Trans Americas 2009 - The Blog

The day of departure started early, very early, as I woke at 2.37am just a few short minutes before the alarm was due to go off. Getting up whilst trying not to disturb Tracy – she'll appreciate those few short minutes later – and into the shower to wake myself properly. Seconds later, Tracy appears. Seems the few short minutes were just that – few and short...

Tracy made me a cup of tea whilst I got showered and dressed, and then we loaded up the heavy bag into the boot of her Mini and I drove to the airport, with a growing sense of anxiety as to whether I'd be able to get checked-in (as the Air France website had been refusing to acknowledge my booking yesterday) and whether my big bag would be too heavy (we'd weighed it with me holding it on the bathroom scales and it was >25Kgs). Once at the airport my anxiety was for another reason... having to say “Goodbye” to Tracy, knowing I won't see her or hold her again for 5 months (148 days to be exact)... so we said our farewells and had a cuddle I hope will sustain us both, and I dragged the bag into the airport building.

On the big screens it stated that the Air France check-in desk for my flight to Paris would not be open until 4.40am... and it was now just 3.30am... Still, that would at least give me some more time to get more anxious...

I went and tried the auto-checkin kiosk, but it didn't show the Air France logo, so I dropped the bags on the floor and stood around prepared for a long wait. I noticed a weighing machine, so weighed the big bag... 31.6kg... oh, dear! And with an absolute max of 32Kg per bag I was now even more anxious... After a few minutes someone official appeared and asked those on the KLM flight to Amsterdam to check-in, so I tried the kiosk once more, and this time the Air France logo appeared. I quickly retrieved my booking (first sigh of relief), but also had to fill in my destination address in the US, which is when I realised I didn't have Steve's address with me... so I just entered “Half Moon Bay, CA” and went to the desk to check the bag in. And that went very smoothly, although I was told I should have split it as the check-in allowance is 2 bags of 23Kg each! (Now if the Air France website had been working, I'd have known that...). I also didn't have any issues with carrying on my helmet bag and my rucksack. Second sigh of relief. Just Steve's address to sort out now. So I contacted Tracy and she logged onto my home laptop and retrieved it for me... Third and Final Sigh of Relief...

Once through security (again without problem), I grabbed some breakfast from Burger King (the lesser of the two available evils) and started to people-watch. The airport seemed full of groups of young women (I'd guess 19-25) and group had their own “identity” - mostly bright vest tops emblazoned with the individual girl's names - “Charlotte”, “Shaz”, “Charmaine”, etc. You get the picture. Once my hunger had been addressed, I wandered off and found somewhere to sit and read the paper until the flight was called. That's when I found the card and letter Tracy had put in my book. Suffice to say reading them had me filling up with tears, not a good look for a hardened Adventure Biker! (but it was very uplifting, knowing that I have Tracy's love and support).

The flight to Paris was quick and uneventful, and I passed the time reading the paper and in-flight magazine (too early for the book!). The turnaround at Paris CDG was very quick, and I only had enough time to grab a bottle of water before boarding. Once on board and with my luggage safely in the overhead bins (another worry resolved) I sat down and broke out the book. I've recently started reading “Ghost Rider – Travels on the Healing Road” by Neil Peart, the drummer from Rush who lost his 19-year old daughter (in a car crash on her way to University) and wife in the space of 10 months, then set out on a solo bike trip to try and deal with his grief. It's a bit heavy going at times, especially as David was the same age when he was taken from us, but I can relate totally to the stages of grief he's going through. The book kept me occupied for almost the entire flight, with a snatched hour of dozing and 2 poor meals to break my rhythm.

We arrived slightly delayed (anxious about the time Steve will be waiting), but were soon off the plane and in the massive queue to get through immigration control. I was hoping for a “Visa holder” fast lane (to make up for the special trip I had to make to London to get the Visa) but no joy, so I had to join the queue with all the other non-US citizens. Eventually I got to see the immigration officer who asked me what I was doing and when I told him I was here to ride a motorcycle from Alaska to Argentina, he produced a copy of “The Long Way Round” from his rucksack and started talking about a trip he was planning from coast-to-coast... seems everyone is a biker these days!

Through immigration control and on to baggage collection where my bag was going round-and-round on the carousel (another worry dealt with), so I grabbed a trolley, loaded up my bags and headed out through customs and into the arrivals hall. Which is where Steve was waiting, looking exactly the same as he had done the last time I'd seen him, 11 years ago at my house when he visited the UK whilst working for the same company as me (I'd first met him on the “New Employee Orientation” programme run by the company, which was 2 weeks in Boston MA, and was more of a 2-week drink-a-thon than anything else). I must still at least resemble my former self as he recognised me straight away too (although that could be because he's seen my pictures on here and on Facebook!).

We loaded up his car and he drove us back to his house, a traditional US-style bungalow with a nice garden in Half Moon Bay, just south of San Francisco. He then poured us both a pint of his own brew (calling it “home-brew” would be doing it a disservice, as it's more like a micro-brewery brew). He'd been brewing this specially for my visit, as he wanted to try an “English Ale”, and had gone to lots of trouble to get hold of Kentish malt and hops. And it was worth the effort, too, as it was lovely – like a stronger flavoured Marston's Pedigree. Steve was a bit disappointed with it as he'd skipped the ingredient necessary to prevent it from being cloudy (which is was), but he shouldn't have been... and so we sat in his back garden, chatting (about all sorts of things), admiring the hops he's growing (yes, he's THAT serious about his beer), and drinking beer. In the sunshine. Finally, I could feel the anxiety of the day ebbing away...






After a few more beers and a shared Pizza, we thought it would be a good idea to stop drinking for a while (the beer was strong, about 6%!), and so went for a walk across Highway 1 and onto the beach. Where I had to go and paddle in the Pacific Ocean, of course.






Having wandered up and down the beach, whilst Steve pointed out the landmarks, we headed back to the house and drove up to “The Brewery”, a micro-brewery up the bay. Here we sat outside under a now cloudy sky (still warm, though) next to a gas “fire-pit” and drank a couple more beers before I started to feel myself flagging and we headed back to Steve's, turning in around 9pm, at the end of a very long, but very enjoyable day...