Alan Wilson, here, Managing Director of Bon Voyage. I wanted to bring you up to date
on some of the new ideas and happenings for holidays this year to the USA and Canada.
Our Route 66 holidays go from strength to strength. Since the Billy Connolly TV series last year we have been inundated with people wishing to make this most famous of all American road trips from Chicago to Los Angeles. For me one of the great attractions of the trip is that it begins in the great city of Chicago, with its music influences, chequered history and amazing architecture and finishes in the fabulous California beach resort of Santa Monica, of Baywatch fame. Add to the mix the nostalgia of the sights and scenes along the way, the opportunity to take detours to the Grand Canyon and Las Vegas and it has all the makings of a truly wonderful adventure.
For many, a road trip is all about your wheels and this is where we have exciting news. For the first time we’re able to offer the iconic Ford Mustang convertible as a guaranteed option on Route 66. I should emphasise that the Mustang is a two person experience but there’s nothing quite like an open top on the open road. Well I say there’s nothing like it but actually our next option is Route 66 on a Harley Davidson motorbike, or even a trike like the one Billy Connolly rode in the TV series. We will tailor-make your own journey or we can arrange for you to join a group departure. Give us a call for all the details and prices.
Other new or nearly new thoughts for your next Bon Voyage holiday include a bicycling tour in New England, log cabin stays in the Great Smoky Mountains or maybe one of the great North American rail journeys. For me there is nothing to beat the thrill of a trip like the Coast Starlight journey all the way from Southern California and up through Oregon and into Washington State. There are the dramatic snow-covered peaks of the Cascade Range and Mount Shasta, lush forests, fertile valleys and long stretches of Pacific Ocean shoreline. Having feasted on the views by day and dined well you retire to your very comfortable sleeping car and awake to the drama of Puget Sound and arrival into the superb city of Seattle. Magical.
Finally let me mention some important information for those of you planning a holiday to North America in the near future. Right now and until close of business next Tuesday 24th January our prices are based on air fares that have been reduced by up to £200 per person.
In order to get the New Year off to a great start we negotiated these lower rates
for British Airways, Virgin, United, American – in fact almost all the big TransAtlantic airlines.
To take advantage of the reduced prices we have to have your booking in by next
Tuesday. I don’t want to rush you into anything if you’re at the early stages of planning a
trip but if you have reached or are close to deciding your travel plans for this year, it will make sense to speak to us in the next few days.
The team are waiting to help so call us free on 0800 980 7091 or email Bon Voyage.
Happy New Year to you from everyone at Bon Voyage.
Bon Voyage Director, Phil Newcombe, revisits Washington D.C. for the first time in more than a decade to see what all the fuss is about. He discovers that things certainly “ain’t what the used to be”.
OK. Hands up all those who knew what an outstanding city Washington DC has become. Anyone? Just a few of you then – thanks for keeping that little nugget to yourselves!
The last time I was in DC was, as near as I can recall, some twelve years ago. Of course, colleagues have visited in the meantime and come back with tales of urban regeneration and new attractions. But there’s nothing like a little first-hand knowledge, so when an opportunity to visit Washington DC arose I leapt at the chance.
Washington D.C. - a nation's proud capital.
We left on Thursday. Well, I say Thursday but given that we were on the very early United Airlines flight from Heathrow’s Terminal One, the 0545 check-in felt more like Wednesday night. But on the plus side the run to the airport was on deserted roads and even the short section of M25 was traffic-free for a change. Our small (but perfectly formed) group met up with our hosts from DC and United and off we went. Checked-in and through security in record time, a quick mango smoothie in Giraffe then down to the gate for boarding. On the way to our seats in Economy we had our Jim Bowen Bullseye tour of the sumptuous First and Business cabins (“Let’s have a look at what you could have won”). At over six feet tall I do tend to struggle in the back of the bus but the seat pitch in United’s Economy cabin is acceptable, the food OK, the entertainment from the seat-back screens pretty good and the crew friendly. For my money I would pay for an upgrade to one of the forward cabins – something a lot of our customers tend to do, not only for the extra leg room and general comfort but for the food and extra luggage allowance too – but I am pleased to report that the flight passed off without incident!
Going down!
I tend to adjust my watch to destination time as soon as I board the aircraft so that my body clock can start to adapt as soon as possible. With a more or less on time departure the flight landed in Washington just after 11am local time. Washington Dulles airport has the oddest transfer system I have ever encountered; After de-planing we were directed toward shuttles to the main arrivals building. The shuttles themselves are buses on hydraulic lifts that drop down some ten or twelve feet before setting off – the last time I transitted through here I was en route to Denver and the hydraulics failed halfway down (or up – I don’t recall) and we were stuck for over an hour causing us to mis-connect. Anyway, no such drama this time fortunately. Even though we were close to last off the aircraft and our flight arrived just after an early morning Tokyo flight we nipped through immigration and customs in an admirable 40 minutes and were on our shuttle into the heart of the capital with the whole afternoon to look forward to; Top tip – when you are going for a short break to the US, get the earliest flight out you possibly can to maximise day one!
Washington Metro - no eating, drinking, littering or spitting.
Half an hour later and a few sights already glimpsed (CIA’s Langley site, the Watergate Building, The Kennedy Centre and any number of the monuments) we arrived at our hotel on Dupont Circle. Normally arriving this early one has to leave luggage with the concierge but we were lucky that our rooms were already prepared. A quick change and we hopped on the Metro. And herein lies one of the best elements of our trip – we did lots of things that locals would do, most significantly in the way that locals would do them. Like riding the Metro (the DC underground); it’s pretty cheap, it’s very logical (red, orange, yellow, blue and green lines instead of names) plus it is very clean, quick and safe. During our time in DC we got around a lot on the Metro and I would heartily recommend it.
The Top of the North Tower of the World Trade Centre
So off for lunch in a local restaurant. Delicious pizza (but as always I looked around the table jealously at the tasty morsels ordered by my cohorts thinking how much nicer their food looked). Then we headed off to the Newseum. Now I like the occasional museum the same as the next man, but I confess I’m not the world’s greatest culture vulture. The Newseum, however…. Oh. My. God. It took my breath away – more than once in fact – and brought stinging tears to my eyes. From a chunk of the Berlin Wall to the top of the World Trade Centre North Tower, an exhibition of Pulitzer prize-winning photos, the Unabomber’s actual hut, Richard Reid’s exploding shoe plus newspaper front pages from around the world chronicling the landmark headlines since the dawn of the printed word; I would go as far as to say this is my favourite museum anywhere in the world (and I have seen I few). The 9-11 exhibits in particular are especially poignant – not a dry eye in the house as they say. I could have spent the rest of the day there, pottering around and reading the exhibits. But our group had a schedule to keep and we were whisked off to the hotel for a quick shower before heading out to dinner.
Pulitzer Exhibition at Newseum, Washington DC
Hmmm. Breakfast on the flight, lunch also on the flight, pizza was lunch number two and now dinner. Beginning to wish I had packed elasticated-waist trousers, we headed out to a local restaurant within walking distance of the hotel.
As an aside I must mention something about DC. When I was last there I seem to recall that the city had the second highest murder rate in the United States; and since America has more guns than anywhere in the civilised world (and probably as many as most uncivilised places) I would extrapolate this frightening statistic to say the second highest murder rate in the world. I remember being quite intimidated during my last visit – particularly at night. I was warned not to take the Metro, not to visit certain neighbourhoods (most neighbourhoods in fact!) and even during daylight hours the feeling of decay and deprivation was always only one street corner away. Last time I wouldn’t have walked to a neighbourhood restaurant – hell, last time I was so intimidated by the constant warnings I probably wouldn’t have walked from the elevator to the hotel ‘s own restaurant (“Hello, room service?). But a decade can make a world of difference. The overall crime rate and the homicide rate in particular have plummeted. There are a lot fewer derelict buildings and the atmosphere on the streets even late at night was not in the least bit threatening. In fact I would be so bold as to say that London’s West End is more “charged”. That’s not to say that there aren’t places that as a tourist you shouldn’t go with a Nikon around your neck and a Rolex on your wrist, but that’s true of anywhere in the world. I can honestly say that I didn’t feel nervous once during our visit.
Anyway, it turns out that Lebanese food is pretty good and the lamb kebab left me stuffed and ready for my bed. Seasoned travellers will know all about the “Tylenol PM” anti-jetlag trick before bed – suffice to say I awoke Friday morning after a great night’s sleep raring to go. A hearty breakfast at another local hangout, a bookstore/restaurant (or was it a restaurant/ bookstore) just around the corner from the hotel packed with locals, then on the Metro for a few stops to start on the day’s great adventure. Bike & Roll is a rapidly growing business that is starting to establish itself around various cities in the ‘States.
Bike and Roll Washington Tour
Basically you can hire a bike with helmet and lock and explore the city under your own steam, or as we did, have a guided tour. Our guide, Neil, was excellent; a local lad from neighbouring Virginia, he had been away to New Mexico to study English and Psychology and was back in the city sharing his knowledge of American history with us. Not boring, stuffy history, rather relevant and intriguing glimpses into the architecture and monuments that were the focus of our morning ride. Bizarrely, the ride seemed to be gently downhill all the way around – and keeping in mind we cycled a loop covering several miles and most of the major monuments I don’t remember a single hill! Plenty of stops en route for a quick history, photo and a gander. Of particular interest to me were the brand new Martin Luther King Memorial and the Korean War Memorial. We then stopped for the obligatory picture of the Whitehouse (or Presidential Mansion as it is more properly called, apparently) before arriving on the National Mall for a picnic lunch hosted by some charming folks from the Spy Museum – more about them shortly.
Korean War Memorial, Washington DC
I cannot recommend the cycle tour highly enough. You see the distance between all of the major monuments is quite large despite them all being in one area. Last time I was there I walked between some of them but it can be very time-consuming. On the bikes we whizzed around and covered a lot of ground.
After a delicious deli sandwich – with meat as thick as my wrist as is the American way – we returned the bikes and had the afternoon free to explore. There is so much to see but I narrowed my options to just two sights; The Smithsonian Air and Space Museum and the Spy Museum. The former is fascinating, from the Wright Brothers to the Spacelab and everything else in between (there is another air and space museum out near the airport apparently and they have a Space Shuttle and a Concorde). Hours of fun for kids of all ages. There are of course many more museums in the same area, mostly free, for those with a penchant for art or history but time is required to see them properly. A 15 minute stroll took me to the Spy Museum.
Dr Martin Luther King Jr Memorial, Washington D.C.
I wasn’t really sure what to expect but it was fun and informative with interesting displays and short videos that gave a great insight into the history of spying and intelligence gathering worldwide. To be honest I whistled around it due to the time constraint but I would happily go back and give it the full treatment.
One of the joys of exploring a city with locals is that you see and visit things that most tourists never hear about – that’s one of the reasons Bon Voyage places such importance on our own staff visiting as many places as possible to gain that insight so we can share it with our customers. One such place is the bar we visited on 7thStreet for cocktails before dinner. Believe me, looking at the street in general with its derelict and boarded up neighbours I wouldn’t have gone in on my own; having arrived a few minutes early we waited for our hosts on the “sidewalk” outside. And it was because of this that we managed the anglicisation of a few locals, who must have assumed that the bar wasn’t yet open and queued behind us!
Columbia Room cocktails - shaken not stirred
We were shown through the main bar to the most delightful cocktail bar in the back and then proceeded to work our way through the unconventional menu from top to bottom. It must be said that I am not normally one for drinking nine different sorts of alcohol before dinner – or afterwards for that matter – but we had a ball sipping from these amazing fusions of flavours and swapping glasses amongst ourselves.
Dinner followed in another neighbourhood – the H Street Corridor – at a restaurant that had a great buzz and was packed all evening. Following on from all of our dining experiences thus far the food was tasty and plentiful, the service attentive and enthusiastic and the company hilarious.
Another day dawned with news of the defeat of both England and Ireland in the Rugby World Cup. The trusty Metro took us out of the city to the adjoining state of Virginia to Alexandria for the start of what was going to be an ordeal; an ordeal by meal. We knew from the itinerary that this would be a day to stretch the waistline and test the stitching so we started with a very pleasant, but by no stretch of the imagination low-calorie brunch near the Market Square before meeting our guide for a walking tour.
Captains' Row, Alexandria, Virginia
Alexandria is very quaint and is pleasantly reminiscent of more historic port villages in the UK. Our guide was charming and knowledgeable and gave us a brief tour with an explanation of the town’s historical significance. She was certainly very restrained when it came to the British treatment of the inhabitants during the Revolutionary War in deference to her audience.
The tour finished at the ferry which was to return us to the posh Washington suburb of Georgetown, a pleasant 40 minute cruise up the Potomac River past Ronald Reagan National Airport. We had a little time to explore Georgetown. I spent most of my time looking wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the prices of properties in realtors windows and deciding that only a EuroMillions jackpot win would get me an apartment in this swanky area. We then jumped in cabs for the short ride into the city to U Street for the start of the Gastronomic Tour.
Jazz, our chirpy guide from Philadelphia, met us at the African-American War Memorial. She gave us a little background on the various gastronomic tours offered by her company then we set off walking around the neighbourhood, learning of the African-American settlement of the area in the early part of the twentieth century. Normally these tours would cover more restaurants than we managed, eating different types of food in several restaurants and walking from one to the next talking about the history. Due to our time constraints (and the fact that none of us was wearing elasticated waist trousers) we limited ourselves to just three restaurants (and three meals) over the following two-and-a-half hours.
Soul Food
To be honest I could have stayed in the first one we visited all afternoon; a “soul food” institution, that on first glance looked like a dodgy kebab shop in Hackney, we had to by-pass the long queue at the counter and ascend a dark and dingy stairway at the back to a cramped room with mis-matched, rickety furniture and a TV propped precariously and showing college football. At this point some worried glances were being exchanged. Styrofoam plates with plastic cutlery preceded the food, accompanied by still more worried looks. Then out came the food. Blackened, fried catfish, spicy collard greens, fried chicken and corn bread. Not what you might call haute cuisine but it was good – very, very good – and the group tucked in with a gusto that ignored the fact that this was only the first of three stops. I tried to pace myself but the catfish just kept calling me back for just one more bite.
Louisiana and the food of the Bayou was our next port of call. A different type of restaurant again – much larger and more modern with vast artworks depicting African-American heritage adorning the walls.
Louisiana Hush Puppy with Gumbo
Here we tried a “Hush Puppy” stuffed with seafood that was simply perfect, together with a bowl of Gumbo. The portion was starter-sized and begged the question “how great would their main courses be?”. But time, tide and tour wait for no man so we moved on to meal number four. Jeepers.
Once again if proof were needed that we shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, the walk down 9thStreet to our final stop was “colourful”. Not in a threatening way but an interesting insight to a less than salubrious area that, as yet, hasn’t been redeveloped. Yet. The liquor store on the ground floor gave no hint as to the lovely, intimate and eclectic restaurant and bar on the first floor. Here we were treated to an exquisite lobster meat-ball. Even though I was already stuffed I could happily have selflessly forced a few more down to bolster the ego of the chef.
Dinner on 9th Street
So impressed were we by both the food and the engaging owner that we asked for sight of their dinner menu (which looked excellent and offered good value too). Our host told us that getting hotel concierges to send their clientele to dine with them was difficult because of the neighbourhood – liability fears he suggested – but I would happily recommend it to our customers subject to sensible caveats about taking a cab. The neighbourhood just isn’t that bad and if the lobster meatball is anything to go by, the food is definitely worth the short cab ride!
A quick wash and brush-up and then time to go to dinner. Lord help us! First to the W Hotel for cocktails. Achingly trendy and full of uber-cool furniture, artwork and people, The W is a great place for people watching. We had a quick look at a few rooms, including the suite where her GaGa-ness stayed when she was in town. Simply fantastic and in a great location for downtown. But the reason we were here was for the sunset. Well, the sunset and cocktails, neither of which disappointed in the slightest. On the Penthouse level the side balcony bar overlooks the side of the Whitehouse and is close enough to just make out the snipers patrolling the rooftop. The west-facing bar at the end has vast panoramic windows with the best possible view of the monolithic Washington Monument.
Meal number five was on 14th Street and close to the trendy bar-hopping area of U Street. Housed in what we could only speculate was an old firehouse or garage, complete with rolling metal shutter at the front, this restaurant managed to defy a whole day of eating by serving up what was for most of our group the best meal of our stay. A classic case of simple food done really well, and presented without unnecessary fuss or flourish. And splendid vodka martinis too!
I won’t describe how the evening degenerated after we left the restaurant. Suffice to say the people of Washington DC know how to let their hair down on a Saturday night and we were welcomed with open arms.
Our last day in DC and a well-received late start. Back to the Metro like the seasoned locals that we were becoming, we visited Capitol Hill and specifically Barracks Row – the delightful suburb near the Marine training base – for brunch in a Belgian café.
Eastern Market on Capitol Hill
Unsurprisingly, waffles seemed to be the order of the day, and delicious they were too. Then back over the street to Eastern Market for a potter amongst the diverse, open-air craft, fruit and produce stalls. I felt very comfortable to be able to spend a Sunday morning doing as the locals might do, though I regret I couldn’t fill a suitcase with the delicious local apples, peaches and pears that the stall-holders were so eager for me to try.
After collecting our luggage from the hotel we bade farewell to our generous hosts and headed off to the airport via the vast shopping mall at Tyson’s Corner. I know people who would think they had died and gone to shopper’s heaven at Tyson’s Corner – most of them work at Bon Voyage – but I managed to evade temptation and possible plastic meltdown.
Our timing for the 1900 flight was perfect; just time for a meal in an airside diner then straight down to the gate for an on-time departure to London.
All in all, a whirlwind trip into which we managed to shoe-horn so much. DC is the sort of city that people select as a weekend destination or as a three or four-night stay as part of a touring, multi-centre holiday. I am not sure I would choose to spend a whole week there (though there is plenty to see and do) possibly because the rest of the United States has so much to offer within such close proximity, but I would happily return for another long weekend or another visit. And here’s the thing – I would happily go back again and again. Over the years I have visited some places of which I can honestly say “Yep. Been there but don’t feel the need to go back”.
The Presidential Mansion.
But with Washington DC I would happily go back repeatedly, happy in the knowledge that when I run out of “touristy” things to do there’ll still be all the stuff that the locals do every weekend. I could spend a couple of days cycling the bike-friendly routes. I could spend a day in each of the free museums – of which there are so many that I keep losing count as I scan the map. I want to go back to the Air and Space Museum. I will definitely go back to the Newseum (though I will take a spare handkerchief next time). And I will make it my mission to do each of the different gastronomic tours. Maybe more than once.
It is so difficult for a city to differentiate itself from its neighbours from a tourism perspective. But it seems to me that what Washington has achieved over the past decade – and continues to work on today – is to make itself a better place for local people to live.
Lincoln Memorial
As a convenient by-product of this effort it has made itself into the kind of city that can offer a quality-of-life experience for visitors as well as residents.
As a visitor I found myself envious of the people who get to work and play in Washington DC every day. As somebody who is fortunate to be very well-travelled, particularly in the United States, I can tell you that there aren’t many places that have captured my imagination like Washington DC. I loved my weekend break to Washington – you will too.
Bon Voyage Managing Director, Alan Wilson, reflects on a busy few days at Bon Voyage HQ in Southampton.
How was your Bank Holiday weekend? Hopefully you didn’t spend too much of the last Bank Holiday until Christmas stuck in motorways queues or dodging the showers. We had a fairly eventful few days here at Bon Voyage headquarters in Southampton, not so much dodging showers as trying to help our customers to dodge a hurricane. Our first bulletin about what was then Tropical Storm Irene came through on Sunday 21st August. By Monday the name had changed to Hurricane Irene but at the lowest level of “category one”. Not that you would want to be putting the washing out because we’re talking 95 mph winds that were swirling around Puerto Rico and the Dominican Republic.
But by now we were starting to have concerns for our travellers on the East Coast of the USA. Being the last full week of the school summer holidays and with a UK bank holiday on 29th August we were looking at large numbers of clients out there up and down the eastern seaboard from Florida to New England, but particularly in Washington DC and New York City. Added to that, we had dozens of clients due to leave the UK at the end of the week and over the weekend.
As Wednesday dawned and the Bahamas and Turks and Caicos Islands were suffering structural damage and loss of life we woke to reports of a magnitude 5.9 earthquake centred around Richmond, Virginia. I know from personal reports that day that it was felt in Wilmington, North Carolina 230 miles to the south of Richmond and in Edison, New Jersey, some 310 miles to the north. To be perfectly honest we did start to wonder whatever next, but the plague of locusts failed to arrive!
One of the features of Irene that we didn’t recall from tracking previous hurricanes was how long she took to do her worst. It seemed like days that we were wondering where in North Carolina she would make landfall and then more days while the north east states waited on and wondered about their fate.
By Friday evening we had a plan of action and several of us took paperwork and laptops home waiting for the first flights to be cancelled. It’s a really tricky business because airlines and airports are anxious to maintain services for as long as possible and from a commercial standpoint they are unwilling to allow passengers to abandon travel plans unless there is a concrete reason to do so. We were pretty sure from previous experience that airports would be closed and flights cancelled – for us it was more of a case of “when” rather than “if”.
By first thing Saturday morning we were making phone calls to tell travellers that their flights would not be leaving the UK for cities including New York, Philadelphia and Washington. Since they could see on their TV screens that Mayor Bloomberg of New York was urging evacuation from low lying areas, announcing the suspension of the subway and the closure of Broadway theatres, this came as no great surprise. Holidays were either put on hold or re-booked for the coming days and weeks and the office was a frenzy of activity as we made contact with US hoteliers, car hire companies, the US rail company “Amtrak” and a host of other suppliers to postpone, re-arrange or cancel our clients’ arrangements.
Meanwhile clients waiting to come home from the East Coast had to be re-booked, re-accommodated and reassured. Sunday was equally busy here as we checked whether clients on touring itineraries clients had made it to their appointed hotels. Thankfully, in all cases our people were where they should have been. Then news came through that the threatened water surge affecting Manahattan Island had failed to materialise. Life there could start to get back to normal. Other places in New Jersey and parts of New England had not been so lucky.
Bon Voyage clients showed an unrelenting bulldog spirit and were pleased and grateful to know that we were tracking their progress. Most who were held up over the weekend have new plans in place to get over to the States shortly. We are left to reflect on the forces of nature and of course our thoughts are with the 40 plus victims who have lost their lives over the past seven days.
At least some things can be relied upon – squally showers over much of the England and Wales for the Bank Holiday and a 15-mile queue on the M25.
Waiting for me in my inbox this morning was a message from our partners at the city of New Orleans. A simple message on the face of it – New Orleans has produced a new short video to promote itself to international visitors, and would we like a copy to put on the New Orleans page of the Bon Voyage website to help highlight its attractions to would-be travellers? So I watched it. And I like it! But that’s not my point: Sure, it is a really good 3 minutes and 40 second overview of one of my favourite US cities. What got me thinking was their choice of theme. YouTube is awash with destination videos, some better than others it must be said. Almost all of them focus on what they have to offer – attractions, experiences etc – but this particular video talks more about the visitor than the destination itself. “You’re Different Here” does highlight the fun things that there are to do, see, buy, experience, eat and drink in “the Big Easy”, but it touches on a fascinating concept, namely, does travel alter who we are?
It is a widely held view that travel broadens the mind. In my own case I have worked for most of my adult life in the travel industry and have been extremely fortunate to have travelled the world while researching and contracting new holidays. Travel has definitely broadened my mind – my work over the last 26 years has been an education in culture, beliefs, ideas, cuisines and lifestyles that has helped me to grow as a person. But looking back at some of the trips I have taken over the years I can recognise that particular destinations have caused me to behave like a different person for the short time that I have been there. Does that sound familiar to you? It seems that I have immersed myself in the spirit of the place – in the case of New Orleans I have quite literally immersed myself in the “spirit”, but that’s another story.
Is it just me, or does Sangria actually taste great when you are at a Tapas bar in Spain, but dreadful back in Blighty? And why is it that I would never – and I do mean NEVER – drink beer when eating lobster tail or crab claws, but when I’m in Florida , Georgia or New Orleans at a Crab-shack on the beach it seems like the perfect marriage? And who would dream of eating a deep-fried oyster, for goodness sake? They are great with cold beer, though! I am not a big fan of hot dogs, but there’s really nothing quite like a “dawg” from a street vendor in New Orleans, New York or at a baseball game (a sport which I thoroughly enjoy when in the ‘States but, with all due respect to my American friends, I would never watch on the TV in the UK).
And what about inhibitions? I’ve got a few of those myself. For example, anyone who knows me also knows that I don’t really like to dance much – I have that in common with Steven Fry, if little else. It’s probably that I don’t like to make a spectacle of myself – who
No - this isn't me. But it could have been...
knows? But in New Orleans I have danced ’til dawn in the French Quarter, caught up in the soul of this unique city. And it’s not just in New Orleans – if it pleases the court there are other similar offences that I would like taken into consideration; I have behaved with similar seemingly reckless abandon at BB King’s club in Memphis, at a Beachboys concert on the beach at Penrods in Miami, at the Wildhorse Saloon in Nashville, a Madonna concert in Atlantic City (yes, really) and at countless nightclubs in glittering Las Vegas (aka Lost Wages).
Now that the can of worms that is my memories is now open, I find myself faintly alarmed yet strangely amused and warmed by the times I have been captured by the atmosphere and personality of a place. Travel has certainly broadened my mind but, even more importantly, my immersion in these sensory-rich experiences has given me a passion for places that I could never have tasted if I hadn’t “let myself go”.
So thanks New Orleans – “You’re Different Here” has reminded once again me why I love to travel. As they say in Louisiana, “Laissez les bon temps rouler” – let the good times roll!
How has travel changed your life? What places have had a profound effect on you? We would love to hear your view on whether we behave like different people when we travel – please leave feedback.
Zabriskie Point, Death Valley, 46C, busted starter, motor ticking over rock steady. "Hotter than a snake’s ass in a wagon rut".
This article was written by Bon Voyage customers – Geoff and Ali Cadman – who travelled on an “EagleRider” organised Harley tour of western America in 2004, and is reproduced on TheBonVoyageBlog with their kind permission. The stunning photographs are their own, and all rights are reserved.
I think Steppenwolf’s “Magic Carpet Ride” was much better than their more popular song “Born to be Wild”, which was rather hi-jacked by the media to become something of a cliché when dealing with any story that revolved around the motorcycle `lifestyle`. I suppose it’s just that I am a dedicated biker and have been one since just before the release of the iconic film `Easy Rider`. I’m also English, I ride a Harley Davidson, but I also own a BMW motorcycle so I’m not the sort that would ordinarily get all misty-eyed when a travel programme does a motorcycle feature and uses the obligatory, `Born to be Wild` as an intro! I reiterate, not ordinarily.
We left Our Hearts in San Francisco
My first experience of riding in the USA happened to be on the legendary Harley Davidson Electra Glide and it did manage to get me misty-eyed, especially when I found myself following in the wake of Dennis Hopper and Peter Fonda, the original `Easy Riders`. Now, where did all this start? In Los Angeles on an “EagleRider” 2,800 mile guided motorcycle ride around the cowboy trails of the American Wild West.
Starting and finishing at Eaglerider’s main base in LA, you’ll go through, temperatures from -2 to +45C and elevations of 282 below, to an incredible 10,000 feet above sea level, the latter in one day. As well as entering 4 States, 2 cities and 2 deserts (The Nevada and Mojave) you’ll cross a time-zone, enter Death Valley alive, and come out again even more so. The Joshua Tree National Park will touch your heart, Arizona’s Route 66 will take you back to a forgotten era, The Grand Canyon, Bryce Canyon and Yosemite will…sorry, still can’t describe them adequately. You’ll follow the tyre tracks of the aforementioned Messrs. Hopper and Fonda into Monument Valley, cruise the Las Vegas strip, cross The San Francisco Golden Gate Bridge and end your travels breezing down The Pacific Coast Highway, with a quick coffee in Clint Eastwood’s hometown of Carmel. (He was out, so we couldn’t make his day). Some of the world’s finest and most dramatic scenery is thrown in for free and all this on a motorcycle that was made to ride this amazing country.
You can ride the first or second half or go the whole hog, and a Hog (the nickname for a Harley) is what you’ll get. The latest Harley-Davidson range is on offer and they’re all pretty damn smooth. An Eaglerider guided ride means you don’t need a map as your biker guide knows the way including diners, bars and tourist spots as well as some you wouldn’t otherwise find. The air-conned support vehicle takes your luggage (yes, real suitcases) and tows a spare bike! Accommodation is American 3 Star + hotels, all the way and after a blat across The Nevada Desert, this cowboy and his wife really appreciated a bit of comfort. This was a real motorcycle ride where on some days we were covering 300 miles through some pretty amazing territory. To quote an old Harley Davidson truism, “It’s about the journey, not the destination”.
The journey started with an early buffet breakfast after a night in an excellent LA hotel. Meeting and greeting fellow travellers over a cooked breakfast on the patio is such a nice way to start the day. Another bonus of this type of trip is meeting one’s fellow travellers and swapping life’s experiences.
A welcome speech from the guides and staff was followed by a ride briefing and a 10-minute van ride to complete the admin and do what we’d come to do, ride. We got our motors running and headed out on the highway (Note: Try not to mention `Born to be Wild` again).
Approaching LA on Columbus Day
90% of this trip is on roads that are, by UK standards, deserted. Full leathers cook you very quickly out here, but I don’t do T-shirts so we bought ourselves Joe Rocket and Belstaff airmesh jackets. Both proved to be superb garments for the conditions, had decent armour and actually kept us cooler and less burnt than the `T` shirted. Utah is for the bareheaded brigade so there are plenty of chances to get out the bandana, but American bugs are big and don’t half hurt! Goggles are essential either way, as the helmets provided are half-dome, which I actually quite liked. As the terrain and roads get more rugged, so will the newcomers to Hog-riding. Harley’s, despite their size, are easy rides and with that low down weight handle really well, especially the big tourers.
The full itinerary can be found on Eaglerider’s excellent website, so in the space I have left, here are a few of our special moments as they tumble out of my memory: Cruising through the magnificence of Joshua Tree National Park on dirt roads and seeing… Joshua trees! The edge of the Mojave in the town of Twenty Nine Palms, feeling `the heat of its desert heart` (thank you Robert Plant, now I understand). Crossing The Mojave. Indian shacks with yards full of trucks and old V8 engines, spiralling dust devils. Rugged, wild, sweeping vistas, moonscapes and mountains on the horizon with the occasional tumbleweed bowling across the road. Vast dried up salt lakes. Rumbling dehydrated, into the hamlet of Amboy, an oasis on Route 66, the big V-twin like a furnace between our legs. In the land of the parched and fuel-less, the convenience store owner is King. We cooled off under the canopy, sipped on a cold cola and then saw the town’s sign that made us realise our arrival had just doubled Amboy’s population: There were 23 of us.
The Road to Oatman
The Road to Oatman – Actually this is a stretch of Route 66 – good innit? These roads allow you to sit back and feel the force of the big V-twin motor that powers these motorcycles that I’ve loved since I was a teenager and which were made to cross this land. There’s precious little in that big, under-stressed engine that’s thinner than your wrist and with the distances between civilisations out here, there just ain’t no substitute for cubic capacity and big twin Harley’s are very predictable and very easy rides.
There are no roads in the UK to compare with Route 66, “The Mother Road”. The vast space and naked beauty of this part of Uncle Sam’s back garden has a mystical, rugged quality that beggar’s description – well from this writer at least. Mile-long trains shadowing us, calling out with their klaxons. Clanging bells at rail crossings. 50’s roadside diners, selling their heritage and milkshakes.
Sunshine and Showers - another day at the Grand Canyon!
The Grand Canyon is over 200 miles long and a mile deep, with weather systems all of its own. Put another way, when standing at one of the viewpoints, you are over 1,000 feet higher than the highest point in the UK. Huge thunderclouds and lightning flashes in the distance greeted us as we rode into Grand Canyon resort. So this is where Americans get the word `awesome`. Actually, `awesome` isn’t a big enough word for this place.
Utah, beautiful Utah and for us, the most outstanding place in the whole journey, Monument Valley, homeland of the wonderful Navajo Indians and John Ford epic Western movies. We were the only `cavalry` there that day but the Indians were friendly and drove us round in 4×4’s, playing their flutes for us. Yes, they make their living from us tourists but they were the most warm and friendly Native Americans you could wish to meet.
Monument Valley - Too Beautiful for Words
This place has 360 degrees of awesome vistas that just cannot be properly captured on camera. We did our best. The place was a truly moving and spiritual experience and I don’t usually do `moving and spiritual`.
The 340 mile, day’s ride across Utah to Bryce Canyon rates as the best day I have ever spent on a motorcycle and, frustratingly for Ali, the day when her cold was so bad she had to take to the support vehicle which wasn’t quite the same, but does mean she will have to do it again, on a bike, sometime! Empty mountain roads, massive rocky canyons. Vast blue skies with those fluffy white clouds from `The Simpson’s`. Sweeping high-speed curves that led us across the Colorado River at Lake Powell. The deep joy of a rumbling Harley formation swinging through those big fast bends. Blimey, was it really this good? Yes.
The group chose to split up for a while, with the blessing of the guide. This was the only road leading to lunch in Hanksville, so no one was getting lost. I left a five-minute gap and set off, riding alone at 60mph for 25 miles without seeing another human being. Eagles soared, tumbleweed tumbled, mountains graced the horizon all around me and with that engine rumbling as only a Harley V-twin can, I sang my heart out for a while and then settled back, taking in the realisation that I was alone on an arrow-straight road stretching to vanishing point. Just me. A remarkable, solitary and personal motorcycling experience that I simply have to live through again, because nothing else has come close. Oh, and Bryce Canyon? Jaw dropping.
Two days `rest` in Las Vegas, with a large night out along `The Strip` with the bikes. Handsome!
Big eats at The Harley-Davidson Café and then a cruise through the neon, past the `Little Chapels of Lurv` (`Roll up, roll up, Minister performs service dressed as Elvis for an extra $30`) to the original Downtown Vegas, you know, where the big neon cowboy is?
Who Says Harleys Can't stop
He’s now under cover and part of a massive light and rock music show every night. `The Who` never sounded so good. Las Vegas is outrageous, ostentatious, magnificent and it does all of the aforementioned so very well. We loved it, but then I am from Essex!
Zabriskie Point, Death Valley, California. The lowest, hottest place on the planet. What a place for your starter motor to pack up. Thanks for the push, guys. 2 days later and Eaglerider at San Francisco sorted us out with a brand new Road King. Everything taken care of without a minutes fuss.
Zabriskie Point, Death Valley, 46C, busted starter, motor ticking over rock steady. "Hotter than a snake’s ass in a wagon rut".
First port of call on leaving the `Valley`, was a roadside diner for food and fuel and herein lies another travellers tale. An Aussie couple on their way back (to Australia, of course) saw the line of bikes and stopped their Electra Glide to join us for a chat. They’d come diagonally across the entire Country. These tales often happen out on the road, you should try it.
Riding up Tioga Pass into the Sierra Nevada’s, home of Yosemite National Park, saw us cruising at just under 10,000 feet above sea level. The bike wasn’t the only one gasping for breath in the thin air. The granite magnificence of Glacier Point and the views, like Grand Canyon, have to be seen to be fully absorbed. A road that had the bikes scraping their boards led to The Point through thousands of huge scented pines, with the occasional silver fox appearing at the roadside before retreating in the wake of a dozen thumping Hogs.
Glacier Point, Yosemite, looking at Half Dome. Now that’s awesome!
The road home was out of San Francisco, our second 2-night stopover. Through those streets where Steve McQueen, as Bullitt, chased that Dodge Charger. Too cool for the word ‘cool’.
Look! I think I can see Sonny Barger’s house from here!
Onto The Pacific Coast Highway and South into California’s beach and surf territory. For us, this was a real contrast from the natural magnificence we had ridden through, but an equally outstanding experience all the same. A final ride through LA and our guide gave us a bonus tour of the Hollywood Hills, Sunset Strip and Rodeo Drive before we handed back the bikes and got together at the last hotel, for the last supper.
Would we go again? Yes, no hesitation, in fact we must. Was it worth every hard earned penny? Oh yes.
So just how glamorous is a life in the travel industry? Well, take last weekend for instance. It’s Saturday 2nd April and I’m sitting in a large comfortable chair sipping champagne and nibbling on freshly prepared sushi. In front of me stretches a long, groovy cocktail bar lit with neon colours and adorned with every spirit you can think of and some even I have never heard of. To my left is a contemporary open-plan eatery where couples are dining in plush, leather booths. To my right, in a snug area, is a handsome guy in expensive jeans relaxing in a huge, clear plastic bubble chair hanging from the ceiling like something out of Austin Powers. I finish my bubbly and stroll over to the far corner of this vast area where there is a beautician. I book a manicure. “Would you like a haircut too?” enquiries the receptionist. Why not, indeed.
Do you hate me yet? Just a little?
A smart waiter appears from nowhere. “ More Champagne?” he enquires. “Is the Pope a Catholic?” I retort. I stand in the corner, perusing my stylish surroundings and sigh. I’m in the Virgin Atlantic Upper Class Lounge at Terminal 3, Heathrow and life feels good. Short of buying my own Gulfstream jet this is the only way to fly.
After enjoying my complimentary pampering, fine food and delicious champagne my flight to Boston is ready to depart. I collect my belongings and stroll to my departure gate. I must say I am very relaxed; my business trip to New England is off to a fine start.
My feeling of being at one with the world, however, isn’t long-lived. My stand-by, space available, upgrade to Upper Class isn’t possible as some full-fare paying passengers have booked on the flight last minute and taken up the remaining spare seats in the Upper Class section. I grind my teeth. Blast them. So instead of smugly turning left upon boarding the plane and enjoying the flat bed seat, and hopefully, a chat with the guy in expensive jeans at the bar, I turn right. Sullenly.
I can feel you warming to my plight…
I’m sitting in economy and praying that the couple making the way up the aisle with their bundle of screaming joy in their arms don’t sit near me. The power of prayer seems somewhat diminished. At least they have the decency to smile apologetically to me; I smile back, but don’t mean it.
We take off on time and I flick on the Virgin in-flight entertainment system. Sixty movies/TV programmes to choose from. Impressive. I’m wondering what the guy with the expensive jeans is doing in Upper Class. Tucking into fine cuisine served on starched linen table cloths, sipping a cocktail at the bar, or maybe lying conked out flat on his dreamy seat/bed. Lucky blighter. It’s not that Virgin economy isn’t comfortable; It’s just that I’d had a taste of what my transatlantic journey could have been like, and I craved it.
The child in front pops his head through the gap in the seats. He’s cute but I’m not playing peek-a-boo for 6 hours so I pretend not to see him. This is actually quite difficult when he is only 37 inches away.
It’s not long before my resentment for these full fare paying passengers (who nabbed my seat) recedes – I am enjoying the free drinks, marvelous entertainment (they have the Big Bang Theory and Modern Family on the comedy channel causing the odd embarrassing laugh-out-loud moment during the flight). I watch a further two films, tuck into a tasty meal, and avoid eye-contact with the kid in front.
Finally we land and I get off the flight, shuffle past the smiley Virgin Atlantic stewardess greeters at the entrance and head for immigration. I follow behind the guy with expensive jeans who doesn’t look even vaguely creased. I bet he slept all the way. Another silent curse.
As I approach immigration the queues are short and moving swiftly. A female immigration officer (with Texas big hair) beckons me forward. Now I must admit US immigration in the past few years hasn’t been the most welcoming experience to the USA. But give them their due, training has been put in place and the whole procedure is now actually mostly friendly and welcoming. I say mostly as there are always exceptions to the rule. However, my officer wasn’t one of them. We had a little joke about how I wasn’t related to David Niven, and I was on my way.
So here I am in historic, clean, friendly Boston staying at the charming Back Bay Hotel (ex- Police Headquarter, quirky place with attentive staff, comfy beds). I’ve got couple of hours before jet lag crashes in so what should I do? Stroll through the Common? Take in the views from the John Hancock Tower? Jump on a trolley tour? Take in a show or have a meal in one of the many fine restaurants? I have been to Boston before and enjoy all of those things – but not today; No, today I’ve got an 11% Macy’s discount shopping voucher that’s burning a hole in my pocket. I’m charging through the department stores doors before you can say Boston Tea Party.
So how glamorous is the travel industry? Today – all things considered – was a GREAT day to be working in travel!
Platform shoes, Van McCoy’s “The Hustle”, Parma Violets and the TV Series, Dallas. These are all the things I loved about the ‘70’s.
So now I’m like the cat that got the cream to learn they are bringing back Dallas to our screens this year. Better still, some of the original crew will still be gracing our sets such as devilish JR, slurring Sue Ellen and Bobby “The Shower”. The original series ran from 1978 to 1991 – 325 episodes. I watched them all. I understand the new version will focus on the Ewing offspring; J.R. Ewing’s son, John Ross, and Christopher, the adopted son of Bobby and curvy Pam Ewing. The two smouldering beefcakes from Desperate Housewives will be playing the leads.
Anyway, when I was visiting friends in Dallas a few years ago, they were slightly horrified that the ranch where Dallas was filmed – “Southfork” – was top of my list of Dallas must-sees. “Don’t you want to see the historic Stockyards, Dealey Plaza and Texas School Book Depository?” they pleaded gently. “Nope. I want to see where the Poison Dwarf hung out” I responded. Bearing in mind Sir Terry Wogan christened Lucy Ewing with this nickname, and the Yanks have never heard of our velvet-tongued friend, it was strange they didn’t query the dwarf reference. I think all Texans find the British slightly eccentric in a Dick Van Dyke type way.
So off our merry mob drove to the Southfork Ranch in Plano, just on the outskirts of Dallas. On arrival I was disappointed. I must add this is the third time I have been slightly crestfallen by an iconic attraction in the USA. The first was on my visit to Graceland, home of Elvis in Memphis, Tennessee. Don’t get me wrong – I love the place – but I was probably expecting some imposing abode fit for The King rather like Blenheim Palace and I got what I considered (and don’t hate me Elvis fans) a rather well kept, nice-looking nursing home. I walked through the door at Graceland a non-Elvis fan, and by the time I’d left I was contemplating joining the official Fan Club.
Since I am on the subject, the second time dare I say it ( I think I can hear the Secret Service coming for me now) was at Mount Rushmore in South Dakota. I was expecting the Presidents’ heads to be truly enormous. They weren’t. I much preferred the incredible Crazy Horse Memorial (the world’s largest mountain carving) a further fifteen miles down the road. This huge carving, which is a work in progress and unlikely to be finished in our lifetime, is of Crazy Horse, the Native American leader of the Ogala Lakota Tribe, pointing to his promised lands. It made the hairs on my arm stand up when I first saw it.
Back to Southfork Ranch in Texas! Our jolly crew toured the ranch. The Texans kept giving me quizical double thumbs ups. “Crikey, this is much smaller than I thought it would be “I thought as I strolled around. And I only gave them a lone thumbs up back. Nevertheless, we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves; we were walking through a slice of TV history after all. Whilst I was there I purchased a Bobby Ewing fridge magnet (what can I say – I was going through that phase and I’m over it now) and a booklet with some of J.R’s most cutting quotes. They made me laugh out loud. I love it when that happens. So I thought I’d share a few with you…..
JR Ewing : [ to Lucy ] “Say, why don’t you have that junior plastic surgeon you married design you a new face: one without a mouth!”
JR Ewing : “Marilee, if you don’t hurry, someone else is gonna get your street corner”.
JR Ewing : [ to Marilee Stone ] “By the way honey, you’re a little too old to be running around without your clothes on”.
JR Ewing : “Ray never was comfortable eating with the family; we do use knives and forks”.
