1800 km - very hot today, about 35C. Highway all the time, at the end boring. Tomorrow I will try to get into Guadalajara.
I decided not to stop in Alamosa (nice colonial town) because it was only 3 in the afternoon and I realize I will have to ride without losing to much time in order to be in Managua by the 20th. If I have the bad luck to have rain, I will need all the resting days to get there in time. The more that the situation after the mudslides in El Salvador is not very clear. Apparently I will have to through Honduras.
Gaspard asked me if I already arranged a partner to ride down, but the more I think about it, the less I will try to find one. There is one who will be on the 16th in San Cristobal (contact made through horizonsunlimited.com), but I'm afraid it will be to difficult to adjust our plans. Overlanders and Adv riders in particular tend to have a ego bigger then themselves, and I include myself. It goes very quick out of control when it comes to adjusting plans. You need to be very good friends to hold out a ride like this. I have some friends with whom I could make this journey, but then timing and availability is the issue. It took us 40 years to come to some harmony with Annemie when travelling ( and of course when not travelling ) and I must admit she did most of the adjusting. So, a young american macho riding down to Tierra del Fuego adjust his plans????? And an old belgian macho adjusting his plans????
1200km - 2 days of beautifull riding through the desert of Arizona and the greener landscape of Sonora. I slept in Gilda Bend at 150km from Tucson. Hot when I arrived, but cool in the morning. I got a similar feeling as when driving through the Sahara in southern Algeria, the black mountains against the blue sky, but highway 8 changes everything. It's definitely America and if you want to experience the real desert, you still have to go to the Sahara. Border crossing was fast, the Americans even didn't look to me, and I had to beg the Mexicans to put a stamp in my passport. It's incredible how the street and the traffic changes over a distance of 500m; I felt immediately at home, being able to drive cowboyway a la portuguesa and park the bike on the footpath in front of the ATM. But getting the permisso for the vehicle was a 1 hour affair, some 20km further when the "free hasstle zone" ends, and every foreign vehicle has to be temporary imported. I had to take a nice hotel in Hermosillo, because I need to tell home I'm fine and my phones do not work in Mexico. The only communication is the internet and since this town is not touristic, there are no internet cafes. But on the other hand there is a marvellous taco restaurant : Jaas, in front of the Santa Fe supermercado, when coming in from Nogales. I'm happy I did not fly the bike south, because it feels good to be back in Mexico. And the riding will be cheap : 70usd cents or 1/2 euro per liter. Tomorrow a shorter ride to Alamosa, the most colonial town of Sonora.
For uploading pictures, I will have to find a way to reduce the pictures in size while being on these kind of "hotel"computers. I do not know if picasa works online, facebook does reduce being online. I will test it tonight or tomorrow.
The bike is packed. I replaced yesterday the tires, battery and with the help of Gaspard, we replaced the headlight and complementary lights. The glass of the old headlight was broken before the bike arrived in the US 3 years ago and since I do not ride at night and since you have to buy a complete headlight of 300$ I never replaced it. Scott from the BMW dealer in Escondido went in the back of the garage and got me one for free from a RT. I have now 5 big lights, so I hope the Mexican drivers will notice me when I cross Mexico City in some days. We had a ***** diner last night at Gaspard's place, prepared while talking by his friend Chef Cook Gillet. It's a little bit of a weird feeling to know that in some 2 hours I will pull out of the La Plancha street in Carlsbad, San Diego, drive to highway 5 and from there on just straight south.
I started at 5 o'clock monday morning in Salet, Belgium and arrived in Carlsbad, US on wednesday evening 8pm local time (thursday morning 4am belgium time). It was a little bit ridiculous : arrived in Chicago, flew down to Miami and in the morning flew all the the way back north to Philadelphia to catch a plane to Los Angelos. My friend Gaspard picked me up at the airport, Breea had prepared a delicious meal and today I recovered completely from my jetlag. Took the bike to the BMW dealer for replacement of the brake pads but got the bad news that my ABS pump is dead. I will do without ABS. I arranged for my insurances for Mexico and Central America and will pack the bike tomorrow. Saturday I will spent some time with Gaspard and Breea and I will start riding on Sunday.
I forgot to mention : Vincent from Las Posas called me when I was waiting for my flight in New York. The evening after he had left me at my motel, he got drunk from to much tequila, lost his phone and lost my contact. He just got his phone back. I was lucky I had other alternatives to leave the bike. Still a nice guy!
Thursday 11 September 2008, Friday.3 days before I have to take my plane home .. confusion. Since Paul from Orange County did not return my phone call today, I decide to call Simon from Yuma to tell him I changed my mind and that I would descend tomorrow and would be in Yuma around midday, Saturday. I camp in the state park of point Mugu, just north of Malibu and choose a site next to a German Mercedes truck, more or less Unimog style. Nobody is there, a bike that has his place on the back of the truck is parked nearby. I expect some young adventurers, now surfing on the beach. But suddenly a nearly bald man comes out and we have a quite interesting conversation. I hear a wife is hidden in the truck. I will only get a glimpse of her, sitting in the passenger seat the next day when they leave. In stead of showing me his truck, he gets his computer and shows me pictures of the inside. I suppose and hope this couple is an exception, but what an amazing contrast with the extraordinary openness and hospitality I have met in the last 2 months. He also proudly announces me he will make an extra cup of coffee in the morning, but that promise does not materialize. But the coffee exists because he walks over in the morning with a huge, good smelling cup in his hand.
So with a not so nice end of this fantastic journey in mind, I prepare for the tough ride through the Friday traffic of LA. I return to Malibu to get fuel and when done, a guy in his thirties, with a large tattoo on his leg, comes over . All the way from Canada he while looking to the maple flag sticker on the front. No, from Belgium and at the end of my 12000 miles Alaska journey, but I am in hurry because I have to ride to Yuma to try to store my bike. Some hesitation during seconds... But I can store your bike. And he walks to his van where some 4 tattooed guys are waiting : Las Posas, a locally owned and operated painting company in big letters on the back of the van. I just have to put my man on the job and in 10 min I will be back and show you my house, my family, my business. Your bike will be save because I cannot ride a bike anymore for a long time... got 2 DUI over the last 10 years.
Why not give it a try, will see his house and family and I can still take off later. So while I have a coffee at the nearby Starbucks, Vincent returns after 10 min and he takes me to his house in a clean neighborhood. (Camarillo-Ventura). We leave the bike in front of his house, with the helmet and all my stuff on it...It's ok, nobody here will touch anything in front of Vince's house. Waw, impressive. And off we are to his office, then to a house where he has to give a proposal, to another house to pick up a signed contract, which I have to read completely, to an ongoing job where his 2 guys need paint, to a paint shop to buy the paint. Meanwhile he is on the phone, goes through his papers to find the house, and tells me his story. Ex hell's Angel, drug dealer, but now a hardworking entrepreneur taking care of his family. I like the guy, his enthusiasm and his f..cking redneck talk . Out on the way to his appointments he makes a detour and stops in front of a liquor shop. And he takes some time inside. My heart accelerates. I realize I have no clue where I am, somewhere in the suburbs of LA, no idea how to get back to my bike and sitting in the van of an ex(?) heavy boy. But it is all ok and he takes me to a Motel 6, which I have to refuse him paying for, and leaves me for the day. Tonight I cannot take care of you, but tomorrow my brother will pick you up for a ride and at midday I have a BBQ for your at my place. And that is the last thing I saw of Vincent. Anyway, I already had taken the decision to accept the invitation of the FIT representative in LA to store the bike at his house. At 7pm the phone rang : Paul from Orange County. The call I had expected the day before. They had just arrived home from Cambria. In the beginning I thought it was Paul from Palmsprings, one of my 3 biking buddies on Highway 101, who had proposed to help me with storing the bike in a storage park near his place.
At 8pm Claude from Moro Bay called me to tell that the son of his friend in San Diego was enthusiastic about the idea of receiving a GS traveler. Without hesitation I called imediately Gaspard. It felt nice to speak French after 2 months of American. Gaspard simply told me that he was expecting me the next day.
To make it short : the bike is stored in a garage in between a 30y old Bentley and a Porsche 914, and I spend an excellent weekend with extremely friendly Gaspard and Breea. We closed the weekend and the 17.500km journey in the best Sushi place I have ever been. Breea promised me that she would convince Gaspard to accept my offer to take her out for some weekends on my bike. They also promised not to clean the bike. I like the Alaskan flies on the windscreen.
Last ride today. To San Diego. Is there any other country in the world were you will find 5 places to store a huge dirty bike for unknown months for a total stranger, and this in 3 days. Just by answering the people who will talk to you while you stop somewhere, and ask you where you come from. When you tell them that you are at the end of a 18000km journey and that you are looking now for a place to leave your bike, you see on their face that they are searching intensively their mind in which way they can help you out. Amazing. Slept in a Motel 6 that I had to refuse from being paid for by Vincent who picked me up at a gasstation in Malibu, and took me to his house to show me where he would put the bike. I was ready to ride the 600 miles to Yuma where Simon was waiting for the bike. Paul from Orange County, whom I met in Cambria called at 8pm to tell me that he was home and was waiting for me. Claude (french) from Templeton, whom I met in Moro Bay while cleaning the fish he took in the morning, called me at 7pm to tell me that his friend Gaspard in San Diego would like to store the bike in his garage, next to his 7 cars and 2 bikes. And the FITm colegue of my wife, in LA was waiting for my phone call too. Ready now to pack a last time the bike, first time out of a motel room in 3 weeks, and prepare mentally for the crazy transit of hwy 101 and interstate 5. Hope saturday will make it less of a struggle.
Got one of my best days, yesterday. Slept in Pheifer Big Sur Park and road the 26 mi back to Monterey because I wanted cell phone coverage and south there is nothing for the next 90 miles. I followed Ocean Av and hit a very exclusive suburb of Monterey (Carlisle?) Spectacular beach, very chique shops. While looking for a croissant and a coffee I ran into Joseph and Sandy from Santa Barbara (met them the day before). The road south of Monterey is surely one of the most scenic and biker friendly that I did on the whole trip. Talked for the first time in 2 months with some europeans, the mayor of the german twin city of Zolder, more germans, danish, dutch. 70% of the people on Highway 1 are europeans, and 30% of them drive a rented mustang convertible. Usd 1300 for 2 weeks. But apart from some rented RV's, you will not meet them on the park campgrounds. In Cambria, I parked the bike while looking for internet, and Paul come over for a talk. I told him I was a little worried to find storage for the bike... only 5 days left. He called over his wife and said.. Honey, we can store that bike, do we? So apparantly my problem is solved. They live in Orange County, LA
Stayed at the San Simeon state park, campground nearly empty. My lovely neighbours, 3 very well humoured ladies, brought me some vegetables and fruit. Generosity, generosity.. and again generosity
