The Potato Posse

After a quick and hot visit to Hoover Dam, we purchase our National Parks Pass and head up through Lake Mead. Just before Mesquite, my bike overheats again. Stopped by the side of the road, (was actually free wheeling it down to where Mike had managed to pull over and wait for me) by chance George and Sarah pull up. They're on their way to Colorado for a Blues Festival. They offer to put the KLR in the truck for me but I figure by the time we've go it in there, she would have cooled down enough to continue. They follow us to Mesquite, hazard lights flashing, so that trucks don't run up the back of me, and I limp into the service station. George and Sarah say their goodbyes and we stop for an hour to cool off ourselves and let the bikes cool down. We won't be making it to the Grand Canyon tonight.
Riding into Zion National Park as the sun is going down is stunning. Despite the impending dusk, we have to stop for some photos, so a late arrival turns out to be a blessing.

Scenic riding into Zion.

Setting the alarm for what we think is 6am and an early start, we catch the shuttle bus that runs people up and down the canyon, stopping at the trail heads and points of interest. What we didn't realise is that Utah is an hour ahead, so everyone is up before us. We take a couple of hours out to do some short walks and have a look around, before heading onto the cooler north rim of the Grand Canyon.

End of the bus line in Zion

So this is where being organised and having an itinerary comes in handy. We arrive at the campground and what do you know, there are no sites left. Apparently we should have booked over a week ago. We do manage to 'squeeze' (they do like to do things big here, there was room for about another 10 tents on this pitch) onto another couple's site and we save ourselves the $17 - our hosts wouldn't let us pay incase we were to get kicked off.
After dinner it is confirmed that the park rangers don't have a sense of humour. Despite the 'Stop' sign usually meaning more of a 'Give Way' thing, (in this case not a 'As in Rome...') Mike gets pulled over by a power wielding young ranger for running 3 stop signs and going above the 15mph speed limit. He gets away with just a $75 fine for one stop sign incident and a warning for the others. On closer inspection of other drivers, it seems Mike got unlucky. No one actually stops at 'Stop' signs and EVERYONE speeds, except for me of course and that's just cause the bike can't go any faster, not through want of trying.

Smile, we made it before sunset.

So we eventually get to see the sunset over the canyon and what a sight. The next morning is more canyon viewing, see associated photographs under the yet to be altered 'Central Amercian photos' in the menu to the right of this blog, and it is beautiful. We spend hours gazing at the landscape before us.

Taking time out for the view.

Eventually we have to drag our butts back to the bikes, there are more Harleys to wave at. (That would be the Potato Posse by the way. If you repeat potato over and over again, that's what a Harley sounds like and they always seem to be in large groups so you get RSI by the time one group has ridden by.)

Leaving Las Vegas

Banjo playing George lives in Norco, horse capital of the US. We met him on our last night of camping in Mexico when he kindly invited us to stay at his house. The generousity of the North Americans amazes us. Everywhere we go, we have met strangers and friends alike, who can't do enough for us. From accommodation, food, directions, to help in any way, shape or form, there is always someone around wanting to do something for us or at least give us a friendly wave.
George had emailed us his address explaining that the back door would be unlocked and probably the front also. He would be away picking up his daughter from college and he may not be back to see us, but we were to go in and make ourselves at home. Fortunately he and Sarah made it back the same evening as us and we were treated to some banjo before bed.
An oil change for Mike in the morning before we head to Vegas, baby!

Dualling banjos!

Getting back into true KLR form, what should have taken us 4 hours takes us 7. The temperature was maxing out my thermometre at 50 degrees. Route 15 is the main thoroughfare to the Canadian border, inland, and the traffic doesn't sit still at over 75m/h. My little baby couldn't cope and overheated. I was flatout sitting on 120km/h and with the thinner oil put in by the mechanic in San Diego, she struggled with the heat. Just across the border into Nevada, we chance upon a Tourist Information Centre that has a phone line set up for the sole purpose of organising accommodation in Las Vegas. With that sorted, we decide to take a look at an outlet centre across the way and hang out in the airconditioning until it cools off to a more acceptable 45 degrees. Shopping done, we get to Las Vegas, at sunset. It's absolutely roasting and we shower and hole up in our airconditioned room for a good few hours.

2am is the best time to stroll along the 'strip', it isn't so crowded and the temperature is almost bearable. We missed all the cheap all you can eat buffets though so it was dodgy food at some cheap dodgy casino offering $1.99 margaritas. How could we refuse.
We drag our weary butts out of bed the next morning, knowing that it will be unbearably hot outside. As we didn't see much of Vegas the night before, we pack up, don our jeans and boots ready for an afternoon departure but head out for a look see. After checking out a few casinos, you get the idea that they're pretty much all the same. Sensibly and for some reason, I'd remembered that you can get into Ceasar's Palace hotel pool easily enough and remember to keep our swimmers in my day bag. Looking totally out of place in jeans and boots, we stroll around the pool, pick up some unused towels and stake our sun loungers in the shade. About an hour of frolicking in the water and relaxing, we decide we really should be making a move. Back into jeans and boots we head up to New York, New York for the roller coaster ride. Standing in line, Mike and I look at each other, both thinking, 'What the hell are we doing?' It was literally a scream and we finally recovered about a half hour later. Next on the list of things to do in Vegas was the all you can eat buffet. The cheapest one was at the Sahara. Another hour later, bellies full, we catch the mono rail back to the Imperial Palace, where our bikes were parked. It's hot, we're full and very tired. Maybe we should stay one more night.

Vegas, where anything goes!

After discussing the various merrits of the buffets on offer at the diiferent hotels with the check-in lady, and explaining that the little convenience store within the hotel was charging $4 for what equated to a cup of milk, she kindly threw in two vouchers for the breakfast buffet the next morning.
We played $2 on the 1 cent slot machines on our way back to our room and that was Vegas pretty much done for us. Phew, I was exhausted.

LA rising

So far we're doing alright for accommodation in the USA. After Cameron and Jessica's hospitality, Ming is our next host. I used to work with Ming in London at WATG and Ming now works in the Irvine office. Despite having just returned on Saturday from a job site in India, Ming kindly puts us up and organises for Ric, another WATG veteran, to come out for a few Sunday beers. They went down well after we learn that the cheapest way to buy beer in Orange County at least, is to buy it by the pitcher. After boring poor Mike with all the gossip of who's doing what at WATG, it's time to head up to LA proper.

After getting Mike's rear shock serviced in Anaheim in the morning, with his bike repair bills adding up, its time to stop with the bikes and enjoy ourselves.

Venice Beach is our first stop in LA proper. After sharing a delicious hotdog, we stroll along the boardwalk, checking out the 'weirdos' that give Venice Beach it's character. During the week it's not so busy and there seem to be more tourists than characters, but it is still enough to keep us entertained. Then for a change of scene, we head to the canals, what Venice was named for. It is a beautiful and quaint little area and if it wasn't for the heat, I'd of thought I was in the Cotswolds of England. This is where I'd live in LA, because I could afford to of course.

Getting 'into' Venice.

I saw this little fella and now I know where all of my worn spare parts to the bike have gone.

Mike had arranged our accommodation for the next three nights and as we ride in the direction of Irl and Marnie's home, we happen along Santa Monica Boulevard. Sheryl Crow's song goes around in circles in my head. And just to keep the music theme going, as we head to San Fernando Valley, where Irl and Marnie live, it switches to 'She's a Valley Girl'.

With all of this musical influence, it makes sense that Irl and Marnie are both muscians, working in the 'industry'. Marnie works on movies - while we were there she was disecting the scores for 'Chicken Run', while Irl composes and produces music for TV, Funiest Home Video style of thing. Irl invites us to check out the studios where he works. Pretty cool stuff. And we also get the low down on some music venues to check out whilst in LA. Despite Roger Waters playing at the Hollywood Bowl, we opt for the low key (and more affordable) Baked Potato. Scott Henderson, a bit of a guitar hero of Mike's, is playing there and we spend the evening eating oversized and delicious baked potatos and watching Henderson wield his guitar.
And not to leave Mike and I out of the music scene, Irl and Marnie have Playstations 'Guitar hero'. I'm rubbish and stick to the Base guitar on the easyiest setting but still, one can dream of being in a rock band.

Other cool sights and scenes we checked out in LA were of course, the Hollywood walk of Fame, the Porno Walk of Fame (this was Mike's idea), Rodeo Drive, I wasn't quite feeling like 'Pretty Woman' but the movie title did lead to Roy Orbison's tune by the same name getting stuck in my head for wee while. Griffith Observatory - as seen in James Dean's 'Rebel without a cause', was also very interesting and a beautiful Art Deco style building. There was the Getty Centre, another beautiful, but modern, building set overlooking the vastness of LA. We also rode along Mulholland Drive (passing Jack Nicholsan's house), conjuring up yet another tune to go around in my head (REM this time) and took a trip out to Malibu. Long Beach was also on our list and by the time we had finished it was hard to decide where we wanted to live. Venice Canals, Malibu, Hollywood Estate or Manhattan Beach, the list goes on.

Whether it was the fact that we didn't have any bike maintanence to do, Irl and Marnie's hospitality and extremely comfortable spare bed andnot forgetting their adorable dogs, Lady and Roco, or just that recognising so much of LA from the movies and seeing it for real was exciting, we both fell in love with LA. But as with all journeys, you have to move on at some time.

Adios Mexico! (Or will it be just Hasta Pronto?)

We cross over in the afternoon after getting lost in Tijuana and then swept up in the queues of traffic. Several street (or mid-lane) vendors selling the most incredible pieces of tat (why on earth would you want to buy a large Grecian urn or a horrendously ugly mirror with the virgin Mary painted on it while in a queue of traffic bound for the US is beyond me), nearly lose their lives or at least the merchandise as we lane split all the way to the front of the line. It's a bit of a shambles as there is no where that we can check out of Mexico and the US guys have no idea about bringing a vehicle into the US.
We've lined up a place to stay with Cameron and Jessica, a lovely couple who are, of course, into motorbikes. So San Diego here we come.

Can you tell which sprocket is the old one?

Cameron rides a BMW GS1200 and Jessica is on a Yamaha XT350, so both prove to be very helpful when it comes to finding people and parts to fix the bikes. Mike hits the BMW shop and gets a rather rude shock to find his steering head bearings and rear shaft drive bearings and seals aren't in great shape. This is added to having also blown his fork seals and requiring bits and pieces for the GPS. I'm up for a new clutch, and of course a new chain and sprockets, yet again. 5 days later we're well fed washed and repaired.

Saying our goodbyes to Cameron and Jessica

And for future reference, if anyone needs to cancel their temporary vehicle import for Mexico, the easiest way to find the office in Tijuana is to leave Mexico, then turn around and go back in and follow the signs for the aduana office. Conveniently located for when you arrive rather than your departure in Mexico. This will save you $300+ they charge for not cancelling your vehicle import document correctly. I figure this is a last ditch effort by latin America to try and scam more money out of me, but once again I'm not letting them get away with it.

Aw shucks, he missed me.

So I get the bike on the centre stand fine, but that's about it. Two hours and after the help of some Aussies staying in the same hotel, I return, covered in grease to beg the mechanic for help.

I leave Loretto early the next morning and head up to Mulage for breakfast. I meet James, a Canadian also riding a KLR and as he has spare chain parts, I decide to ride with him for a bit. Bless him, nice guy but god he rode so slowly. After a tediously long ride we finally make it to Catavina and set up camp, just in time to get some photos of the kind of cool boulder field, which looks great in the setting sun.

Nice landscape

So I'm up early the next morning but end up waiting for almost two hours for my KLR buddy to get his butt into gear, it's obvious he's not done much of this traveling before so I bear with it. After another morning of tediously slow riding, he pulls over for some fresh mango for lunch. It gets covered in chilli seasoning, lime and salt. What a fantastic combination. So this guy isn't all that bad, showiing me a thing or two. After a couple of pieces of mango, I said to James, 'I keep expecting Mike to turn up in my rear view mirror'. James made some comment in reply and without another word from me, sure enough, Mike turns up. Not quite in my rear view mirror as I was parked, but there anyways. This is all a bit exciting as I didn't even know where Mike had been for the past few days. So what took me seven days to ride (including the stopover for surfing) Mike rode in two and a half. Turns out he missed me so much he was trying to catch up, and had ridden from Mulage that morning. So I take back what I said about James riding so slow, it was a good thing.

Getting rugged up in the cold desert

Not wanting to be a spare part of the happily reunited couple, James bids us farewell and heads off on his own. Mike's a bit of a shaking mess having left at 4am from Mulage after an hour's sleep and 5 cups of coffee, so we only continue on for another hour.
It's a late start the next morning, and we only make seedy Ensenada, an hour up the road, for our last night in Mexico.

So much for my two days and I'm into the US.

My next bike will be shaft drive. (That means no chain)

I do get away early, if you can believe it. I´m heading north to Bahia Conception, when I decide to take a detour to see what the guide book describes as ´worth seeing´, a 300 year old Jesuit Mission by the name of San Javier. It all goes terribly wrong though, when about 7km down a deserted and horrendously rough track , the only description the guide book has gotten right so far, my chain snaps, again!
It´s not so deserted though as about 15 minutes later I´m rescued by a passing German tourist, Ronnie, in a hire car. He just so happens to be well into bikes and is more than happy to help. We decide to carry on to the mission to see what the fuss is about. I´m kicking myself now as it isn´t all that. However, good fortune shines on me again when we meet Eileen and John, an American couple who just so happen to have a large truck and offer to drive the bike to Loretto. Yet again proving that there really are good people in the world.

John and Ronnie get the bike loaded up.

So now I´m sat in an internet cafe, my chain should be repaired in an hour or so. I´ve filed off all the jagged edges on the rear sprocket, caused by the free flying chain and all I have to do is try to get the bike on the centre stand to replace the chain. Wish me luck both for getting the chain back on and getting to the USA in two days time.

Surfing with sardines

I took the evening cargo ferry to Baja and had the delightful pleasure of spending 16 hours trying to avoid any attention, got to love the iPod. Once again I'm the only female stupid enough to travel by myself in Mexico, fun when you're on a boat with about 50 truck drivers who all wanted to know where I was from, what I was doing and where was my boyfriend. I needed the answers recorded so that I could play back every time I was asked.
I love it when you've pulled up somewhere, or you've just ridden the bike onto the boat, in full view of everyone, and they ask 'Is that your bike?', 'Si', 'Do you ride it yourself?'. This is where I'm really tempted to respond, 'Well actually, I've been carrying it around in my backpack for 7 months, I only rode it onto the boat to show off' or something to that effect. Of course I bloody well ride it, how else to you think it got here!

Hiding on the top deck of the ferry.

Anyways, I digress from telling you about a fantastic fours days I've just had.
After a tediously hot ride down to Cabo San Lucas, I got the hell out of there after only an hour. What a horrendous place. Wall to wall resort hotels line the beach front so I was unable to find a path to the beach, even the cheap food is expensive and of course, it's full of rich Americans on Memorial Weekend holiday. (Please excuse the fact that my usual occupation is designing these resorts for these rich Americans, I cringe every time I think about it).
I read the guide book and based on its out of date information, I head uo to Todos Santos. Todos Santos is supposed to have beach camping, and according to the guide book, it's supposed to have a beach. It has neither. I turn back for 10km (the guide book tells me it's only 4km, but hey, who am I to argue!) and head down a slippery, sandy track to Playa San Pedrito. There is also supposed to be a camping ground here with nice showers of which I'm much in need of after the ferry trip. Imagine my suprise when all I find is a deserted beach, the remnants of a hotel, the remnants of and RV park and one lone RV truck parked at the end of the beach. It's late and the RV is from Oregon. I approach with caution. The owner turns out to be a local who has been there for 25 years. I pitch the tent then Jo invites me back into town for a beer at the bar where his son works. On the way back into town, I'm informed that there used to be a great little set up at San Pedrito, until it got washed away in Hurricane Katrina. That would explain it.
The next morning, Jo takes me into town to a hotel/RV park that he owns. I get my much needed washing and that very nice hot shower sorted. After a guided tour of the town, I'm then driven down to Cerritos. Ah, heaven.
Jo knows Tav, the guy who runs the surf shop, so I get half price board and wetsuit rental and line up that night's new camp spot. The seller for me as that there are two girls already pitched up by the surf shop, so some female company. Wa hey! That evening it's camp food of pasta and tinned sardines with beers around a campfire. The two girls, Brigette and Carolyn are a really sweet couple from near Seattle. They have been cycling down Baja for a month already. It was great to have their company but after supplying them with fresh coffee and drinking water in the morning, we have to say goodbye.
Surf day 1. Tav points me in the direction of some beginner waves. I'm not entirely convinced about his choice and I spend the morning not doing so well. The current is very strong and after almost two hours, I've managed to catch and surf only two white water waves. Doh! The afternoon I relocate. I start talking to some kindly surfer locals, getting their tips and advice on which bit of white water is the best for a beginner. I do better.

Home for a few days.

That evening a bunch of Aussies arrive. They've come for the surfing and although they we're only going to stay for a few hours, they start drinking. They pitch up next to us (Tav is permanently pitched up by his shop and is more than happy for travellers to stop by and free camp for the night as long as you don't leave your cigarette butts in the sand. Also, you usually get roped into cooking his dinner for him).
Just in time for a sunset surf, Torsten is next to arrive. He has ridden down from New Mexico on his BMW GS1100. He is an engineer of sorts and has rigged up a very clever rack for his surf board. Its quite a party around the campfire.
Surf Day 2. I pack up early, I´ve quite a few miles to cover. The Aussies leave early also, they´re heading the same direction. Alas I decide to go for a quick swim to cool off before heading. That´s when Tav tempts me with free board and wetsuit hire for the day. He must like my camp food cooking. Torsten decides to stick around for another day also. The surf is easier and I frollick for hours, getting a sunburnt nose and forehead. I do ask, but I´m yet to find the trick to stop getting a sunburnt face whilst surfing.

Surfer chick!

After I´ve cooked the lads some quesadillas for lunch, Torsten heads out to the back waves, those ones that are way out and huge. Tav and I are watching from the beach. It seems that he is so far out that there is no surf. Eventually he disappears. After a bit longer sun bathing and still no sign of Torsten, I go for a walk to the point to see if he´s around there. I find him, hands and feet shredded from the rocks. He´d got caught in a current and with a dodgy shoulder was unable to paddle back in. I get him and board back to the shop for some first aid.
Penny, a cute boxer pup joins us. She´s just been to the vet and is very poorly. I think she is in need of some female company as she sidles up next to me for some TLC. About 10 minutes later, another injured surfer comes to join us. This one with a bloodied nose. It turns into a right little sick bay. Honestly though, we were having a great time, except for me worrying about Penny.
Not perturbed by the afore mentioned injuries, I get back in the water. By this time, there is a weird thing going on in the white water. Thousands and thousands of sardines are swimming in the channel. As the current is so strong, you kind of have to wade through rather than swim through the surf. So you get these little fish running into your legs. You tread on them. And they jump up and land on your board. It´s a little freaky but I´m getting better with things like that and manage to have the best surf session of my life. I actually catch a few real waves. I´ll make a surfer yet.
All you can eat pizza for dinner then it´s off to bed.
Take two for an early start in the morning.

Mike gets in trouble with the police, yet again!

From Mexico City, Mike and I ride a beautiful route through the mountains west to Lago Chapala.
Mike is determined to have interaction with the police from every country we have ridden through and to get the attention of the Mexican police, runs a red light, twice. How he didn't see it, or notice that the police were there, at the intersection, was beyond me. So while the police blow their whistles at him, he ignores it and keeps riding, expecting me to follow. The police then turn their attention to me, so I inturn ignore them and when the light turns green, I ride off in the opposite direction. Of course this means that I lose him and after a half hour of wandering the streets of Chapala (the bike parked up in a back street to avoid any further interest from the police) I locate Mike. He had been caught by the police while he was waiting for me up the road a bit, but had manged to argue his way out of it, talking about being a tourist etc.
Calmed down we then settle into a nice evening, and to prove that I still have what it takes, when Mike left me for 5 minutes to get some money from the hotel room, I was chatted up and asked out for a beer by a local Mexican. It might have been flattering except that this guy must have been nearing 50 years old and would have tucked under my arm, he was that short. Bless him though, he scuttled away in such a hurry when I pointed out the tall good looking guy walking towards us was actually my boyfriend.
We spent a few nights at Puerto Vallarta and then onto Mazatlan before parting company again, the mountains and Copper Canyon for Mike and the beach and surf of Baja California for me.