End of the road, finally.

The End of the Road


After 34,000 miles and 10 month of riding, I have reached my journeys end, New York City. My trusty BMW is now with the shipping company and will hopefully be back in the UK in around 5 weeks, personally I will be flying back to England on Monday 12th October, almost exactly one year from leaving on 16th October 2008. This leg has been considerably longer than the first to South East Asia, when I clocked up 18,000 miles in roughly the same time frame and bearing in mind that the circumference of the planet is 25,000 miles, it puts in to context just how big the Americas are.


Its been a long but enjoyable road and I would like to thank the many fantastic people I have meet and spent time with along the way. I have been fortunate enough to spend time with some old friends and I have also made some great new ones along the way. The things that you see along your travels are great and beautiful, but without the people, a journey of this length would be empty.





Leaving Vancouver and heading across Canada

I rode out of Vancouver on Friday 4th Sept after spending a week enjoying this great city and the company of two great friends I had made on my travels to Asia, Bobby and Jessica. In the time I was there I managed to get in some yoga to stretch out the aches and pains of the 7000 miles I did in Alaska and the Canadian north, as well as some great food and some serious R&R. From Van I headed to Whistler to spend a couple of nights with Mike and Lori who own a place there and enjoyed some good banter, with of course some wine. From here I headed to the joint national parks of Jasper and Banff, that run down what must be described as the most spectacular part of the Rocky Mountains and the Canadians have been gracious enough to build a road all the way through, The Icefields Hwy.














Its the kind of place that you want to just take in the views, kick back with your feet up on the crash bars and ride through slowly. Which is precisely what I did. There are days when you just want to do some miles and days when you just need to take in your surroundings, absorb the energy of a place and experience what you are on the road for. The Icefields Hwy is exactly what you imagine when you think of Canada's Rockie's, it epitomises the Canadian image and hence it is used in almost every brochure you will see of this country, its is beautiful.










It took me two more days to ride across the flat lands of Alberta and Manitoba once I rode out of the Rockies and to my next destination of the Flying V ranch, owned by friends that I made while in Montana, Rhonda and Alan. Alan attempted to turn me in to a cowboy, but unfortunately my abilities on a horse, are only matched by my abilities at ballet dancing and my attempt of riding bare back was meet with an extremely undignified departure from the said animals back, followed by an extremely rough landing and some extreme bruising to my ego.





















I did slightly better at driving his Semi truck, whilst I may not have found a new vocation for my life, I did enjoy it immensely, in fact I was like a kid with a new train set, and if you would like to wittiness this, please have a look at the video at the end of this blog.



Back in to the USA

I crossed in to the US at some tiny border post, where clearly not many Englishmen on lard arse BMW's ride through. After nearly being strip searched, I was allowed in to the Land of the Free!











It took 4 days of meandering travel to ride across the sates on North Dakota, Minnesota, Wisconsin,past the great lakes to Illinois, Indiana, stopping off at the rev head destination of Indianapolis Motor Speedway, where unfortunately there was no racing, but at least i picked up a sticker for the bike,Ohio and eventually arriving tin West Virginia late on the evening of Thursday sept 17th to visit my friends Summer and Andrew. I met Summer way back in 2006 when I was traveling in Uganda. The weekend was spent indulging ourselves in way too much alcoholic consumption at the river festival called Gualeyfest.

I took a weeks break here to recharge the batteries and look around the area and catch up with old friends, never something that should be rushed.I left West Virginia heading to Philadelphia , on one of the wettest journeys that I have ever done. It rained for the entire 300 miles and I arrived my friends Marc and Suzanne's house, more like a drowned rat than the round the world traveler that there had been reading about in my blog. However, no amount of rain could damped the pleasure I felt in seeing such good old friends.
















I have known Marc since I was 16 and we have always been biking buddies, having both ridden as motorcycle couriers as well as doing many a stupid thing on two wheels. Marc came to America way back in 1985 and I worked with him roofing when I lived here back in 1991. We have always been good friends and it was great to catch up with him and Suzanne over a cold pint and of course have the piss taken out of me for looking like a hippy.

New York City

I rode up to NYC on Sunday 4th October to catch up with a fella that I meet in the Himalayas when I was riding up to Leh in Kashmir , India. Will has a swanky penthouse in Manhattan and as I have never been to NYC, I snapped up his offer to spend a few days with him and to see this iconic city. New York is without doubt one of the places that you must see before you die. No where else has the image and some would say ego as this place, it is truly a 24 hour city and the energy on the streets is palpable. I loved just wondering around the busy streets and seeing such famous places as the Empire State Building, the Rockefeller Centre, Grand Central Station, ground zero, Macy's, Times Square, the list is endless.


After living for 5 years I am a bit over living in big cites, and I have to say that I doubt that I would like to live in this one either, but to visit and just see how this monolithic place operates is a spectacle in its self. I was somewhat taken a back by ground zero, in that its just a big building sight. America being America, I expected a monument to have been erected and something in place to commemorate the attacks of Sept 11th 2001, after all it is 8 years.



I walked around Central Park which is quite a spectacle in such a busy city and it always seems strange that the most expensive properties in a city are the ones that over look nature. Man can build what he wants, but we all feel better when we can see what nature provides.



















I dropped my bike off at the shippers on Thursday 8th October and I fly out on Monday 12th to the UK.


Some Views on America

Its hard to imagine that America has a long tern glowing future when you observe the unhealthy state of so many of its citizens. I have never traveled amongst so many sick looking people. For a long time we have all been aware of the obese in America, a trend that unfortunately Britain along with many other western countries following.But its not just the overweight that look unhealthy, so many men and women have pasty complexion and skin, which is the biggest indicator of an diet devoid of nutrition. Not caused just by eating at fast food outlets, but feeding themselves at home. Supermarkets have row upon row of medication for stomach acid and indigestion. Rows and rows of vitamins, adds on TV continually trying to sell you a chemical cure for all your ills.

As America is "the" global icon, are we all destine to go this way? Is the whole world going to poisons self with food that lack any nutritional value? I sincerely hope not , but how do you change this? You can walk in to a store the size of the average British supermarket, that only sell vitamins. Whats wrong with good food?

But for all its ills and failings, America, as I have said before it a great place to visit and I have never been shown so much hospitality as I have here, the people can be slightly over nationalistic with all the "God Bless America" rhetoric, but I do truly love it here.














In Conclusion


The Low Points


* Crashing after hitting a dog in Argentina
*Waiting for seven weeks to get the damage sorted out
*Freezing my balls off crossing a 4900 metres pass in Peru at night. Thanks Christian, I would have turned back if you had not been following me
* Eating guinea pig in Peru
*Being so far away from my friends and family
*Deleting my entire Itunes catalogue
*Almost drowning in monsoon rains in Ecuador
*2 and half weeks of rain in Alaska, and camping in it
*Riding the Ruta 40 in 100mph side winds on road tyres



















The High Points

*Seeing Torres del Pain mountains in Chile for the first time, then waking up with them as my back drop
*Riding in the Ushaia, the most southerly city in the world.
*Riding through the desolated beauty that is Tierra del Fuego
*Riding out of Mendoza after getting the bike repaired
*Seeing the Nazcar Lines in Peru
*Crossing the equator in Ecuador
*Riding across the Arctic Circle
*Meeting up with me old mucker Baggy in Philly
*Riding over the Andes, time and time again
*Wine tasting in Mendoza, quite a few times
*Riding in Peru at over 4000 metres for what seemed like weeks
*Eating freshly smoked salmon in Alaska
*Getting off 1000km of dirt road in Argentina and feeling beautiful smooth tarmac

I had a thirst for travel and now I have quenched it. I feel satisfied and content with my choices and achievements. Thirst always re-occurs and I am sure this one will indeed re-appear in my life at some stage, but for now I have drunk my fill. I have ridden from one end of the Americas to the other, along the way seeing some of the greatest sights there are to see in the world, some of the most spectacular landscapes and greatest cities, meet some fascinating people, ridden some of the greatest roads there are and learnt much about my-self along the way.

Many people are now asking me what next. Well, Im not quite sure to be honest, I have some ideas that I need to look at closely when I get back and there are some other ideas that are not in the UK. It will not be easy to settle in one place after experiencing so much freedom, for so long , but also I have reached a point of travel exhaustion, when new things are no long stimulating me, its time to sit still and push my life in a new direction. This adventure has its roots back to March 2005 when I met a guy in Luang Prabang, Lao who had ridden out from London. This has been without doubt one of the greatest events of my life and it has changed me, for the better, immeasurably. Leaving England on April 2nd 2007 was a hard day, heading out in to a path with no experience of over land travel was daunting, you have no idea what the road will have in store for you. Now I have come to the end of the road its time to reflect on the great places I have seen, things, good and bad that I have experienced and to draw lessons from it all. I am in no doubt that it was the right thing for me to embark on this path, leaving Woodford Motorcycles and stepping in to the void of uncertainty was exactly what I needed so that I could rediscover who I was as a person and not just be Stuart the motorcycle dealer with only one focus, money.

I now have a whole world of opportunity ahead of me and a new view on the world, this could be a very interesting period.


Thank you all for you support along the way, when there have been difficult times and there have been many, it was having friends somewhere out there that cared and where there to help, that made the difference between giving up and quitting. So until the next time and there will be one, adios amigos , X.

Alaska ,back to Vancouver - and on to New York?

The last time I wrote I was in Fairbanks, Alaska, drying out from a couple of days of rain since crossing the border from Canada. Unfortunately this weather pattern set the climate and the mood for the coming two weeks - rain! Constant drizzle that made a London Monday morning look bright and shinny.

I couldn't see any on Denali National Parks famous Mt McKinley, even if it does poke in the sky to an altitude of 20,000ft. It rained in Anchorage, it rained at the coast, it rained in the mountains, actually that's all it bloody weel did do. I did stop , briefly in Wasilla, Sarah Palins home town, where I hope to buy some SP memorabilia, but unfortunately I couldn't find anything with a moose with lipstick on it, oh well next time.

I did manage to see some really spectacular scenery riding along the Glennallen Hwy and especially the Haines Hwy, but in fairness , quite a bit of this was when I crossed the border in to BC again, before returning to Alaska further south. It is without doubt on of the prettiest places on earth, surely all those documentaries that I have seen over the years cant all have been lieing? I did manage to glimpse the stunning scale and magnitude of the mountains at Haines. This small fishing port is the quintessential small American town. Only a few shops, where the staff all know the customers names ( except mine that is) and restaurants full of locals and not hordes of tourist, but there were a few. It is surrounded with towering mountains that plunge deep in to the fjords below and glaciers sit suspended , mid air, in there irrepressible decent to the sea . I did at last glimpse a bear, a mother with two cubs , happily eating berries on the side of the road, and a slightly larger grizzly, who was a little more camera shy.

But it was still raining as I arrived by ferry to Skagway, a famous town in the gold rush to the Yukon, but now a deep water harbour for cruise ships and the tourist horde. The rain just got heavier as I crossed the border back in to Canada for the last time and arriving in Whitehorse, it seemed like the worst of the rain was over, so I pitched my tent and crossed my fingers. But you will guess right, it rained.

Packing up and wet tent and putting on damp riding gear is not much fun I can tell you, especially when you are heading to Watson Lake. This town has an air of desperation about it, bordering on the angry; the inhabitants are angry at you, because you are getting out of the place and they are stuck there, condemned to eat the shit food they serve you up, drink copious amounts of alcohol and smoke endless cigarettes, because there is nothing else to do but to get fat and ugly. Of course there is, this is not Cuba, no one is really stuck, and interestingly some people come here for its sort of remoteness and because they find the kindred spirits of other drifters and losers.

So the tent was put up again feeling rather damp, as I was myself, of course there is the option of a cheesy motel, which are dry, but frankly appalling value for money, so I did have a choose, so no need to feel to much sympathy. I just struggle to cough up the dough when the place is little more than a shack, but cost what a 5 star hotel does in Bangkok. Still thats how it is in the north. The rain did easy and it was actually looking like I might get a dry night, but alas that was not meant to be and it pissed down all night. Waking in a veritable lake,I headed off down the Cassier Stewart Hwy, which should have been a highlight due the the scenery and to be fair there were some breaks and it is a truly beautiful vista, but there where far too rare a glimpse.

The town of Stewart is located 40kms off the main hwy and the road is flanked by beautiful mountains, which for once I was actually able to see, and has hanging glaciers gripping like limpets to a boats hull along the side of the road, its a great ride and you have to cut your vision from the road to the mountains as every turn produces a jaw dropping scene. Its a small town of 600, which makes it feel like a city compared to its neighbour in Alaska, Hyder, population 65!

The reason to take the turn off, apart from the mountains was to try - in vain - to see bears feeding on the salmon that are spawning, I got to see the salmon, which is a spectacle in its self, the migration of thousands of fish thats sole purpose is to return to the place of there birth, breed and die. I was happy to see this, as its a true wonder of the world, but not a bear in sight.

Next stop was back at my friend Tylers, were I was pleased to find some dry weather at last. 2 and a half weeks of rain, out of the 7000 miles that I have done on this leg, 3000 have been ridden in the rain. Im glad that I have ridden up there as it was the goal of the journey and a place that I have always wanted to visit, but I dont feel like I have seen what Alaska has to offer, I would like to return one day, but perhaps not on a bike. I met a couple of lads that had flown up and rented a camper and were just hitting the best fishing spots and doing some sights. A nice dry camper and some fishing, now that sounds like a great idea to me.

With a combination of rain and poor visibility due to forest fires, the north has not revealed its true beauty and I feel like I want to end this trip with some greater memories. So I have decided to end it New York. Not that I think NY is so stunning, but there are some parts of Canada that i have yet to see and if I dont do it now I probably never will. But quite importantly there are some friends that I have made along the way and in life that are scattered about north America and I have managed to aline the stars so that I can almost ride in a straight line across and spend some time with them all. And if there is one thing I will take away from this journey, its how important your friends are and how empty life would be without them. But NYC is, defiantly the end of the road. I want to just be somewhere for more than a few days and not be thinking of packing up a tent and what rubbish food am I going to have to put up with today, plus the bike is starting to feel as knacked as the rider, she has been good to me and its time to put her in a garage for a long long time.

I have just spent a few days relaxing in Vancouver, a city that I really love and hope to come back to at some point, its incredibly clear and open city, right on the ocean and flanked by mountains, its a hard setting to beat, and makes London look like an absolute flea pit of a place. Ill head out this weekend, after spending some time in Whistler and then make the slow crossing of the North American continent and hope to be in NYC for 4th Oct. Its a long road ahead, but I can see the horizon.

Alaska at last

My last update left me in Colorado, Im now in Alaska, so Im am doing a travelogue to just fill you in on where the trip has taken me and some of the places that I have seen, sorry if its rather long, Ive just been a slack arse.

After having the 4^th July weekend with friends, while I happily waved the Union flag and a tear came to my eye at the loss of one of the colonies. It is of course a great celebration, for which I am not exactly sure all Americas actually realise what they are celebrating, just as in the UK we don’t really teach our kids why we are burning to death a “Guy” on November 5^th, history and time just blurs it in to a ritual. But of course America is a proud country and its populace are extremely nationalistic, too much at times. And this simply over flows on 4^th July, when everything is available with the stars and stripes emblazoned across them, plates, cups,serviettes, camping chairs, t shirts, shorts – you name it, you can get it with a flag on.

But travel is about observing your surroundings and enjoying what you see around you and this is the first time that I have been in the states for this holiday and it is a special time. Americans are some of the most hospitable people you will ever meet, some English that I know, being of a conservative nature, find this rather over powering, but if you open yourself to this hospitality, you really do find genuine friendship and a sincerity in there, something that I have to be said you don’t find everywhere.

So moving on from the festivities of Colorado, I made my way up to Yellowstone to try to find Yogi bear. But it would seem that the hordes of RV driving tourist had scared him away to his cave, perhaps that he shares with Osama, now would that be great if they found him living in the US. Now Yellowstone is a fantastic place and I have always wanted to go, as I have wanted to see wild bison for as long as I remember. The advantage you have when travelling in the US,is that there national park system is one, extensive and two, that everything is easily accessible. The down side of this is that everyone and their granny can get there with relative easy. Therefore, they become something of a Disney Land, with motor homes and 4x4 blocking every turn. Heaven forbid that an animal should be so foolish as to walk next to the road, then you have a tail back more akin to Friday evening on the M25, its hell on earth.

I did however manage to see the bison that I desired, as one conveniently parked himself right by the camp that I had my tent pitched at, so I was able to sip a nice cup of tea, whilst gazing upon these magnificent creatures. The herd that roam the 2.2 million acres of Yellowstone, number around 2000. That is in contrast to the some 30 million that used to roam the mid states of America. This has to be one of the saddest and cruellest exterminations of an animal by man. We (humans, this is not a national thing) slaughtered these beast firstly for there coats, leaving the carcass to rot on the plans, then for there meat to feed the workers of that rail roads and then in one of the worst events of the 19^th century, to starve to death the Indian tribes that used to follow the great herds on there migration, and who used every part of the animal for there survival. Man has and still does such despicable things.

I rode on through Wyoming and in to the big sky state of Montana, where cowboys still roam the range and the horizons seem to stretch to the ends of the earth. The rides were long and the scenery at times rather monotonous, and when it rains, it really rains. I arrived at Glacier National Park in one of these storms and was glad to find some shelter under which to pitch my tent and get some warm food inside myself. The next day was bright and sunny and I rode in to the park to do one the fabled “most beautiful” roads in America, the Highway to the Sun, well Im sure it would be, if again it was not for the tourist horde, which I know I am one, but you always want these things to yourself, bad timing I think, Im sure if I returned at the end of September, I would have an open road. But alas I didn’t and I also ran in to one of those pain in the arse anal bastard road workers, how threatened to radio the cops because I had filtered past a line of stationary car, please, get a fucking life. At this point I had had it with the place and I returned to my camp for a swim in the remarkable warm lake and to enjoy the last rays of the sun the day had left.

Up bright and early I was able to get to the Hwy to the sun, without to much drama or nazi jobsworths reading me the riot act. I crossed the Canadian border and headed west in the direction of Vancouver, with the sun lowering in the sky and directly in front of me. There is nothing like riding in to the sunset on warm evening, with not a care in the world. I arrived in Vancouver on Saturday 26th July, to meet up with a fella I met in Laos and who lives right in the heart of the city. It was quite a shock to be in a city again, with cars and people all around, horns beeping and pedestrians crossing the street at inappropriate times, mainly the drunk ones that is. Vancouver is a very bright and cosmopolitan city, but every city has its underbelly. I was warmly greeted by Bobby and told to rapidly get my self cleaned up, which was quite a task after 2 weeks of camping and getting the odd wash in a river, as we had to get up to Whistler to meet up with friends of his. Shaved and scrubbed up we headed up the highway to a place I last visited to ski back in 97 and here I got to spend the weekend in a comfy bed, drink good wine, eat good food (vegan, umm) and swim in a beautiful clear lake and lounge in the sun, tough life at times.

I met up with Axel, my riding buddy over on Vancouver Island. We had parted company when I has hamstrung in Mendoza, Argentina. We shared a bottle of rum and talked shit for the night ( not hard for me) then , slightly hung over I made it up the island to visit a mate from India whom lives in Comox, 3 hours north. I spent a couple of night there, filling in the day with a few bits of work on the bike and some sea kayaking out to a friends yacht for some supper and a few glasses of wine to watch the sunset. Axel and I met up on the Saturday and took the ferry across to the mainland and started out northward journey.

Now you are probable thinking that Im in Canada, cool weather, pine trees, snowy mountain, but let me tell you, the interior of British Colombia get almighty hot in summer and we spend the first couple of days riding in 3o+ degrees and roasting our arses off and I can assure you that there is nothing like jumping in to a clear blue lake at the end of a long hot ride, it really is fantastic. We spent a few days with a friend of mine, Tyler, who has been guiding on a few raft trips that I have done around the world. Last time I saw him was with malaria in Uganda. His home town of Quesnel is a huge logging centre and he showed us around some off the plants and explain how the pine beetle in decimating the trees of the area, a natural phenomena that is occurring from Colorado, all the way up to Alaska. The little bugger has got a grip due to one, milder winters, but two,human intervention in naturally occurring forest fires. The result is that in some areas, 90% of pine trees will are dead or dying. A good time to bye cheap pine if you need any!

We headed north again and towards the Yukon, a name I have associated more with cartoons from my childhood that anything else. I remember watch little gold miners running around with pick axes and gold nuggets, all with very strange accents and long grey beads, formative years obviously. We stopped at the town of Watson Lake and hitched a quick spine with a helicopter pilot that Axel had met in Colombia, he was up there helping out with the forest fires, the same ones we had witnessed the day before and that had almost blocked the sun in the sky with a thick haze. It looks unattractive, but nature needs this process to clear out the dead wood and as described earlier, the pests that feed on the timber. In our short time on the planet though, we fail to comprehend the loss of the forest and the fact that it takes 50 to 60 years to fully re-grow. Its just another symbol of how small and short our lives are on this great planet.

Next stop was Whitehorse, which was a boom town in the Klondike gold rush of the late 1900s, a brief my momentous period when 1000s of gold hungry “stampeders” sold everything there had in the hope of sticking it rich, which of coarse very few did. The place is a somewhat dull affair, with what has to be the most expensive take out food on the planet, justified with the frase “that’s the way it is in the north” a frase that would ruffle my feather more than once.

We had come in this direction, as we wanted to ride the Dempster Hwy. There are two roads that lead way up the north, the Dempster, in Canada and the Dalton in Alaska. Both cross the Arctic Circle and the Dalton actually goes a little higher, but the Dempster has the better scenery and neither actually gets you to the Arctic Ocean, so we opted for the Dempster. Its 750kms of dirt road and if you get caught on it in the rain, it can be a real nightmare as it turns to a slippery mud bath. Fortunately we had the weather with us, even if the forest fires were keeping visibility down to 3 or 4 kms, a shame when at time you can possibly see 120.

The overnight stop is at Eagle Plains, a rather desolate place, but there is camping and more importantly fuel. The next day we hit the real bench make, the Arctic Circle, which is really just a sign in the tundra, but is a major milestone when you have ridden up from Tierra del Fuego in Argentina. We pushed on for the day as we wanted to get in to Inuvik, our final destination at a reasonable hour and we had two river crossing, fortunately by ferry, and a lot more dusty dirt road to finish. We arrived in to Inuvik at around 8pm, feeling tiered from the dust and the concentration, that on a motorcycle you have to apply at all times, even on a good dirt road you never know when the road might change.

Inuvik is a box ticking exercise in reality, there is not much there of interest, it is just the end of the road, the farthest you can go north (in Canada). Being this far north though does have a special feel, there is 24-hour daylight, although we had missed the all night sun, and there is atrue frontier feel about the place, because it is the frontier. You can go a little farther north to Toktoyuktuk, but only be plane, and an expensive one at that.

I showered the next morning and just let the hot water run over as if trying to wash away all the aches and pains of the journey and reflecting on all the countries and events that have led me to this point. It’s been 7 months of almost constant moving and over 25,000 miles. I could have done quicker; I could have done it slower. But the most important thing is that I have done what I set out to do, ride from one end of the Americas to the other. If I am blowing my own trumpet I don’t care, but Im bloody proud of it. Im no hero and many people have done it in the past and will do in the future, but when I look back a few years in my life, then I would never thought I would have done what I have done in the past few years. I felt tired after that shower, but also immensely relieved that most of the journey was behind me, and I could now start to think about what else I want to do with my life. I did very little that day- there wasn’t much to do anyway – I just felt like sitting still.

We rode back down the Dempster and on to the town of Dawson City, another gold rush city that sits on the confluence of the Klondike and Yukon rivers. Part living city and part museum, Dawson is the kind of place you go to escape the rest of the world and hence attracts its fare share of “characters” most of whom are no doubt running from something in there lives or from themselves. This is where I ran in to the “that’s the way it is in the north”, but this time it ruffled my feathers too much. Its not just the words, but the way almost everyone uses it to justify what ever it is they are talking about and therefore you have to accept it that way. After 25 years of retail, I can tell you that if one of my staff ever said that to a customer, I would dismiss them on the spot. Things are the way there are because people make it so. In a town where there only have 4-month season, custom service should be a priority and one lady didn’t appreciate me pointing this out to her. Ill get off my soapbox now, sorry, it just really pissed me off.

Dawson is 150kms from the Alaska border and as you depart Canada, you ride over the Top of the World Hwy, a beautiful stretch of road that exposed to the weather, but provides hue vistas of the outlaying mountains. As soon as we had crossed the border, things instantly changed. In Canada, gun ownership is not a big thing, unlike the US, were the right to bare arms is seen as being next to religion as something you most have, remember “God, Guns and Guts”, and hunting is at the front of many peoples priorities. Within 3 miles we come across a scene that was to say the least macabre, beads to Caribou littered the floor around several ATV with riffle racks, blood ran from the back of pick up where the animals had been butchered. Gun toting red necks proudly showed off their day’s kills and explained how and where they hunted and how they carved up the poor fallen beasts. The same creatures that only the day before I had patiently, if frustratingly, tried to photograph. I felt sad and disgusted at this abuse of nature. And this is only the Caribou, let alone the moose, bear, wolf or anything else on four legs.

We rode through the one horse town of Chicken, yes there is a town called Chicken, Alaska and on to the town of Tok, where there were more Caribou heads strapped to the seats of ATVs, which I am sure will be proudly displayed on the wall of some trailer.

So as you might tell, first impressions of Alaska are tainted, but I am only in the town of Fairbanks, where it is raining, hence I have time to update the blog. The best is yet to come; I am really looking forward to the glaciers, salmon, bears and freshness of the coastal region. I have always wanted to fish for salmon and I am here at the perfect time of year and they are running up the rivers as we speak. I will hopefully also get to see the bears fishing, but not too close to where I am.

Quick update - in to the Colonies.

Sorry for the lack of updates, but I have either been covering miles, catching up with old travel buddies or had no internet. Its quite amazing that there is better coverage for a traveller in the third world than in the heart of the first. Everyone has it in there homes, but internet cafes are somewhat lacking, plus I have just been plane lazy.

Im now in Whitehorse in the Yukon and am travelling with Axel, whom I meet in Argentina. We meet up on Vancouver Island and have ridden up through British Colombia together. Tomorrow we leave for Dawson City (1500 inhabitants, City?) and up the Dempster HWY, across the arctic circle and the highest point north that I will reach, Inuvik.

I will write up a more detailed travelogue when the time permits, for now I am

concentrating on getting the journey completed and see as much of the great land has to offer. As yet I have not been attacked by any grizzlies, but there have been some ( very safe ) encounters with bear, moose and bison. As for salmon, only in the supermarket I am afraid, but I intend for this to change in Alaska!

God, Guns and Guts.

I left Miami after taking in the delights of this cosmopolitan city, its quite something to be sitting outside a bar at 2 am, watching a drunk rolling around in the gutter, a crack hoe plying her wears on one corner, a group of gang bangers plying theres on the other and a convertible Lamborghini at the lights. It really did feel like a scene from Miami Vice, thankfully no pastel box jackets though!

I spent my birthday, June 3rd, if you need to put that in your diary for next year, with the US side of the family, in Boynton Beach. I haven’t caught up with this branch of the family tree for nearly 18 years, so it was good to see the clan again and acquaint myself with the growing brewed. I now have 12 second cousins, as my cousins pop out new sprogs at a right old rate.

From here I set out cross country towards Arkansas, which only claim to fame is that ex-president Clinton used to be its governor (better that Schwarzenegger I suppose), to catch up with some friends and take a break from the drudgery of riding on the US interstate systems. Its great for eating up the miles, but the landscape on the east is, lets say rather flat and there only so many Denny’s, International House of Pancakes and Waffle Houses you want to eat in. I managed the trip in two days, however I totally under estimated the distance and on day two, spent 17 hours in the saddle and covered 850 miles. I assure you that I will never do that again. And I suppose that you will ask why I did? I really cant give a valid reason, I could have just pulled in to any one of a thousand bland motels, I didn’t have to be anywhere at a certain time, so I think the best explanation is that I’m a stupid wanker!

After recuperating from said ride and getting some work done on the bike, I set off cross country again, for a place that I have always wanted to see and somehow, even after travelling in the states several time, managed to miss – Monument Valley. On route I crossed through Oklahoma and New Mexico, this is an extract from my personnel journal – “I enter the BigDs diner and every head turns to see what has walked in through the door. The place is in Nowheresville Oklahoma, on the great plains, it stinks of fried food and stale air, the clientele are straight out of the stereo type text book; dudes in Stetsons, boots and big belt buckle or tie die shirts, filthy baseball cap and discount store Timberland rip offs. There is only one window and no ventilation, although the weather outside is a beautiful sunny day. A sign on the wall reads, “I don’t skinny dip, I chunky dunk!”, which is entirely appropriate, as everyone, with no exception, is at least 50lb overweight, including the waitress. The coffee is weak, the air is stinging my eyes and the food is greasy. But this place is so irresistibly mid America, it personifies everything that is wrong and

everything that is right about America”.

It took me two long days from Arkansas to get to the Utah border and on this night I camped by a river just 40 miles from Monument Valley. I rose early the next day extremely excited about eventually getting to see these rocks that I had seen so many time is western movies as a child, with John Wayne riding around on his horse, chasing Indians telling people to get off there horse and drink there milk and proving how the west was won, or stolen depending on how you look at it. By 7.30 am I was riding through the “Land of the Gods” and marvelling at the giant sand stone bluffs that tower above you, that have been carved out by a million years worth of sand storms and water erosion. My next thrill was riding down the road that featured on the album cover of the Eagles, Hotel California and is a piece of music and travel legend. Not only is this a great place to cruise through, it is a fantastic place to photograph, so I spend quite a few hours sitting around waiting for the light to be perfect, but your could be here for weeks, even months and come up with so many different shades of light, that none would seem perfect, but I was happy with what I could achieve given the limited time scale.

The next stop was Moab, the stop off town for Arches NP and some of the most spectacular rock scenery there is in the world. The first night I was there, i camped on the banks of the Colorado river and tried to get some photos of some of the arches , but missed the good light, so returned to my camp in the wilds, where I attempted a camp meal in the absolute pitch black of a moonless night and having only my head tourch for company. Unfortunately all this did was attract a hoard of flys, that either landed in my food or my mouth; now that's fresh protein for you.

I had better luck with the photos the next day, catching a storm coming in behind the arches, unfortunately I got caught in the storm on the walk back to the car park and got totally drenched, but I was happy with the night efforts. I had moved my tent to an RV park, so at least I had something a little more luxurious to return to - no fly soup tonight.

I rode out of the desserts of Utah on an extremely chilly morning, stopping at one of Americas great institutions, the diner! American cuisine leave quite a lot to be desired at times, but there do know how to do breakfast ( apart from coffee, its shockingly bad, there should be a law against what surely is mud mixed with hot water), I rode in to the Rockies and to the ski town of Teluride, surrounded by towering granite, this small town is the epitome of old time America , in the new modern age, with charming old houses lining its streets and crystal clear streams running through the place.

All day long I was straining my neck looking up and around at the magnificent countryside of what could be Americas most beautiful state. Forests of pine and aspen cover the mountains and streams and rivers tumble down them, I was truly enchanted. I stopped for the night at Ouray, which is clustered in a giant amphitheater, not only is it a beautiful to camp, it has the added bonus of have a natural thermal spring to help soak away the aches of the long days ride.

The following day I took to some of the jeep trails of the area, which I had been informed where of relative ease. Well maybe in a 4x4 jeep, yes, but on 500lbs of BMW, I assure you that is not the case. These roads indeed tested my resolve of both rider and bike and I would put some of this section as the toughest roads I have been along , anywhere, I really was on the limit of the mine and the bikes capabilities. In fact it got to the point where it went over the limits and I ended up with the bike on its side in 2 foot of muddy water and some very moist feet. Unfortunately, I had inadvertently taken a wrong turn, hence I was in to tough territory and with no one in sight, having to pick the heifer up on my own. After that I was in to mood for finding my way out and some lunch. The trail took me to the quaint old mining town of Silverton, which sits amongst the mountains like a forgotten relic of a bygone age, with old western style shop fronts, saloons with swing doors and even a small gauge steam train service.

I tied up my bike at the front of an eating establishment and consumed some Mexican food, whilst my socks and boots sat drying in the sun. I rode back to my camp with a school boy grip of misadventure on my face, happily covered in mud and sweat and enjoyed a cold beer with the camp host, from the fridge of his massive RV ( recreation vehicle) the sort if thing that we only see in the UK at a Formula 1 meeting, but in America are everywhere. Recession, what recession?

I left my beautiful camp ground and headed over Red Mountain Pass ( there is a red mountain there!) where first it started to rain and then it snowed. Excuse my profanity, but I was fucking frozen, there is only so much my heated grips can do, and I couldn't even feel them. I rode, shivering down in to the town of Durango, where I stuffed my face at an all you can eat Chinese buffet, were I certainly got my monies worth, as I started to warm up at the lower altitude and the glimpse of sun that shone through the window. I camped that night at a camp called Big Bend Camp, fun enough it was on a big bend in the river, so descriptive these Americans. Now do any of you remember the film National Lampoons Vacation, staring Chevy Chase and with a glimpse of Christy Brinkley? Well it was filmed at this very camp. Unfortunately Christy was not around, so I had to make do with the gentle sounds of the river to lull me to sleep.

I rode on through the Rockies and the great log cabins that people dwell in in this part of the world, stopping off at the cute little town of Lakecity, which is rather an exaggeration for a town with a population of around 500, clearly the founder had big expectations. The main pass time hear in trout fishing in the clear waters of the river the runs through town. I didn't have the time to stop and fish, but I have picked up myself a rod and have high hopes of hooking out a couple of specimens to roast over the camp fire later in my travels. Im now staying with friends near Breckenridge, where in years gone by I have enjoyed the skiing. Now I am relaxing in the mountain air and getting ready to enjoy the celebration of 4th July, when I understand, they celebrate removal of them selves from the commonwealth, what a bizarre thing to celebrate. I will of course be sporting my Union Jack shorts and waving the flag of the Empire.

I would like to share some words of wisdom that have been passed on to me while in this ex-colony -

"God , Guns and Guts, that what made America great" Alabama

"You cant ride to Alaska, Alaska is an Island!" Colorado.

Fantastic! Ciao x

Miami

Well quite amazingly I have retrieved my bike from US customs in record time, I literally had the paperwork cleared in around 5 minute, it took me much much longer to field all the questions from the highly inquisitive cargo handlers at the warehouse, who I tantalised with stories from Iran and Pakistan. As soon as you mention these countries to American, there faces take on a look of terror, I find it most amusing.

This is just a quickie, to say all is well and that me and the bike are safely on out way in America, the previous post has a lot more details of what I have been up to over the last month or so. Thanks for reading, Ciao.

From South to North America

By the time you read this I will be on my way out of Colombia and arriving in Miami, not my chosen port of arrival, but as so often as has happened in this trip, nothing has gone to plan. I had left my bike in Cali, after meeting with a shipping agent and arranging which route that bike would take and I would follow. This being LA, after which I would be back on track after missing out central America and Mexico. But Colombia being Colombia and me being the token gringo, things are never that easy. After 3 weeks of traveling around on a bus and sending the agent information on when i wold be back to pay him and get the bike on a a plane, suddenly the cost has jumped 50%.

So to cut a long story short, I have chosen to save a lot of money and fly in to Miami and make a plan on the hoof when I arrive. I just want to get out of here, I need a blast of western culture, which I am sure I will overdose on very quickly, but for now that is what I need.

After 7 months in the Latin section, I am ready to move on, I leave with some very fond memories, of great people and great places. I have mentioned before that I have become travel weary, so the break from the bike has been good and its allowed me to recharge my batteries and refocus on what Im doing. Something I have come to realise, is that travel in this way, moving around all the time, has become very unfulfilling and at time rather empty. You meet some interesting people, but for every interesting one, you meet 20 that are as dull as ditch water. Now that may seem harsh and perhaps, if you can spend more time with people, then you really find out if they are interesting, but by the very nature of travel, your meetings are very transient and this can conspire to deep loneliness. We as humans need intellectual and physical interaction and stimulation with our fellow humans, just meeting people does not satisfy these needs.

I don't leave South America with any regret. Its been a fun and I have seen some outstanding beauty and had some of the best motorcycling there is to be had in the world. What I find lacking here is cultural diversity, its not bland by any means, it just lacks something, something that only time brings, and relatively speaking this is still the new world. Unfortunately we are now in an age of homogenisation, where we, globally, are becoming more and more alike. Westernisation is seeping in everywhere you look, from coffee shops to burgers bars, clothes to pharmacy's, one town looks just like the other and we all do the similar things. South American countries think of themselves as very distinct and they are very nationalistic, but really its like an "Un-united States of South America". Divided by there politicians petty rivalry and desires for self glorification, but then that is politicians the world over. The difference between the countries, give the area that it covers, I find quite small. In isolation, each country is interesting, but after 7 months I am found them blending in to one.

So would I come back? Im not sure really, to Patagonia certainly and I would say that to Argentina and Chile, yes, but the rest of it, probable not. There is of course the Amazon , which I have not ventured down, but thats an entire adventure on its own, perhaps one day.

So, Colombia

As I mentioned in my previous update, I have been travelling around Colombia by bus, and it has been a welcome break to be off the bike and just sit back, read a book and let someone else navigate there way to the various places that I wished to see. After leaving Cali, my first port of call was Medellin, Pablo Escobar's old stomping ground and once a no go area for the police and army, let alone travelers. But today the story is very different, as Colombia basks in a new found confidence in its self as well as the confidence of outside investors. I only spent a couple of days here, its an OK city, but not as exciting as its history and I found the place rather modern and ordinary, no doubt a nice place to live, but not fascinating to the visitor.

The next stop was Cartagena, a town I have always wanted to visit ever since watching Romancing the Stone. It really is the archetypal colonial Spanish town, with beautiful balconies draped in bougainvillea, shady plazas, and a history of pirates and siege's by good old Sir Francis Drake, who was nothing more than a British government licenced pirate at best anyway (I think we could do with some of these now days, or are the pirates the government?). But he did manage to give the Spanish a few bloody noses in his day and pilfered quite a few doubloons in the process. The town literally is a living museum and in its hay day was Spain's most important port in the Americas and its where the majority of goods where shipped from, and exported to Spain, including the lucrative gold and silver that attracted said pirates. The only draw back of the place is the steaming hot climate, that is stifling, making anything more energetic than a gentle stroll an extremely sweaty experience indeed. I arrive on a Saturday night and the whole of the old town was alive to the sounds of salsa, as various bars and restaurants competed for the lucrative trade of both wealth Colombian and tight arsed back packers. The assumption is, that if your are from the west you have money the throw away, how wrong they can be, at least with a frugal bastard like me.

After a few days of drinking rum and rolling around the streets with a patch on my eye and a parrot on my shoulder, I headed down to the fishing village of Taganga, which can only be described as Rubbish-on-Sea, the place was an absolute shit hole; there are two reasons to come here - 1 its the easiest place to get in to Tayrone National Park and 2 you want to hang out with brain dead gap year travelers and drink beer and stuff cocaine up your nose. Another negative is that the place is infested with the worst kind of travellers that inhabit the planet - Israelis. The scerge of South America. Now don't get me wrong, Im not anti Semitic, but I have no time at all for groups of hairy faced oiks from the middle east , who act like they own the world and are as rude and arrogant as you can get. OK, Ill get off my soap box and try to be nice.

So needless to say I did hang around long, and due to the fact that I actually thought I was melting, I decided to head back down country for the town of San Gill. From here I was able to get a small bus up to the beautiful little town of Barricharra, which has been meticulously renovated to its former glory, and every house has to adhere to a strict code of appearance. The result is a town that looks like it is stuck in a time warp and if you had the absence of cars you could truly believe that you where back in the 18th century. It was a pleasure to be at a slight altitude again and though sunny, it felt like a warm spring day rather than someone putting a massive hair dyer on you as soon as you got out of your hammock. Next destination was Villa Leyva, such a genuine looking old hill town, that it was used as the set for a production of Zorro for Colombian TV.

Here I did a bit more horse ridding, still the horse was far more in control than I, but I enjoyed it all the same. I was also able to get in a few sessions of yoga and enjoy the beautiful nature that this area has to offer. Kicking back in a hammock while watching humming birds hover around you, takes a lot of beating.

Bogota - For years a bye word for violence, kidnapping and cocaine, Bogota is now a cleaned up city, boasting shinny new hotels built by Hilton, Intercontinental and various cosy boutique hotels that can rival most cities in the world. There is an air of confidence around the place that is say, "remember us? we are back!". I still don't think its on the list of most international travelers, but it is firmly on the gringo trail in South America and I'm sure with time it will attract more and more visitor. I stayed in the historic quarter of La Canderlaria, which is a nice place by day, but is rather close to some unsavoury neighborhoods, that produce some interesting characters as the sun drops from sight, but sometime, quite perversely, I enjoy that edginess. Perhaps I have been traveling too long!

Its is an amazingly cultural city though, and I have over dosed on museums and art galleries, but have avoided the plazas and churches, I am truly over those. One strange thing that I came across, was a whole city block full of shops selling military and police clothing, not fake but the real McCoy, rather worrying in a country that still does suffer from a high rate of crime and many instances of police impersonation. Now this was not hidden down some back alley, this was a stones throw from the presidential palace! I was tempted to kit myself out as one of the Village People, but you will be please to know that I thought better of it.

After a 10 hour bus ride I was back in Cali, the home of plastic surgery and though many people suggested I get my nose done while Im here, it is still its distinctive shape. After the debacle of the shippers, I managed to do precious little, a bit of writing and a lot of reading, its not much a city beyond the plastic surgeons and a few salsa bars, so I have just been sitting a waiting to catch my flight. Im now at Bogota airport, with one hour to go in South America and whilst I am reflecting on the past few months , I am firmly looking at the future and what awaits in North America. First port of call will be to see my cousins in Florida, who I have not seen for an eternity, then I have to decided on my route that I will take northwards, there is nothing like leaving things to the last minute, but its is rare that in life we have such flexibility to just go where we fancy and I will enjoy this while I can. The main priority is to get in to Alaska before the bears start to hibernate and I have to put nails in my tyres to get some traction.

So lets hope all goes well with US customs, Ill keep you posted.