Born To Be Wild! Travelling Route 66 On A Harley

Since Billy Connolly and his greasy pony tail cruised along Route 66 on the popular ITV series in 2010, the bike- riding British public simply cannot get enough of Harley Holidays . We recently arranged a Route 66 Harley Holiday for a terrific group of guys from the UK and Phil Colman did a great job of blogging about the trip: He’s kindly agreed to let us publish his account of the adventure. Over to you Phil……(far right)

Santa Monica Pier – the end of Route 66.

Day 1: May 2012. Getting there.

OK, so the day had finally come – all packed and ready, say goodbye (and happy birthday to Melanie my wife) with lots of ‘be carefuls’ being offered.

We get to the airport early and take our time to check in – everything relaxed. All goes well so we decide to eat something before the flight. After waiting some 30 minutes for the food we get up to go after several warnings to the waiter that we don’t have the time for this. As we leave he comes out of the kitchen with our order. Oh dear!

We sit on the aircraft and are told that there is a discrepancy between fuel gauge and what the fuel tanker says we have on board. After an hour-and-a-half delay they decide that measuring the fuel level with a stick isn’t good enough and we disembark. A few hours later we board another plane and are on our way.

The guy behind me hasn’t understood the concept of a ‘touch’ screen. He is more of the ‘jab it hard’ school which has a hugely annoying effect.

8 hours later we arrive in Chicago, the Windy City, just in time to join the others for a meal at the Cheesecake Factory (cholesterol here we come). We meet Laura (known as Lala – yup – sounds as it spells). Tinkie Winkie, Dipsy and Po are not to be seen. Other characters are Mark – identifiable by cowboy hat – and a guy known as ‘The Preacher’. This could be colourful! Everyone is hugely friendly.

Weather is set to be very hot tomorrow but we are warned that in a few days we are heading into some wet weather.

After a long day it’s off to bed – writing this at 23:10 local time which is 05:10 in the UK.

Day 2: Collecting the bike and off to Springfield, Illinois

We woke up after our long first day still a little bit in UK time zone. i.e. we woke up at 04:00 and were wide awake. We got up at 05:00 ravenous and keen to get on a bike.

We had been assigned RED group which was to be the lead group for the day. We had 13 bikes (lucky) and would be together for the day led by Mark.

Our bags were loaded onto the support vehicle driven Gladys and we piled into a coach to take us for breakfast. It seemed a long way to breakfast (stupid to say that really with a 2,500 mile trip ahead of us) but we soon arrived at a bowling alley near to Eaglerider offices. Breakfast was bacon, toast, pancakes and maple syrup – my favourite.

Sorting out all the paperwork was a little time consuming but soon we all had our rides. I had mine re-wired by the guys at Eaglerider to allow me to have power for the iPhone so that I could report our GPS position (www.mapmytracks.com/hub/wildhogblog).

We visited the Gemini Giant, an old filling station, and several other remnants of Route 66.  The ride was great; we slowly left behind shopping malls, small industry and houses and broke out into wide open plains of some seriously huge farmland. We crossed over the occasional bridge to see a lazy river slide beneath. We were away from the hustle and bustle, out into a massive sprawling countryside broken only the odd farm and amenities at major crossroads.

We stopped for our first diner experience. The decor played to the Route 66 theme and the booths inside the diner were just what you would see in any American movie portraying the 50s. The heat was pretty intense, but I’m told nothing compared to the desert (gulp). I changed from my normal biking gear into a mesh jacket provided by Eaglerider and was much more comfortable. I consumed about 6 bottles of icy water during the day and didn’t need to visit the mens room all day – it would be easy to become dehyrated.

The roads are pretty straight and uneventful with welcome diversions into old towns to see Route 66 memorabilia. I find myself grinning from ear to ear as I realise I’m actually doing it – riding across the USA on a Harley.

As we rolled into the last stop before Springfield, Illinois I suspect that my Road King is broken, so we swap it for a ‘softtail’. It looks very hillbilly to me with studded and tassled panniers, but it rides much better than the broken Road King.

It is about 21:30 as I’m writing this – we are absolutely shattered and struggled our way through a burger and beer at Brennigans. After today it has become apparent that this will be quite a challenge. The first 200 miles are done and it seems a long long way left to go.
Up and out by 08:00 tomorrow morning – off to St Louis, Missouri, the Arch and the Mississippi. I hope they’ve fixed my RoadKing.

Day 3: To St Louis, Missouri

Was a much shorter day than yesterday. Probably well planned because many of us were stiff and tired from day 1. Just sitting on a different bike with your arms higher or lower, further forward or back than usual has a huge effect on comfort.

First we stopped at the diner that invented the corn-dog, the Cozy Dog. A hot dog on a stick with corn batter around it. Can’t say it looked too appealing but hey – it was invented here. We rode some of the original ‘block-paved’ sections of Route 66, and it seems there isn’t much of it left. Then we stopped at Henry’s Rabbit Ranch where we saw some old Route 66 petrol pumps, a few old cars and several Volkswagen Golfs planted upright in the ground (I think the VW golf here was known as the rabbit). Not quite the Cadillac sculpture we will see later in the tour, but whichever way you look at it the question ‘why’ hangs in the air. The best part was a very tame rabbit sat on the shop counter wearing a cowboy hat.

Then we stopped in a picturesque town square for a coffee before shooting down to cross the Mississippi by the ‘Chain of Rocks Bridge’. This bridge used to form part of Route 66 and is now not used by motor vehicles. It is over 1 mile long and gets its name from the chain of rocks across the Mississippi river that cause rapids.

Back over the bridge and down to St Louis by about 15:00. The St Louis Arch is huge and stands some 600+ feet in the air. We tried to get the train to the top, but the last tickets for the day had been sold as today is Memorial Day and many families are out and about.
We grab a cab to the local Harley Dealer to stock up on some items we now know we must have for the trip – long sleeve t shirts for the desert, fingerless gloves to stop your hands melting in the heat – and one or two other items I will have to explain to Mrs Colman when I get home!
Out for dinner we stop at the Morgan Street Brewery to sample their fine locally brewed ales – like most American beer it is a bit fizzy and cold compared to English beer – however we still managed to sink a few.
Whilst riding today I had a big grin on my face as we swept across the countryside – I can’t explain what it is but the punch from the acceleration of the Harley, the distinctive throbbing sound of the exhaust and the openness of the roads is intoxicating. I’m loving it. There is nothing quite like doing something you always wanted to do. The places we visit are great to look at and allow us to have a break from the riding – but I find myself keen to move on and get the bike rolling again. I look at the map and realise that it has taken us two days to get to St Louis, the rest of the distance now looks quite daunting, but I’m really looking forward to the miles to come.
The guys at Eagle Rider couldn’t be more enthusiastic or helpful, keeping nearly 40 people together on bikes is a difficult thing but they seem to love what they do which makes a big difference.

Subject: Day 4 – 280 miles to Joplin, Missouri

Our longest day so far, we were with the third group of riders this morning, and that group was led by ‘Preacher’ who, I have to say, could stand a Harley on it’s nose with ease. I was following him today down the highway and he was intrigued by a large truck/tractor unit being towed backwards along the road. This had an odd effect of making you think a truck was coming directly at you down the highway. Preacher decided he needed a closer look so rode right up behind it. I was next in the formation so I switched on my video camera and tried to get close as well to video Preacher’s antics. I got as close as I dared and I have to tell you it looked like Preacher was almost touching the truck with his front wheel – I didn’t have the nerve to get any closer. Then he took out a camera and using both hands started either videoing or taking pictures. His bike has cruise control.

Later in the day we were riding down a straight piece of very old Route 66 which rose and fell with the contours of the land. Preacher was in front of me taking a video on his iPhone (using both hands) of the rest of the group riding behind him. By the way both manoeuvres were undertaken at 50+MPH.

We travelled towards a place called Devils Elbow, famous for a rather nasty corner. On the way there we had to travel along the ZZ road, a fabulous set of twists and turns amongst beautiful trees dappled in sunlight. Pure riding heaven. Preacher had got the measure of the group of Brits and shot off at a good enough pace to make the riding interesting.

Stopping for lunch at a Barbecue restaurant we were advised to ‘try the ribs’. By the time we had finished I was covered in barbecue sauce, was rather sticky and unbelievably full. Our bikes groaned as we got back on them. We covered a lot of miles on the freeway and just avoided a rainstorm brewing in the distance. We would have been glad of getting wet as it was still hot, but not as bad a yesterday.

We turned off the freeway back onto Old Route 66 to go to Gary’s Gay Parita filling station. An ancient but very courteous and welcoming Gary was there to greet us all. There were Route 66 ‘Root beers’ to drink and t-shirts and other memorabilia. There was no till, no people to collect your money and swipe your credit card – on trust you were invited to donate to the upkeep of the service station in a small wooden box on the wall. Gary was a fabulous character telling stories of the old days and chatting up all the women.

Today was long and a little tiring, but super riding with a some great stops on the way. Tomorrow we leave Missouri and head into Oklahoma for another 259 miles.

Need some sleep now.

Day 5: To Oklahoma City, Oklahoma

Back with Mark (the cowboy with a rock star cracked voice) today as our guide. We started the day with a visit to the local biker chapter and the whole group of around 40 bikes meets up with the local riders who escort us around town and on our way. As the entire group queues up for petrol (gas) there was an interesting cultural exchange whereby there was an energetic and frank exchange of information between a Brit and one of our Austrian bretheren as to the remarkable variations in queuing etiquette.
We visited the local sites such as the Blue Whale  and a couple of motorbike museums where it was possible to buy yet more t-shirts. What we need is a stop to purchase luggage as we are rapidly running out of space. The welcome as always was superb wherever we stopped.
For the bikers amongst you I started to think a bit about what I was experiencing and what was good and bad about it. The Harley machine is perfectly suited to the American habitat. Wide open roads with very few tight bends (so far) and it purrs along in glorious style and is very comfortable – I would hate to do this trip on a sports bike. After a few days, however, even a comfortable bike will show your weaknesses. Mine is between the shoulders. I have sat upright, leaned forwards, leaned backwards, slouched, stood up, swung my legs around, ridden with one hand and put my feet up on the engine protector bars which has the pleasing effect of sending a blast of cool air up your trouser legs ) Some of my colleagues have aches and pains where even the most dedicated masseuse would fear to go. We have seen freeways, roadworks, small town centres, extremely old Route 66 sections where your fillings are rattled and had some fabulous long sweeping curvy bits. America is no doubt a beautiful country and at the moment it is still very lush and green, but you can feel the heat build as we move south towards Texas. The stuff on the side of the road (the dead stuff) is also a change from what we are used to in the UK: Deer, armadillos, skunks and squirrels and even a turtle of some form I saw today. A skunk is easiest to identify from the horrible ‘burning tyre’ smell.

I was told by an American friend that the difference between the English and the Americans is that Americans think 90 years is a long time and the English think 90 miles is a long way. As I have listened to some of the people at the stops on Route 66 these heritage sites are within living history; people remember Model T Fords bumper to bumper going west. The guy who met us at the Blue Whale told us his father built it. The English in the group have realised through their aches and pains that 256 miles day after day is a long way.

Day 6: 271 miles to Amarillo, Texas

Lala started the day with an explanation that the roads today were mostly ‘this’ (she held her arm out straight) a little bit ‘this’ (as she snaked her hand up and down) and none of ‘that’ (as she snaked her hand left to right).

I have no idea what Tony Christie was on about with “Is this the way to Amarillo” – it’s easy mate, just follow the dead straight road with signposts to Amarillo for 200 miles. Bill – one of the wags in the group – spent all day asking any local he met whether this was the way to Amarillo – not a single bite.

If you have ever seen Disney’s film Cars by Pixar you would have seen a part of the film where they illustrate how the old roads used to pass through the landscape and rise and fall with the contours of the land, and that the freeways just cut straight through it. We travelled down Route 66 up and down over softly undulating land with a freeway right next to us that was dead flat. I have to say that Route 66 was more fun to travel on, except for a section of concrete road where each section of concrete had a dip before the next section started; at about 65 MPH this hit you about every second. It was quite annoying after a few miles but had the amusing effect of making the crash helmets in front of me all dance up and down in rhythm.

Through all the farmland that we had travelled over the last few days, there had been an odour that was missing – manure. It was as if there were no animals in that part of the world. Now we were moving out of Oklahoma and into Texas we were travelling down the Chisholm Trail, where cattle from the great ranches were driven to the rail head for distribution. Yesterday I saw my first ‘nodding donkey’ oil well pump and today I saw my first water pump windmill – you know the type in every western movie – on a tall pylon with a round fan affair and a vane to keep it facing the wind.

We had been travelling through Indian native reserves for the last day or so and stopped at our first Indian trading post (actually a very flashy shop attached to a fuel service station). I will wait until I get to Santa Fe before shopping for gifts.

The Route 66 museum we stopped at was closed, so we shot off to see another one. When we got there the group decided that it would rather have lunch and so we moved on without seeing more Route 66 memorabilia – but we took advantage for a group photo in front of the huge Route 66 sign.

We got off the freeway onto another piece of Route 66 that could be ridden and passed through one of the ghost towns caused by the arrival of the freeway. It was a bit sad really as these places had been businesses and homes in the past and were now just rotting away.

We took a photo opportunity at the Texas border state line and from here on in the “don’t litter” signs changed to ” Don’t mess with Texas” signs.

As a fuel stop we visited the inspiration for the Tower of Tyres owned by Luigi in Pixar’s Cars.

Then we drove off to the much promised Devils Rope Museum, a museum dedicated to barbed wire. I know what you are thinking, and yes, actually it was a bit ‘odd’ but I am now very impressed by the variations of types of barbed wire and the tools and mechanisms to erect and tension it. Bill bought the T-shirt.

As I sit here tonight I am full of fillet steak from the Big Texan – an open dining experience where a few head of cattle are consumed every evening. When we arrived one guy was at the top table under a digital clock trying to finish a 72 ounce steak and trimmings all in 1 hour. You have to imagine a steak that is as thick as your arm and bigger than a dinner plate – I felt ill looking at it. As the last few seconds ticked down he managed to cram the last few chips down his neck and was declared a winner – what they didn’t see was the bread roll that he palmed away under the table (we didn’t tell).

Tomorrow we are off to Santa Fe where we will spend two nights. It’s only 280 miles away….

Day 7: 280 miles to Santa Fe, New Mexico

 Wow – what a day!

Straight outside of Amarillo is the Cadillac Ranch; yep, it’s just a bunch of old Cadillacs buried in the ground alongside the main highway – but these things are painted on with spray paints by everyone who visits. Ooccasionally they are all painted one colour to ‘refresh the palate’. The paint is about 1-2cm thick.

Then off to Magnolia Station, an old filling station that has been restored, and quickly on to the midway point of Route 66. The lady who owned the cafe until just this year was called Flo and she was the inspiration for the character in Pixar’s Cars. In fact the old car outside the cafe looks suspiciously like the model for Flo as a car. As soon as we left the Midway point the whole environment changed; from what were lush grasslands ripe for cattle, the road dipped down an escarpment and we were suddenly in something more like desert. That happened in about 1 mile of travel. This was rapidly followed by the end of Texas and the start of New Mexico.

We visited a ghost town and walked around an old motel which was in ruins. It seemed a bit sad as it had obviously been a nice place at some time past.

A better sight awaited us at the Blue Swallow Motel, which has been lovingly restored by a couple. It has had some murals painted in the garages.

For lunch another diner. As I was taking some photos a local gent said “if you want to take a photo, take a photo of this” and he revealed a Colt 45 pistol under his waistcoat. I can’t say I like guns much, but thought it wise to snap a few pictures.

The main ‘feature’ of the day was wind. Preacher was hurrying us down the freeway and the wind was so strong that it was wise to hold on ‘very tight’. The wind came hammering across the freeway from the horizon which was uninterrupted from any direction. Soon we started to see some rock stacks a bit like Monument Valley, and that was followed by more and more hilly country – absolutely beautiful. I won’t waste words telling you how it felt to ride through that scenery. The wind was still pretty spectacular and the locals were a bit concerned that a large storm was coming in. Just before we got to Santa Fe we stopped off at the Pecos village. Well, we arrived at the main gate which was half open and the sign said closed at 5pm. It was about 5:20 so preacher led us inside for a quick look as often official guides get some leeway.

We all rolled up to the main car park next to some offices – nobody about – Preacher shot off to the main offices and told us to wait there and take a few pictures. No sooner had he gone than a small woman dressed in park ranger uniform with a heavily laden utility belt (including gun) accosted us, shouted and threatened to give us tickets, I was just waiting for the gun to be pulled – she was quite remarkably out of order, but was not capable of listening to anyone. So we all duly left. On reflection I guess that one small woman with a gun could still be intimidated by 15 bikers on Harleys – even if we were respectable English business folks.

Out for a tour around Santa Fe tonight, maybe off on a 150 mile loop through the mountains tomorrow, or maybe a big lie in around the pool and a bit or retail therapy.

Day 8: Rest day in Santa Fe, New Mexico

We gained an hour by travelling west yesterday and set the alarm clock for 07:00 (effectively 08:00). When it rang we ignored it and slept in a bit more – no rush to “move it out!” today.  Last night we grabbed dinner at the Coyote Cafe and I had a Navajo taco – pulled pork, ground buffalo, chile, salad, guacamole and some other stuff I couldn’t recognise. It was pretty filling. We sank a few margeritas as the beer is not agreeing with us much. Any excuse.

So when this morning came we decided to take the Harleys into town. We didn’t want to wait for the bus or pay for a taxi so that meant minimal protective gear, otherwise we would be walking around town in the days heat in heavy gear. Boots, jeans and a mesh protective jacket and helmet was the lowest protection we were prepared to go. Most of the locals obviously consider ‘suncream’ to be satisfactory protection as they roll around with shorts and t-shirts and sandals.

Santa Fe is full of artists, craft folks and shops selling goods from the local pueblos made by the likes of the Navajo Indians. The quality is superb but the prices do tend to match the quality though. You would struggle to browse every shop unless you had 3 or 4 days. I bought a few things for my sons and my wife to take home.

After 2 hours we shot off to the local Harley dealer to browse the bikes and accessories. On the way back we managed to get lost and travelled a few more miles than planned. Back to Santa Fe for lunch and then off to the Veterans Memorial Cemetery. This is a place where surviving veterans of any war in which America  was involved can choose to be buried when they pass away. Although a little sad to see so many beautifully ordered white headstones, it was a fabulously kept and impressive place. As we sedately rode our bikes through the many small roads on the hillside we came upon more and more gravestones as they travelled over the top of the hill and beyond.

Everywhere we went today, it was impossible to avoid a conversation with the locals. Just opening your mouth with an English accent and carrying a crash helmet was an opening for a chat. Everyone was hugely friendly, wanting to know where we had started and where we were headed.

One memorable conversation happened in a trading post. A very “friendly” sales lady accosted us at the door and was busy showing us everything and ceaselessly talking. She eventually introduced another colleague, a petite blonde lady wearing glasses, as a fellow biker. She spoke with a southern drawl and explained that “she had been the passenger, taking the photos, the flasher”. I looked at her through my eyebrows and the first lady said ” Oh lordy no, she didn’t mean that, she meant the photo flash” – where the second lady said “No…. I meant the flasher”; her eyes twinkled for a moment, she blushed and lady number 1 looked horrified. We bit our lips and left as soon as was polite.

Day 9: 255 miles to Gallup, New Mexico

I wrote a blog yesterday on our day off, but was unable to send it because the wireless signal was too weak, as was the orange juice for breakfast and the excuses from the hotel as to why the pool was closed.

We were the early group this morning and set off through the outskirts of Santa Fe. Our group leader passed through some lights and then they turned orange, at which point I stepped on the brakes. Behind me and to my left was Nick and directly behind me was Bill – unfortunately Bill didn’t manage to stop in time and ran into the back of Nick’s bike. Nick – noticing that his bike was having an accident – stepped off calmly. A few bits of dented chrome, and Bill’s knee is a bit sore, but we all walked away. In the second group there was a coming together between one of the bikes and a car at a junction. A glancing blow but enough to turn the bike over and do some more damage to chrome.

So after that excitement we headed for Madrid the scene of the Wild Hogs film. We stopped at Maggie’s diner (which isn’t a diner) and met Maggie. We took the obligatory pictures in front of the diner and just stopped short of wrapping one of us in gaffer tape and hanging him from the local tree (you need to see the film). We then headed for the old centre of Albuquerque for coffee and then off to the Sky City

Now we were entering interesting riding territory; sweeps and bends in fantastic desert scenery. Sky City is an Indian Pueblo that has been built on a sandstone stack a few hundred feet above the valley floor. We were not allowed to go there or even take pictures – just look. Pug – one of the real bikers on the tour – commented that the buildings looked just like “portacabins painted up a bit”. I’m not sure the village elders would have approved but he had a point. Using binoculars you could see what looked like portaloos dotted around the outskirts of the town. Maybe that’s why visitors are not allowed.

Finally we arrived at the continental divide, the point at which all rainfall east of this point flows into the Mississippi, and west of this point flows into the Pacific. There was nothing visibly, geographically remarkable about this spot, but we took some photos anyway.

At the end of the day we rolled into a super old hotel ‘El Rancho’ where a lot of the 1930/40′s Hollywood stars would stay as they filmed westerns in the surrounding countryside. Tomorrow – The Grand Canyon.

Day 10: 290 miles to Grand Canyon, Arizona

We have just returned from watching the sun set over the Grand Canyon. The Canyon was so impressive that Pug was forced to comment how much like Newport Pagnell it was.

It is difficult to gauge the sheer scale of it but it doesn’t matter who you are – it’s impressive.

Today was a good day but physically quite hard. We started off crossing the Arizona state line and gained another hour in time zones. The weather has been strange with phenomenal winds, and they continued through today. We were riding our bikes constantly leaning to the left to keep them on the road with gusts up to 60 miles per hour. As we approached the national park that holds the Petrified Forest and Painted Desert we picked up a huge amount of dust. Most of our clothes and electronic kit is now full of dust. We have been air-blasted and finally sand-blasted. I for one have been wind-burned today, any part of your face or hands exposed suffered.

The Petrified Forest is the remains of trees from thousands of years ago, buried in mud, minerals eventually replacing the wood and then erosion revealing the trees. Alongside this spectacle is the Painted Desert which is an eroded landscape with multiple colours caused by the minerals in the soil. The wind was so strong now it was difficult to stand upright to take a photo. In fact the usual sport of seeing how far you could lean into the wind without falling over ensued.

As we rode from one end of the park top the other the sand blasting continued and the landscape made it feel like we were riding on the moon.

We then stopped for fuel and had a bite to eat at Denny’s, which has just about everything you want to eat, but you know you shouldn’t. I had a strawberry milkshake that came in two containers because it was so big, and a double cheese burger which stood about 6 inches high.

The we shot off down the freeway at high speed (and a left leaning angle) to Winslow and “took it easy”, standing on the corner in Winslow Arizona. Not being an Eagles fan it was all a bit lost on me.

Then off to Flagstaff down the freeway through sand storms and heavier winds. We gained about 2000 feet in altitude and the unseasonably cold weather was made very difficult riding at speed in our summer gear (we had expected from Texas west to be sweltering). By the time we got to Flagstaff I was so cold that I made for the first store I could find and bought a sweatshirt (heaven). We rode for another 70 odd miles up over a range of hills that took us up to 8031 feet (very cold) to the Grand Canyon Village. We checked in to the hotel and everyone put on at least 3 extra layers for the ride to the Grand Canyon for the sunset.

I’m now sitting listening to a Country and Western singer murder every song. They have both types of music here – Country and Western. Thank God he’s taken a break: Mick says that it must be the start of ‘Happy Hour’

Up at 07:00 tomorrow for a helicopter ride over the Canyon.

Day 11: Best riding yet – Laughlin, Nevada

We completed a superb day by riding into Laughlin (a mini las vegas). After having ridden across some of the most beautiful rugged country and some superb driving roads it was a bit of an assault on the senses to suddenly see an adult playground with people blasting about on jet skis and powerboats next to high rise buildings and neon signs. We had just travelled down from Oatman, a real old western mining town. I have decided not to like Laughlin already.
The day started early with a flight over the Grand Canyon, the statistics came thick and fast and I only remember some of them but they were all pretty impressive (10 miles wide on average, over 1 mile deep at some points; the Colorado river is 300 feet wide etc etc). What you lose is any ability to comprehend the scale of it. As you look at it your mind tends to shrink things for you, so the other side looks like it might be a long way away, but surely not 10 miles. When you fly in the helicopter and see how fast it is going, but the scenery isn’t moving very fast at all, you begin to appreciate just how big it is.
During this day we dropped 6000 feet (not in the helicopter, but on the ride) So we started the day with freezing temperatures and ended them with 90 degree heat.
The first stop was Williams, Arizona. We had coffee to warm up at what was originally the town bordello, the Red Garter. Pug and Nutty got into the swing of things right away.

Next, a stop at Seligman and lunch at a diner where it seemed everyone had left a business card or a message on the wall. The theme of the serving hatch was to take the mickey out of the customers – I had fake mustard sprayed on me – unfortunately Horst (a rather stern German fellow) didn’t see the funny side.

Then to the highlight of the day,  the ride through ‘properly’ twisty roads, like the ones we get in England. I was following two behind Preacher who is a stunning rider; I managed to keep pace, but I’m sure he wasn’t even trying. At the top of the climb he stopped and invited us to go down to the town below by ourselves. The descent into Oatman was the best fun I’ve ever had on a bike and really tested my skills.
Oatman has a small standing army of donkeys and they stood patiently amongst the very noisy Harleys as we arrived. The usual t-shirts, local crafts and assorted goods were available, but the setting was a little bit special; much of the original wooden buildings had survived, and apart from the modern cars and bikes it looked like a movie set.

So off now to find somewhere in this horror movie of a town, to get a quiet bite to eat.

Day 12: To Vegas, Nevada!

We left about 07:30 this morning and I waved enthusiastically as Laughlin disappeared in my mirrors. Up onto the Mojave Desert we hit the longest and straightest road yet. It wasn’t very interesting and at the fuel stop people were wishing for more entertaining riding. In the next few miles we hit the beginnings of the scenery that hosts the Hoover Dam. Some spectacular roads cut through the rugged mountains and it seemed that there were freeways suspended in mid air amongst the rocks. We finally turned off these roads and down a winding side road that took us across the top of the Hoover Dam itself. We parked on the Arizona side of the dam and spend a few minutes walking across and looking over the edge – well those of us without a fear of heights (like me).

Many people died making this dam – a strange fact is that the first and last people to die were father and son.

As we set off back across the bridge, the group that follow us were coming the other way. We cross on the Dam and made quite a spectacle with over 30 bikes.

In the distance after a few miles, we could see the Las Vegas strip. It was still 20 miles away and sat in the middle of a bowl of mountains.

We rolled onto the ‘strip’ and down to the hotel. This is a much more classy place than Laughlin. It ‘feels’ very much like Disney and everywhere you look there is something to entertain you. We walked down to the Bellagio Hotel and watched the fountains that you see on the movie Oceans 11. We are heading to the Harley Davidson cafe for dinner and then off to paint the town red.

Tomorrow – Victorville some 200 miles away and we are crossing the Mojave desert again.

Day 13: 275 miles to Victorville, California

It wasn’t so long ago that doing 200 miles in a day seemed like a real physical challenge. Now we seem to do 275 miles easily – and I mean so easily that it seems like lunchtime now, but the day has passed quickly. Thinking about why we can munch so many miles quite so easily has to do with the roads. They are pretty straight, uninterrupted by junctions, traffic lights, roundabouts – and out here there isn’t much traffic. So the miles fall easily.

I was wondering after all my riding whether I could now say I was an ‘experienced biker’ – I think not. When it comes to straight roads I have it nailed – apart from that I still have some things to learn.

Today was introduced by Lala as ‘Stinkin Hot Desert’ – and she wasn’t wrong. Having lost altitude over the last few days, the temperature has soared. Fortunately for us the temperatures in the high 90s are still relatively low. We finally resorted to a tried and tested technique to give ‘personal air conditioning’ when we were riding. Your choices are: strip back to the bare minimum and risk serious injury if you have an accident (you are not required to wear even a helmet in all states). Or soak your t-shirt in the ice-water bucket and put it on under your mesh protective jacket. Pretty much all of the guys resorted to the latter technique; strangely enough the ladies declined and decided instead to “glow” (horses sweat, men perspire and ladies glow).

We pulled out of the Vegas strip at about 08:20 and shot off down the freeway back towards Hoover Dam before turning right and heading west. Stopping at the California state line for yet another photo opportunity, we then crunched a few desert miles on the straightest roads you have ever seen. You come to a ridge and there it is stretching to the horizon; arrive at that horizon and there it is off to the next horizon. The scenery is beautiful, but it becomes a blur as distant rocky hills remain at a distance, no matter how far you travel, and you are surrounded by miles of scrub land and desert.

All along this section of road people have stopped to write their names in neatly arranged rocks on the dirt. We rolled into Amboy where the station owner had a bucket of iced water ready to cool us down. Roys of Amboy is an old fuel stop and motel that is surrounded by miles of nothing, and would have been a welcome stop to the early travellers in their Model T Fords heading West. As I was hammering down Route 66 on my modern vehicle I began to marvel at the feat of travelling Route 66 in an old piece of 1920/30′s machinery. At an average speed of around 30mph it must have taken months and must have been quite risky to cross these desert areas.

The last visit of the day was to the Bottle Tree Ranch – owned by a rather eccentric retired marine. It was……er….. interesting and not a little bit odd.

Tomorrow – Los Angeles and the end of the road.

The last day: To Los Angeles, California.

Victorville is only about 80 miles away from Los Angeles, so we imagined that we would ride for a VERY short time, take a few photos with the Hollywood sign behind us and then run on to Santa Monica pier to the end of the Route 66.

If you look on google maps at Victorville and trace a route to Los Angeles it is very straight and boring. However if you scroll northwards you will find  Angeles Crest Highway. It is a very wiggly line – biker paradise!

As we got off the freeway and started to climb there was a very distinctive fragrance that initially reminded me of hops and malt at a brewery, but it seemed to be a mix of pine and the local flowers. We rode around rocks, trees, sweeping bends, crests and dips in on a superb road surface. Nothing is ever perfect ,though, and because of the rocky environment there were often rocks in the road; even small ones have the ability to drop your bike if you happen to hit it in a tight corner.

Throughout the trip we have delighted to see a small yellow sign that has a wiggly black arrow pointing upwards denoting bendy roads. Under the sign there is an indication for how far these roads will continue. At the start of this road we saw a wonderful black wiggly sign; it said “for 53 miles”. You could hear the collective cheer from the group.

Then we reached LA. What a nightmare! The traffic is like the M25 in rush hour but it was only 12:00. We rode down freeway after freeway, full of expensive BMWs and Mercedes. Some of the houses we passed were fabulous. This place smells of money.

Eventually we turned onto Santa Monica pier, over a tarmac bridge and onto the wooden boards of the pier. We parked up and had a small YeeHaa! which we reserved Brits had been practicing along our journey. I had mixed feelings; great that we had done it but a little deflated that it was over. We took the group photo by the end of Route 66 sign on the pier. We consoled ourselves by having lunch at “Bubba Gumps” a Forrest Gump based seafood cafe. A great place I would highly recommend.

We then walked to the end of the pier and stared out over the Pacific. Everything from here was East. If this environment was what awaited the Route 66 pioneers in their Model T Fords all those years ago, then I can totally understand why they made the effort. There was the occasional grumble that neither Pamela Anderson nor Jasmine Bleeth were running in slow motion down the beach in unfeasibly tight red swimsuits to rescue someone, but the sunshine was glorious and the temperature a very pleasant 70+.

We handed the bikes back to Eaglerider and I took a photo of the odometer. I will do the maths later and announce the winner. None of our bikes agreed with each other as to how many miles were done. Some registered over 3000 miles, others barely 2700.

If you remember, Nicks bike had an accident. It tore the buckle off his pannier bag and dented the exhaust pipe. Total damage $60. We were amazed! In fact it is worth saying at this point that the whole tour has been excellent. The arrangements, the hotels, the stops, the meals, the guides. There were things that weren’t as expected, there were things that weren’t perfect, but you won’t hear much grumbling from our group.

So that’s it. Done. Completed challenge. We are already talking about the next challenge – but as my wife also reads this blog I will keep quiet about that just for now

Want to learn more about tips for packing for a Route 66 Harley Holiday?

Call Bon Voyage to discuss your Route 66 holiday on 0800 980 7091. You can experience the mighty The Mother Road adventure on the back of a Harley Davidson, as a Route 66 fly-drive, or on an escorted tour. You decide. We’ll make it happen.

I have to start with an apology as I believe this blog may be lost on 87% of the UK public, to whom the name Al Roker will mean nothing .  For the other 13% and various Americans who might stumble on this, you will know Al as the affable weatherman/co-host on NBC’s Today Show.  And, for the past few years, Al has had his own show on the Weather Channel too.

If you’ve ever been to New York City, or watched a broadcast of Today while in America, you will know that many people trudge down to Rockefeller Center at stupid o’clock every weekday morning to wave banners and try and get the attention of the hosts and the folks back home.  Well, this is exactly how I met Al – the first time!  I was already living in the UK and would try and meet two of my gal pals from Alaska somewhere once a year.  In 2004 it was the Big Apple.  The first morning, still dark outside, we dragged ourselves to the NBC studio to get a prime spot.  We didn’t know at the time – you can have banners, but not banners on poles!  All that work the night before – never mind.  Sticks in the nearest garbage can and we were good to go right in the front row.  Only 3 hours until the show airs!

We sent Kelly in to Dean and Deluca to grab some coffee for us as it was a wee bit nippy at that time of the morning.  Kathy and I stayed to patrol our spot and watch for Matt Lauer, Katie Couric or Al Roker as they were known for passing by before hitting the studio.  Our eyes were trained on the NBC back door – no one was getting past us.  So, no surprise we completely missed Kelly 50 feet behind us, in the deli talking to Al!  Somehow he got past us and we were oblivious to him and Kelly’s subsequent frantic waves.  According to Kelly he was a lovely man!  We were sure he would look for us later in the crowd.

Roll on 7am and we suddenly realise we are definitely going to be right behind the news anchors every time they are outside, so I am frantic to find someone in my family who would be awake and able to record my television debut!

Theresa accepting her star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame!

It was only 6am in the Midwest (I am from Milwaukee) and 4am back in AK, so it wasn’t looking hopeful.  Luckily, I managed to catch my cousin – still asleep, but with it enough to know that this was going to be life changing television.  She got up long enough to shove a VHS tape in the recorder.  Were we still using VCRs in 2004???  In any event, for all posterity my first encounter with Al was documented.  Kelly, Kathy and I were happily waving our Alaska banners and along came Al.  As he approached us, he said “Here are a few girls from Alaska…I’ll aska their names!” And one by one he went down the line and we got to say our name on live television in front of 6 million Americans eating their cornflakes.  I was a hit – thank you Al Roker!

“Hey, is that Al Roker down there?”

Now you’re wondering – that doesn’t sound very stalkerish.  Well, that wasn’t that day.  It is now Tuesday,  June 5^th, 2012 and I have been incredibly lucky to be invited by South Carolina Tourism to a Diamond Jubilee luncheon at the Royal Society.  Yes, that one, right on the Mall next to the Duke of York steps.  So there I am on the balcony (it was pretty cold incidentally before you start hating me) watching the festivities unfold below and then someone in our group says “Hey, isn’t that Al Roker down there?”  What? Not my good friend Al?

True enough there he was, not looking much different than they did in 2004.  The savvy  South Carolina people saw an amazing opportunity to  grab some free air space on NBC and show the gang back home how incredibly supportive the UK Travel Trade are to tourism in South Carolina.

Next thing you know, Al is on the balcony and I can just about touch him – see for yourself!

I’m this close!

All of a sudden I’m straight back in 2004 and I realise….I am going to be on live television once again with Al Roker.  Same problem – it’s 6am back in Milwaukee….who would be awake?  I manage to email my brother and hope he spreads word to the rest of the family.  I mean, NYC was great, but I am now in London on television – what are the chances?  Now I managed to get my way right to the front of the balcony, which is a bit embarrassing when you know all the people you are trying to elbow out of the way, but I didn’t care – I’ve been in the UK for 15 years and here was a piece of home and a good friend of mine too – he had to know I was there!  Finally, I’m right next to Al and I just can’t help myself…..”Mr. Roker!” I exclaim – “Hello!”  “You can’t imagine how incredible it is for an American who has been in the UK for 15 years to be standing next to Al Roker!  In fact, we’ve meet before!”

Theresa, is it really you?

Yep – I then went through the whole story of “I’llaska their names….” He looked at me with a curious grin and was just about to say something – probably WTH? – when his producer interrupted to tell him “2 minutes til we’re with Matt and Meredith”…..  From that point on he never took his eyes off his phone – see for yourself again.  I imagine he is texting CRZY WMN NXT 2 ME…HLP!

HLP ME SUM1

But I don’t care because I can see the lights on the t.v. cameras below firing up and I know we are seconds away from being on US television.

Then it happens, the tap on my shoulder.  One of the very tall South Carolina Tourism officials would like me to move.  WHAT? NO?  Al isn’t going to like this – we’re old pals.  Well suffice it to say, I’ve seen the NBC footage from the balcony – I’m not in it.  Our Marketing Manager (Karen Niven) and her husband both succeeded in cameos when they panned the balcony, but not this displaced American who wanted nothing more than her family and friends to see her and her good friend Al reunited in London.

It’s getting a bit wet.

Al stayed for a while on the balcony, but then had to get back down to the NBC crew.  I watched him all day though; eating lunch, working the crowds, standing under an umbrella when the rain started.

It would have been a complete failure of a day but then I remembered; I was actually there to see the Queen – Her Majesty – coming down the Mall.  And we did, from the most amazing vantage point I could have ever imagined.  The Red Arrow flypast was the icing on the cake.  I love you Al, but I’ve moved on – I’m an honorary Brit now.  God Save the Queen!

Loathing Las Vegas………..

Welcome to Las Vegas – prepare to be “stripped” of your cash!

‘There’s no tea or coffee maker in my room?’ Of course not, sucker, we want you spending money in our on-site Starbucks, conveniently located adjacent to the casino.  The smoky casino that is!  Yes, incredibly it’s still allowed, but it would be wouldn’t it – they don’t want the smokers running around with spare cash in their pockets!

When I go to Vegas I feel like the raw ingredient entering a sausage machine.  In a little while I’m going to be cleaned out, processed and despatched from the other end.  The mass of humanity thronging the Strip all seem to buy-in (literally) to being ‘Vegased.’ To me, this is just a city with its hand outstretched.  No amenity exists for its own sake, as a place of refuge or because it’s pleasing on the eye…..there is always a commercial imperative.

People tell me to look at the free drinks they give you in the casinos, free casino gaming lessons, a free tram ride. Don’t they get it?  Every freebie is an enticement; the entry fee to part you from your hard earned.

And, oh my God, my worst nightmare of all: the buffet line.  Enter ‘all you can eat buffet Las Vegas’ as a Google search and you will find over 1million results.  I only have to read the first paragraph from a2zlasvegas.com to feel a little queasy:-  ‘Las Vegas is more than just blackjack, bingo and poker. It offers quality dining. In fact, it has some of the best buffets in the United States.’

Now I’ve been told off by my wife (she loves Vegas) and the rest of the Bon Voyage team for not being “with the times”. Apparently I should acknowledge the high standards that now exist at the lovely feed lines – I’m still not biting. 

I’m sorry but what happened to taking the weight off your feet, tripping through the delights of an eclectic menu and hearing from your charming server about today’s specials?

I admire much of what mankind has devised; a pleasing piece of art, a sleek jetliner or beautiful car, even a suburban semi can have its merits but I draw the line at the Las Vegas Strip:- miles and miles of concrete punctuated by ridiculous edifices (known as casino resorts) each uglier and more outlandish than the last.

And what about those Las Vegas shows?  Now this is where I waver slightly because I do admire and enjoy the fabulous Cirque du Soleil productions and think the Beatles ‘Love’ show is genius.  But as for the outrageous ticket prices which provide a pension plan and another facelift for the ‘long agos’ and ‘has beens’, you can count me out.

I’m not saying never go to Las Vegas.  Everyone should go there once because you will never in your life see anything quite like it. So visit for a couple of days and then forget all about it.  There is so much that is so much better in the US of A.

Loving Las Vegas….

Just thinking about booking a trip to Las Vegas makes me smile. I’ve been to my own personal Mecca fifteen times now. On average I stay five nights at a time; once I was there for ten nights. My family (who’d never been, incidentally, but have lots of opinions about it) thought I was crazy but I was in Holiday Heaven. I never want to leave. I find the place totally intoxicating.

Looking back, my first visit to ‘Vegas in the ’80s was a bit of a blur. I had constantly to remind myself to blink – I didn’t want to miss one tiny morsel of what this neon city was showing me. On the ‘plane on the way back, weary, with dry eyes, I just knew that this would be my first visit of many. Gazing around the plane I felt others were thinking the same.

Do you know that in all of the times I’ve been to ‘Vegas I’ve actually only parted with a total of $23 on gambling. As part of the ‘Vegas experience, I do enjoy studying the people who whittle their hard-earned cash away; I just have no desire to do it with mine. There are too many other interesting pursuits there.

Interested to know what my ideal day is in Vegas? Thanks for asking! Well, early morning stroll to The Paris Hotel for breakfast al fresco at Mon Ami consisting of warm croissants and glass of chilled bubbly. Followed by a saunter along to the Forum Shops at Caesar’s Palace, where I always go into Abercrombie & Fitch, moan about the darkness of the shop and the extra loud music and walk out again. It’s an age thing. It never bothered me a few years ago.

Next, back to one of my favourite hotels, either The Cosmopolitan or Wynn, where I’ll recharge my batteries by sitting in the sun by the pool, sucking in my stomach and carefully hiding my chunky thighs under a sarong. I’ll probably enjoy a refreshing cocktail; I am on holiday after all.

For lunch I’ll grace Olives at the Bellagio Hotel, where I know what time to order my entrée to coincide with the famous fountain display. The afternoon would be taken up either on a trip into the desert (I thoroughly recommend Valley of The Fire), a boat trip on Lake Mead or a jaunt to the Neon Museum.

The evening is when Sin City comes alive; it’s a joyous sensory overload. My ideal evening in ‘Vegas would be cocktails (I’m not an alcoholic, honestly) in MIX in The Mandalay Bay Hotel. The views are incredible. Followed by a juicy steak in the private dining room at the excellent Smith & Wollensky.

A show is a must; forget Elton John, he’s just going through the motions, I feel. Check out Matt Goss at Caesars Palace. He’s gone from cheesy Boy Band to Las Vegas’s new Sinatra. I’d end the evening with a limo drive (they are reasonable if you chat up the bell boys at the big hotels) back to my hotel, where I’d just soak in the electric atmosphere before I crash out.

So what draws me back year on year to “Lost Wages”? I love its escapism. To me, it’s Disneyland for adults, chewing gum for the eyes, and I can’t get enough.. …. 

So will you be making 2012 the year of the Great American Route 66 Roadtrip?

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 24^th 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.

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 7^thStreet 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 9^thStreet 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 14^th 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.

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 21^st 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 29^th 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.

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.

Copyright: Geoff & Ali Cadman 2004

Bon Voyage arranges Harley Tours of the United States with EagleRider.