Still rattled

I wrote about Salt Lake. It’s not as big as I expected it to be. It’s very clean. I think they have a nighttime street racing league. I could hear cars and police ripping around the streets all night. Looking at their congress, they’re much better decorators than Texas. The road in to Salt Lake is another course for Mario Kart.

The Salt Flats were great. The ground is like a wet, sticky salt. I did the 10 mile course starting at about 40mph and working up to 90mph. The strip and oval track are packed down pretty well. Anywhere off the course is very slippery and impossible to navigate. There are cones and markers every quarter mile on the strip to keep you straight. If those weren’t there anyone would be completely lost. Once you’re out there, everything looks the same. You get that mirror image off the ground so it’s hard to make out what’s in the distance.

Idaho is not very exciting. Very similar to Nebraska.

Montana has some incredible scenery all throughout. Tons of wildlife also so use care riding through. Livingston Montana has normal wind speeds of 75mph (according to the super 8 manager on highway 15). It’s incredibly, unbearably windy. I wasn’t a fan of that wind. It cooked my eyes.

Border officers make sour faces at me when I tell them what I’ve done. They don’t like my story and keep asking me who I did business with, and what I’m carrying with me. I tell the truth and they still have a sour face. I don’t know what to make of that.

I think that’s what I can remember from my writing before. I’m upset with the internets right now. And I might take my laptop back to the Grand Canyon for an exterior display of my emotions.

Final Legs

I just wrote for an hour and my hotel WIFI died. So I lost everything. I’m pretty rattled.

Here’s my video of the Salt Flats

Daytona Beach

I had an early start today. It was nice to get on my way without any traffic, not to mention the sun beating down on me from the get go. I cursed myself by thinking that this morning. I’m happy I made it back to Daytona Beach by 4pm. The rain got me good today. I made it to the North of Dade county and I could see the black clouds and lightning in the distance. I pondered stopping and waiting out to “see what happens”. I tend to be stubborn until I run short of fuel, so I kept on going. Sure enough, it came down. Lightning and patches of heavy rain, and light rain. Enough to have me pull up to two different rest stops. I was lucky enough to only have rain for the last 200km of my 700km journey for the day. The worst is when I can dump my boots out. It’s still warm though!

I’ve stopped my habits re: Tobacco, as of this morning. When things go perfectly in my life I’ll let you know. I think I’m missing out on a lot. I find smoking and chewing snuff takes away focus from everyday life. Instead of enjoying the scenery or wondering what the next town is like. I’m just waiting for another dose. I started up on my trip around Las Vegas (no surprise). I sure do love smoking though. If only it were a little easier on the body. I can’t smoke too long before really feeling the effects on my breathing. It only takes a few days to kick the congestion. People figure the “e-cigs” are the way to go. I tried one for a night and my throat was so toasted and dry the next day I could hardly swallow. Good old tobacco wasn’t that bad. The future of smoking, I guess it’ll only take another 40 years before we see the issues with those contraptions. “It’s only vapour!” We’ll see.

Daytona Beach is another great spot. “The most famous beach in the world” they say. There’s tons to do here as well. I will return for the NASCAR experience here at the track 5 miles from my hotel. I will also return for bike week in March next year. There are more Motorcycle shops than there are fast food restaurants in this city. I walk into the shops and the people there barely say hello. I’d be the same. “hurry up and buy something so I can get back to working on my bike”.

I went to a barber shop and they were good guys. Chewing the fat with the local regulars. After they’re finished they do a head and back massage with some handheld massagers, and of course they’re sold in the shop. If I lived here I’d be leaned up against one right now instead of this pillow. I’ve been to a few $40 salons at home and maybe it’s just my luck, but this barber here in DB FL knew exactly how to cut my hair. It’s what I’ve been picturing for a year, and yet seemed impossible for me to explain, or a professional stylist to perform back home. I don’t mean to rip on the art, but he charged me $12.50. That includes the massage. My next haircut will cost me $1000 to fly back down here where people understand my manly needs.

Check out my video as I laugh at people screaming and running away from the beach during a thunderstorm.

Down in the Key

From the Beach Boys cassette my gym instructor played all the way from kindergarten to grade 6, I always though Key Largo was one word. There are a lot of key islands down here. All roughly about the same in climate and activities. Fishing. Every bridge I came across there were rods over the sides. Even the bridges with “No Fishing from bridge” sign at each end, I’m sure there were a few rods down under there. One of the keys has a population of “key deer”. I didn’t see any, but the speed limits came way down, and the highway fences were much higher in that area. No doubt to preserve the delicate existence of these rare animals. There was also a “Long key”. All across the world there seems to be some place named Long etc. Funny enough though, Long Key was the smallest of the keys. Standing at 5’6″, I found that rather entertaining.

The ride was alright. The bridges were quite short considering how large everything looks on a map. It was pretty much two lanes from Dade County right into Key West, the most southern tip of the Continental United States. There’s lots of shops and hotels called “The most southern _____ of the USA” etc. I strolled around for an afternoon when I arrived and found Duval street. It was packed with touring families and scooters, scooters everywhere. A great way to get around down here in your shorts and flip flops.

The sun isn’t so bad until about 2pm. The humidity kicks up and there you have a good recipe for a heat stroke, and it’s not even summer. My north coast body isn’t quite used to being soaked with my own sweat for entire days at a time. The streets seem to die down around 3pm as the heat is on full bore. The crowd returns around 9pm for the evening festivities around sunset pier, and the numerous bars and pubs that get rocking.

I took my bike for a cruise up and down the main roads last night. There were a few bikes here and there but not too many. I did see a group of six, and two of the bikes were impressive. I’m not a fan of chrome, but these guys sure placed the right amount of money into their rides. They have a bike week here in late september when the heat backs off for the winter. I could image these small streets lined with the prestigious projects of one of the most impressive bike building places in the world, Miami. I parked my bike mid street and walked past it a few times in my wanderings to see a couple people standing around it each time. I thought about going over for a chat, but thought it best to let them figure it out on their own. People seem to like my custom made wooden sissy bar I created merely out of necessity. Maybe it’s an option for the future, a few wooden parts here and there. Seems to attract some attention.

I spoke with a few locals here and there. A “melting pot” of drifters, legit foreigners, barely legal foreigners, and wed-in citizens seems to be the makeup of this area of Key West. “A lot of people have multiple relationships” a tattoo artist was explaining to me. “Most times they keep a marriage in one life, and who they actually want to be with in another. I seem to see a lot of that. They do an evaluation with immigration once a year to prove that they are actually married, but it’s usually a deal between the two participants until the foreigner gets their citizenship, then it’s over”. As weird as it sounds, that’s a pretty legit way of doing it. I know that’s the case in Canada. If the system works, do it. “I came down from Anchorage Alaska for a weeks vacation five years ago” She said. Fair enough, it is a beautiful place.

Back to SOBE

During my first few days on the IOM I ran into a real genuine guy from Slovakia, who had lived and worked on the island for the last five years. Juraj, or “George” in english was a real outgoing, upstanding type of guy. He was more than helpful in doing his job helping me set up my phone for local service. He encouraged me to come back and visit as he wanted to hear more about Canada and my adventures. He asked me when my last day on the island was, and since it was a day off for him, offered to take me around the island on yet another cruise. Only this time it was with a local who really knew his way around.

We cruised a few local hotspots and checked out the castle in the town of Peel. Juraj was a very cool guy and I look forward to meeting with him again in the future. Hopefully in either Slovakia, or Canada.

The Powerful Juraj Juracek

Overall for my experience on the IOM I had a blast. There was more than enough time to see it all, and catch a few lazy days in between. For camping it wasn’t too bad. My gear has worked out exactly as I hoped it would. Over 5 nights of good rain and not a drop of water inside. I even had offers from the campers around me to shack up in their extra tent “rooms” if the weather wasn’t working out for me. I always felt welcomed, and felt it secure enough to leave all my gear in my tent, knowing the people around me were looking out for one another. The campsite facilities were much too small for the 1000+ people there must have been there. Always a wait for the shower and toilets etc. Nothing to really complain about considering the price of 9 nights. The power situation and wifi was tragic to say the least, but hey, we’re there for the experience.

The race was incredible to experience. No youtube video could ever due justice to what these guys actually do on the track. When you’re not there you miss the smells, and the thump in your chest when a bike whips past. I was tweeting quite a bit from my different locations and was surprised to get a ton of responses and a few new followers. Even the @iom_tt threw me in the mix. Very exciting to be a part of the race.

Four nights in Dublin was pretty standard for me. The hotels are incredibly expensive there, so a hostel was the goto for my last squatting in the UK. The hostel was busy, and sounded like a nightclub until 4am every morning. A few young school groups from Germany were the life of the party. I have nothing against a solid week of partying, but it wore me down pretty well and i wasn’t even a part of it. I would wander the streets until late anyways as I found it hard to sleep. I’d meet up with groups and individuals here and there and share a few good laughs and be on my way. I guess the island life comes out in me as time goes on. I’d rather enjoy a quiet book and an evening tea instead of the “un-c un-c” of nightlife for weeks at a time.

Belfast self-guided day tour

Now back in South Beach Miami (Sobe) the party is ramping up again. I have a bit more shelter and privacy from my hotel though. The cold water runs nicely, which is nice as the humidity is borderline unbearable compared to where I just came from.

I have to say I can ride for 600 miles in a day, and that isn’t too bad. Flying for me is the worst way to travel. Even sprawled out in first class I don’t think would make it much more enjoyable for me. Looking down at the ocean, or the ground below I wonder what I’m flying over, instead of taking part in. Maybe next time I’ll get myself on a boat. I think I’d enjoy that much more.

20 000 alcoholics hanging onto a rock in the Irish Sea

The last few days have been pretty relaxing for me. One of the days, I can’t recall, there wasn’t any racing. I took advantage and slept in a good couple hours and relaxed around the campsite. Met a few more lads from Northern Ireland, and a fellow Canadian named Dan from Windsor, Ontario. He was travelling with Stephen from Hereford UK. They met over GTA5 on the Playstation Network. Steve brought over his VW travel van and threw his Suzuki R1 in the back to take advantage of the open roads of the Island.

I am lucky in more than one case, to hook up and make friends with people who have transportation. Dan, Steve, and I made our way around the island. We took a full tour of all the towns here as we drove the entire island. It was a full day before we posted up at Harold’s wall for some close action I mentioned in my last post. (Video to come soon)

The highway “over the mountain” part of the racetrack is coned off and turned into a one way highway for the fortnight. The Isle is different from the rest of the UK. They have their own parliament, which is the oldest parliament in the world. Long story short, they do what they want. Most of the roads in between the towns have what they call a “National Speed Limit”. In this case, there is no speed limit. The oneway mountain road is more or less a racetrack for the entire TT. I met up with an older lad outside the grandstand. “Hey, I overheard that you wanted to get to Ballacyre?”
“Yea” I said “Not really sure how, but I’m going to start walking”
“No worries” he replied “You pay for the petrol, and we’ll drive the course”
“Let’s hit it”

As we came to the one way section of the mountain about 8 miles long, the bikes were screaming past us. A bike would pass and just barely make it back in front of us before three more would blow by and hit the next few bends at anywhere from 100-150Mph. The racers are well over 170 for this entire section. Our Ford Fiesta rental clipped along pretty good.

We stopped at a pub just north of the mountain. Tim, my current companion, ran into this pub last year and had a pretty good relationship with the owner, Dave. Dave used to drive sidecar (insane), and he was a solid guy to hang out with. The pub was astronomically expensive, by far my most expensive meal on my trip. It was just a burger and “chips”. Dave mentioned the pub was barely staying afloat. Considering the people that flood this town for only the two weeks, I could understand what he was saying. We chatted about the local breweries, and tried out a few local ciders and beers. I was surprised about how little breweries there are here. Only three. I guess at home in Victoria we’re pretty spoiled. There’s pretty much three breweries in every municipality. Dave was interested about hearing about things back home for me. “Im surprised we don’t have more brew here” said Dave “Considering we’re 20 000 alcoholics hanging onto a rock in the Irish sea”.

We talked bikes for a bit also. Dave was a Harley owner himself. I’ve seen the price of HD bikes and parts here. I though I paid a lot for HD quality, over here it’s ridiculous. Dave and I exchanged e-mails and I told him I’d send him parts if he ever needed anything. He was very happy about that.

Tim and I carried on and watched the final practice session just along the track past Ballacyre. Followed by a visit to the White (something) pub, which was basically someone’s house in the middle of the town of Peel. The local MPA is great (Manx Pale Ale) Manx is what you’d call someone from the Isle of Man.

Day 34? IOM and the TT’s

So, here I am. This island is beautiful. The scenery includes green everything, and rolling hills. The properties are all separated by hedges and thick trees. I’m sure there’s a fence that runs through there also. Most of the houses are made of stone, brick, or stucco exterior. None of the houses look modern by any means, at least in this area I walked through today. Every house has a name, and a plaque or label on the entryway or right on the side of the house to the right of the front door. As I walked around the Capital today of Douglas, everyone was very friendly and helpful. Whether they were locals or not, everyone smiles and says hello. I went into the official TT shop right downtown and right away the two young women at the counter stopped, blushed, and commented at the same time how they love my accent. I preceded to try and pay with Euro’s, but she was pretty quick to point out we’re now in british pound territory, or Quid to the local. I’ll have to stash that wad away for now.

The coins are much different, so I stood in front of the bus driver for longer than usual to figure out which coin was which. The drivers here are very patient and they have change on the bus as well. So I could pay with either exact change, or bills. A nice “change”. I noticed a few stops before my short ride how the driver would stop the bus, then the people exiting would get up and leave. As opposed to the norm for me, of getting to the door before the bus has stopped.

The island is very small. I walked up the road to a pub about a mile and I was surprised at how much ground I covered. I looked at a map after and I was almost to the coast again. The bus ride from downtown was about 8 minutes. So maybe a 1.5hr walk and I’d be downtown. I’d love to walk it all and check out the local area and take some pictures.

There are tons of bikes here. They say the TT attracts about 40 000 people for the race week. I would say about eight thousand of those have motorcycles. I chatted with a few older lads from California at the ferry station. They rented bikes on the east coast of England and ferried over. They had quite the story getting to the ferry station. They had a 7hr drive. One bike broke down. The service here is next to none. The owner of the bike shop drove over 3 hours with another bike, and picked up the breakdown. He then posted the two guys up in a hotel for the night at his expense to keep his customers happy. The next day they were back on the road and one of the gentleman ran out of gas. So they pushed the bike only a half mile to the next station where he preceded to put diesel into the bike. They must have been tired. To his credit, the diesel fuel nozzles here are black, like in Canada. In the US Diesel is green and gasoline is black. Oh well.

I’m excited as the practice runs yesterday were cancelled and moved to tomorrow. I’m not sure why they skipped a day though. So tomorrow I’ll catch some good action right out in front of my tent. My tent is literally trackside. I walk about 30ft to the course. If I wanted to post up in a ditch it could be 15 feet. There are so many places to catch the action. Many pubs and side streets are available and ready for spectators. A beer garden trackside is at the pub right up the road. I’ve talked with a few other patrons, and they say it’s a good spot because when the course is open there’s nowhere to go, you’re generally stuck at the campsite. There are some back paths and roads that are available to get to other places, but really when you’re this close to a straight stretch, there’s nowhere else to be.

The campsite consists of a few large fields. I think it’s nine acres in total. There’s also some little cabins for rent, but those are for an invite only type of thing. As I looked around there are probably 100 people here so far. One of the patrons who’s been before says it looks empty. I’m sure this place will fill right up come Wednesday, when the racing begins. I hear bikes all over the place. Custom exhaust sport bikes isn’t something I’m used to by any means. There are a ton of bikes in the campground. Guys are comparing, and working on their bikes right outside their tents. When they’re not doing that, I’m sure they’re out on the road. The course is about 34 miles, so maybe an hour at the speed limit. Compared to the 18-20min during race time. There’s a few mini bikes also ripping around the campground, as I’m sure they’re hardly street legal. The party is firing up as the sun sets. A group heads out to the pub, a few bikes take off for a night ride. The bikes passing by on the road are getting faster and faster as the night goes on. There have been two accidents so far, and one of those has been a fatality. Right off the ferry and onto the course. They have a sign right as I exited the ferry that says “Know your Limits”. For the Isle Of Man, they say it best considering the crashes they’ve seen here.

A special thanks

I’m a carpenter by trade. So mechanics doesn’t come naturally. I’ve had a ton of help over the last few months getting my bike and gear in order to take on such an adventure. All my best buddies have helped me along. Put up with my distance as I’ve spent most of my time running around. A big thanks to my stepdad for his electrical expertise, the signals work perfectly. A few friends, as I would much rather call mentors for their own bits of expertise in mechanics, and their own experiences in travel and riding the road. Not to mention their tools and shop space. And certainly my closest family, brother, sister, mom, dad, stepdad and grandparents. It’s your experience that rubs off on me, and brings a ton of light to any situation. I know sometimes it doesn’t seem like I’m listening, but I always hear you.

I’m glad to be doing this. And thanks to Greg for the music. I’m very happy to have local buddies lend their music to me.