Trans Americas 2009 - The Blog

Riding motorcycles all day is a great way to ensure a good night's sleep, and last night was no exception. Exhausted after the day's ride, I fell into a deep sleep, troubled only by weird dreams brought on by the late-night conversation with Steve about events in our lives in the 11 years since we last saw each other...

I also had a lie-in, waking at 6.30am, and showered and packed my belongings away before once again updating the blog. We wanted to get an early start so we could squeeze another day's ride in before my flight in the evening, so we left at 8.30am and once again rode into the early morning fog, and took the by-now familiar route to San Francisco and over the Golden Gate bridge, which was again suspended from the heavens under a thick blanket of fog. We then took a completely different route along a fantastic biking road with great sweeping bends and rolling hills, past man-made lakes and through small wooded copses and wide open sun-bleached fields. With the sun now having burnt off the fog the temperature rose to a pleasant level, and the riding was great, swinging the heavy Harley into the turns and scraping the footboards several times (more so the left one, as I seem to be more comfortable on left-hand bends than right-hand ones for some reason). We continued to amble along, enjoying the scenery and catching glimpses of turkey vultures circling on the thermals before finally arriving at Point Reyes, our nominated brunch stop.

Another quaint little town this one is a mecca for bikers, as any small town surrounded by great roads usually is, and the main street was lined with bikes of all types, from Ducati Hypermotards and 1098s, Japanese sportsbikes, Triumph speed triples and Harleys, both standard and full-on choppers. We ate in the Point Reyes Station House, a beautiful old wooden building with a garden patio (the area we were shown to was secluded and under a wooden “summer house”, which the waitress referred to as “romantic” - hardly appropriate!), and we both had an excellent “Corned Beef Hash” which bore no resemblance at all to the English version, and some “Home Fries” (sautéed potato chunks in their skins) and another great coffee mocha (for the sugar rush...).

Relaxing in the sunshine once more it was difficult to get moving again, but with bikes to ride we managed to drag ourselves away, and headed out of town and up the coastal road (Highway 1). Any road that follows the coast is going to be winding, and this was no exception, hugging the coastline in a series of lefts and rights that had me grinding the footboard some more (hoping that the rental company expects this sort of thing, it's only natural after all!). We rode all the way up to Bodega Bay before stopping again for a bottle of fizzy drink and a rest in the sunshine, before it was time to start heading back the way we'd come.





By now the sun was at its hottest and it was like riding in a fan-assisted oven, so we stopped at the side of the road, by an old school (1871 – positively ancient in American history terms) to cool off and take another photo of the Harley.





We stopped again in Fairfax for a final drink before rejoining the freeway and back into San Francisco, crossing the Golden Gate bridge for the last time, in a very strong side wind. We then had to cross the city to get back to Thunder Road and drop the bike off, but the riding was easy and the traffic light and predictable. With so little time to explore the city (and the fact that I'm saving that treat for when I can come again with Tracy), I only caught glimpses of City Hall, some weird-looking church on a hill and a grassy square...

Dropping the bike off was also trouble-free, and then it was back to “riding bitch” on Steve's Shadow back into the descending fog all the way back to Half Moon Bay, with my backside getting sore and my knees complaining. Back at Steve's I changed out of my bike gear and completed my packing and checked in online, before we loaded the bags into the car and joined a long traffic jam out of Half Moon Bay and on to the airport.

It was odd saying goodbye to Steve. We've only seen each other on 3 occasions – the 2 weeks of “NEO” in Boston, when he came to the UK and stayed with me for a day or so, and these last 3 days. I've always believed that there are some people you meet in life that will instantly become friends, people who are genuine, open and just good company. Steve is one of those people, and the last 3 days riding, chatting, drinking and eating with him have proven my theory. They've been what I like to call “best days”, days that you wish could last longer, and that you know you'll look back on with great fondness in years to come. Thanks, Steve. Hope it's not 11 more years before we get together again...





Once at the airport I dropped the big bag off at the drop-off, rip-off point (paying an additional $15 for checking a bag in, and a further $50 because it weighs more than 50lbs [66lbs actually]), then passed through security and went in search of something to eat. The spicy won-tons and noodles were not a match for the food Steve had found or prepared, but were not too bad. Then it was time to board the plane.

The flight itself was not one of the best, as sat in the entire row in front of me was a mother with her 4 incredibly badly-behaved children. Screaming, hitting each other and generally making a complete nuisance of themselves – including the mother, who seemed to slap one or other of the kids every 5 minutes. Sleep was not going to be possible, so I finished reading my book, then the in-flight magazine, write the blog (the in-flight magazine states that Alaskan Airways are conducting trials of in-flight wi-fi, but not on this flight, unfortunately, as I quite liked the idea of updating the website at 36,000 ft) and try to avoid slapping the irritating mother myself.

Finally we descended into Anchorage amongst dark grey skies, and the crew announced that it was 11.20pm, an hour behind San Francisco, and now 9 hours behind the UK. Despite the time, and the grey rainy skies, it was still light outside... after all, this is the “Land of the Midnight Sun” as they say...

Before I'd even made it to the baggage collection point I was met by Jeff (the Van Man) and we chatted and idled the time until my bag arrived, which we then dragged to the waiting van and threw in the back (not literally, it does weigh 32Kgs!). With Jim Jones (an American also on the Trans Am) due in at “0.01am” we went to check on his flight, only to discover that there were no flights arriving at that time (the closest being one in at 1.01am). As the hotel is only a short drive from the airport, Jeff suggested he took me there and came back for Jim (who I was sharing a room with) later. I agreed, and off we set, only to discover the main route to the hotel was closed and so Jeff navigated us across town, disorientating me completely in the process. But he must have known what he was doing because we arrived outside the hotel in short order. A very old looking building in downtown Anchorage (dating from 1936 on this site, the hotel first being established in 1916) and listed in the “National Register of Historic Places”, it looked comfortable enough.

With Jeff having confirmed that Jim hadn't somehow managed to beat us back, he set off into the night to get him, whilst I checked in. I was given room 209, but when I tried to open the door a voice shouted from inside that “You got the wrong room, buddy!”... Double-checking the number on the door (209), the number on the key (209) and the number in my head (209), I concluded there must be a mistake (my powers of deduction, even having been up for 19 hours straight are amazing!) and went back to reception. Will, the desk clerk, was most apologetic and quickly sorted me out with a replacement room – a suite – and said he'd put Jim in a single when he arrived (as he had no other twins available). Result! A large bed all to myself, with coffee facilities for the morning. Grateful, I collapsed into bed and quickly fell into a deep sleep...