plan is crucial, no matter how
loose it is. Some people like to know exactly
where they’re going and where they’re going
to stay, others are happy to wing it and make
it up as they go along. Never fight what feels
right. If you want book something then do it.
If you want to hang loose and see where the
road takes you, then do that as well. There is
never one best way on an adventure.
For this trip we had no plan other than that
during the course of it we would need to ride
from Las Vegas to New York, a distance if you
rode directly there of 2500 miles. We had an
idea of some of the places we wanted to see
along the way, and for us, most of those places
were around Utah and Nevada, where there is
so much to see in such a relatively small area.
The first decision we made was to briefly
venture west, back towards Death Valley.

DEATH VALLEY
Death Valley is a National Park some
two hours drive west from Las Vegas and is
officially the hottest place on earth, reaching
a record 134 °F (56.7 °C) on July 10, 1913. I’d
passed through it on the postie bike trip and
had been amazed by the serenity of it, not to
mention the heat, which is so dry and arid.
This being September we’d hoped for
cooler temperatures, instead being met by an
unusually hot day for this time of year, peaking
at a high of 121 °F (49.4 °C). As a baptism of
fire for my pillion passenger it was certainly as
hot as it was going to get, with riding in this
heat uncomfortable due to the lack of air flow.
The scenery goes some way to making up for
it, with the road from the village of Shoshone
first taking a long descent down into Death
Valley, then turning to run right along the
crease of where the walls of the valley meet the
floor. The floor of the canyon is in large part salt
flats, so to the eye looks flat and white, whilst
the rock faces rising up from it on either side
are a multitude of colours, often fierce reds and
charcoal greys. It resembles the embers of a fire
when you take them from the hearth.
We camped that night on a free campsite
looking back down into the valley. It was just
as hot at night as it was in the day. There was
sufferance in this, but also great beauty.
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WHAT TO PACK
Knowing what to pack on any adventure
is difficult, mainly because you’re going to be
passing through a lot of different landscapes
and climates, and obviously being on a
bike you’ve only got so much storage space,
especially when there are two of you. You also
want gear you can get off the bike and walk
around in. It’s a difficult compromise.
For this reason we struggled to know what
to take and in the end I don’t think we got
it completely right. The main thing for me
was in making sure my pillion was wearing
protective clothing, despite some protest from
the rear. It didn’t help that many other bikers
just wore t-shirts and in many cases, not even
a crash helmet (travel insurance is void if you
don’t wear one). For us it was a pair of full
face helmets, for me a pair of Kevlar jeans, an
old textile riding jacket and - a bad choice -
chunky waterproof riding boots.
My pillion was in textile trousers and a
textile jacket, with gloves and some funky
Converse high top style boots from Rev’it.
Often on this trip we would be too hot,
which is why lighter, mesh jackets might
have been handy, but then as we went east we
needed clothing with a little more warmth.
Try as you might, you’ll never get it right, just
varying degrees of getting it wrong.
19

NAVIGATING
The previous page of images was from the
day we departed Death Valley. We stopped
at a fantastic diner for breakfast in the small
town of Beatty, met a great chap named Ed
on his own motorbike adventure, and passed
through Area 51 to the north of Las Vegas.
Navigating on a trip like this isn’t as
worrying as you think might. Certainly, in
this part of America there really aren’t that
many roads or various ways you can go places.
That’s why it’s such a popular place for tourists
to explore. ‘Take this road to Grand Canyon.
That road to Zion. That road to Monument
Valley.’ We didn’t take a sat-nav with us, just
sometimes used Google Maps on our phones
if/when we had wifi. The rest of the time a
simple map was sufficient. For me a map is
also a good way of getting a feel for where
you are and where places are in relation to
others. A sat-nav can sometimes restrict your
interaction with a place - not having to stop
and ask someone for directions for example.
Where they do come in handy is in the cities
of America, or the more populated areas in the
east. As with all things it’s a compromise.
This road to the right is the one that runs
East from North Las Vegas out to Lake Mead.
One moment you’re in grim inner city, the
next you’re in a wonderful desolate landscape.
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CAMPING
Camping is not everyone’s cup of tea but
sometimes it can be the only way to really
experience and appreciate a place, and in
our case, it was the only way we could have
afforded to have done this trip.
A motel room starts at around $45, which
will often be a bit shabby and not in the best of
locations. Decent ones begin around $65. The
problem is they’re generally only in built up areas,
whereas campsites are more often than not in
prettier locations, such as this one on the shores
of Lake Mead. It cost $16 for the night, and like
most campsites, comes with a picnic bench and
fire pit. There are facilities - toilets and water -
but being a National Park campsite there aren’t
any showers. Private sites usually have showers
but these are roughly twice the price.
In terms of camping gear, we took a three
man Vango tent, with a porch that we found
useful for putting the bike gear in. It was quite
a bulky tent, but at least gave us good space. In
the yellow bag on the back of the bike we also
had two sleeping bags, two inflatable roll mats,
and a pillow. For cooking we used a Primus
multi-fuel stove that came in a handy set with
a pan and frying pan. We ran the stove on gas
and just cooked simple things like pasta and
porridge oats. Not the finest cuisine, but a
good view certainly adds to the flavour.
25

THE PEOPLE YOU MEET
On any kind of road trip - but especially a
bike trip where you are so much more exposed
- you’re guaranteed to have the opportunity to
meet so many people, who, in any other walks
of life, you would never have the opportunity
to meet. It is meeting these people and hearing
their stories that for me is always the highlight
of an adventure. This couple we met (Bob
and Lowa) were sat on the table beside us in
a McDonald’s in North Las Vegas, and having
spotted the bike outside and the helmets beside
us started chatting about our trip.
It turned out that Bob and Lowa, who
were from Ohio but out in Nevada on holiday,
had shipped their own bike from America to
Europe in the late eighties and toured around
Germany, France and a few other places,
just before the Berlin Wall came down. They
thought that in these post 9/11 times you
wouldn’t be able to put your bike on a plane
anymore, which is why they were so surprised
to see our bike.
Despite being in his eighties, Bob told
us he still competes in a form of motorcycle
racing called flat tracking and still runs his own
motorcycle workshop that he founded back
in the eighties. Bob was looking to retire but
couldn’t find anyone to take it on, so looked like
having to close the doors on it. End of an era.
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BUDGETING
Budgeting for a trip like this is obviously a
necessary evil. As with all things you always
under-budget, but if you’re careful it is possible
to keep these trips on track.
In terms of this trip, we budgeted the money
for the bike shipping (£1900), plus money for
the flights (£500 each), money for the bike
insurance (£400) plus a daily allowance of
$100 a day. This daily allowance was to cover
food, fuel and accommodation.
With petrol prices in America half what
they are back home, and in only aiming to
do around 150 miles per day, it cost us just
one fill up per day at a cost of around $15.
Accommodation if we were camping was
between $12 and $30 and food we’d generally
pay for one proper sit-down feed at an average
of $30 for the both of us, and then another $10
- $20 on snacks throughout the day.
Staying in a motel obviously adds to the
cost, with our cheapest in Greenwood Alabama
at $45 and our most expensive in Durango a
rather hefty $120, but overall it still worked
out to around $100 a day. For five weeks this
equates to $3500 or £2200 at current exchange
rates. Add that to the cost of transportation
for us and the bike and the total for both of us
comes to around £5600. You could obviously
do it for a bit less, or a lot more.
31

OFF THE BEATEN
TRACK - CHLORIDE
Chloride is a community
just off the main highway
running from Las Vegas to
Kingman. It’s a community
with plenty of character, made
up mainly of retirees who
make art and live what you
might call a hippy existence.
We stopped to have a look
around having read about it in
the Lonely Planet guide book.
We met a man sanding
wood who was very odd,
looking at you sideways whilst
licking his lower lip. He told
us to be careful, almost like a
scene from a horror movie.
This is the charm of America,
best witnessed when you leave
the main highway.
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ROUTE 66
Route 66 is the iconic road running 2500
miles from Chicago to Los Angeles. In its
heyday of the 1930s it provided a means of
transit for those in the impoverished East
going in search of a better life in the West.
After that it became known as the Mother
Road and has enjoyed iconic status amongst
modern American mythology. Its image
forms part of an area also including the likes
of Elvis Presley, the moon landings and JFK.
It has a romantic notion surrounding it,
which is why, despite it no longer existing in
its entirety, is still hugely popular with visitors
from overseas, many of them from Europe.
The road was officially disbanded in 1985,
when the last section was bypassed through
Williams in Arizona. To follow the road means
a lot of the time on the interstate that paved over
it. In other parts you can divert off the interstate
to ride short stretches of it that remain and see
some of the iconic towns along the way. In a
sense it’s a sad road, a relic of the past that is
no longer needed and so survives largely for the
reason of not allowing itself to be forgotten.
We joined the road for the longest unbroken
stretch of it - some 89 miles from Kingman to
Seligman - enjoying the journey into the past,
and lamenting the presence of the interstate
that killed it, visible in the distance.
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ORGANISED TOURS
One of the most common ways of seeing
Route 66 is the guided motorcycle tour.
There are many companies doing it these
days, even Harley Davidson have their own
tour company, as that’s more often than not the
bike that most people and tours do the trip on.
Costs vary but expect to pay over £3000 per
person for a fully guided two-week trip along
the entire length of Route 66, from Chicago to
LA, including bike hire, insurance, hotels and
transfers. There are also tours of the National
Parks and the Appalachian mountains in the
East, but Route 66 remains the most popular
destination by a mile, probably due to the
satisfaction it gives in completing it.
The good thing about the organised tour is
that you just turn up and ride, which, when
you only have a two week holiday is exactly
what you want to do. No bike shipping or
bureaucracy, and no wasted time getting lost
or planning routes.
A guided tour can also be a really good
way of getting a nervous first time explorer
out on the road, and from there it’s a case of
gaining more confidence so that in the future
you can plan and implement your own trip.
As a stepping stone to the road they work, and
whilst not for me as I like my independence,
they certainly hold great appeal for some.
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FOOD
One of the best things about America is the
food. The portions are huge, generally tasty, and
depending on where you are in America there’s
a real difference to what you can expect, from
the Navajo Taco in and around the Monument
Valley area, to the Texan BBQ grill of the south
and then on to the soul-food and simple meat
and potato fare of the deep south.
Prices vary for the ‘ma and pa’ style diner,
but usually for $20-$30 you can get a good
feed for two people. The best value we had
was at a small diner in the town of Beattie, at
the exit of Death Valley, paying $16 for two
huge breakfasts of eggs, hash browns, bacon,
toast and coffee. Of course then you’ve got the
fast food restaurants where the only benefit is
convenience, cost and free wifi, which comes
in handy when you’re on the road.
Expect to pay 6-10% higher than the listed
price as none of the prices include tax, then
another 15% or so on top for a tip. People
complain about tipping in America but if you
learn to accept it you generally find you get
much better service as a result of this way of
life. Strange things can occur though; such
as chips being served with sugar on. Food in
America is generally sweeter, and saltier than
back home. Some people are fat in America,
but no more so than in England.
41

GRAND CANYON
No matter how many times you see the
Grand Canyon you can never help but be
shocked at just how vast it is. Not just how
deep, but how wide, and how intricate and
varied in colour and contours it is.
It isn’t straight either, instead winding
with the river that carved it (the Colorado),
meaning that wherever you stand and look
at it you’re always guaranteed an entirely
differently perspective. It somehow seems to
transforms itself, every time you take a step.
The Grand Canyon that most people see
on organised tours from Las Vegas is the west
rim, where the glass sky bridge is. Venture a few
more hours to the east and you get to the main
southern rim visitors area, with information
centre, campsites, shops and the start of several
walks down into it. There’s also a northern rim,
with you having to take a good few hundred
mile loop around to get there.
We’d arrived at the canyon from the south,
travelling up from Williams. The land is flat
all along there, at high altitude of around
6,600 feet. The land gradually becomes more
wooded. At the approach to the visitor’s centre
you turn right, then as the trees clear, to your
left the canyon seems to appear from nowhere.
Your immediate reaction is to pull over in the
layby and stare at it in disbelief.
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THE RHYTHM OF THE ROAD
It can sometimes be difficult to understand
how these adventures pan out in reality. You
are after all in a foreign country, very seldom
do you know anyone or have a base to return
to if things go wrong. You are in a sense alone
and homeless and a long way from home.
As a solo rider that can be hugely liberating,
as you have no one to answer to and can do
whatever you want to do; go wherever you
want to go. And you don’t need to trek all the
way to America to experience that sensation.
You could ride up to Scotland, Ireland, Europe,
even the Lake District, to get a small sense of
that. Obviously the further from home you are
the more intense the feeling of independence,
and also at times loneliness.
Doing a trip like this two up is different.
You’re no longer alone and have company
wherever you are. It helps if you’re a couple
or a group of friends that don’t argue and,
even as a group, can still maintain an outward
view of the world. Travelling as two or more
can be insular; you stop interacting with the
environment and people unless necessary.
For me, the beauty of doing this with
someone - rather than solo - is the opportunity
to share the experience. As romantic a notion
as the lone rider can be, places such as Grand
Canyon are much better when shared.
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THE ROAD TO SEDONA
When you don’t make much of a plan from
the beginning there’s every chance of being
caught out by something you didn’t expect.
For us, in the first week of the trip, was the
ride down from the popular town of Flagstaff
to Sedona, 24 miles to the south.
In that distance the road drops from a
height of 6,900 feet in Flagstaff to 4,300 feet
in Sedona. The difference that makes to the
terrain in that short distance is incredible,
changing from dense alpine forest to the
eventual outcome at the bottom of dry dusty
rocks and rolling red canyons.
Sedona is a town that sits in the bottom
and is incredibly popular with tourists. It felt a
little artificial in that sense, often the problem
with places that attract many people.
Rather than camp for another night we
checked into a motel that evening, this one
owned by an Indian family, something we later
learnt is true of 90% of all motels in America
these days. We blew the budget at $90 but
needed the time away from the tent.
That evening we drove down to see the
red stones. It was sunset and the temperature
since leaving Death Valley was a more bearable
average of 90 °F. It seemed like a perfect place
to propose to my pillion, though with this not
planned, no ring was available. She said yes.
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LAKE POWELL
Having bought an engagement ring from a
Navajo Indian jewellery seller by the name of
Simon, set up as he was in a layby overlooking the
magnificent Vermilion Cliffs National Monument,
it was a case of carrying on north, riding Highway
89 up from Sedona, back past the Grand Canyon
and onto the shores of Lake Powell.
The first time you see Lake Powell you’ll be
hard pushed to believe it’s real. For hundreds
of miles around there isn’t much but rock and
desert, then all of a sudden there’s this vast vivid
blue lake, right there in front of you.
It was formed in 1963 by the flooding of
Glen Canyon by the Glen Canyon Dam. It is
fed by the Colorado River, with Lake Powell in
turn feeding Lake Mead, near Las Vegas.
The water levels have dropped quite
drastically in recent years, due in part to the
lack of snow melt in the Colorado mountains,
and also because of the increased demand
in California, and also Las Vegas, which
continues to expand at a greater rate than any
other American city.
We camped on the shores of Lake Powell,
watching the powerboats zoom up and down.
You can stay on houseboats and hire jet-skis.
The power station you see in the distance is
the Navajo Generating Station; it and the lake
itself, both man made.
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TALES FROM THE PASSENGER SEAT
‘Being pretty naive about bikes, having
never been on one until we met, I brushed off
the itinerary of doing a couple of hundred miles
a day as if it were nothing. We had previously
covered a lot of ground in a campervan in
Australia, and were able to cover about 500
miles in a day if we needed. I thought this trip
would be equally as effortless. I couldn’t have
been more wrong.
The heat of many destinations, including
Death Valley, was intense. There’s no respite
on a bike. You are exposed to everything, and
with that comes a different perception of your
surroundings. I fatigued quickly, and we could
only ride about an hour before I needed a
break. You can’t be passive on a bike, and for
that I was glad. It’s very easy to sit in a car with
air conditioning, the radio on, and zone out
whilst you drive through some of the most
amazing scenery in the world.
On a bike, your senses are heightened and
you see things in a slightly different light. I
didn’t anticipate this, and maybe I was more
sensitive to it being a non-biker. Whatever the
reason, I loved seeing a country I thought I
knew, with a brand new (albeit a little weary)
pair of eyes.
If I was to do it again I would pack less
things and invest in better camping gear.’
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ZION NATIONAL PARK
Having taken the beautiful 89A that runs
from Bitter Springs, through Marble Canyon,
and on to the pleasant Utah town of Kanab
(see the last few pages of images), we arrived
at Zion National Park, surely one of the finest
natural wonders of the world.
If you approach from the west then Zion
appears like a fortress of rocks, impenetrable,
except for the road that sneaks in to reveal a
Garden of Eden landscape of rivers, fauna and
dramatic rock installations and patterns. There’s
a town at the heart of it - Springdale - which can
also be reached from the east - the direction we
approached from - the road winding through
shallow red sandstone canyons, then through
a long black tunnel until you emerge to a view
not dissimilar to the one opposite; a photo we
took during our hike up to Angels Landing.
It was on this walk that we met an English
geologist by the name of Katherine, who
explained how relative to the rock that England
sits on, the rock here is much younger and still
in a process of transformation by the elements.
That’s why you get all these crazy formations
and colours. For a geologist, Zion was a special
place to come and research, so much so that it
made us want to learn how to be one.
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THE WEDDING
Having got engaged a week into the trip it
was soon being discussed that a good option
might be to ride back to Las Vegas and get
married there. Neither of us had ever wanted
a big fancy wedding, and the thought of
organising one back in England just didn’t
appeal, not with our family and friends spread
all over the country as they are.
It also felt like there was no time like the
present and no point in delaying the reason
for getting engaged. And it was exciting, to
think that we could get married in Vegas. It
just seemed like the right and best thing to do,
and as we were only in Zion National Park it
would only be 160 miles back to the city.
We didn’t tell anyone of this plan, only
my pillion’s parents, who had called with
suspicion that we might do something like
this. My parents knew not to worry anymore.
They’d grown used to me springing surprises
on them. Pathetically on my part, they would
find out about the wedding on Facebook.
In preparation for the wedding we had to
find a dress as none of this was planned and
in coming to America this was never our
intention. I had thankfully brought a shirt
and felt that my riding jeans and boot were a
relatively smart ensemble. I love to do things
when you have not a shred of doubt.
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ELVIS PRESLEY
It’s a very straight forward and easy process
getting married in Las Vegas. The first thing
you need is a marriage licence that can be
obtained from the Marriage Bureau building
on Clark Ave, near Downtown Las Vegas. It
costs $74 and all you need are your passports.
With this in hand the next step is choosing
your chapel and service. There are lots of
options and price points. You can even get
married in a drive-through service, not even
having to get out of your car. Most of the
chapels are on the Las Vegas Boulevard, just
down from the Stratosphere casino. Most of
the casinos do wedding packages as well.
We chose the Graceland Chapel, the place
that Jon Bon Jovi was married. Being in Vegas
we thought we might as well get the Elvis
Presley package, and so for $200, plus $20 tip
for the photographer and $60 for the minister,
you get a fifteen minute slot, by the end of
which you’re legally and officially married.
The service was brief but sweet. Elvis sang
‘Can’t Help Falling in Love’ at the beginning
as he walked my pillion down the isle, then at
the end, ‘Viva Las Vegas.’ The photographer
acted as our witness. To celebrate we went
to Denny’s for lunch and got a wedding ring
from the shop that features in Pawn Stars. A
new adventure began.

BRYCE CANYON
Having left Las Vegas we rode back up
through Zion and on to Bryce Canyon National
Park, just to the north east of Zion. The great
thing about the National Parks is that you can
buy an annual pass for $80. This gets you and
your passenger into all National Parks across
America, whereas individually they can be as
much as $30 per park. Camping on the parks is
always much cheaper than a private campsite,
and often have much better locations, even if
the facilities are often somewhat lacking.
Bryce is one of the most revered National
Parks, though after the likes of Zion and Grand
Canyon it certainly had a lot to live up to.
We were a little underwhelmed by it, mainly
because it just wasn’t on the same scale as the
other two, and the popularity of the park had
meant that some of the improvements they’d
made to ease and increase access had made it
feel a little like Centre Parcs.
Bryce is known for its crimson-colored
hoodoos, or spire-shaped rock formations,
which are completely unique to the park.
Crowds gather to photograph them. The best
time to experience it is at sunrise, where, in
our case, we found a quiet ridge not more than
a few minutes walk from the campsite. As the
sun crested over the horizon we had the birth
of a new day to ourselves.
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PACKING
Fitting so much kit on to one bike, for a
relatively long period of time does take some
trial and error, not to mention hard decisions
on what you actually need and don’t need.
The first thing to remember is that you’ll
always fill the space that you’ve got. So don’t
necessarily go for the biggest panniers or bags
because you’ll fill them with stuff you don’t
need. Our set up involved a 31-litre pannier
on the right (to take into account the exhaust)
and a 38-litre pannier on the left. In the right
pannier went the stove, pots, pans, torches,
and any food that was kept in a cool bag. A
3-litre water bladder was also kept in here.
In the left pannier went the laptop, all the
chargers for camera, GoPro, cam corder etc,
plus the air compressor that ran off the battery,
tools for the bike, a pair of trainers/walking
shoes each, a cosmetic bag and a pair of flip
flops each. AltRider ‘Synch’ bags strapped to
the top of each pannier carried our clothing,
allocating one each.
Spare oil was kept in the aluminium
container on the back of the left pannier,
whilst all the camping gear was carried in a
dry bag strapped to the rack on the back. In
the tank bag I carried my camera, phones,
wallet and other bits and bobs. The suspension
was jacked right up to cope with it.
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ROUTE 12
Route 12 is a scenic byway of exactly 122
miles. It starts near the town of Panguitch,
crossing part of Dixie National Forest
and Bryce Canyon National Park, then
continues through the small towns of Tropic,
Cannonville, and Henrieville, before finally
finishing at the town of Torrey.
What’s most fascinating about it is that in
this relatively short distance the nature of the
rocks and the scenery is constantly changing,
together in terms of colour, shapes and
contours. It was a road we’d been told about
and certainly one that lived up to expectations.
In one of the towns we stopped for lunch,
meeting two other bikers who we sat with.
They were Canadian, but living in the States
for a number of years. They explained the
difficulty they had in being granted green
cards. Both were very knowledgeable on the
state of the world. They explained current
financial predicaments, the reliance on finance
(this trip paid for on credit card), global debt,
issues of racial and social integration. One
carried a concealed gun on his belt, with his
belief that such a law leads to a safer nation.
I concluded that the psychology of gun
ownership in America is so different to back
home in England that it is somewhat unfair to
make judgements based on our own ways of life.
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DOCUMENTING A TRIP
There’s a great pressure these days to
document and tell people about the trip that
you’re on. Social media makes it easy and if
you’re not careful you can end up putting the
documentation of the trip before the trip itself.
It’s a fine line, and the problem can
sometimes stem from when you try to do too
much; take pictures, video and also write about
it or blog. Doing that can become a full time
job on the road. It can mean you hunt out wifi
spots rather than explore the places that you
visit. Gaining an audience becomes a vicious
circle as the more people start to watch, the
more content they expect to see.
Regardless of the size of your audience
there will always be people back home who
want to see where you’ve been and what you’ve
been up to.
Stick to one discipline would be my advice.
Focus on photography, or focus on video, but
don’t try to do both. Equipment you’re familiar
with helps. I always carry an entry level SLR and
lens. It means I can just about afford to loose
it if things went wrong. Have it to hand, and
make sure you never run out of memory space.
There’s nothing more frustrating than that.
This trip I also tried to use GoPro but I
just didn’t devote enough time to get any good
results. The adventure was more important.
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WHERE ELSE?
As much as we might dream of these
overseas adventures, we have to accept that
they’re not always possible. Sometimes, despite
best intentions, there isn’t the time or resources
to do exactly the trip you ideally want to do. It
is then about compromising and making the
most of your bike and your available time on a
more regular basis.
Many people for example dream of riding
around the world, with some getting so fixated
on it that they loose sight of what they could
do next month or even next weekend.
I know from experience that a ride up to
Scotland, and some wild camping whilst you’re
there, can be a great escape from the daily
grind. So too Wales or down into Cornwall.
Crossing the Channel into Europe also opens
up endless possibilities, even with just a week
to play with you can still see so much.
The thing I try to remember is that there is
never a perfect moment or opportunity to do
these things. There will always be compromises
to be made, as well as reasons not to go. Some
of these reasons are valid, and some of them
are just excuses. I don’t think we should be too
hard on ourselves if we don’t do the things we
dream of though. It probably just means there
are other things more important to attend to
and that’s not necessarily a bad thing.
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THE MOKI DUGWAY
Having ridden Route 12, camped in Torrey
and then headed east in the direction of
Hanksville, we decided that to get from here to
our next destination of Monument Valley that
we’d take the ferry across Lake Powell, from
Bullfrog to Halls Crossing. The ferry crossing
constitutes part of Highway 276, with ferries
operating only four times a day at this time of
year, less or more depending on the season.
Bullfrog is a small and somewhat surreal
place, serving as a launch point for boats on
to Lake Powell. Lower water levels have led to
less visitors and trade in recent years, so whilst
far from deserted, it did feel a shadow of what
you imagine it could have been.
With the 45-minute ferry journey
completed (images on previous page), you
continue along the 276 - this part of it very
quiet but with some magnificent scenery
- until it joins the 95 near Natural Bridges
National Monument. Not far from here is the
Moki Dugway, a twisting roller-coaster of a
road that has been chiselled into the side of
a rock face so steep it’s hard to imagine how,
from the bottom, they even thought it possible.
The ride down it is somewhat hair-raising,
due to the gravel surface of the road and
the often unguarded drops over the side. It’s
certainly a great piece of engineering.
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MONUMENT VALLEY
If you were looking for a place to define the
appeal of America and the point of undertaking
an American road trip there is no better location
than Utah’s Monument Valley.
Even surrounded by an endless horizon of
incredible scenery in its own right, the majesty of
these ‘Three Mittens’ of Monument Valley stand
out as something unique. There’s an aura about
the place, the land around here belonging to the
Navajo Nation, and with that all the mystique
and tradition that comes with that.
The Navajo Nation operates within
America almost as an autonomous nation.
It has it’s own hospitals, government, police
force and tax laws. It also spans a huge area,
fanning out across four States.
Monument Valley has certainly changed
a lot over the years. When I first visited back
in 2001 it was largely undeveloped, just a dirt
road running up to the lookout point from
where this photo was taken, a small gift shop
and a limited number of tours running along
the dirt road you see at the bottom. Today
the access road and carpark is all paved, the
visitor’s centre has expanded multiple times
and there’s now a hotel just to the right of
where this picture was taken.
Such changes soften the impact, but it’s still
a magical place, especially at sunset.
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FORREST GUMP ROAD
The 163 that runs from Bluff to Kayenta is
the road on which Forrest Gump stops running
in the movie of the same name. For this reason
- and for the fact it’s a very scenic road - it has
become something of an icon, with cars and busloads
of tourists stopping to take photographs.
Just beyond the ridge is Monument Valley.
A few miles behind the camera is the natural
curiosity of Mexican Hat - a rock that appears
like a sombrero balanced on top of another
needle of rock. Four Corners, where Colorado,
Utah, Arizona and New Mexico all converge
at one point, is also not far away, meaning that
if you have access to a vehicle in this part of
America you can see so much in just a short
amount of miles. A common option is to rent
a motor home, which can cost no more than
around $140 per day - about the same as a
Harley Davidson to rent. If you were to split that
between the four of you that it would sleep, stay
on campsites in National Parks that are no more
than $20 a night, and with cheap food and fuel
prices (the latter half that of the UK), you could
have a perfect two week adventure through this
part of America without spending a fortune.
We also met people travelling in rental cars,
paying $25 a day for the car and so their budget
was no more than $100 a day either. Travelling
America doesn’t have to cost the earth.
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VALLEY OF THE GODS
The images on the previous page were taken
during our ride along the Valley of the Gods, a
24 mile dirt road running from the foot of the
Moki Dugway, out into the wilderness, before
snaking back towards the road, bringing
you out just to the west of the small town of
Page, on the outskirts of which you’ll find the
fittingly titled Twin Rock Cafe.
The Valley of the Gods is marked on the
map and whilst dried up river beds provide
a few sandy and rutted sections you will still
see people in rental cars passing through here.
Riding two up, with all our luggage and road
biased tyres, meant it was a long slow ride,
especially with the washboard surface causing
vibrations above a certain speed.
But there are many trails like this across
Utah, making it a great State to explore by
dirt bike. With Valley of the Gods also falling
under the jurisdiction of the Bureau of Land
Management, it also means you can camp for
free anywhere along it.
America often gets a bad rep for its bad
points, of which, like all countries, it has a
few - inner city crime being one, but the way
it manages its natural parks and landscapes is
excellent. Long may it continue.
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TRAVELLERS FATIGUE
It can all seem so glamorous and holidaylike,
but travelling by motorcycle can quite
easily become something of a chore, and
certainly tiring. Day after day you’re exposed
to the elements, in this case the heat and the
wind, and just the faff of loading the bike,
unloading the bike, packing the tent and the
cooking gear away, putting on the clothes,
overheating in the midday sun and making
decisions as to where to go, when to stop,
where to sleep. In that regard, after two weeks
on the road we were starting to feel the strain
and growing more tired with it. We were still
enjoyed it, just more weary than when we
started. It’s for this reason that I believe that
even a two week trip through this part of
America would be long enough for most. It’d
be enough time to see plenty and to cover a
lot of miles. We were covering less miles than
we thought we would, as by the time you’ve
stopped for photos and food, then even 150
miles can seem like a very long day.
It’s for this reason that we treated ourselves
to a motel in Cortez, a town between Page and
Durango. We booked it online that morning
before setting off. It meant that at least we had
a definite destination to head towards, which
is sometimes what you need in order to take
the strain out of travelling.
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THE MILLION DOLLAR HIGHWAY
The official name for the road is Route 550,
but the Million Dollar Highway is the nickname
that stuck once people suggested the views
offered by it were worth a million dollars.
The road in its entirety runs all the way
from Bernalillo in New Mexico to Montrose
in Colorado, but it is the stretch from Silverton
to Ouray that people talk about.
In our case, we’d ridden from Cortez to
Durango early in the morning, with a motel
booked in town for that night, leaving us the
day to explore this incredible stretch of road.
This being a Sunday and with the leaves in full
change for autumn it was busy, but definitely
worth the effort. Our intention was to ride
the 70 miles north to the town of Ourray (the
Switzerland of Colorado as some people call
it), turn around and ride back again.
And what a ride it was, with endless
corners leading on to ever more spectacular
views of the Rocky Mountains. Dotted along
the landscape were abandoned timber mining
towns that once mined for silver.
Like Utah, there are also some fantastic dirt
roads in this region, many of them connected,
meaning that you can cross Colorado without
barely having to touch tarmac. An option for
dirt biker riders would be to fly into Denver
and explore west from there.
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NEW MEXICO
This is where the trip started to take on a
new dimension, and in turn, propelling us in
a new direction.
Until now we’d been circling the places we
wanted to see and enjoying the relatively short
distances between them. It was now however
time to start thinking about how and when we
were going to begin making our way across
the country in the direction of New York.
The destination, and deadline, had been
set by the return flights to England that had
been booked in advance. Many flight booking
websites allow you to have a different exit
point to entry point, which is a good way of
going about planning a point to point trip. In
hindsight however we would probably have
flown back out of Las Vegas and enjoyed the
rest of our time exploring more of the areas we
had until this point been enjoying. Alas, we’d
already made other plans.
We decided the best option was to drop
south, crossing the country that way - to avoid
any bad weather in the Midwest - before curling
back up towards New York. The start of this
route would take us into New Mexico, a place
that we would soon find to be very different
and unique when compared to other parts of
the country we had seen. We liked it down here.
It has a very distinct character.
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WHICH BIKE?
One of the big questions that can trip a lot
of people up is choosing the right bike for their
adventure. In a sense it’s easier to start with a
bike you like and develop a trip or adventure
around that.
This is effectively what I’d done with the GS. I
knew it would be good at taking rider, passenger
and all the gear. I knew it would be good at
doing decent distances, in relative comfort, and
I knew with somewhere like America there’s
always going to be a dealer network to help you
out if things went wrong. I think then that this
America trip was the perfect ‘adventure’ for this
bike, though obviously it could have coped with
more testing conditions.
If however I was coming at it the other way
and thinking about a trip such as Sydney to
London again and needing to choose a bike
suitable I wouldn’t have ended up at the door
of the GS. Too expensive, too complicated,
too much risk, and in a sense it’s unnecessary
for that sort of route, with much of it through
developing nations where mopeds are
common transport. In that sense the postie
bike was genuinely a good choice for that trip.
Ultimately, you have to ride the bike you
feel most comfortable on. There is no perfect
bike. On a tighter budget, something like a
Honda Varadero would be good for this trip.
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THE YELLOW FLOWER
These yellow flowers had followed us all
the way from Arizona, to Utah, Colorado and
now into New Mexico. They lined the roadside
for mile after mile, bringing a third colour
to a world that was often just sky and dirt.
The official name for them is the Grindelia
Squarrosa and are known to grow in areas
where the soil has been disturbed, hence along
the roadside, which was rampant with them.
It seems a truism that the more you relax
into an adventure the more you start to notice
and observe things by the roadside, especially
along the predominately quiet straight roads
of Southwest America. The 55mph speed
limit most certainly helps, with it a commonly
shared belief that this is an ideal speed for
adventure motorcycle travel, where it’s not
typically about going fast or racing from point
to point, more about taking things in.
For this reason, it can be frustrating to be on
a deadline and to pass a place or lookout you
want to stop and see but time is now against you.
What you can sometimes find is that you feel
like you’ve ridden a long way but not actually
seen much of anything. Learning to slow down
and soak up the adventure does take time and
practice. It could be down to the fact that we
live our lives back home in a whirlwind and try
and apply that mindset to our trips. Relax.
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LOS ALAMOS
On the road from Taos to Santa Fe you drive
past the turning for Los Alamos, a name that
rang a bell as being the place where the nuclear
bombs that were dropped on Japan at the end
of WW2 were designed and manufactured.
We ventured off the highway to see what the
town was like.
It was a modern town, no more than two
or three stories high, set out on a grid and
built on the plateau at the top of a ridge. It
was clearly much more prosperous than the
town of Espanola, back down in the bottom
of the valley. We went in the free museum. It
explained how the town was founded in 1942
as a direct response to the war, the intention
being to bring all the scientists to one
place, away from prying eyes, and whilst in
development it was as though the town didn’t
exist. Some of the scientists even claim to have
not even known that they were building a
bomb at all.
The town was clearly very proud of the part
it played in the victory of World War II. Tucked
away in the corner of the museum were the
stories of those Americans affected by radiation
poisoning caused by the manufacture, storage
and transportation of the country’s nuclear
industry. We left the town thinking it was a
shame that we ever had to build them.
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SANTA FE AND TAOS
These two cities are roughly 70 miles apart
and unique in their continued use of Pueblo
influenced architecture. Think the Flinstones.
Santa Fe was founded as a Spanish colony
in 1610 and is now the capital city of New
Mexico. It doesn’t feel big though, with a main
square geared towards artists and tourism.
Taos is much the same, but on a smaller scale,
with the area around the tourist hub feeling
grittier and more authentic than it does in
Santa Fe. Local Pueblo Indians sell their
jewellery from rugs laid out on the floor in the
shade. For them to be allowed to do this they
have to have made the jewellery themselves.
Red chillies hang in heavy bunches above
door frames. There is a mix of European
and Mexican influence. Despite the heat
in the summer there are ski resorts in the
mountains surrounding both cities. Taos
enjoys a popularity amongst affluent and
often famous people, with eco houses being
built on the flat lands surrounding the town.
The Rio Grande River runs through the area.
Away from the cities you see what seem to be
hermits living out in the scrub. They dwell in
broken caravans, often with a collection of
stripped and rusting cars in the yards. Some
keep horses. They seem to be living off grid. It
is a very unique area. More time needed to see.
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WALTER WHITE’S HOUSE
For anyone who’s watched the TV show
Breaking Bad, they’ll probably be aware that
it’s set in the New Mexico city of Albuquerque.
We’d watched it through to the end on
Netflix and thought it was a great show, though
arguably not as good as The Shield.
Skip forward to our time in New Mexico,
where we found ourselves in Santa Fe a few
days longer than we’d anticipated. I’d had to
get the bike serviced at the BMW dealer there,
plus we didn’t have the energy to get back on
the road straight away, and so instead took
the Emerald Highway - a short scenic back
route - down to Albuquerque for the day. The
intention was to find the house where Walter
White - the main character in BB - lived. Such
things are easy to find on the internet, and
you can even go on guided tours of all the
major filming locations in and around the city.
Whatever your favourite TV show or movie,
there’s bound to be locations you can visit.
Arriving in the city we followed the
directions to a suburb that was surprisingly
pleasant, as parts of Albuquerque we’d come
through had been quite rough. The owners
of the house were sat in the garage on garden
chairs. They said they get up to 200 people a
day visiting the house. They didn’t mind, just
as long as you parked across the street.
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ROSWELL
From Santa Fe we rode the lonely Highway
285 down to Roswell, home of the suspected
alien landings. It took all day to get there,
the road straight for miles on end, now very
flat having left the foothills of the Colorado
Rockies behind. There were very few towns
along the way, and what towns there were,
were all in a state of decline and in one case -
Encino - almost abandoned altogether.
The images on the previous page are from
that town, with those of the roadside diner
taken at the next town of Vaughn. The diner
was a converted gas station, staffed by a tall,
focused and somewhat stern man, of strong
Christian faith given the way he’d decorated
the interior. He was rude to a family who
didn’t know what they wanted, but he did
make a terrific burger.
Roswell by comparison is a large and on
initial appearances, pleasant town. There is a
big military academy there, which you drive
past on the way into town. There are also the
usual line up of fast food restaurants, chain
motels and discount stores.
Most tourists here go looking for the UFO
museum found downtown. It isn’t great, but
it’ll definitely entertain a suspicious mind.
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THE JOURNEY EAST
From here we really didn’t know what to
expect. Rather than riding the interstate all the
way across the country, and seeing nothing
but tarmac, we’d decided to take the secondary
roads, namely the 380 and then the 82, all the
way across the south of America, through
Texas, Arkansas, Mississippi and Alabama,
before we could start curling up through the
Appalachian Mountains, on a collision course
with New York.
Little did we know just how baron and
desolate it was going to be. At times it would be
as empty as the landscape in Utah and Nevada,
but here there wouldn’t be canyons and dramatic
rocky ridges for distraction. Instead, there would
be nothing but endless prairie and unpopulated
agricultural land. There would be small towns,
long straight roads and destitution unlike
anything we’d seen on this journey so far, aside
from our brief passage through the suburbs of
North Las Vegas, to get to Lake Mead.
As I’d learned from my ride across America
on the postie bike, passing through some of the
roughest parts of the cities - Detroit, Chicago,
St. Louis - plus the Midwest States of Kansas
and Missouri - that America can be a country
of extremes, along every dimension. It can
be rich, poor, black, white, peaceful, violent,
bland, exciting. Much like anywhere else.
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TEXAS
Texas surprised us. Or at least this part of
it did. It was desolate, void of life in the most
part, but still oddly intriguing, reminding me,
if anything, of the long straight roads across
the Australian Outback.
A common sight along the route would be
the nodding donkeys of the pump-jacks, some
so old and rusty that you didn’t think could
possibly be working, but then every so often
one of them would be nodding rhythmically
up and down as they drew oil from the earth.
The towns we stopped in always seemed
to be struggling. There would always be
abandoned buildings in the centre. One
place, a small community by the name of
Clairemont, had been abandoned all together,
just old wooden buildings, and the brick jail
house remained.
All towns on this route had tall silver water
towers with the name of the town painted on
them. It was always the first sign of a town
approaching. There was a sense of wariness
sometimes before people would dare strike up
conversation. A few wanted to know about the
invasion of Muslims in England. They’d seen
it on the news. Most had sense deep down to
know that not everything you see on the TV
is true. I find what you see on the TV, sadly,
is counter to what you experience in real life.
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PARIS
Paris is a town to the north east of Dallas.
It’s claim to fame is having the tallest Eiffel
Tower outside of France, and to be different
they’ve topped it off with a red cowboy hat;
giving it a very Texan Twist.
The town itself is very pretty. It is formed
around a central square, made up of beautiful
old buildings, many of them now stood empty,
the others turned into antique stores, but
which should just read old furniture. Black
men wander the street and say hello. It’s the
first time we notice a difference in the racial
mix. There is some poverty here. The houses
near the centre were rotting, families sat on
the balconies, watching their buildings rot.
I think as a European we notice it more,
because the towns here empty outwards, the
poverty converging on the centre, the wealth
and economy fanning outwards, as opposed
to back home where it seems the opposite way
around. It means that a quarter of a mile out
you’ve got all the chain stores - the Walmarts,
the Mcdonald’s. It’s a shame such shops
couldn’t make better use of the buildings in the
centre, rather than pre-fabricating their own.
We stopped at a local bakery for cake. We
chatted with an old man who used to run a
music store in town. Then we moved on, to the
next one.
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THE DEEP SOUTH
Having ridden across the length of Texas,
taking us three days to do so, we crossed into
Arkansas, a forgettable state, mainly because
the path we took through it missed out most
of the best parts. Having spent a night in the
town of Crossett - where the chemicals from
a paper mill are claimed to have caused a
number of cancers in the town over previous
decades - we continued east into Mississippi,
crossing the river that gave the state its name.
All around this area are fields of cotton,
like white cotton wool poppies, with
Greenwood known as the cotton capital of
the world. The food in the south is soulful.
We ate at one local diner which was like a
school canteen. It was packed with people
of all ages, creeds and colours. We liked
the atmosphere down here. It was inviting.
In Greenwood we stayed at a motel to the
south of the town. The owner warned us about
going into the city centre, saying it was too
dangerous. We ventured in, finding it a curious
place of prosperity mixed with poverty. Effort
was being made to generate the town and keep
it on its feet. There was a heavy police presence.
To us it seemed like the Deep South was
struggling a little with its racial past, but it
would be naive to assume it was an issue of
race alone, more like an issue of poverty.
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BIRMINGHAM, ALABAMA
There was an unexpected change of plan
here in Birmingham. With my pillion booked
on a flight out of New York five days before me
- due to work commitments - and us nowhere
near NY, she was forced to take an internal
flight in order to catch her international one
home to England. This would mean the last
1000 miles without a passenger. Not ideal but
the only workable solution.
The day before her flight we ventured into
downtown Birmingham, aiming for the Civil
Rights Museum that is located beside Kelly
Ingram Park - named after the first African
American sailor to die in World War I. The
museum was a sombre place, with images and
stories of horrors committed not that long ago.
We lament the barbarity of the present, but it
always seems as though it’s been in us.
A homeless man outside by the name of
Andrew gave us a tour of the park. He’d lived
just a few blocks away from the park during the
civil rights protests that took place here during
the sixties. He was mournful. Industry in the
city had gone. Commerce fills some of the void.
That commerce now encroaches on the area
around the park. It seemed like he felt as though
the battle had still been lost. Andrew directed
us to a great local diner called Miss B’s. We took
him back a takeaway dinner, but he had gone.
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THE APPALACHIAN MOUNTAINS
With a faint glimmer of rain I began my
journey towards New York, the route planned
to take in what I’d been told would be the
stunning Appalachian Mountains. You can
take an interstate that runs parallel to them, or
you can take a road right along the top of the
tallest ridge, called the Blue Ridge Parkway.
The start of it would be found some 280 miles
Northwest of Birmingham. The road I took to
get there would take me through Chatanooga,
home of the famous train, then along the banks
of the Ocoee River, where dozens of inflatable
rafts were tackling the choppy waters.
It was a world of trees, rivers and lakes. The
towns and villages were small, passing from
Tennessee into North Carolina. It was a great
place to be riding a motorcycle.
I was aiming that night for a bike campsite
by the name of Iron Horse, not far from the
town of Robbinsville. An organisation by the
name of Horizons Unlimited was holding
an event there. It would be full of travellers
on motorbikes and seemed like a good
destination. The notion of overland travel by
motorcycle - across foreign countries - hasn’t
caught on quite as quickly in the States as it
has back home in Europe. Maybe the reason
for this is because they have so much amazing
scenery right on their own doorstep.
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TAIL OF THE DRAGON
America is often accused of only have
long straight roads, hence the popularity of
Harley Davidsons. Clearly it’s not true that all
roads here are curve free, as in the West of the
country we’d already ridden some fantastic
roads, and those on this side of the country
were proving equally twisty.
One of the most famous in this area is
the Tail of the Dragon, notorious for its 318
corners in just 11 miles. It’s a road you ride
along, get to the end, turn around and ride
back again. There’s a gas station and parking
area at one end, which, with this being a
Sunday, was packed with bikes and cars. The
road was busy too, but at times you could still
get an empty stretch of road and build up a
rhythm. A policeman was parked up in one
layby with a speed gun, thankfully aimed the
other way. In other laybys photography crews
snap pictures of everyone going by, which you
can then buy later that day online.
I met an organised tour group of English
people on bikes. One had had an accident and
the tour leader was trying to fathom out what
had happened and see if he was alright. This is
the danger of group riding, and riding on busy
roads. That’s why I still maintain that a solo
adventure can be safer than one in a group.
You have no one behind you, egging you on.
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HOW DID THE BIKE HOLD UP?
The bike coped well with the trip, as well
as I’d expected it to. Obviously the differences
between this bike and smaller Honda are vast.
About the BMW I preferred the ease with
which it carried all the gear and two people.
I liked having cruise control and suspension
that you could stiffen with controls on the
handlebars. I liked that it had plenty of power
and also that it didn’t cause me any troubles.
The only fault was a headlight bulb that went in
Santa Fe. It also suffered from engine pinging
at the high altitudes around Grand Canyon,
especially on the lower grade fuel than what
you get back home. During the trip I also had
to get the bike serviced in Santa Fe at a cost of
$300. That was just to keep my manufacturers
warranty up. Tyres, surprisingly would last the
full duration - a total of 6000 miles - which
was done with a full payload of around 210
kilos, plus extreme temperatures at times. The
weight of the camping gear in the yellow bag
did make the bike top heavy, which I think is
something that contributed to the fatigue I felt
towards the end.
At times during this trip it made me
question how I’d ridden so many months and
miles on the post bike trip. Maybe it’s because
of a very direct focus and goal, or perhaps the
lack of fatigue from a smaller, lighter machine.
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DOUG WOODARD
I met Doug at a gas station just off the
Blue Ridge Parkway. I’d pulled off to one of
the nearby towns to get some fuel and saw
him knelt beside his bike, struggling to get it
started. Having paid for my petrol I went over
and asked him how it was going.
It turned out that Doug had been on the
road for 10 years. He was on his 5th scooter
in that time, was aged 43 and had an 18 year
old son. He described how he worked his way
around the country, setting up camp, finding
work with one of the local agencies, saving
money and once with enough money moves
on again. He kept telling me he was tired of
living like that, wrestling with the decision to
stop and settle down. Even his son told him to
grow up and settle down.
He told me he wanted to but found it difficult.
He said that he might stop when he’s fifty years
old, but for the time being was just scared of
settling down and living with that reality.
This contrasted with a conversation
I overhead earlier in the day; two ladies
discussing a man they knew who was getting
restless in his forties, ‘He feels like he hasn’t
done anything with his life,’ I heard them
say. I suppose somewhere between these
two extremes is the answer. Finding it is
undoubtedly the hardest part.
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MEADOWS OF DAN
This picture was taken at a petrol station
and grocery store in the Meadows of Dan, a
small community roughly half way along the
Blue Ridge Parkway.
I’d camped there that night at a motorcycle
only campsite known as Willville, found on
the edge of town. I’d set up tent and returned
to the grocery store for some basic items
to cook on the stove; pasta and some milk
for tea. With Halloween approaching, and
with the vegetable in season, a vast assembly
of pumpkins were all out on display. Other
vegetables were piled up in wooden casks and
the shop sold predominantly local produce.
It was a great community to discover,
finding it impossible to get a phone signal, and
with no wifi it did a good job of bringing you
back to reality and appreciating the beautiful
landscape around. I camped beside a river, and
in the morning those of us on the campsite sat
on the veranda of Will - the owner - who made
everyone fresh coffee. Being from overseas they
took the piss quite a lot but were a good bunch.
We talked politics, religion and motorbikes,
topics not always wise to discuss. One man
there wouldn’t ride through Canada on his bike
as he couldn’t carry his gun. It was funny. The
world is funny. Deep down I’m sure we could
all get on, though he was scared of bears.
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WASHINGTON, DC
Having crossed the Appalachian
Mountains and joined the interstate in order
to cover quicker ground, I couldn’t help but be
sidetracked by the signs for Washington, and
not needing to be in New York to drop the bike
off at the shipping agent until the next day at
the latest (I flew home the next night) I thought
there was just enough time to squeeze in a
passage through the capital of America.
I usually avoid major cities, especially on
a bike that’s fully loaded and up until recently
two-up. They’re just a lot of hard work, in stop
start traffic and offer no real joy on a bike.
Washington seemed to make sense though,
and so I headed there on a grey warm day.
It was a nice place, especially around the
main War Memorial and Reflection Pond,
the White House visible just across the lawn.
Many tourists were enjoying the sights. I
was struck by how self indulgent travelling,
and sight seeing has become. A sense that
you don’t go to see, but to be seen, through
the power of photography and Facebook/
Instagram/Twitter. I may sometimes be guilty
of the same, though try not to be.
Travelling in that sense can be difficult.
Unless you have a genuine curiosity and
interest in places and people, you might
sometimes be better off staying at home.
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THE END OF THE ROAD
The last few hundred miles to New York
marked the end of a five week journey, my
passenger having already been home for a
few days already. It was a shame we didn’t
finish what we started together as no doubt
she would have enjoyed the scenery of the
Appalachian Mountains, although for the busy
and sometimes chaotic interstates on the way
into New York I’m glad she wasn’t on the back.
Coming to the end of an adventure is always
a strange emotion. In this instance I was tired
and aching from being on the bike every day
since we landed here. I was ready to get off it
and not have to ride for a while. And yet on
the other hand I had that familiar reluctance
to bring an adventure to a close, as for all the
ups and downs it’s still a brilliant place to be;
on a bike, travelling across parts of the world
you haven’t seen before. By comparison the
lure of going home isn’t always so strong.
Things would be a bit different this time
however. I would be returning home a married
man. In that sense it seemed more a case of
one adventure ending, but definitely another
one ready to begin.
People often lament what they have, or
what they don’t have. I’ve learnt over the
course of these adventures that you can’t have
everything, but love is a good place to start.
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POSTSCRIPT
It has been just over two weeks since I arrived back in
England. The flight brought me home via Brussels and then onto
Birmingham, coincidently the English city Birmingham Alabama
is named after. The bike is still in America, with the latest update
being that it is stuck at the depot in New York as some of the
paperwork was missing and the agency will have to apply to US
customs in order to release it. Hopefully it should be back in a
month’s time, all being well, as the plan was to have it on a stand
beside the postie bike at the NEC bike show in November. I feel
the two bikes sit nicely alongside each other as different ends of
the same spectrum.
In the meantime I’m not missing being on the bike and
neither is my pillion. Both of us are glad of some comfy
armchairs in the house we live together in, not far from where
we first met. From first date to marriage and co-habiting in
nine short months. As much as you can try and map out your
life and envisage where it’s going to take you, you never can be
certain just what curve-ball will be sent your way, sending you
spinning off in a whole new direction.
The only part of being on the road we miss for the time being is
the simplicity of it. Every morning you wake up and all you have to
do is decide on where you’re going to ride and what you’re going to
stop to look at. As a result it can bring great clarity and focus. It declutters
the mind and allows you to think more clearly.
This contrasts with life in the real world, where you can soon find
yourself worn down by the bombardment of bank bills, insurance
on cars being due, friends and relatives to visit, shopping to do,
gyms to attend. So much to get muddled up in and loose sight of the
things that really matter in life, such as the people you spend it with.
I’m not sure at this point if we’ll go on another extended bike
trip together. I think four weeks is long enough for someone
who doesn’t necessarily like bikes, though to be fair, that a firsttime
pillion rider managed almost 5,000 miles across America
without so much as a grumble (maybe one or two) is testament
to her character and ability to tolerate being married to a biker.
A few people we met on our travels repeated the same saying;
‘Those who ride together, stay together,’ and it would certainly
seem that if you can tolerate each other all day on a bike, and
all night in a tent, then you’re definitely on to a very good thing.
Don’t think ride.

A big thanks to the companies who
supported the trip in one way or another.
They’re all firms I’d dealt with in the past and
knew them to offer good products and service.
American company AltRider had provided
the engine protection guards, Continental the
TKC70 tyres, Oxford the tank bag and lock,
Adventure Spec the Klim jacket, Resurgence
Gear the Kevlar jeans, Gaerne the boots I wore,
Rev’it provided boots for the pillion, Metal Mule
loaned a set of their Ute panniers and back rack,
Adventure Bike Shop and Bahnstormers both
gave a bit of a discount on spare parts and the
latter loaned the black textile trousers, whilst
James Cargo did a great job with the shipping.
Cotswold Outdoor lent the multi fuel stove and
a pair of sporks. Nippy Norman provided a
Wunderlich gear lever. Many thanks to all.