USA 2017 - Alternatives to Nihilism

Wandered from the good side of the tracks to the bad side of the tracks in Long beach. Whoops. As I waited for the train I got some good footage of a car playing an old classic. Caught that train through Compton until I had to detour due to the electricity to the trains being cut. A friendly girl with tear gang tatts directed me to the bus stop, while some other passengers got fed up and yelled at the staff to fix it. Onto Downtown and then Hollywood Blvd. So many homeless, so many people cranked off their heads. I walked out of the underground metro station and sat down near a straight faced looking guy while I ate my banana. Soon after he was blazing up on the crack pipe before walking down to the station. Peruvian for lunch and then I checked out the L Ron Hubbard museum and had a personal guided tour by a Taiwanese girl who had married another scientologist. When I asked her if it was 1 million or a 1 billion year contract she signed, she glossed over the answer. Got to play with an E Meter and found it also showed a change when I tried counting back from 100. Then on down the main drag, checking out the many movie stars' names on the way to the Scientology center. I did a personality test, IQ test etc and had a talk about how they could help me with my personality score. Apparently they are happy to let you worship whoever you want. Come to think of it so did Genghis Khan. It was getting late and I needed to get home before the mugging hour. Sitting on the train I watched as every variety of weird, wonderful and crazy got on the train. As long as it didn't make eye contact for too long all was good. For dinner I got some some food and desert from El Super (Large Mexican supermarket) packed full of that high fructose corn syrup goodness. I got to find one star I had been hanging out to see.
More photos and vids below :

Day 2 More photos

After sleeping til 11am I decided to take it easy and hang around Long Beach. The temperature day peaked at 39 C today so walking next to the beach felt like cooking on a rotisserie. The usual homeless and crack heads trippin balls on the day as hot as balls. Checked out some second hand shops (sighted an American scouts uniform). I think it may be cheaper to buy new clothes than to wash them over here. Looked on as a skateboard rolled into traffic and survived being run over. Saw my first native wildlife - squirrel in the local park. On my way home for lunch I helped a Latino lady push her broken down car from the middle of the road to the side. She spoke no English but eventually worked out that I was asking her to put it into neutral. Cheap shoe shopping then back to El Super for the mature Latino lady to make an El grande Burrito - Noice. I misjudged beer selection and got a Bud light and Clamato, which tastes just like beer and tomato juice. I tried hard but could only get down half a can. Its funny to see people vaping on the street corners looking with their glazed 100 mile stare. Ahh... LA. Walking around central Long Beach I noticed that it is exactly like the layout in Grand theft auto 5. I knew I played all those hours for some purpose.
A few photos below :

Day 3 More Photos

On my way into Long Beach I noticed Maccas was playing classical music through the speakers on the outside. Mark pointed out this is the Pyrethrum for antisocial teens. Conversely the local mobile phone shop has R&B playing. Back to El Super for an honest Mexican breakfast of beans, egg, rice and tortia. On the way out a heavily tatted ese said to a kid on a tricycle “you have to fuckin push me?!”. Around the next corner I watched as a fit spritely 65 year old woman stop to smell the roses, greeted me warmly and then a man with dark neck tatts handed her a rose, which she then picked each petal off one at a time to drop on the sidewalk. So then it was time to pick up my Corolla hatch from the Hertz car rental. When I arrived they were sorry to say they couldn't get a hatch but said they had upgraded me to a large car. I shrugged and pointed out I didn't mind what it was, as long as I could put my bike in it. Two levels down in the underground car park she introduced me to the Cadillac XTS which smelled strongly that someone had been smoking inside. Integrated android auto touch screen, heating and cooling in the leather seats. All seemed great until I go to put my bike box on the boot and it won’t fit. The bummer was the seats wouldn't drop. So I discarded the box in the alleyway and crammed the bike into the back in pieces. After a slow ginger drive out of L.A I finally got out on the freeway. The traffic had slowed and on the other side there was a crash that was in the final steps of being cleaned up. Behind them there was a 2 mile traffic jam and the cars on my side had slowed down to rubber neck. Next stop was Puente Hills Mall car park where they filmed the back to the future scene where they first went back to the future. Rad. Now off to San Bernadino due east of L.A. The mountains/hills around L.A could be barely made out due to the smog. They looked like hazy grey water paintings. Once in San Bernadino I checked into the airbnb house situated in the new “safe” part of town, owned by a nice Chinese lady. Out for dinner at a shopping center thai resuturant, and onto the local “thrift shops”. So much and so much surplus. Afterwards I needed some basics from the supermarket. I got talking to a nice burnt out hippy that drove by in a burnt out Volvo with 2 Chihuahuas in a pram. One had been mauled by a pitbull and the other had been run over leaving it with 3 legs out of action and its tongue hanging out the left. There was a huge isle dedicated to cereal, but no muesli. I asked the girl working there and she didn’t know what muesli was. Ended up with raisin bran but couldn’t find milk in anything smaller than a 2 L bottle. My first reference of Trump was overhead at the checkout by a teen. I added that I had seen the dirty Trump star on the footpath in Hollywood. The check out guy said he has heard enough about Trump and the boy started on about the Simpsons related conspiracy theory. It seems difficult to eat healthily from supermarkets. I am trying and did get some fruit, but I sit here typing this eating a chocolate icecream taco.
More pix below

Day 4 More photos

Went to bed early last night in order to get to the “Fountain of truth” church today. Think of it as an uplifting rock concert at 10am on a Sunday with lots of latinos. After 15 minutes of listening to it, I was really digging it. It reminds me of a rave, people with hands in the air, hugging, smiles, and none of the jaw clenching. The person giving the sermon today was a young fighter. He showed us a video of an ese in hospital that had been shot 3 times in the stomach and couldn’t walk anymore. I think religion here in the US of A is like a social security in country lacking it. This pre-packaged faith gives people assuredness to keep going in some f*&ked up circumstances. How many other places can you walk into a place and smile at someone without getting a greasy look? I had to leave a little early since I was getting hangry, so it was off to the closest Sushi restaurant. The area nearby is clean, well laid out, with a great simple palette of non offensive colours and……. sterile. Afterwards it was off to the Five Ten shoe factory shop in the industrial estate. Great hiking/mountain biking shoes for sale as a “slither” (Susan Denny) of the price that they retail for. BTW it costs $1.50 to use the air compressor at the petrol station. Now up high Sky Park/Santa’s Village up in the hills. On the way I took a wrong turn a came across a group of neighbours having a communal BBQ on the street. They parted as I approached in my Caddi and waved as I passed. Got up the bike park late and put together/tweaked my bike in the rain. Afterwards it stopped and I got to ride some rad tracks. Talked to a 26 year old guy named Brendan who is married with two kids & wife and lives nearby. He mentioned he used to work as a security guard in San Bernardino in the bad part, but stopped working there due to the ongoing danger. He went on to say the police have started to clean up the gangs in L.A, but this in turn has pushed them out this way where the police only have a small budget. On the way out two “Northcote gents” offered to take my photo for me - yes please. From here the sun was setting and I headed down the hill through Twin Peaks, but then stopped and looked for some time at the panorama of the valley below with the straight lines of houses/roads and the ongoing smog that all add to make the view sublime. Allan de Botton described sublime as the feeling that you”.. are very small and something else is very big and dangerous”. While chewing on some beef jerky I completed a quick drawing of the scene not for purpose of drawing, but rather to burn the image into my memory (advice from Allan D.B). For dinner I mixed and matched with a Wendys burger with a side of raw beans and carrots from the supermarket. Still can’t find any milk smaller than 2 L to buy. BTW I have found it hard to find anyone drinking just plain water. Most people drink something sweet or drink coffee. I am writing this as I am eating 2 chocolate ice cream tacos.
Photos etc below :

Day 5 More Photos

Up early again to check out Walmart but first off to another Op shop. I had worked up an image of the strange and bizarre place known as the great Walmart. As I walked in it looked and smelt strangely like Big W and that’s about as weird as it got. There were a few interesting pieces of clothing (see link to photos at the bottom) but otherwise just the necessary things to kit out my camping equipment. Oh yeah, there was also a pink BB gun in the cabinet that caught my attention. I picked up a bag of pretzels thinking that should be the healthiest option for a snack and started to read through the ingredients as I waited in line to pay. There you are ‘corn syrup’ my old friend. On the way out a younger Latino around 25 told me he thought my t-shirt was great. I looked down at my t-shirt that read “Jordan for president 2013” and told him I had got it at the local op shop. I think you can start to put together a picture of a local society through the crap you can buy at the local second hard shop. With the car full of bought Walmart items I headed up north up and over the hills and onto the high desert. Things were still dry but a bit cooler. Around this time I rolled into Barstow and out the other side coming across a place with a collection of odd signs. Stopped for a quick desert photo opportunity and kept on driving until I got to Tehachapi (close to Mojave), where the hills are covered in wind turbines. There was a gentle cross-country trail network that was a bit of fun. Chatted to two young fellow riders, one being his first time out on a mountain bike. Made it to the air bnb and was shown around by a lady called Consuelo that had 3 kids pulling at her clothing for her attention. Nice clean, slightly less sterile neighbourhood of Bakersfield. Funny things is that the light switches are up for on and down for off – Trippy. Out for dinner, and tonight it was Taco Bell with a long line of cars queuing for drive through. As I pulled in the car park in the Cadillac I felt a little self conscious that I was wearing thongs into a restaurant. Inside there was no one sitting down at the tables, and the layout and procedure was similar to Maccas. This relaxed my expectations of the dress code. The meal was slightly healthy and forgettable. Dropped by the supermarket and finally found milk in 1 litre bottles, but found that all the Granola (museli) has added sugar in every packet. As I write this I am eating Reynaoldo’s Rice Pudding with only some preservatives in it. Pix etc below :

Day 6 More Photos

Last night I felt exhausted enough to go to bed earlier than I normally would. As I lay there I could feel my feet vibrating on the mattress and thought that maybe I was in a rough neighbourhood, thinking that someone had their subwoofer turned way up. This was until I realised the adjoining room next to mine also had another Airbnb guest in there. His or her snores were epic but settled down eventually. That morning I had breakfast and talked to Consuelo. She said her family had moved from a good part of Peru and lived elsewhere in the USA before moving here 2 months ago. Up and out the door, driving down the extra wide 3 lane roads we would call freeways, connecting the suburbia of Bakersfield. As I pull up the red traffic lights a lipstick red Honda Accord stopped next to me, banging out some south American polka styled music. We in Melbourne have our turban wearing Sikhs banging out hindi tunes, driving around in Jeeps with the hoods rolled down doing laps down Sydney road. The Cadillac has an “on star” system inside that allows the car to be remotely unlocked, tracked and disabled if stolen. It also has an inbuilt GPS system. Compared to the usual turn-by-turn google maps the lady’s voice that guides me today used the word “please” before each direction or turn. This can get annoying. Stopped off at the local op shop without much luck and then Walmart for an air mattress. On the freeway up to Fresno there was virtually an unbroken wall of fruit and veg trees on the side. Half way along I stopped for a pit stop and took a photo of a small village sandwiched between the fruit trees. Lunch was Mexican at my new favourite supermarket – El Super. The young Latino girl serving me must of thought I was a little gifted, as I showed as much enthusiasm in the food as Darryl Kerrigan did in the 1997 movie “the castle”. Before getting back on the road I finally came across a petrol station that offered free air for car tyres. Fully sick. Driving long distances allows you to get caught up in your own epiphany. Today mine was that riding a mountain bike could be directly applied to the act of living. The challenge of learning how to live on the edge of control, getting comfortable with the concept of dancing with chaos. Soon enough the flat arid landscape was changing, with more rolling hills and yellowed dry grass. Another city of wind turbines popped up on the side of the road. A group of cows stood with fixed stares underneath one of the wind turbines, which actually showed the true height of these monoliths. The freeway crested the last hill and I could see the San Fran bay ahead. The summer haze looked pretty and I think it was due to the dust rather than the pollution, but I could be wrong. Once on the suburban streets of Merlot Bay (northwest of San Fran) the hilly lay of the land started to remind me of the Box Hill area of Melbourne. The only things giving it away were the super sized bins and cars parked on the wrong side of the road. Final destination for today in a converted nursing home turned Airbnb place. Had a nice long chat with the Pilipino couple who owned it ranging from stock markets, president Trump to the past miracles they have experienced, attributing them to the spiritual life insurance of Christian faith. Tonight I write this as I eat sweetened granola. Pixz here :

Day 7 More Photos

Last night there was a strange static sound like someone had left the TV on between channels. During the day the Airbnb hosts leave on relaxing harp music, but tonight it was a grand waterfall. Unfortunately the falling water was being played through the TVs tiny tinny speakers. Anyways I finally slept properly for the first time since arriving in the USA – Win. That morning I discovered I had locked my keys in the hire car – Fail. Once I got onto Hertz they said a call out would cost US$75 to unlock the car. Luckily I remembered the “on star” system and 10 minutes later they had remotely unlocked the car and the fee for doing so was US$12.50. Once on the road again I noticed homeless people sitting on the traffic islands near the traffic lights with cardboard signs. Two op shops later I found some more interesting t-shirts to bring home. I then headed up north to Skyline park to ride some trails. As I was getting ready and prepping my bike a 60 year old guy asked about my bike. I offered for him to ride it but he said he would love to but had to decline due to back injuries from a car accident involving a drunk driver. Soon after setting off on the ride I stopped to get directions from another rider. Out and around a lake, down a dry creek bed and back to the lake where a woman was sitting drinking in the solitude. I must have broken her reverie like a fart when I asked if there was any way of getting to the lake to soak my feet. On the way back I came across a young deer that ran up an almost vertical hillside to get out of the way. Next destination was just south of the Golden Gate Bridge. North of San Fran it appears to be a great area for growing grapes. The treeless hills turned into vineyards intricately lining around the hills like cornrows on a gang member’s head. Steve Jobs would be proud to use superlatives such as “stunning”. At a busy 3 way intersection in the countryside there was a deli placed next to it. In California cars pull up to the intersection, stop, and then turn out in order that they arrived – weird but it works well. At the deli the young guy with thick rimmed glasses behind the counter asked me what I wanted and I told him he had the creative license to make what ever he thought. At first he said he didn’t know what to make and I replied, “the same as the one you are currently making”. Soon after I was eating a Rubin with a weird tasty combination of veg and pickles. As I got closer to and over the Golden Gate Bridge I noticed more electric cars in traffic. You get to see the bridge in movies and photos but it looks pretty awesome up close. When I stopped to pick up some bananas from a small supermarket I was a little confused. The candy/lolly section was only small, and they offered a good range of organic foods. It wouldn’t be a stretch to think I was in Melbourne. I had been eyeing some second hand bikes out on craigslist (like gumtree) and there was someone selling an older mountain bike for $10 that needed some basic repair. I tried to co-ordinate a meet up but it didn’t go ahead but it may be possible to work out another meet up over the next day or so. Driving through the steep stereotypical roads of San Fran was pretty nice. As I met the beach and started driving south, the hills started to rise and I could see mist/low hanging clouds washing over the immaculately lined up houses on top. After a series of winding complex freeway roads and turn offs I had made it to the “Silicon Valley” incubator house (see Silicon Valley TV show). The font door has an electronic lock retrofitted to allow anyone with an allocated 4 digit number to enter the house. There was a pool in the backyard, and a hammock with views of a deep valley full of multi-million dollar houses. I finally got to meet the host and it wasn’t long after that I to grill him on the important questions. Trump – His opinion was that political correctness had reached a point where a certain amount of people dug their heels in defiance and decided to let Trump have a go of it. He made motions of that of a pendulum swinging far in one direction and thought it will eventually come back to the middle. We then got talking about the culture/people/diet/consumerism of USA vs Australia. He had an interesting take on climate change. He said that great changes usually come from extreme situations (see also introduction of car in New York city). He talked about how there have been substantial improvements in solar energy have occurred in a places where you can’t see the building across the street due to pollution. He appears to have a belief in our ability as humans to address problems. A refreshing view amongst the doom and gloom of current thoughts. I also asked what the rent was for a place like this : $6000 a month. Dinner was a Ramen noodle place in central San Mateo. The area was hip, clean and looked like it was filled with people who work at google or small startups. Tonight I am writing this as I eat a simple straight-forward vanilla ice cream from the Gas station. The area didn’t seem to have any huge “open all hours”, “super sized” supermarkets – a bit like Melbourne.
Pixz here :

Day 8 More Photos

So… four guys to a master bedroom and to my surprise nil audible farts, snores or disturbances even though one guy came late at night and setup in one of the beds. Had a quick deep discussion with a Russian guy staying at the silicon-valley incubator, but had to make slight gestures towards to the door as I was late for my appointment in Santa Cruz. Driving between San Fran and Santa Cruz was amazing with redwood trees passing overhead as I drove on a constantly veering left and right road. Yesterday I had booked my bike in to get a new bottom bracket installed, but when I arrived at the bike shop the guy said he didn’t have any but told me to ring around. Nearby an old homeless couple shared a joint, as I phoned around and finally found a place that had a bottom bracket but didn’t have time to install it. Luckily I found another place that didn’t have the bottom bracket, but did have time to install it. After driving back and forth between them I dropped off my bike and headed over to the Santa Cruz bike demo shop. The bike I was riding today was a Santa Cruz Tallboy 29er lightweight trail-bike/XC with 120mm / 110mm of suspension. The mechanic fitted my flat pedals and pointed me in the direction of Wilder ranch/forest area. Along the way I met a herd of 3 deer, a rafter of turkeys and a conga line of grey haired riders cruising down the trails with big grins. The trails were free flowing most of the time, one technical section and a nice cruise along the beach back to the shop. Picked up the bike with new bottom bracket installed and headed back into San Fran peak hour traffic. On the way back I stopped off at 1 infinite loop as well as my old megalomaniac sociopath’s house (see creator of the iPhone). Just as I pulled up to take a photo another car stopped, a man and his 2 sons got out and readied themselves to pose in front of the house. Apparently they had made their pilgrimage from Venezuela. For dinner tonight I chose to order from “Mountain pizza” with a thick, heavy western style pizza named “Everest”. It made for good eating, pizza box draped over the middle arm-rest of the car and over my lap. As I stopped-started in thick traffic I inhaled half a pizza- Noice. Once home I did a test run on setting up the tent while the dogs peed on my tent and chewed on the plastic connector I needed to inflate my air mattress. I got to chat with the owner/organiser of the share house who mentioned he was looking at investing in crypto-currency. Later I got some tips on where to ride from an older guy who is staying here. He is in the process of moving back here with his family. His work involves working with VR gaming. BTW I was listening to my current favourite Canadian psychologist’s podcast who suggested that in the west we no longer have slavery which is noble, but have become slaves ourselves. In the past people would force other people to do the work they did not want to do. These days we go to work 5-6 days a week for long hours. Tonight I write this as I eat half a tub of Häagen-Dazs coconut/caramel ice cream. Ph0705s here :

Day 9 More Photos

After a lazy sleep-in it was off to downtown central San Francisco via the overland train. On the way in, I noticed even the graffiti on the buildings was more polite “{gang name here} not welcome”. Once in town I found the shared bike system for $10 unlimited 30 min rides from bike station to station was the best way to get around. Lots more homeless, and even some smoking the crack pipe without any self consciousness. A line of mainly asian/latino people in appearance lining up to receive food from the back of a truck. Pit stop at the local library in Mission district library toilet and back on the road. As I was passing the Tesla main central shop I walked in to check out the artful lines of the cars. A 26 year old Irish guy let me sit in the car and chat, since he needed some time off the floor. We chatted about the specs of the car until I asked if he had had a big night last night. In surprise he asked how I knew and pointed out the red eyes and difficulty in concentration. Its been a long while since I have gone to work tired the day after. He added that his friend had just sold his business for $20 million and was celebrating. Good enough reason to party. On the huge main iPad-like display on the Tesla he used google maps to point out places to check out in the USA, and the places he had lived before in NYC. He was aiming to get a higher position in the Tesla sales team in order to pay for his flying lessons. We parted ways and I headed on up over the hill and stopped off at an op shop to find some more wicked t-shirts. By this time I needed the little boys room but trying to find one where I didn’t need to make a token purchase was difficult. With some planning I wandered into Starbucks under the story that I was busy looking at my phone, waiting for a mate, and then I did a quick drop and run. With a mix of riding and walking the next destination was pier 39 where you can see a photo of a consensus objector of the trump presidency in a wheelchair. He earned a thumbs up as I walked past him. About this time it was lunch so I narrowed a place down to something healthy, as I had hit the pizza hard last night. Sweet green was the place with a minimal colour palate decor and simple furniture, but a large selection of salads. The place gave an air of pretentiousness but the salad of fish, spinach leaves etc was fresh and light, after all the recent abuse my colon has been getting since coming to America. I seemed to be the only customer in the shop but there was a group of employees having a serious meeting at one of the tables, with more staff coming in every few minutes. Maybe it was the start of the dinner rush? While I was there, they provided power outlets to charge my phone. At this time it was the start of rush hour so there were people moving around on the street. I even saw a synchronised group of joggers running in formation. Back outside, I got back on the bike and threaded through thick traffic to get back to the train station. Climbed on the express train and got chatting to an older lady who works as a hand surgeon in central San Fran. We chatted about Trump, health care and her Labrador she had at home. I asked about the homeless and she pointed out that California was the place to be if you were homeless, due to the inviting warm weather. We got off at the same station, but then I realised I had another 2 stops to cover in order to get back to my car. As I walked the distance I took some back streets, noticing more homeless finding nooks that were safer and comfortable in comparison to central San Fran. Ahead out of a high retracting gate drove a cavalcade of police vehicles. There was one motorcycle, two squad cars, one long axle truck, and a SUV with trailer, sign reading as “Sobriety check”. Finally got back to the car and on the way home passed a supermarket car park with some eses chatting and laughing as they leant up against the hotted up cars they had drove there with. Different cities, same Friday night activities. Tonight I write this as I finish the remnants of last nights pizza.
sotohP : BTW check out some of the company’s main offices I passed today in the photos.

Day 10 More Photos

Another good night sleep without any ‘silent but violent’ nor ‘loud and proud’ events. During breakfast of some large Californian grown green grapes I had a chat to Chris who is working with VR. He let me demo the headset and it has come a long way since “the lawnmower man” (1996). He said he was working with haptics technology focusing on a touch sensitive interfaces that can be used in cars. The aim was to bring the ubiquitous interaction with touch-screen to driver interactions such as multiple bumps as you run your fingers across the screen and remap areas on the fly. Once the car was packed I headed up north to drive over the Golden Gate Bridge for the second time – still awesome. By the time I arrived in Marin country the Mountain bike museum was open. The lady showed me some basics and then let me loose with some mention that someone of interest may show up later. They had a replica of the first velocipede with wooden seat and wooden wheels. It would be a bit harsh on the gentleman’s vegetables. Just as I was starting to look at the details of the bikes, a fit older man of about 70 years with a white handlebar moustache sidled up and introduced himself as Charlie Kelly. I had seen the documentary “Clunkers” which covered the history of mountain biking in the town of Fairfax in Marin County, but only remembered the names of a few that still made bikes. He pointed out the old steel road bikes he used to race, then the old clunkers that would break often at the bottom bracket, all the way through to 90s downhill rigs. As in the documentary he and his friends became obsessed with riding down the biggest hill they could find in Fairfax. This happened to be nearby so he was happy to draw me a map and autograph it. I asked for a photo and he was pretty chuffed to have one taken. I asked what was his favourite bike and he replied, “the one I am riding”. As he was getting ready to get back on his bike to head home I mentioned I was going to see Owl Farm in Woody Creek, Colorado. Apparently he was a fan of Hunter S Thompson as well. Charlie told a story that involved a hells angels member he met long time ago that was known to scare the journalists on the Nixon campaign trail. There were some places to he suggested I ride but I had already plotted them on my maps. With the map I found my way the bottom of Repack road, and pushed my bike up the 2.1 miles (3.37km) up 1300 feet (396m) of elevation. There is a photo of my face at the end of long climb. BTW it is still hot as balls here. I bombed down the track scaring myself a few times and drifting off the track. I was riding this on todays dual suspension mountain bike. They were riding it like banshees on heavy lumps of steel and rubber. It was now late and I needed to head up Sacramento way in order to make it to the Airbnb out in the sticks closer to Downieville. On the way over the Richmond-San Rafael Bridge I got the see a few skyscrapers crowning the almost constant stream of clouds over San Fran. In Sacramento I decided upon the Golden Corral all you can eat buffet. For US$15 this place has so much food it makes Sizzler look like an expensive campy restaurant in Brighton. The quality of food was good, and served greens and salad. The salad tossery was the highlight. Seven courses later I headed out the Airbnb place, arrived late, did some repairs on my bike and crashed.
Pix :

Day 11 More Photos

Had a good nights sleep despite the deep snores of the person in the room next door. Up early and out on the road. “You bet” road. The roads were smooth and winding as I was heading into snow country in summer. Driving alongside Knife river looked great as the tree-lined hills became steeper. The blue haze looked mystical against the silhouetted hills, which took on the look your fingers do when entwined. The shadows were long in the deep valleys like the forest had not woken up yet. Eating premade Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (PNJS) went well with deadmau5 on the stereo. Eventually I arrived at the gold rush town of Downieville. The wooden beams on the sidewalk/shop front bent as you walked on them, just like the cowboy movies. I bought tickets for the shuttle up to Sierra Buttes from a friendly woman at the bike shop and asked if the mechanic could bleed my hydraulic brakes for me before the first shuttle run. She pointed me to Brad who had a blank, stone-faced expression matched with a wispy beard. I wonder if he would know of a good dispensary in the area? Before we were ready to board the shuttle van Brad had the bike ready – Noice one. About this time a clone of Brad with beer belly, cap and dark shades ambled along the main street and sat down at a table in the bike shop quietly as though it had a hangover. I didn’t catch his name so I will call him Brad’s cousin. Brad’s cousin was nice once you engaged him. While waiting for the time to leave I chatted to two young guys about bikes and places to ride etc. One of them would routinely spit like someone with chewing tobacco but he didn’t appear to chew tobacco. We took turns hoisting the bikes onto the roof of the van and headed up the mount. Brad’s cousin had an iPod that he would skip songs occasionally, but first up he put on some trippy 70s rock. 40 minutes to shuttle up and 90 minutes to ride down. There were many more photos of the track but there was an error on the phone so they were never saved. At the top people headed down the trail a few at a time and I got chatting to two guys around my age, who were kicking back sharing a beer and vaping some primo weed prior to ride. With all the body armour I looked like a storm trooper, but didn’t want to injury myself so early into the holiday. I seemed to be the odd one out. The 26km downhill track oscillated between soft hero dirt, rock gardens, creek crossings and exposed cliff edges. There were a few brown trouser moments but I mainly stayed on the bike. There was one mechanical breakdown by a girl who had mangled her chain and rear derailleur. The first run was a bit rushed but made it down alive to eat some PNJS as I dangled my feet in a frigid creek that went through town. On the second run I took my time, enjoyed it and made it back to town as the sunlight was dimming. A quick race to town of Truckee as the sun fully disappeared, and then booked into an old knock shop turned accommodation place. I write this as I eat a burger and sweet potato chips at an old diner.
Pikz here :

Day 12 More Photos

Last night after checking in, showering, updating facebook and getting ready for bed I got talking to my room-mate. He lives in Oakland with his girlfriend, works contracting for 6 months and then has months off at a time. During this time he is out travelling and hiking around California and the USA. He was sad that many other Americans never got to see the beauty not that far from them. I grilled him about Trump and he was a bit embarrassed to have a president like that. He was able to give me a heads up on places to visit and stay on my trip. Last night I choose the pink Hello Kitty bathroom as it was the one available, but this morning I went out of my way to choose it. I tiptoed out of the room as my room mate was still sleeping and set off for Lake Tahoe. As I was driving I noticed that in the USA the blinker lights on cars were red instead yellow as we have in Australia. Road works slowed traffic and created traffic jams with magnificent views of Lake Tahoe. While in traffic I put together and ate an abomination of 3 layers of bread and peanut butter and jelly sandwich for breakfast. At the bike shop/shuttle pickup point I loaded my bike onto the trailer and crammed myself inside a mammoth of a ‘Merican van. A guy of 29 beside me introduced himself and we got chatting. I mentioned my trip and the interest in learning about different religions. By coincidence he was over from Salt Lake City with friends, and he talked about when at age 19 spent a few years in Taiwan with the “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints” (Mormon). He talked about spending full days riding around talking to locals coming home from work. Instead of preaching he would ask questions as to the meaning of life in order to engage them better. He believed that people needed a basic framework of living in order to foster trust. He gave an example of when he was in China, being very careful as contracts and agreements could be broken quickly and easily. Apparently twice a year the 12 apostles give talks, and he gave me his email in order to get tickets when I am in Salt lake city. At the drop off point we all split up and started on the Flume trail. The first 4 miles was a grind uphill but it dropped down into Marlette Lake with clear blue water and views worthy of being painted. I sat down on the a rock at the waters edge next to the body of a small dead bat and enjoyed the silence before the rest of the riders arrived. The trail continued up until I came upon some left over snow on the lee of the hill, which I quickly wrote my first initial in yellow. Further up there was a vista I sat down and studied until an older French couple arrived and said hello. Off down the hill the track got a bit more “nar” with sand and large boulders. On the final very steep long decent, my front disc pad started to sizzle, so ended up fish tailing the rear in the loose sand to reduce the speed - Fun. Back to the car and onto South Tahoe where the casinos are perched on the very edge of the state line of Nevada. A bit further in and I arrived at a relaxed 70s house and met a guy named Mike, with tats on his arms and a strong overhand handshake. Showered, changed and did some op shop shopping, stopping off at the local sports store to buy an air horn to ward off the predators that may be follwing in the forest. “The Cantina” was tonight’s selection and I sat down on the stool at the bar. Corn chips and salsa were presented and a pint of beer put down in front of me. Gridiron football was playing on the TV with the volume down as I ate an honest enchiladas meal. Tonight I write this as I eat 85% chocolate.
Picx here :

Day 13 More Photos

It just occurred to me yesterday was September 11th aka 911. I didn’t overhear anyone talking about it, but I did see some flags flying on the back of some pickup trucks. Got up and made my way north of Yosemite over some huge landscapes. Quick subway on the way to Yosemite Valley, as well as a quick fly-by in the local op shop. The traffic became thicker as I joined the main conga line coming from San Fran/L.A. Driving down into the valley was pretty sweet, but getting down to the bottom of the valley was AMAZEBALLS. Perfect warm hazy afternoon under shaded trees. Monumental vertical walls of rock lining the valley and a waterfall from “lord of the rings” movie to punctuate the perfection of this valley. As I parked my bike outside the shower block I was sure I could walk on in, but I was wrong. Apparently you can pay $5 at the office or be a paying customer of the lodging in order to use the showers. A young Russian girl suggested I could time my entry as someone was leaving. I loitered for a minute and then headed for the door as it opened and an older man blankly walked out- success. Riding back to the car after the shower made the views even better. I left it a bit late but checked to see if camp 4 was full, and it was. Camp 4 seems to be where the climbers stay since it close to one of the popular walls. My second choice was the Tamarack flat campground about 45 minutes drive from the valley. I was in a bit of hurry and found the tyres chirping on hard corners, which reminded me I was driving a limo. Upon arriving at the camp the process was to find an unclaimed camp, stake your claim and put $12 in an envelope and put it in a locked box. It was almost dark and it appeared all the camp spots were taken except for one that looked free. I stopped the car, got out to look closer and found three Asian Americans (I am sure that is a thing) setting up their camp. The smallest one with a tank top, cap and thick L.A accent came forward posturing like he was preparing for a fight, asking what I wanted. I said the post hadn't been marked as taken, and they pointed to the available camp spot next door. As I set up camp I thought that maybe he would come back with a gun and finish the conversation, but to my relief on his way back from the toilet he introduced himself and we shook hands. The camp had a table, nearby stream and iron bear proof food cabinet bolted to the concrete. Before the light faded I popped up the tent and inflated the air mattress and drew water from the stream to wash my dishes. Dinner was left over pastry and carrots. Lying in bed that night I found out first hand you lose much heat through conduction on the surface you are laying on. Luckily it was a still mild night. I fell asleep to the songs of Jesus from the three Asian Americans next door. During the night I woke up to virtual silence, walked to the toilet and found a mouse looking at me. The look he gave me suggested he wanted to know if I was going to leave the damned door open all night or what?
P1XZ :

Day 14 More Photos

This morning I woke to the guttural sounds of backwards nose clearing from the Jesus camp next door, along with loud clanging of bear-proof bins being slammed shut. As I was packing up camp into the car, an older couple asked if I could have my camping spot at which I shrugged and agreed. Today I thought it would be a good idea to head straight to the next camp first thing . The forest and grand trees looked ideal as I drove along the well-constructed roads. Today I booked into Tuolumne Meadows camp on the east side of Yosemite Park, which actually had potable water, but no shower. Once camp was setup I parked at the trail head and headed out on Cathedral Lake, a four hour round trip walk. Along the way it seemed compulsory to say hello to hikers coming the other way. The trailed headed up some steep rocky hills, which made the thin air at 9000 feet feel even thinner. No altitude sickness for me. I passed many hikers and even a pack of horses led by ropes. Forest gave way to meadows, then forest and finally a lake lined by white polished granite. I made my way around to the left of the lake and followed the stream as it dribbled its way down rock ledges until they turned into vertical sheer rock-faces of the left overs of a glacier. Here I found a warm rock and ate lunch – Yes Peanut butter and jelly. As I sat looking over the landscape I noticed some small squirrels or was it field mice running between rocks? Just as I was getting warm I observed a slower moving rodent with shorter tail and yellow colouring to the neck and chest. He climbed around the clumps of compact pink flowers and followed the line of unmelted snow pack, stopping occasionally to eat an insect or fresh root. As he stopped he looked across at me for a moment before continuing out of view. Nearby I noticed the bees were smaller than the European bumblebee but larger than the native Australian bush bee. Now I could see the little rodent better since he was sunning himself on a rock. He took a good minute to see if I was a predator and then lowered his head and rested. We chilled together for a while before I headed off back to camp. Along the way I talked to a young ranger who said the rodent I had seen was a Yellow-bellied Marmot. Soon after I commented to some hikers I overtook that the sky looked ominous. They replied, “it looks ominous every day” and shrugged. After getting back to camp the sky was quickly becoming darker and thunder could be heard overhead. I grabbed some food items and sat up inside the tent waiting for the storm to arrive. As the hail started to strike the tent other camp goers raced to put away furniture. Lightning flashed and thunder clapped as I ate a full can of red beans. The hail continued on for some time as I lay down and drifted off. When the storm finally finished I had to pop off a heavy layer of frozen ice that had accumulated on the tent. The ground and top of the car was layered with thick hail. I hadn't really planned for cold temperatures so put on 5 layers of clothing, and a few layers on top of the air mattress. I had a blanket inside the sleeping bag, which took about an hour for my feet get up to normal body temperature. The beans I ate earlier were double edged – inconvenient smell but added to the warmth of my personal Dutch-oven.
91Xz :

Day 15 More Photos

The night hadn’t been kind to me. Despite putting on innumerable layers I was still cold, so slept in 30 minute spurts most of the night. As darkness gave way to bleak grey light of Dawn’s hairy crack, I decided I would pack up camp early and sit in the warmed leather seats of the car. I walked past another car on the way to drop off some rubbish and refill the water container. It appeared the poor fellow had slept inside his car overnight instead of the micro tent he had erected nearby. The outside temperature read 2 degrees C. The heated seats and air brought feeling back to my tired body as I drove slowly along the winding roads, stopping now and then for photos opportunities. The time was 8.30am and the Bodie Ghost town wasn't open yet, so I got out the car and washed my pits while I waited at the entrance. Since I was the first one to get in the gate and walk around, the place was almost silent. Lots of old run-down buildings with attached stories. Listening to the ranger talk about the place I learnt that long ago a 2 year old that got bored, started playing with matches and ended up burning down 75% of the town. The ground water was contaminated with arsenic and human feces – Goldrush days. During the talk there were two men chewing tobacco and spitting, which added to the authenticity of the place. Back on the road and heading down towards Mammoth Mountain. On the way I filled up with petrol and did the conversions. On average they charge about US$3 a gallon which works out to be about AU$0.79 a litre, which in my estimation justifies driving the limo around ‘Merica. Arrived at the hostel in Mammoth and sat down with laptop out catching up on things, during which time 3 Mexican ladies cleaned and vacuumed with upbeat Latin music playing on their speaker phone. Randomly I got talking to another girl staying at the hostel and we ended up heading out for pizza, which led to invitation to check out the local hot springs. Once I made room in the caddy and transferred my bike to her car for safe keeping, allowing room for another passenger, we convinced another Brazilian girl to come along. The trip involved about 30 minutes of driving down dirt roads eventually narrowing to mild jeep trails. On the way we got to play charades, trying to guess what animals our Brazilian friend was trying to describe in her broken English. The day was late and the sunlight was shrinking. The contrast of the arid low growing bushes and rocky hills was fading. Colours dissolved into night. Details on the surrounding landscape transformed into a faint outline of mountains that became a virtual iris framing the infinite stars above. After parking the car and getting changed into our “hot springs wear” we were sitting in the hot springs chatting with locals. The faint light of the stars didn’t allow for faces to be seen. The next few hours involved chatting to random people about their stories on work and play in the area. Apparently Airbnb has made it hard for local workers to find available, affordable housing. One guy even discussed how he tamed a coyote to become the house pet, which he suggested would make it easy to let it loose if he needed to move out of the area. Eventually the Brazilian girl needed get home since she was meeting up with her husband tomorrow who had been scaling some nearby mountain. My other friend said she wanted to stay on and would hitch a ride back later. Driving back to town was tricky with the unnamed dirt roads compounded by a bad nights sleep the previous night, but we made it back to the hostel in good time. In the lounge room I chatted to Hugo on Skype sitting in my pyjamas. Around this time the other girl got back and I was able to transfer my bike from her car back to mine. We sat and talked and she casually talked about the safe use of guns. I was home and hosed and crashed soon after.
P.I.X. :

Day 16 More Photos

Two nights with not enough quality sleep was starting to show. Last night the hostel beds had a futon mattress that had been allowed to settle like stone. I am sure I have a stage 1 pressure injury on my left buttock cheek. Before it was time to check out the local E-Bike demo I went shopping for some basic foods at the supermarket. Waiting in line with my tired stare I noticed Jennifer Aniston was having more relationship problems, according the local gossip magazine. Small world. There were a few wrong turns that led me to some epic views, but eventually I found the area where the event was on. At the bottom of Kamikaze run a small expo had been setup. One area was dedicated to a small dirt loop, which I demoed a Raleigh E-bike. Despite it being heavy like a mini-moto bike it was fun. After this I moved on to the YT tent where they allowed me to demo a downhill bike. Rolled into town, caught the shuttle bus and then rode the gondola up to the very top of the mountain. On the bus I got chatting to a lady that pointed out some rad trails and her memories of Moab. On the gondola I met an older guy who was driving his RV around the state, whose son was racing in this weekends Kamikaze Bike Games. On the top of the mountain there was still pockets of red tinged snow on the sides of the hills. Rolling down the hill on the downhill sled was pretty kewl. Huge 800mm wide “Bro bars” helped move the bike around. The huge amount of suspension travel soaked up the rocks and made my average bike handling skills look impressive. I had about 2 hours to demo the bike and found it difficult to find a way back to the start and about this time happened upon some Pro lines. I won’t say too much but there were some sphincter tightening moments. As I finally got back to the expo and race headquarters there was an XC race in progress. The day was getting on and I needed to drive about 5 hours to get to Las Vegas. Threw together a PNJS and set off. I should have filled up before I hit Death Valley but I was positive there was going to be another petrol station ahead. The road became smaller and negotiated cramped high passes. The road was undulating and I believe I got some air over one crest. High passes gave way to intimate barren valleys but there didn’t seem to be any petrol stations or mobile phone service. The trip computer predicted about 140 miles of range and I had a quarter of a tank, but I wasn’t sure how far to the next petrol station. During this time I rolled down the hills and limped up others in order to conserve fuel. The area was an open range so cows grazed on the road edge or walked down the middle of the road. Just as I was starting to sweat over the petrol situation I joined up with a large north/south road with a regular stream of cars on it. Again night was coming and all the observations of the desert I put in my post yesterday were occurring once again. The first town that had a gas station was Beatty. I rolled into the place wanting to prepay for fuel but had to standby and wait as the cashier slowly rearranged the notes in his till. An overweight older man with white beard and CAT cap was playing the pokie machine in the corner. He whooped and swore when he just missed his big pay off. Some stretches in the car park and I was off again for Las Vegas. The long straight flat roads continued on and on, until in the distance a large gradient of glowing light appeared. Getting closer to the glow the clouds could be seen at night time – Vegas. There was time to do a lap up the main drag and I did. The bright psychedelic lights and signs of the roadsides reminded me of the early days of the internet, with garish banners and audio being played when you arrived at a website. Nothing matched and everything was vying for your attention. 5 hours of driving and bad sleep encouraged me to check in to my hotel and crash.
X.I.P :

Day 17 More Photos

A good nights sleep in was just what I needed. Vegas was getting hot so I headed downtown to see if there was a free room at the backpackers for tonight – Nope. Left the car parked and walked into downtown Vegas. On the way a group of three black locals walking past smiled as they said something like “don’t follow him white guy”. “Jordan for president 2013” T-shirt on - check. The first thing that stood out was a huge metal preying mantis. Inside the courtyard they had shops open with Cos-play teenagers dressed in star wars outfits. Next stop, the Heart Attack Grill. Out front they had industrial scales with large LED readout above – classy. Upon entering several young girls dressed in tight nurse uniforms assisted me into a hospital gown, and showed me to the bar. Soon after I ordered a single burger with 5 extra pieces of bacon, fries (deep fried in lard) and vanilla shake made with buttermilk. As I drank the rich milkshake I looked around the room at groups of people sitting at tables with matching hospital gowns. One nurse got up on stage and started to sing karaoke as a video clip of a female midget moved to the tune of “Kung foo fighting”. Not much time after this there was a loud WHACK of a BDSM nurse with straight black fringe paddling a man’s buttocks, as he had not finished his meal. Nearby customers were posing for photos in a wheelchair as they sucked on an IV bag filled with red wine. A girl in blue scrubs approached with my meal, which I ended up finishing, in turn excluded me from a paddling. On the way out I wiped my greasy face before using the rest room. Oh my, there were two choices of urinals. Should I choose the one with Hilary’s face or Trumps? Hmmm…. Checking my weight once more outside, it showed I hadn’t really gained any extra. For a Saturday morning on the mall the vibe was already wild and a bit twisted. There was a Peewee Herman lookalike, kid dancing to MJ, a woman almost naked with small round stickers over her areola, and man with a well-earned beer gut sitting on a chair with a pink bikini top and bottom. While waiting to cross the street I noticed people drinking in public and bars on the actual walkway. A black couple confirmed that you can drink in public and wished me a great day as they slurred their way across the road. I wasn’t too fussed to see the famous casinos, but they had some casinos open on the mall. Inside I could smell old cigarette smoke and noticed themed pokies. Maccas even had an entry directly adjoining the casino. As I circled round and headed back to the car a group of three council workers in high-Vis tops walked past. The only thing out of place was one of them was vaping on the job – only in the USA. Back on the road again, stopping off at a Savers and a quick chat with an enthusiastic older couple from Utah walking out with purchases. Next stop was the famous Las Vegas Gun Range. I was not sure what to expect but the Hummer parked out the front door gave me a hint. I filled out the waver, payed the US$90 for the “Combo deal” which includes two clips of a Glock and two clips of an Oozy. The heavyset thirty something guy with a disinterested look guided me into a smallish room, and made sure I had my eye and ear protection on. A quick demo was provided and I nervously copied his instructions. As I squeezed off the first shot with the Glock, the noise inside the small concrete box was freaking loud. I aimed squeezing more off one at a time, and then towards the end as many as I could in a row. I was expecting something out of a B rate action movie but the Oozy was oddly heavy. With it cradled into my right shoulder I let a few rounds off but found it wasn’t that quick to repeatedly shoot. Finished I placed it down on the surface in front of me. Only after I finished I noticed the guy had put a small handgun in the back of his jeans prior to walking me into the shooting range. Maybe there needs to be a plan B if someone goes a bit nuts inside the shooting range. On the way back to the car another possible ex military black guy grinned and said to me “once you get the itch….”. Since I had ticked off a few more things off my bucket list and it was late, it was time to head out to Flagstaff. I had left it too late for accommodation since everything was booked out in town due to a comedy festival. The only option was to head closer to where I was due to ride tomorrow and sleep in the car. Just outside of a well-off suburb of Munds Park I changed into my PJs, reclined the seat and soon after fell asleep.
Imagz :

Day 18 More Photos

Surprisingly I had slept pretty well inside the car with the cool overnight weather. The fear of being mauled by a bear or wildcat were unfounded. Getting out of the car stretching, I looked around and noticed a few cars and the parked RV last night had left. There was even a golf cart/off roader with an older man walking his dogs in the forest. Sunday had rolled around again and it was time to choose a church. There was a nearby Christian Sunday school starting in 15 minutes, so I quickly made and chugged down a peanut butter and cheese sandwich on the way. I had ensured I was wearing my most formal clothes – black jeans, black shoes, and a red top with “Lake Tahoe casino” embroidered on the arm. An older man with white shirt and tie welcomed me in and introduced me the room full of chatting elderly people. They were surprised I had come all the way from Australia to visit their Sunday school. As I sat there listening to their interpretations of the battle of Jericho, it dawned on me that I was their junior by at least 25 years. After taking a photo with the older man, I had to decline his invitation to the Sunday service with the reason I needed to get to Sedona to do some riding. The longer route to Sedona dropped many hundreds of feet as the road wound its way into the desert valley. All the buildings here had uniformly subtle variations of colour tones of the red earth, including Maccas and Starbucks. Stopped off quickly to get some directions to the best single track at a local bike shop. As I talked with the girl I found out that she was going to be at Moab for Outerbike next month. Eventually I found a spot near the trailhead and headed out. A few minutes into the ride I made the discovery that cleats on the shoes wasn’t a good idea, falling over at low speed. Back to the car and swapped the pedals and shoes to flats. Cacti lined either side of the path just teasing me by daring to fall on them. At the start I passed a few hikers with their dogs. The path included technical uphill and downhill, rocky, sandy, and loose – Challenge accepted. Chuckwagon trail started to climb and soon enough I was riding on the edge of some iconic rock formations. Taking some shade on a rock I sat and looked out across the landscape, hearing a hissing sound. My heart leapt as I thought there was a rattlesnake nearby, but it ended up just being a slash on the side of bike tyre. I jiggled the tyre around to get the sealant to work, but it just sprayed out until the tyre was flat. A lady and her son passed by offering their help but I told them I was fine. In order to save on weight and space I chose to carry and micro mini pump. Great design but you need about 300-400 pumps to inflate an ordinary tyre. There I was keeping the centre of mass close to my body and pulling up and down. If someone observed me it wouldn’t be a stretch to think I was really enjoying my naturalist activity. Half way through the multi-century pumping session, a larger fellow with ukulele and a benign loped by. I asked him if he was seeking solitude and we got chatting. He played me an improvised song with complementing Tibetan throat singing, saying it soothed his anxiety when he sung. We chatted about music and creativity. I told him how impressed I was with his presentation. About this time he pointed to the nearby rock formation and talked of the powerful vortices located in them. He was headed that way and we said goodbye. A new tube was inside the tyre and I had a mess of sealant on the ground in front of me, but I was ready to ride again. Taking a sealed road directly back to the parked car, I came across a mangled white Honda sports bike propped up against a stop sign. The next moment a large pickup truck and an agitated fellow got out. While talking he stated last night he was giving it some stick round this very corner when a Javelina (wild pig) crossed the road in front of him. The bike low sided and then tumbled through the brush. He hadn’t been injured but he wasn’t happy. A golf cart from nearby resort arrived and all four of us hoisted the bike and dumped it in the back of the truck. I said “cya” and he gruffly replied “yeah”. Since I avoided paying US$230 for a hotel room last night I treated myself to a single room at the Flagstaff backpackers. On the hour-long drive back I passed a traffic jam of Harleys and exotic expensive cars driving into Sedona. The desert floor of Sedona changed into green lush forests as the road rose up to the higher altitudes of Flagstaff. Within walking distance of the backpackers I had dinner at Vietnamese restaurant. Strangely enough when prepaying for the meal the bill suggested a tip of 15%. This was before I even had the meal – Strange. Tomorrow the Grand Canyon.
Picies :

Day 19 More Photos

Last night I fell asleep to the rumbling of the nearby Flagstaff train station, and woke to the sound of clumping on old wooden floorboards. With everything packed I was out of there and stopped off at the local Safeway supermarket to pick up some chicken, salad etc. As I ate the freshly deep fried chicken in the car park, I looked on as short native-American homeless fellow with a black beanie asked a woman for change. By the time he got around to me I offered him my fourth piece of chicken, which I wasn’t planning on eating. He gladly took but still asked for change. I pointed to the chicken and he said thanks and returned to his friends. As he walked away and I could see ornate tatts on the back of his calves. On towards the Grand Canyon. The flow of cars led to the main entrance like a small creeks to the mouth of a river. Once I had covered myself with enough sunscreen I dropped into the bike shop and asked if the young guy could patch the inside of my tyre (from the slash that occurred yesterday). Time to find the trail down into the Canyon. The free shuttle bus was ready to go, so I hopped on with the other tourists. Today Connie B was our badass bus driver. It appeared she had enough of listening to the same dull questions from tourists every single day she went to work. Once boarded she spurted into the microphone, “there is no food to be eaten on the bus!”. Connie wore black leather driving gloves and made a game of rolling her hands around the circumference of the steering wheel whenever she was not turning it. The bus stopped, we all got off and I found the trailhead. The view of the Grand Canyon is pretty much exactly like what you see in the photos, but the cool breeze was a surprise. I started down the trail hopping over water bars and overtaking most other hikers, but moving aside for hikers returning from below. Their pained expressions, red faces and slow progress put me off walking down too far down the trail. Squirrels dashed across the path. An older couple resting on the side of the trail pointed out that once the sun moved past midday there would be no shadows to hide in. Sitting there I snapped off some photos and was lucky enough to see a barren of mules mounted by tourists coming up from the canyon floor. The last guy coming up the rear looked like a parody of blazing saddles with matching chewing tobacco. After drinking in the vista I headed back up passing tourists with long digital SLR cameras hanging at their waists. They looked like they had giant penises standing to attention at the hip. I stopped briefly at a sign which pointed out the dangers of walking the full distance to the bottom of the canyon with inadequate hydration. The sign has a drawing of a man vomiting into the bushes beside the trail. Another bucket list item ticked off. Back to the bike shop to see how the tyre repair had gone. I went round the back entry to the bike mechanics room and started chatting with the young guy I had given my wheel to. We talked about our bikes and places we wanted ride. When I asked how much I owed him he said, “don’t worry about it.” Shaking hands and a big thankyou later I got the car and started the five-hour drive to Hurricane in south Utah. The top of the Grand Canyon is quite high so the long descent took a long time. Navaho Indian wooden table stalls selling jewellery were setup along the roadside all the way to Cameron. In this desolate, dry, rocky landscape simple houses were plodded next to working and non-working vehicles. Eventually after some virtual lunar landscapes I arrived in Utah. The landscape had changed and the fading light turned distance ranges into inverted purple gradients. A Thai meal and some grapes consumed I was stuffed and ready for bed.
Visual memoirs :

Day 20 More Photos

Mesa Last night was spent in Hurricane in a quiet clean Airbnb. BTW the power outlets have almost human expressions here. As I ate my PNJS on the veranda, I watched a small dog following a scent, stopped, cocked his leg and then walked into a nearby garage. Filled up with petrol at Ernies where they have all your deep fried breakfast needs. I stopped to photograph a drive-through-ATM location, from the comfort of my car. Today I was ready to tick off another of my bucket list rides. A few wrong turns, and a slow drive up some challenging dirt roads I made it to the trailhead car park, and started to get my bike and myself ready. A Subaru outback parked next to the Caddy and a stocky older fellow got out asking if I would like a guide to the trails, as he was a local. Shit yeah. So we set off riding and waved to some MTB campers that had spent the night prior in a tent. As I followed his rear wheel over some rocky technical riding I discovered Monte previously worked on making the ignition system for atomic bombs for the US government. We got to discuss politics, peoples values and other interesting things. I grilled him for his opinion on Trump and he replied, “I voted for Trump as Hillary was a really bad choice… I expected him to mature once in power but he hasn’t”. Along the way he pointed out a slow growing cactus, along with an exhaustive geological history of the area. I learn't that in the past he had setup a motorcycle racing school and had links with some interesting manufactures in motorcycle and MTB industry. About this time we rode past the area where a Canadian guy almost fell over the edge. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AU7GFl5mn2U Shortly we stopped and chatted to two Oregon girls who were exploring the trails for the first time. They even had a map of the area on a hanky. The track continued up and down near vertical sandstone climbs, which the bike tyres stuck to like “shit to a blanket”. After 16 miles of challenging single track we ended up in the car park once again. Monte had given me some great ideas for places to ride and new perspectives on the politics in the western world. The long five hour drive up to Salt Lake city was mostly on open 80 mile an hour freeways. The satellite radio in the car is pretty sweet, giving you coverage wherever you can see the sky. They had four channels dedicated just to hiphop/rap. White Dodge-Charger state trooper cars were parked regularly and strategically along the freeway to pick up anyone driving over the speed limit. The trucks I passed had extra pieces of plastic/metal to decrease drag and air resistance. Mountains lined the corridor of freeway that led to Salt Lake City. As I got closer the sun was setting on one side obscuring details on the west mountain range, but highlighting the eastern range. Eventually I came across the Airbnb for the next two nights, and a guy in an open Jeep enthusiastically asked how it was to drive the Caddy. I shrugged and said it was a comfortable ride. Settled into the new place, headed out for some forgettable Mexican and got some supplies at the local Mexican themed supermarket. The girl serving at the Mexican restaurant wore her eyeliner like a hawk with flowing lines. Once I got back to the house I chatted to a Japanese born girl from Seattle. After a time she offered to show me here SIG P320 handgun, which she justified having due to being of small stature and at risk of attack. The end of another long exciting day. As I look for a remedial masseuse on google maps I come across a business entitled “inner light massage and colon hydrotherapy” – Hmmmmmm.
Optical memories :

Day 21 More Photos

A king’s night sleep in a similarly sized bed. Up and out the door in search of some single track. Today it was corner Canyon on the east side of the mountain range, where the well to do live. Not too far into the trail I greeted and passed an older lady on a horse. A bit further along I came across a well-dressed older gent and we had a natter. I asked about the local cougars in the surrounding hills and he said, the only time a he came close to a cougar was when it was fishing for trout in his trout farm. He mentioned he had deer, bobcats and racoons on his property. After hearing about Australia he said he had a keen interest in visiting. Just prior to this I saw a sign about cougars, but unfortunately didn’t end up chatting to any older women this day. Eventually I came across some hero dirt on some sweet trails, and met a bigger boned older gent catching his breath sitting on his MTB. He said his son was a MTB pro and travelled around the world. When I brought up stories of the early days of MTB riding in Marin County, he said that Gary Fisher and the boys just wanted to go out someplace elevated and smoke some weed and drink beer together. At the end of this ride I stopped off at the local Savers op shop on the way to Canyon bike shop. There is a podcast called Mountain Bike Radio and one of the presenters worked at this very shop. Putting a voice to a face is strange, as I pictured him to look different. Full-face Kenny was a younger slight fellow with facial hair, a cunning knowledge of bikes and some great suggestions for my next bike upgrade. Bought some new gloves and an 11-speed chain in preparation for a potential chain failure on the ongoing trip. Now home to shower. Before getting into the shower I got to rub the belly of one of Brandie’s big dogs that looked like it had some pit-bull in him. He was a rescue dog who had spent many years on the street and had corresponding street smarts. Brandie showed me her healing wounds from last time she intervened in the dogfight. She currently has four dogs in the house, two that are here temporally, and the smallest of her dogs being the top dog. Every time someone new walks in the door a cacophony of barks lets rip. Six thirty appointment for a deep tissue massage in downtown Salt Lake City (SLC). There was about half an hour to wait once I got there, so went across the road the to chat to guy named Brian at the Google Fibre shop. I learned that they were getting in early on the fibre to the home Internet in SLC with gigabit speeds for US$70 a month. A Latino kick boxer was allocated to me tonight and once I had lay facedown on the massage table, he got up held the overhead rails and walked all over my back and legs. He seemed to know his anatomy and sequentially went over every muscle with conventional massage. I asked for some info on places to eat and visit and he obliged. A short 15-minute drive to a place called Red Iguana showed it was full up with a cue, but the girl sent me around the block to Red Iguana 2. The place was full and there was even a valet in the immediate parking lot. Within 30 seconds of walking in the door I was seated at the bar, chips and dip in front of me, with a couple of my left and a fellow on my right all enjoying their meals. I ordered the red sangria and asked the waiter to be creative with the menu, since I didn’t really know my Mexican food. While sipping and looking around the room I noticed there were less overweight persons. My masseuse had mentioned that SLC was well known for outdoor activities and he also said that this place made all their own sauces from scratch. I could look straight into the kitchen, which looked like a well organised flurry of chaos. The noise of chatter was too loud for me to hear what the names of the plates I was going to be eating tonight. One had rice and beans, leaving the other meat with mango, soft bread, cheese and egg. Last night was bad Mexican but tonight was polar opposite. As I wiped my mouth a waitress with a huge tiger tattooed on her chest walked past with plates in hand. Tonight I was sufficiently suffonsified. If Trump were to visit this place for dinner, would he change his mind about the great wall? I now write this as I drink the free chlorophyll water provided at the massage place. Mmmm greenie plant goodness. I wonder if I suck on some grass would I get the same benefits?
Eyeball memories :

Day 22 More Photos

Car packed and heading down the street to find the closest thrift store, when I arrive at a building with “Humanitarian centre” written on the outside. A lady waiting on a couch mentioned this was not an op shop, but rather where they sorted all the clothing. Just then two girls of about 19 came up and asked if I wanted a tour – Why not? We stood in front of a huge painting illustrating how Jesus helped an infirmed man into the pool that would then heal him. Next we went the back-of-house and discussed the process of sorting, packing and shipping to places of need, which we stood in front of huge tightly packed bails. Pretty much all the people working there were from overseas. They said they employ 180 associates for about 18 months where they learn skills and practice their English. After a short film covering the efforts of the Mormons (aka LDS) to help humanity around the world, they showed me the Rough Rider wheelchair. It had beefy mountain bike tyres and welds that would make a bike builder proud. I asked if they could take of a photo of me, when an older Samoan fellow grinned in the background and wanted to join in. He said to me, they pay better in Australia than the USA and laughed, making the sisters of God uncomfortable. Next was onto the front end of the system a few blocks away where they sold the clothes. I stopped and got some directions from a friendly large guy dressed in white shirt and trousers, whom I thought had as Irish accent. I think he was just a little slow. Man I hit the jackpot. There was a Beatle-juice shirt and the mea- culpa of the Americas – “Make American Great” t-shirt. I am betting that this will be a collector’s item in the near future. Just across the road from the famous Red Iguana restaurant lay the 24 hour poor cousin, Rancheritos dine in and take away. The sign on the door prepared me for the experience “No shirts, No shoes, Please use the drive through”. Chimichanga you good thing, Cheech and Chong would be proud. It tasted ok and the sheer size kept me full for most of the day. When I went to ask more about the franchise, the Latino ladies behind the counter smiled blankly and gave me a pamphlet. The next place to hit up was the Family History Library, where the LDS have setup something like 7 levels of archives, coveingr information about people from around the world. I went in ill prepared and ended up chatting with a nice local older lady who told me a little of the system for tracking down information on German ancestry. She said she volunteers about 4 days a week, and her head bobbed slightly as she talked, most likely due to Parkinsonism. I tagged along on a tour of Temple Square, where each blade of grass was perfectly sculpted to match the buildings and the conservative clothing of the Mormons. Inside the Tabernacle they had a huge organ, which an older guy played. You could say the man’s organ induced bowel moving bass. The day was moving on and I wanted to avoid peak hour traffic, so set out for Park City just over the small mountain range. The system of roads and freeways are well setup here. As I pulled up outside the Hostel in Park City, I was rocking out to some Blood Hound Gang tunes with some very inappropriate lyrics. A young guy from Chile, due to move to Adelaide, showed me around and then we chatted about his interest in MTB riding. He was keen to come along for the demo day on Saturday with Pivot bikes. Not too soon after I got chatting with a fellow baldy who was here for the North Face Endurance Challenge. He was after some food and I wanted a drink to complement the gut full of Mexican I was still carrying, so I tagged along to downtown Park City to a Blue Iguana (unfortunately no link to the Red Iguana from last night). There I ordered an appropriately named Cadillac Margarita and we chatted about politics and outdoor activities. When asked about Trump he grimaced and said that having Trump as president has weakened the USA in Russia’s favour. He followed saying that Hillary would have made an “OK” president. When we got back to the hostel I met a lady working on a puzzle, who is trying to find a rental flat. She has been staying here for the over a month while waiting for a place to come up. I am eating grapes as I write this. It is starting to rain outside and the temperature is dropping, as it is a well-known skiing location.
Visual thoughts here :

Day 23 More Photos

Last night before bed it snowed and I stood outside like someone that hadn’t seen snow before. There was no cereal left so I walked into town staring up at the snow-dusted trees on the hills. The local supermarket had a decent selection of real food and manufactured food. A phallic shaped container with the words “Magic bullet hangover prevention” stared at me from the shelf near in line at the checkout. It didn’t say whether it should be taken orally, or per rectal…. Hrm. Walking back with 1L milk and sugar coated granola in hand I noticed the letters PC on the hillside. Is that for Park City, or politically correct? Breakfast was smashed down quickly and then out on the bike. The first decent access up to the mount was up an extremely steep fire road next to the resort. As I was cranking out the laboured steps I thought of myself to be like Arnie in the scene of Conan the Barbarian, where he was walking in circles keeping the mill turning. Freaking cold. The snow was still on the ground and was in the process of melting from the trees overhead. Water dripped on my head and snow melted into my shoes. Within 15 minutes of riding I could no longer feel my toes. On the bright side I stopped and found some Dock grass beside the trail. Hugo loves collecting Dock for making bread. I passed and said a quick hello to my marathon running friend from last night who was scoping out the course for tomorrow. There were random hikers and a few groups of friendly people walking around the mount. A few times I had to stop, remove my shoes and warm my toes with warm hands. I hadn’t researched it and wondered how long my toes needed to be numb before frostbite set in. The trail was pretty safe and predictable, but became faster and more technical closer to the next town along the valley. Mud flicked up into my eye and up the back of my shorts and waterproof top. To the unenlightened it would appear I had shat myself. Mud and grit has accumulated on my drivetrain and every turn of my crank made me screw my face up at the sickly grinding sound. The area of Park City is known to be financially well off so the local bus is free to travel on. Waiting for it rock up I used the last of my water to spray down the chain. The bus arrived, I tried to mount the bike on the front of the bus but it wouldn’t fit. The friendly bus driver motioned for me to bring it inside. A clean warm bus with a mess of mud, snow and aluminium propped up in the isle. Looking out the window I noticed many of the cars had bike carriers attached to the back. Home, showered and now could feel my toes again. Out the back of the hostel to clean the bike and pack it away in the car. My friend the runner offered me half his supermarket frozen pizza, and in return I offered him half my bourbon flavoured Ben and Jerry’s ice-cream. Home and hosed. I write this as I drink a can of local ale, watching a group of Brahs greeting each other after a long absence over the pool table.
Optics here :

Day 24 More Photos

Last night before going to bed I got talking to a guy that was on his way back from Last Vegas, where he had attended the recent Inter bike expo. He has a bike business where they put together customised simple bikes to fit the customers’ dimensions. Rad. So last night was a mixed sex, full house, in the six-bunk hostel room I was staying in. Once everyone got off to sleep one person let rip with a loud and proud one. Soon another person followed up with a retort, and I am ashamed to say I added my own mark to the cacophony of farts. The Mexican I ate that day did catch up with me. Up and out in the car on the way to a demo day setup by Pivot bikes. Driving along looking at the mountains enveloped in cloud, I had a strange sensation that I may have peed myself. Luckily it was just the auto seat warmers in the Caddy. At the bike demo I was the first one to arrive and select my ride. The mechanic gave me some great tips for places to ride in Colorado as he swapped over the left and right brake hoses. He also gave me some important tips for the upcoming Moab demo weekend I am due to go to. I did a nice little loop on a Pivot Switchblade that felt like it was made just for me. Along the way a group of E-Bike riders gave me directions to better trails. When I returned back to the demo headquarters, I overheard an older man swear and stomp off. The staff said he was expected to wear a helmet if he wanted to demo the bikes – Looks like a first world problem. First stop was the Mexican 24 hour restaurant, again. Savers next in order to bag some bargains. There I watched a teenager filtering through the rack of clothes like a banshee on a mission. I also found out that Walmart has male toilets that have a seat on the wall in the cubicle, where you can strap down your little tike while your back one out. The long trip across Utah to Grand Junction in Colorado showed similar rock formations and scenery, but much greener. I arrived at the new Airbnb, oiled my chain and settled in. Nancy the older lady Airbnb host offered me a beer, so we sat out back next to the hot tub and chatted about her accommodation setup and lifestyle. I was a little hungry and Nancy suggested I walk down the block and checkout some places to eat. On the way I stopped off at the smoke shop and talked with the young girl behind the counter. Apparently each county has laws as to whether you can sell weed. She went on to say that at this time you have to drive to the next county to buy your gear since it is against the law in Grand Junction. Seeing that it was a clear cool night I decided to walk a lap of the centre of town and came across a games shop filled up with geeky guys and gals playing semi-competition Magic the gathering this Saturday night– Respect. A few doors down the bar was starting to warm up and a group of older fellows (my age) were leaving to find some more action. We shot the breeze and they appeared to be hitting the drink and becoming more cocksure. Circling back I arrived at the place Nancy had suggested, the Old Chicago Pizza and taproom. Pulled up a chair at the bar next to a 30 something guy with baseball cap on backwards, in front a set of big screens showing gridiron. Brad and I started talking and he said he works as a train conductor and spends some nights away from his family and 13 year old son back in Las Vegas. The bar girl delivered for me some local pale ale, as Brad and I kept talking. He siad that they call the area of railway track nearby suicide alley, due to the many human verses train incidents. Apparently most of his fellow train conductors are ex military. He wore a Chilli Peppers shirt and the topic of conversation moved to music. Brad was friendly but his delayed responses and contrasting facial expressions were warnings that one should tread carefully. I brought up the topic of Trump and that eventually led to talk of automatic weapons. At this time he shuffled through the photos on his phone, cursing when he couldn’t find it initially. Eventually after some conspiracy theories as to why he couldn’t find it, he showed me a photo of his son holding an AK47 and a big grin. He involved me in his extended group of brothers that loved guns. During our chat he would drop the phrase “Oh mercy” or when more confused “Oh my mercy”. I signaled for the bar girl to let me pay for the drinks and mac & cheese, and then tactfully took my leave. On the way home I watched a guy riding a glowing electric hover-board smoking something that may or may not be legal. I write this now as I eat a carrot, since today has been a little less healthy.
Picky Wickies here :

Day 25 More Photos

Another Sunday morning rolls around and to my relief, no hangover. Breakfast with Nancy and then down to the local Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints aka Mormons. I was keen and arrived for the 9am service. Alas I didn’t spend much time thinking about dress code and wore a Thunder Cats blue/red hoodie with matching Darth Maul hiking shoes. It started with a couple of hymns, then a few speeches and the remaining 45 minutes was left open to testimonials. For about 5 minutes there was an awkward silent pause only broken by the unhappy whinging of a toddler. Then a 40 something lady walked up on stage. She was teary and talked about the online Mormon video she had watched last night. Even though she didn’t go into details she voiced her unease of the current political head of government. She stepped down and another minute passed, at which stage a seven-year-old girl walked uneasily onto stage. The microphone and platform it was stuck to was electronically lowered so she could reach it. The girl mumbled something unintelligible into the microphone and people smiled as she walked off. We finished with another hymn and people started to disperse. A younger well-dressed version of Stephen Merchant stood over me and we shook hands. His name was Ben and in order to remember his name I named him Ben-Hur. On our way to bible study class we passed an older man with white shirt and tie who fist pumped Ben as we passed. The topic of today’s class was talent. They bounced around opinions, linking it to the bible, and commenting on the 10,000 hour rule for mastery. I thought I would join in and dropped the following quote by Winston Churchill, “success is the ability to move from one failure to another without loss of enthusiasm”. When class concluded, they gave me a book or Mormon to read, and I snapped off a selfie happy-snap of myself and Ben-Hur. Colorado National Monument Park was a nice little detour in order to get to Fruita where the MTB trails were located. I stopped off to allow enough time to make and eat a PNBJ sandwich while looking out at the landscape. At Fruita there was a yearly festival going on in the main street, which I negotiated in order to get some juicy tips from the local bike shop. So north of Fruita is a selection of trails called 18 road, which allow you to ride to the top and bomb down. The trails lead to the start of some steep rocky inclines, which I then turned around and rode down the “Zippidy do dah” trail followed by the PBR trail. Towards the end I caught sight of a little ground dwelling rodent, which would stop at the entry to his burrow and dive in if I walked closer. Each place I ride seems to be distinct and differentiated from the others I have ridden so far. Rad. A short three-hour drive to Gunnison along the desert valley floor, then turning left as you get to see the snow covered peaks in the distance. After climbing and dropping in and out of a few valleys, the landscape changed again so as to punctuate the fact I am now deep into Colorado. A finely paved road threaded is way alongside the Blue Mesa reservoir and Gunnison River all the way to the town I am staying in for the next two nights. Once at the Hostel I was shown around the trippy house and discovered a huge living area I could picture myself living in. The best way to describe it is: Brady Bunch on acid (photos to come tomorrow). Lunch had been overlooked today, so out to the backyard to pump up tyres and attach a light to the freebee old junker bike at the hostel, and then ride into town. The “Twisted fork” restaurant looked like a good place to catch up on some healthy eats. As I am shown to the table the couple next to me comment positively on the Family Guy/Che Guevara hoodie I am wearing. A cold mojito and warm vegetable noodle bowl later I am out on the street pedalling to the local supermarket. Again there at the checkout I get positive comment on my hoodie, but stumble through the payment process due to the effects of the recent mojito. I am writing this as I am eating gluten free rice pudding (there weren’t any that didn’t have it). I also had a chat with a retired older traveler while writing this. We talked about politics and his disgust of Trump, and preference for Hillary. He said he enjoyed being able to have a discussion with intense emotions shutting it down. Tomorrow some epic MTB riding planned.
Fotos :

Day 26 More Photos

So last night I was well prepared with ear plugs for the small room with six older males in it. About 2am I unconsciously removed my right ear plug, but couldn’t find it when I needed it the most. There was one guy with heavy sleep apnoea, highlighted with a long low series of farts. You could say I was up shit bunk without an ear-plug. After climbing down the ladder I found another set in my backpack and was set for the night. A quick breakfast and then down the street to the local bike shop. A younger woman with several nose piercings pointed me in the right direction for some epic rides. As I walked out the door she said, “keep it rubber side down”, and I replied “are you silly? I'm still gonna send it” (referencing Larry Enticer). First place to check out was Crested Butte alpine resort, which unfortunately was not running lift service today but one last time this coming weekend. The air was pretty thin at almost 10,000 feet, so I huffed and puffed as I looked around circling the resort on my bike. Right, so now back down the road I came, but I came across a metal statue of St George verses the Dragon. Recently I have heard about the comparison to chaos verses order. The dragon represents chaos and the knight order. To voluntarily go out and confront the chaos in our lives is the ideal. On the way back down the mountain I turned off left half way to Gunnison. The road followed the stream along a valley, with the occasional fly fisherman in chest high waders with a library of baits on his vest. With the car parked I was able to head up the road that parallels Doctor Park trail. The Valley narrowed and transformed into a gorge with a small stream trickling to the side of the road. At times it became louder as it dropped over large rocks. Areas of rubble broke up the thick trees growing on the side of the valley. I was riding alone with the cooling breeze as my companion. Eventually the steep incline of the road and gorge transformed into rolling hills. The trail crossed a shallow stream so therefore I took off shoes and socks, waded across, and then rested to eat a PNBJ sandwich while my cold feet dried. Rested, feet dried and shoes back on I continued up the steep double track pushing my bike most of the way. At the top I met a parks worker cutting up some fallen trees with a chainsaw. We chatted and apparently last time they asked for volunteers to work on the local trails 80 people turned up. Ok, I spent the last 100 minutes grinding up to the top of the trail and now was ready to bomb down the trail I have been hanging out to ride. A quick added loop brought me to a quiet panoramic view of the Rocky Mountains. For half an hour I sat and looked quietly at the scene, with the fingernail moon pasted just on the cusp of where the light blue sky turns into the deep dark blue/black of space. I wonder if sound is noticeably dulled at the altitude I am sitting at? Anyways back onto the more challenging part of trail, where it started fast and flowy, but shortly after threw me straight into a series of steep rock gardens, at which “I ate shit”. The wheel caught, I put my feet down, steadied then went arse over tit, with the bike cartwheeling down a small distance. My final resting place was with my front teeth on a rock – no permanent damage. The knee and elbow pads helped but it was still painful. I sat there stunned until I was ready to move, readjusted the brake levers and set off again. The rocks on the trail thinned out and it turned into a luge, egging me on to pick up speed again. To the side I heard the rustling of a large animal, but didn’t look lest I fall again. Given some more body armour and a burly bike it would have been sweet as. Towards the end I picked my way down the final challenging switchback, rock garden, stopping for a few minutes to chat with a guy with moustache cleaning his mountain bike. Apparently he almost ate shit in the same spot as myself. Driving back down the fly fishing valley I aired my sore left knee, and passed a hitchhiker going the other way, wearing a pink shirt, purple dress and also a moustache. Tonight was a reliable dinner of sweet potato, sardines, carrot and cheese, followed with red grapes and rice pudding. While writing this, across the room on the beanbag sits a strange overweight man unable to keep the conversation on one topic. He started talking about his time in the navy, and then moved onto alcoholics anon, all the famous people he has met, and then onto how dangerous it is with some many serial killers out there. I nod, smile and continue to type this out on the laptop.
相片 :

Day 27 More Photos

Another night of silenced series snoring and farting blocked with earplugs. Leaving the hostel and packing the car I noticed ice on the rear windows of the Caddy. Looks like their autumn is like our winter. Car fuelled up and off towards Monarch Crest, which is 11312 feet high. I limp over to look at the window to the gift shop when a cavalcade of cars pulls up, and starts unloading medium to long travel bikes. They had organised a private shuttle for the 7000 feet of descending. I think I would have asked them if I could tag along and get a lift back up with then, had I not ate shit yesterday. Onward to Salida where after one wrong bike shop I came across the one where the hosts of “just riding along” on Mountain bike radio podcast work. Alas they were not working today, so I left a jar of maple syrup there for Andrea when she works next (maple syrup is an in-joke). At a thrift shop/junk shop I asked where the best place to eat was, at which a tired looking older man pointed me across the street. Lunch at the Patio Pancake Place has been going for about 40 years, with simple wood panelling on the walls and comfy booths. A smiling waitress touched me on the shoulder and asked if I was ready to order, scribbled some notes and then headed off to the kitchen. I noticed that she is wearing comfy tights and Ugg boots – stylish. There is a mix of Latino labourers, Middle Americans and some cowpoke. Lunch arrived as a full order of Mexican Huevos Rancheros. Smashed that down and then headed down to the local park where it appeared the school kids were having a lunch period running around on the green grass. I watched a group of four kids playing tag, calling out “no homo” when they were caught. The deer seem to walk freely on the streets and graize the grass in people's front yards. Eventually they dispersed and I fell asleep for an hour or so in the last warming sun, before it got hard-core cold again. Walmart for some supplies and then a phone call to get directions for tonights Airbnb in Crestone. The lady was friendly but was adamant that I write down a complex series of directional maneuvers to get to her place. Some of the directions included : Turn left as you get to the dispensary with the green cross, the road splits to go around 2 trees in the middle of the road, and then up Camino Baca Grande. On the way across the flat desert I stopped to snap off some photos of a passing storm rolling onto the sides of the nearby mountains. The place looks pretty average on the outside but the inside appeared to be designed with a nautilus shell in mind. Spanish music was playing on the stereo and large windows let in acres of light (photos tomorrow). A deadpan set of eyes looked at me from an elevated nook, which I realized were that of a cat. Shortly after a next-door neighbour arrived and made sure I got settled until Kristen arrived about 15 minutes later. They were friendly showing me the ins and outs of the place, while simultaneously exchanging rapid-fire comments to each other. Light was dimming, and despite the temperature dropping outside the place stayed warm. Kristin works as a music teacher and they stood and sat around the piano singing some older tunes e.g. time after time. A few drinks and a look at the piano music book collection showed Kate Bush and Sarah McLachlan, the music of my teenage years – schweet. When I asked about Tori Amos, Kristen sighed and said she loved her music but didn’t have any sheet music. Note to self, download Tori’s complete works from the Internet. Kirstin also talked about her friend Beth Quist who worked with Cirque du Soleil contributing to their music. At a reasonable hour her friend went home and we all crashed. Apparently you need a bear-whistle when walking outside at night, due to the close proximity of predators in the nearby mountains. It’s a lovely house, but there is no separation between rooms. This means all of our bodily melodies travel throughout the house. Time to avoid loud and proud. I hear there is a ghost town within driving distance and a stupa or two nearby that I need to checkout tomorrow.
φωτογραφίες :

Day 28 More Photos

A surprisingly warm nights sleep considering how cold it was outside. Breakfast, check. Driving back through Crestone heading south the Great Sand Dunes National Park. On the way I passed the UFO watchtower that was not open today. From a distance the dunes look like some child’s sandcastle, nestled in the crook of the same mountains I have been staring at while driving near for the last two days. After parking, changing shoes and putting on a plastic shell jacket I hop scotched over a small snow melt stream in the sand. It looks identical to what you would see as the river or creek meets the beach. On the side of the great sand dunes, distance figures could be seen making slow progress up the side. It took a while to make it half way up the tallest sand dune with every variety of sand from loose through to solid. The wind whipped up sand particles that popped like shrapnel on my jacket. I stopped half way up, as there was thunder and lightning predicted in the area today. Sitting on the sand I watched a black crow freefalling into the wind and even mixing in a barrel roll. On the sand sat a moth trying to warm itself against with the biting cold wind. The clouds looked like they straddled the nearby mountains. Since the clouds were about the same level as the top of the dunes, they appeared to extend out ghostly finger wisps of grey cloud and then slowly retract them back. Having had enough hanging out with the largest sand dunes in North America, I got back in the car and backtracked, stopping off at the hot spring fed Sand Dunes swimming pool. The extra friendly guy at the front desk let me in and pointed out the green room to the side. It looked like two shipping containers had been put end to end in order to link the main pool area with a separate area, which was made up of three big greenhouses linked together. A girl at the front counter with tatts on her forearms let me wander around. There were small private pool areas with a bar and even tomatoes growing on vines along the walls. Since I was by myself and had to drive back I decided to give it a miss and jump into the normal sized swimming pool fed by the hot springs. The water didn’t need to have any chlorine for some great reason. There was a spout of very hot water where you could stand underneath, experiencing a massage from the sheer falling mass of the hot water. Close by there was a “therapy pool”, which I truly found the meaning of as I put my legs in. The water was not too far off boiling and if dedicated and patient you could work your whole body into the water. Just make sure you don’t pass out from the vasodilation. It did make a great environment for stretches since it encouraged lengthening and relaxation of muscles. On the way back there was an “organic” grocery store that sold everything at double the price with organic written on the side. I now am able to make fully organic PNBJ sandwiches. At the entry to the town of Crestone there is a little nook where people donate things to be free cycled. The ghost town would have to be put off today due to the rain. Kristin arrived back and we got stuck into some more Sarah McLachlan, Tori Amos, and Kate Bush on the piano and on YouTube. She then moved on to show me some of David Bowie’s last twisted video clips before he died. Now twisted is a topic I am well versed in, so I showed her “Smack my bitch up” by the Chemical Brothers. She was impressed. A healthy meal of the usual suspects of sweet potato etc, and a reasonably early night. Tomorrow…..Denver.
Ph0t0$ :

Day 29 More Photos

Another good nights sleep, breakfast of sugary cereal, and a warm goodbye to my host. Outside the temperature had dropped and the low hanging cloud looked like heavy eye lids drawn tight against the mountains. I found this cloud to lift as the land woke up. On the way towards Crestone I stopped off to check out the Haidakhandi Universal Ashram, but found it wasn’t opened until later that day – will have to miss that one. Just before the traffic oddity of the road navigating around two special trees, I passed a fellow on a motorcycle not wearing a helmet. This must be a thing here in Colorado. Stopped by Salida again to try and catch Andrea from Mountain bike radio podcast and was successful. We chatted for a while and I couldn’t keep my eyes off her hair cut that was just like that of Bert (sesame street), except blonde and curly. I had a small walk while Andrea changed the cable/housing on the bike dropper post. On the way back I met an older English man with a soft collar neck brace, pushing a heavily laden rigid bike-packing bicycle. He said he was half way through his trip along the length of the great dividing trail, when his bag caught the front wheel and he went over the bars (OTB). Hard-core Respect. A quick organic PNBJ sandwich and back on the road towards Denver, passing a traffic jam caused by a rolled car on the highway. After passing the scene our line of cars parted to let through an ambulance with its angsty siren blaring. On the way I made a quick a pitstop in a town called Fairplay (aka South Park). The road rolled on, rising high enough to see snow still present on the grass, then dropped slowly between consecutive valleys until delivering me to Denver. The network of roads were pretty quick to navigate and soon after I was sitting in the car park of Mojo Wheels. Inside I tried on a library of knee guards without success, but bought a Bell full-face helmet that can be converted to an open face lid. Next time I tongue-kiss a rock on the trail, it won’t be so repulsive. Nearby there was a Maccas with well maintained restroom that I made use of. Afterwards I bought a soft serve cone and wondered if it is good etiquette to buy something before or after punishing their toilet bowl? Over the freeway and a few blocks down was tonight’s Airbnb. The host had given me some directions to navigate to the correct building in the small city of flats. Eventually I found it, parking my car out front. Up ahead a large pitbull/bulldog was licking the water dripping from the downpipe at the corner of the building, on the way to the flat. He looked friendly and I went to pass him. His temperament changed and he charged in front of me with an unfriendly guttural heavy WOOF, stopping a few meters off to my left. I took a few more steps and then he charged back in front of me again with the same chaotic aggression. This time a hard faced woman came quickly pacing up to him with a lead, taking him away without any explanation. After this welcoming I made my way to the front door of the flat, knocked and a young guy opened the door. I proffered the name of Matt and he shook his head in the negative and motioned me in. Sitting there in a chilled atmosphere sat a mother and son, along with a heavy lidded fellow lounging of the other side of the L shaped couch. We introduced ourselves and soon discovered the middle aged Patricia was traveling with son Patrick from Washington to Memphis. He had just finished up with the Navy and they were road tripping it back. Apparently Patricia has an Airbnb back home too. The other guy on the couch was friendly, and we all sat around watching some random supernatural show on the TV. I dropped the juicy topic of politics and the current president, but found the people had opposing views. Luckily everyone was chilled and nothing bad came of it. Since I was too tired to leave the flat again, I decided upon dinner of the usual carrot, cheese and bread but this time with maple flavoured beef jerky. The flat was small and I could see the division of bedding in the place. There appeared to be two private rooms, a bunk bed in the dining area, a twin mattress behind the couch and the couch itself all providing places of rest. My space was the small storage area that leads to the emergency exit, large enough for a single mattress and some space to put my bags. The space was sectioned off with a makeshift curtain – Cosy. On the way back from the bathroom after brushing my teeth, I noticed the friendly guy on the couch snoring with automated hand down the front of this pants, while a new traveller sat watching YouTube on his phone beside him. After about 29 days of consistent travelling I decided to crash at 7pm and recover some rest.
तस्वीरें :

Day 30 More Photos

A great nights sleep and a breakfast of cereal over an upbeat discussion of Amazon coming to Australia. Another traveller who arrived while I was asleep named Habib, was born in India, spent ten years in California, lived in Texas for a month, and now has moved to Denver. He talks about his current job delivering food, and how it is moving quickly to other countries. We stand in front of a map of the world with each pin location representing each person who has stayed at this flat. A 20 something named Gus with Grubhub embroidered on his shirt sits nearby, and corroborates the upcoming world domination of delivery services. The friendly guy from yesterday sits awake on the couch staring at his phone with ear buds in. Another friendly black guy named Chris walks back and forth to the bathroom with rap playing on his phone speaker. I split up a bunch of bananas and hand them out, and then I make like a tree and split. Another Savers store and another compulsory greeting from the girl at the counter. I notice quite a few t-shirts with references to the mile high club, and finally put it together that Denver is approximately 1 mile above sea level. At the checkout I chat with a tired looking father, with his equally sleep deprived infant son smiling in the spinning trolley. He says that he has to leave the house for about 2-3 hours everyday in order to get the little one off to sleep. After this I need to stop by the Bank of America ATM. It gets a bit complicated shuffling money around my accounts but eventually I withdraw some money with no extra fees. Next stop is International Church of Cannabis, since it is close enough to Sunday to prompt a visit to a spiritual location. I arrive 30 minutes early (since the place opens at 1pm), so sit out the front on the grass. A small time later a 50 something English guy named Lee opens the door and I step in. He gives me a small spiel about how the organisation moved from Florida about 18 months ago, and made some adjustments to the church they had been gifted. Behind Lee on a big screen TV loops a video of a well know graffiti artist smoking a blunt while painting the outside of the church. They payed another group of guys from Spain, to travel here to paint the inside of the church - Sistine Chapel style. Lee sums up his nondenominational church as being able to elevate above the fears and follies of politics and other religions. I pop a tenner in the donation tray and head upstairs to check out the main chapel. It looks like a normal church layout of pews facing the front, but there was almost a complete set of band instruments setup where the choir would stand. The roof contained all the colours of the rainbow and it looked like the colours were melting down the sides of the walls. I stood there for a while scoping it out. How much more strange it would look if I were in an altered state. Downstairs they had setup a rad lounge with TMNT references and some arcade games setup on the wall, which I wasted no time in playing. Lunch today is Casa Bonita, which Eric Cartman has raved about many times on South Park. At a shopping complex stands a tall tower with the name written on it. Before heading in I stop by a nearby cowboy clothes shop and get accosted by a small and vicious Chihuahua. The shelves are lined with ornate and colourful boots – I think I want to get some before I return home. So a few doors down I enter into the huge amusement park-like restaurant of Casa Bonita. In line to give my order, I clock a tombstone with references to “The Terminator”. I order the all you can eat chicken Mexican meal, wait while the lady fills the order and then walks out into a three to four levels of tables and chairs, all facing the central waterfall. The air smells like moist chlorine of a swimming pool. Arrays of green LEDs are twisted around the artificial palm trees. At fifteen-minute intervals there are entertainers that grab everyone’s attention, mainly the children. A young boy of maybe 20 with a body fat percentage similar to that of a body builder opens a door and introduces himself over the microphone. He then gets up onto an elevated area and does a double back-flip straight into the pool below. Everyone claps, and thats when I notice the little Eric Cartman doll placed strategically above the performers. After the meal I check out the upper and lower arcades filled with some old favourites (such as mortal combat) and new arcade games. The walls of the place have been rendered to make it look like a pirates cave. Hugo would love this place. A short 2 hour drive west of Denver across epic mountain ranges, and lengthy tunnels finally brings me to the alpine town of Vail. Settled in with an “all you can eat” meal from Casa Bonita still in my stomach and accompanying jam doughnuts I write this and then crash. Otosphay :

Day 31 More Photos

Last nights stay was clean and well ordered, but also small and cramped. The host and girlfiend lived in a small two mini bedroom alpine lodge. They both worked two jobs to pay for the high cost of living in the area. As soon at 7am arrived I was up, had breakfast and then down the freeway 15 minutes to Vail. Ice had already started to build up on the screen of the car, and it was only just autumn. After one wrong underground car park I arrived at the other and quickly headed to the headquarters of todays cross-country mtb race. I walked into a poorly lit large room with many people, some of which taking registrations for todays race and tomorrows Enduro mtb race. I met up with a 26-year-old bearded guy named Gailin, who was also volunteering. We then found Mike, wearing white cowboy hat with a Rockshox sticker on his hat, who gave us directions to run sweep on the recently started race. We took off from the starting line and headed up the very steep trail. Gailin had lived here for the last 5 years, and prior to that grew up in Vermont. He had acclimatised many years ago, but I found it hard to ride and talk without vomiting. I had been up at this elevation for the last week but still found it hard to catch my breath on exertion. On the way up we chatted about politics and both agreed that South Parks comparison of a giant douche and a turd sandwich was appropriate. His plan was to tour for three months in his upgraded truck with his girlfriend, who was happy at this time not to get married or have kids. Pulling up around the bend of a switchback we watched from a distance for the stragglers to ride on, as pressuring them to ride faster may stress them out. Arriving back at the headquarters we moved on the putting together the framed first, second and third race awards, which I was surprised were made in the USA. Gailin had plans to demo a bike from Yeti today, and I hung around as Mike diplomatically radioed back and forth trying to organise the “college kids” that were doing another sweep. Eventually he turned to me and asked if I still had legs? I nodded and said I hadn’t ridden much today, so he sent me off to help mark the track for tomorrows Enduro race. On the radio he said to the other guys to expect someone with a nice accent. Back to the start line, in the back of the U Haul truck I met up with the three other guys ready to head out. A buff tanned guy with healing scabs on his elbows was volunteering since he and a few friends were racing tomorrow. By volunteering his entry fee would be paid for. We stood back as the other two regulars organised large backpacks, filled with wooden stakes, signs, stapler and rolls of plastic tape with the word “Scott” on it. We all headed out through the underground car park, along busy footpaths and roads filled with weekend tourists and their dogs, finally stopping at the gondola. Bikes packed into one gondola and us in another, we started the quick ascent up the top of the hill. A quick pit stop for the application of some free sunscreen at the top, and then we headed down the hill along a trail called Big Mamba. We stopped soon into the run to tie plastic tape to clumps of grass and anything we could find to secure it. This supposedly would deter people from straying off the track tomorrow. The tanned guy and myself stood back initially until we knew how to help. While tying some tape around a tree, I noticed a whole family all wearing full faced helmets and amour all conversing in Spanish. A family that shreds together…. The two regulars kept up the back and forth verbal digs at each other using Brah on a regular basis. I wonder if they brought the Brah-tato chips? So we continued down the hill riding the trail at times and stopping regularly to continue the marking. The hand held radio would beep and splutter with voices able to be heard. I was surprised he could hear it with his Bluetooth speaker spurting out rock music with the tinny volume of 11. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any more Brah-tastic, a group of racers stopped and high-fived the regular guys, and Brahed it up some more. I noticed one of the guys had a fanny pack with a Marlboro patch on it. It was early afternoon and I had to head off, so left the two Brahs and the tanned guy at the bottom of the gondola ready for another track to mark. Collected some free swag and headed to the Mondraker demo stand hoping to fit in a quick demo ride. The clouds overhead let loose along with some gnarly wind so they suspended all rides, leaving me the option to ride one at Moab Outerbike in a weeks time. Lunch of PNBJ sandwich on the rear spoiler of the car, and then onto Newcastle. The rain made visibility poor, but the scenery still was stunning. The freeway snaked alongside the Colorado River, passing through tunnels and at points the road separated into two different elevations. The mega rock walls of the gorge showed cross sections, sometimes horizontal and other times at angles that hinted of huge past geological movements. Arrived at the Airbnb, ate a forgettable meal of supermarket friend chicken and salad, and wrote this.

Day 32 More Photos

Last night I settled into the virtually empty alpine condo when my host, a black girl / local bus driver arrived home, said hello, goodnight, and mentioned she had to wake at 5.30am for work tomorrow. Pretty good nights sleep on a queen sized Walmart deluxe air mattress. So this morning was Sunday and I needed a church. Google maps showed the Sonlight Foursquare Church about 15 mins down the freeway, and I was there within 11 minutes. The town of Glenwood looked pretty Caucasian, and the church looked pretty unassuming. On walking into the lobby a lady stood at what looked like a bar, but described it as a coffee dispensary. Shook hands with many random middle aged faces one after another exchanging my story of travelling the SW USA. There was even another Jeremy a little bit younger with a semi lumberjack beard. Once everyone had organised their stimulant shot, divided into two tables, Sunday school was ready to start. Today’s theme was desires. Today a large Santa Klaus lookalike with dark upper moustache started us off with his desire to ask a subordinate at the meat processing plant why they hell they made that mistake. He countered with the knowledge of waiting 5 seconds before saying something will avoid a lot of headaches. Clockwise to his left was another middle-aged truck driver who had learnt to have enough empathy to understand subordinates don’t always know the checking protocol. Now it was the pastor’s wife next to me who was able to keep in check her desire to tell everyone she knows about the wonders of Jesus Christ. She understands that other people don’t always know the love of God, and it isn’t her responsibility to make sure they do. Now and then I dropped in a few appropriate things I had heard or read that dovetailed in well. Towards the end one older man with poor hearing acknowledged that he needed to get his personal affairs in order before he criticised other people. There were some other testimonies and during this hour long conversation back and forth there seemed to be a lot of reflection, journaling and honesty. After reading the 101 of psychology and hearing about some current trends in treatment in mental health, I noticed many psychological tools were used in todays Sunday school. It is far fetched to swallow the supernatural events written in the bible, but the social rituals within this church seemed to provide a safe inviting place where people can work through their problems. People pay good money for this therapy. A few strong handshakes later I walked out, as the music was about to begin. Peeled off south of the main freeway and down towards Aspen. The red dirt on the valley walls seemed to contrast strongly against the glowing white dusted mountains in the distance. Aspen looked like a well-off alpine town with frisky dogs sniffing each other’s bum in meeting at the local dog park. Headed back up the freeway. A wrong turn and redirections from a couple with a young baby later I had arrived at the Woody Creek tavern. It was an uneventful vege-burger and fries, with photos and posters referencing Hunter S Thompson on the walls of the tavern. This small place situated next to a RV park was one of Hunter’s past haunts. All right now, onto continue my pilgrimage to Owl Farm a few miles down the road. Out front were two iron owl effigies on tall posts. The place was quiet and the surrounding valley was cooling down and wet from todays rain. Bucket list item completed – check. Back up to join the main east west freeway with solid heavy rain on the road. Once back up to 75 mph the landscape continued to change as the land drifted slowly downhill. The freeway would split and enter tunnels just like yesterday, but now the Colorado River grew deeper, wider and muddied. Looking down from above it would look like two snakes winding around each other in a mating ritual. On the horizon the large flat top mountains of Grand Junction came into view for the second time. On the way to next 420 friendly Airbnb I stopped by the local Mexican bakery, picking up some rad breaded sweets. This time I was staying on the other side of the tracks compared last weekends Airbnb. Jeffery walked out as I parked the Cadillac limo in front of a simple cheap house and cheaper neighbourhood. This area seemed to have a car wreck in the front yard every 5 houses. Once settled in we chatted while eating the Mexican bakery sweets. So Jeffery worked in the Air force in the past where he learnt his trade as an electrician. He casually dropped the fact he had been Norad. Soon into our chat he found it important to say he lost his teeth due to an autoimmune disease. He didn’t want to be thought of as a crack head. Jeffery had lived in Moab since 1988 and met the young guy that freed himself from a boulder by amputating his arm with a dull multi tool(see 127 hours movie). “Why would someone go rock climbing and not tell anyone”, he asked? He started his story about a recent middle aged Memphis lady and her son who stayed at his place. I had to interrupt to say that had met them in Denver a few days back - small world. The topic drifted to his love life, and he blushed a little when listing a few girls that were chasing him. He met them in the local Walmart. On a sour note he did separate from his wife recently, but worked himself up as he talked of improving on the house to make it really groovy. He asked about my mountain bike, and wasted little time showing me his handmade trike out back. This one has street-cred emblazoned on it. Tonight a patented strict sweet potato meal, matched by Jeffery with his own similar bachelor meal. Early night and tomorrow Moab.
Qipupt :

Day 33 More Photos

A glorious soft queen sized bed and the sound of rain overnight keep me sleeping well into the morning. A quick breakfast and then off to Walmart for some more supplies. Back on the road in thick rain that continued through to Utah. The flat mountaintops receded behind me and the smaller mesas took over the landscape. Jeff gave me directions to get off at Cisco and head south. He mentioned it was a ghost town, and it looked pretty desolate and empty to me. Onward and over undulating small hills in the road towards Moab. The horizon looked empty and void of anything interesting, just small bushes and telegraph wires. Eventually the road re-joined the Colorado River and grass fields and horses could be seen. The river brings life to the desert. I stopped off to look at a historic bridge standing in the rain. As the road continued further along the valley the walls grew taller, slowly taking the well known form that Moab is known for. The only details that seemed out of place were the cold rain and low cloud cover. Rain seemed incongruent to what was infamous with Moab - Dessert. The clouds appeared lighter and the rain ceased falling the further I drove down the Colorado River towards town. Campsites, caravans and RVs started to pop up beside the river. Red stone patterns could be easily seen on towering walls. Buildings and promises of adventure on large billboards sprung up beside the road, and soon I was in central Moab. Bike shops, motels and restaurants competed for my attention, but I was headed south to a hostel Jeff had recommended. Apparently he had done work installing the electrical part of the buildings there. Oh look, this quaint place is right next to Carrolls storage and Lincare home oxygen and respiratory services. The hostel was cheap, and …… well cheap. The office was under the two-story house, and a bearded fellow name Chris was busy charging a credit card to another guest over the phone, while another guest was waiting to be checked in. I have noticed that beards tend to hide important facial emotional details, and Chris seemed to have his locked up. He was pleasant enough considering he would go through the same questions with guests’ ad nauseam every workday. All right a bed booked for the next six days and it was time to check out the town. It sounded like a good idea to walk in but there was no footpath this far out of town, so I walked along side the four-lane highway for a while before heading down some quieter roads. Stopped off at a thrift store and found it stripped of the good stuff. Found a restaurant named McStiffs, which reminded me of McLovin in the 2007 movie named Superbad. Did a lap up and down the main drag and ended up having dinner at place called the Moab Grill. The disinterested young Latino boy took my order of meatloaf, smashed potato and a green pepper. The leather booths were nice and the meal was hearty. I watched as a motorcyclist zigzagged through traffic without a helmet, and kitted out nitro jeeps drove by. Next door I grabbed a soft serve cone and started the walk home. By this time the clouds had just about disappeared and the full glory of the landscape could be seen. I didn’t realise the snow capped mountains with a cape of clouds were so close. It seemed out of place to see something so majestic in the same vista as this red rock valley. Back at the hostel I farted around at home getting the bike ready for tomorrow. I got chatting to a Belgian guy that had the deliberate rhythm of speech just like Arnold Schwarzenegger. He stated he had started his trip on an off-road motorcycle in Alaska and was riding it all the way down to Argentina. There was an off road race in Zion national park this weekend but he was stuck here for a time. The problem that kept him here was a rear tyre, which had been squared off by long straight roads leaving the canvas on show. Will the new tyre be delivered in time for him to make it to Zion national park? Quiet night tonight and the famous Slick rock trail tomorrow.
16-8-15-20-15-19 :

Day 34 More Photos

A small room with six people sleeping on bunks, with the temperature turned way up. I started at a disadvantage with a stiff neck, and the swaying of the top bunk with everybody position of the person below was challenging. Half way through the night I swapped to a empty bottom bunk and eventually found some sleep. The topic at the breakfast table was naturally…. mountain bikes. A younger guy named Johnnie was here with work taking photos of people doing action sports. He was focusing on dirt bag sporting travellers. He reflected on how he used to ride a fixed wheel mountain bike, using skills to back pedal over obstacles – Respect. Dom the Belgian motorcycle rider from last night got to the table late. Once the others had left, Dom and I discussed gun culture in the USA, including the time a hunter let him stay at his lodge and fire his hand gun. We both agreed that we both missed our veges, since in the USA you could think of veges as a luxury. To my surprise he was also travelling here to find out for himself if the stereotype of the typical American was accurate. He has another day here in Moab so we planned a ride tomorrow somewhere with the help of a shuttle. Now, breakfast was done and slick rock awaits. On the way out of the hostel grounds I noticed a sign reading – “No loose dogs allowed”. I think most dogs have loose sexual morals. A short 10 minute drive up and behind Moab and five dollars admission later I was in the parking lot ready to go. As with Gooseberry Mesa the sandstone allowed for stupid levels of traction. It started out with reasonable climbs up and around natural rock formations, but dropped down some steep hills and over wet sand. Hells revenge 4x4 trail crosses slick rock MTB trail in places, so I stopped and watched as large vehicles dipped and chirped their way over some chunky rocky obstacles. Back on the trail I stopped and offered to take a photo for a 50 something Canadian and his immaculate MTB. After a few stops and passes we got chatting and I found at age 40 he had moved from being a tobacco farmer to working with robotics in Toyota. He has arrived earlier this week and said how red the Colorado River was after the heavy rains and thunderstorm on Saturday. He mentioned he also had stopped at Salida on a Sunday and checked out the Catholic Church. We sat overlooking the Colorado River and road from the very edge of the massive cliffs. Other than the epic views, I passed a group of Indian riders with a Bluetooth speaker rocking out some poppy Hindi tunes. So back to the hostel and checked into the single room, being the only night I had some privacy. Out front a Scottish fellow was working on his Jones rigid titanium hard tail. An hour later and we were exploring a nearby trail named Pipeline alongside the tall walls lining the town of Moab. Initially we went against the recommended direction of traffic but turned around and bombed down it. It was a technical mix of rocks, rolls offs and narrow goat passes. After a while I think I reached a state of flow, without thinking or feeling, but just being. Back to the hostel for the strict sweet potato meal, and a conversation with Dom drinking a local IPA beer. Eventually discussion of like appreciation of Joris Voorn (Dutch DJ), led to me getting the Bluetooth speaker from my room and collecting my Scottish friend. For an hour or two before the quiet time of 10pm we chatted over topics of gun control and other American-centric topics, while the Blood Hound Gang’s song, “A Lap Dance Is So Much Better When The Stripper Is Crying” played in the background. After the small chill out session was over, it was a quick game of how long can I extract toothpaste from and empty tube before there is none left. From there it was off to sleep in a private room that has a particular smell of mixed dampness and cat piss. BTW there are four cats that live around the hostel.
Aberrations here :

Day 35 More Photos

The smell of cat piss dissipated last night as I fell into a heavy motionless slumber, catching up on the sleep debt I had accrued. Breakfast again over cereal and mountain bike talk. I recalled from last night Johnnie had suggested that there are more mass killings now compared to the past for the following reason. In the past a serial killer could move around the states killing with poor communication between states authorities. Now with social media and a tightly integrated communication system some people may choose to do their entire killing at once since they would be found out if done one at a time. It was an interesting theory that I hadn’t considered before. A spare pair of shorts and hiking shoes was made of use by Dom, before heading down to the local bike shop. A Scott genius trail bike of some model with plus tyres and dropper post was selected, and then we headed to the Moab Brand trails. At first I didn’t think I could fit two bikes in the back of the Caddy but I was wrong. It was only Wednesday and they were in the process of erecting a huge white main tent for this weekend’s Outerbike festival in the trailhead car park. I skipped the backpack and put on my fanny pack for this closely wound set of trails. The starting trail was wide and sandy with some rocks put in to make it interesting. At the next intersection I thought the Deadmans trail sounded good, but quickly found it was a black diamond rated trail. The tight zigzagging trail climbed a complex journey up and over a reasonable hill. Eventually we took the option of heading back to the car park via a bitumen pathway to eat chocolate and pretzels. While catching up on some calories a bearded guy from Sydney asked if he could borrow my Wal-Mart air pump, bringing it back shortly after. Apparently he was here at Moab for a day after attending a mate’s wedding with plans to fly out of Denver tomorrow. Back on the trail and we chose the Circle O trail, which ended up being a bit of a mini Slick Rock. The undulations were subtler, the rock was grey, and a rusty fading line told us where the trail was headed. Dom complained the trail was giving him a sore arse, so we headed back and joined up with the North 40 trail. This had more of the red dirt with enough rocks on the trail and interesting rock formations on the side of the trail to keep it fun. Towards the end we had willing spirit and exhausted body. Back in the car heading back to town with more pretzels and chocolate. Dropped the rental bike off, and watched as they shredded the credit card paper copy with a device that had a bike crank and clipless pedal attached – how twisted and cool. Another stop for Dom to pick up his rear motorcycle tyre from the local UPS store, and then onto dunch (between lunch and dinner). The place was called Milts stop and eat, which had been recommended by Jeff from Grand Junction. There was a half decent line up of German tourists to the small window booth where I ordered a buffalo burger, salad, root beer, and chilli chips. The chilli chips seemed to be a variation of a Halal Snack Pack (HSP) but with beans. Back to the hostel to clean and maintain my bike, while Dom wrestled to replace his rear tyre. A bag of clothes in the washing machine and the chilled afternoon of sunshine chillaxing. A younger fellow bunkmate from Serbia named Ivan and I got talking. In broken English he talked about how dangerous things are in the USA and how corrupt things are back home. Tomorrow I had planned checking out a swimming hole and he said he was interested in coming along. I write this as I finish an apple. Tonight is back in the shared dorms, with a backup plan of the air mattress in the lounge room, if events repeat. Tomorrow the full enchilada to tick off my bucket list of trails. Frontispiece :

Day 36 More Photos

Last night Dom and I stayed up talking over cup noodles which lasted to late into the night. He will be off heading towards South America tomorrow so our bromance will have come to its end. A pretty decent nights sleep, and a sleep in before breakfast. I had packed last night and was all ready to board the shuttle van in town at 1030am. The destination was Mt Waas and apart from a quick back and forth with a guy that had done it many times the trip was silent. I did have to laugh when I went to put my seatbelt on, finding it zip tied so it wouldn’t flap around. OH&S would love this setup. The drop-off point was at 10,000 feet in the cool thin alpine air with another 1,400 feet up to Burro Pass. The plan was to wait for a Spanish lady and her boyfriend to arrive on another shuttle and then go down all together, but that didn’t eventuate. So along with about four shuttles worth of riders we all made our way up to Burro Pass. Before the trail turned into a steep slog-fest, I stopped to say hello to a lone cow. Some riders had great intentions but the thin air pulled them back short. Walking seemed better than riding at this stage, as you could look around and notice the rubble from past rock slides. Huffing and puffing, step after step I wondered what you called a collective of mountain bikers pushing their bikes up a hill: An agony of riders? At the top most people rested, and I sat down to eat a PNBJ sandwich and run my hands through the residual snow on the ground. Rested and fuelled up it was time to head downhill. Today I had gone against the suggested fashion dressing in my full body armour storm trooper outfit. At the gnarly steep initial trail other riders pulled to the side, to let me ride past trying my best to stay upright. There were a few creek crossings and I played it safe and chose to walk it. The difficulty of the trailed mellowed and provided some beautiful yellow aspen trees as the furniture of this chilled ecosystem. If you were to stop and look up at the tiny yellow aspen leaves moving in the wind, it would look like glitter. The trail moved along nicely until I hit Hazard County trail. I found myself catching/passing other riders, but started to get a bit too cocksure. One pedal strike and I was falling into a bush. To my luck it was a mini sprained left foot and some red marks. Back onto the trail but I dialled it back a bit. The altitude was dropping and the temperature was starting to rise to match the surroundings. It was no longer cool and moist, but rocky and warm. Soon the trail met the cliffs of the Mesa so I supped while looking out over the Moab rock formations below. This was definitely not the place to piss over the edge of the cliff. Back on the bike and another change of scenery with technical rocks with random and abrupt drop offs. At first I chose to walk the drops but my confidence grew allowing me to “be at one” with the rocks. UPS trail emptied out onto the Porcupine Rim trail, which they named due to the almost triangular shaped rocks that begged to throw you over the bars. The aim was to unweight the front wheel to roll over the rocks, rather than eat shit. There was no turning back once you entered Porcupine Rim trail. I had full body amour on and the payment was overheating and going through my water supply too quickly. The terrain continued like this with short periods of respite in the form of sand. My bike and I lost count of how many jarring hits we sustained. There was an ongoing relay of riders stopping by the trailside, who would eventually pass me as I rested. Eventually I was getting closer to joining up with the Colorado River at the bottom of the gorge. At one stage the rocky trail was open to gusts of wind, which threatened to blow the lower part of my bike to the side. Time to walk this one. A crow made the most of the strong winds and glided still in one place for some time. I passed one guy asking if anyone had seen a dropped GoPro. A few riders rode past giving me the count down in kilometres until the end of the trail. I was starting to get a bit delirious. At one stage I started walking down a gully following the cool moist air, but was redirected back onto the trail by some other riders. The dehydration and potential heatstroke added to my growing headache. Towards the very end I met up with a 24 year old named Calib who engaged me in conversation. I had to apologise that I couldn’t keep the conversation up due to a growing headache. Luckily he pointed out a natural spring one mile ahead. The distance trickled by very slowly but eventually we made it to a turn out on the main road. I scrambled to collect some cool water pouring from the hole in the rock, which we stood drinking for about fifteen minutes. So Calib works in Alaska on the oil fields in telecommunications for three weeks and then has three weeks off. During this time he has a truck in the lower states that he lives in traveling around doing fun shit. He mentioned an upcoming holiday to Bali, which he will be going along by himself. Different experiences and interactions come about when you are by yourself. Half way into town on the main road I had to say goodbye to him and sit on the curb in order to cool down and rest. After thirty minutes or so I made it back to the car, drank as much water as I could handle, and stopped by Pizza Hut for some forgettable dinner. On the way home the registrations for Outerbike were open, so pizza in hand I signed in, got my wristband and swag then headed home. Pizza to eat and ice on my foot while chatting to the couple I was supposed to be riding with today. We watched as Zac drank the juice from the pickle jar stating it was full of electrolytes. It was too late to go swimming but Ivan was cool with that. If that was the full Enchilada, I had spent about six hours getting through about fifty-five kms of the most diverse collection of trails that I had been on in a single day. I write this as I eat the rest of the grapes. An early night and matching morning to be ready for Outerbike.
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Last night I sat with Ivan eating grapes at the dining table. Unfortunately he suffers from reflux so declined the offer of fruit. Tomorrow he says he will start working at Denny’s diner for $2.00 and hour plus tips. He seems positive with the potential to improve on his communication skills. Maybe tomorrow I will suggest he add some pause, rhythm and intonation to his speech. Ivan and I had the bunkroom to ourselves last night. Earplugs can be problematic, as when you fart and don’t hear it, did it really happen? So this morning I was up early as the gentle glow of the sun was starting to wash over the canyon walls. I could see the moon still half asleep peeking barely above the rocks. Uber omelette with a side of oatmeal at the Pancake Haus, then 15 minutes drive out of town to where Outerbike is located. Even as I arrived there was a line forming at the front gate. I joined the back of the line and got talking to a girl from Salt Lake City, previously from Seattle. Her friend joined us and that’s when I discovered they both worked as pharmacists. Topics of conversation included universal basic income and politics. Nine o’clock arrived, the gates were opened and a torrent of people rushed to get to their favourite bike manufactures tent, just like a Le Mans race start. I had a list of bikes I wanted to check out and went to the shortest line at Marin bikes. The Wolf Ridge was a new 29 inch wheel bike with a futuristic shock. The bike mechanic sized it, adjusted it and then I was out of there on the first shuttle bus to the Navajo trails nearby. Just like a school excursion for a group of 14 year olds, the bus was buzzing with excitement to try out the new toys. We arrived at the parking lot and people scurried off in different directions hoping to put their bikes through some challenges. The trail was rocky and mellow. During the ride I met up with a 50 something criminal law attorney from Michigan named Mike. To my surprise he had the same bike as myself and we conferred as we rode. Back on the bus we got chatting about his 100 year old mother, Trump, and the availability of guns. He had never fired a gun, and also got frustrated when innocent people got caught up in the legal system. Back to the main tent at Outerbike, for a Mexican themed lunch. There was an empty space at a table with two plates of food opposite, which was quickly filled by two younger women. They seemed keen and excited about riding, both worked in an adventure camp company and one worked as an EMT in Vail. Back on the hunt for the post lunch demo ride. A small company called Spot bikes from Golden (Colorado) had a bike named the Mayhem, boasting a piece of carbon on the rear suspension that gave it torsional strength. Measured, adjusted and then I was out of there to the nearby short loops. The bike rode like the energy held and released in the achilles tendon, AKA bat out of hell. Being a race themed ride, it did give me a sore arse. Once it was returned, I walked around until I came to the Canyon bikes tent, at which the mechanic suggested I checkout the extra large sizing of the bike boys’ bike. The Canyon Strive had 170mm of travel out front and a device that allowed the geometry to be slackened on the fly. I was cynical that something with so much travel could be ridden on normal trails. It didn’t have the snappiness and speed of the last bike, but it was comfortable and did what I asked of it. By this time the mechanics were starting to clean up for the day. Lines were forming in equal lengths, bookings for tomorrows demo rides, as well as the line for free beer. I had been riding for too many days in a row, and the exposure to sun had got to me. On the way home I stopped by the local swimming hole cum creek, arriving as a jeep was clawing its way up an impossible hill, onlookers yelling instructions. The nook of isolation next to the bubbling creek on the sand was the ideal place for a nanna nap, which I then attended to. After a short unknown amount of time I awoke, to see the top of the tree I was laying under waving its leaves in the last delivery of sunshine. The shadows on the canyon walls were growing longer and it was cooling down. I write this as I eat supermarket bought veges and dip, in the comfort on the hostel couch.
Illustrations -

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Last night I got to chat with Virginia, the Spanish lady. She talked about being sick of living surrounded by temporary Ikea furniture her New York flat, where she had a successful job. She has found it empty and wanted something more meaningful. At bedtime an old man arrived and was allocated the top bunk above me. In order to keep myself sane and get some sleep I setup the air mattress in the lounge room, and slept well. My plan was to sleep in, but that didn’t eventuate. Up, breakfast and Outerbike day two. I arrived just as the gates opened and another flood of people streamed into the festival. I looked funny as I dashed in as the last of the crowd entered, but it did bag me the last XL Mondraker Dune RR mountain bike. Bike on the trailer and I had snagged the early shuttle bus. Outside I watched on as a slightly smaller version of Dwayne Johnson (aka the rock) with matching tribal tattoos, threw his water bottle violently at the ground before circling round to load his bike onto the next shuttle. Roid Rage? It was then I realised the brakes on the bike were setup American/European, the opposite of how we have them in Australia. Swearing, I got off and took it back to be swapped over. When I arrived back there was a half an hour wait until the next run of shuttles. The nearby riders talked shop, but a pair from Maryland seemed to be entertaining. At times I thought they really knew what they were talking about, and at other times I doubted them. Eventually we boarded the bus and a group of young children in stack hats farewelled us by throwing dirt at the bus as we passed. The conversions in the back of the bus were excited, but you could also smell a dash of anxiety. The area we were to ride back from today was Mag 7 (aka Magnificent 7). The trail was a mix of rock and fast flowing single track, making my Mondraker feel like a plough that begged me to push it harder. On the negative it didn’t like to wheelie up over rocks. I passed groups of people, and groups of people passed me until we reached an intersection with many puzzled faces. A group of people headed left leaving me to decipher the map, and eventually turn right. The path I took led to a tent setup with electrolyte rich fluid and Cliff energy bars. At this time an older man with deep lines of his face and a ponytail, introduced himself as Vince from Montana. His daughter was there with an ornate tattoo on her arm, and soon I discovered she was a nurse in the state run burns unit at Salt Lake City. He mentioned the he could feel the Holy Spirit in the burns unit, and we talked books and religion. Eventually it was time to head back along a sandy road that gained elevation until rocky firm ground took its place. Along the dirt road there was a regular stream of traffic including jeeps, dune buggies and dirt bikes. The jeeps overtook us on the way up, but we bombed past them as they slowly negotiated their way down 3D rocky drops. Back at the lunch tent for some decent food, and a chat with another Stephen Merchant lookalike. He had a wife and three kids back east and was really getting into the atmosphere here. I left him at the Spot bike tent, leaving me to test ride a Proudfoot steel dual suspension mountain bike next door. Parts of a normal frame had been repurposed for things such as the bottom bracket. It rode softer than other bikes, but I wasn’t sold. Back for another ride at the Orbea tent for a monster of a bike called the Rallion. This fellow looked like a “roided-up” body builder, but had a reasonable weight with so much stiffness it would be at home in any mountain bike race. The day was winding down so I jumped in line at the Yeti tent to book my bike tomorrow morning. We waited about 45 minutes but it will save me time in the morning. Afterwards I passed a familiar face, which turned out to be Youtube sensation Seth from Seth’s bike hacks. He had brought his dog along and asked if I wanted a photo. His wife snapped off a photo or two and in a quick conversation mentioned since his escalating notoriety people had started to show up at his house. Next was the shrinking line for free beer. After grabbing a cup of ale, I wandered around until I found the two younger women I talked to yesterday. The topics were light, but I managed to discuss how wide the carbon frame on the Orbea was, and how it was way too stiff. They headed home so I sat down with some guys I met yesterday. They may come to the party tonight, but were due to drive home to Salt Lake City tomorrow. Headed home through peak hour traffic in the tourist town of Moab and then had a beer with old man Vic. He has worked in real estate most of his life, has an ex-wife and three daughters. I was able to add his suggestion of visiting the Bradbury Science Museum in New Mexico, which details the construction of the first atomic bomb. I write this as I drink my seond local IPA beer. There is a party tonight, but the logistics and energy levels as questionable. Will I go?
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Last night after talking to Vic, I decided to head into town to Woody’s Tavern for the official Outerbike party. So there is no public transport in Moab, no Uber or Lyft cars available, so the choice was to roll into town on my own bike. On the outside of the Tavern they had a rail setup to allow bikes to be secured. The middle-aged door bitch stopped me to ask for my ID before I paid the $5 entry fee (they are a bit draconian with drinking in Utah). Once inside little Bose speakers were rattling to pieces on the walls, pumping out some current rock/pop hit. Some wood panelling could be seen here and there. Around the pool table I could see the Canyon bikes team from earlier today. After buying a drink I made my way to a table near the dance floor, and noted the healthy mix of flannel in the crowd. A few minutes later the band that had been setting up started playing some blues and rock covers, with a bright tie-dyed sheet hung up behind them. This music incited a middle aged ‘Kath’ with shiny jeans to get up and have a boogie, followed by some other girls. It clicked with me that shiny clothing shows shape better than a matt colour. A younger girl led her boyfriend onto the dance floor hoping to have a boogie, but he seemed more interested in ensuring no other guys would take advantage of her. Statistically most mountain bikers are white and male, so there was one older balder man eying off the talent as he swayed slightly with beer in hand. It was a bit of a sausage fest but it didn’t seem to cause any problems. To the side the body language of a couple of men suggested they didn’t know if the girls they were talking to were receptive or not. In this very loud setting all the talking is done with body language. Between songs the girl lead singer wearing a scout top, starting asking why the president was such a bully? Off home early on my bike with a 7-11 branded Cornetto in hand. On arriving home I said a quick hello to the guarded guy on the couch watching UFC videos on his phone. Eventually it was time for bed and he went to the bunkroom, while I setup the air mattress in the lounge room. Just as everyone had settled for the night Ivan and a fellow Balkan mate rolled up, flicked on the room light and started moving things out. From the lounge room I could see the weedy new guy get up and swear at them for ‘fucking’ waking everyone up. After a bit of to and fro the Serbian fellows left with all their belongings, possibly destined for better accommodation. A mini sleep in, packing everything into the car and off to Outerbike. The line at Yeti was small and my friend Mike from day one was there to chat with. With both of us on Yetis it was off to the expert trails via the shuttle bus. The bikes were unloaded and everyone headed up the hill along the dirt road. Mike had an idea on where to head so we bypassed the ant line of riders heading off the road and continued on. Huge “middle earth” type red walls lined this canyon. It was right out of the Road Runner cartoon. The road dropped deeper in the canyon and climbed again, passing the usual traffic and some big arse trucks with caravans in tow. The huge walls blocked the GPS and phone signals, but eventually a family of hikers told us we had gone too far. Mike was a bit hung-up we had wasted the time but agreed the time lost was a sunken cost, so we backtracked. It was getting hotter, it was day 3 to 4 of riding for us and we didn’t have the heart or the energy to hit the well-known Captain Ahab trail. The Yeti SB55 handled like a honed weapon and put smile on my face. There was a bit of chunky technical uphill and downhill, but we arrived back at the bus in time to load up and roll out in exhausted silence. Back at Outerbike we shared a hearty lunch and headed out on our last bikes for the day. Mike had another smaller travel Yeti SB45 and I an Evil Wreckoning being another huge beast. Mike had grand plans for trails to ride but later discovered in his words, his eyes were bigger than his stomach. A quick downhill section, paved road and were back in time to catch the stalls packing up and leaving. Mike invited me back to meet his friends at the Transition bike tent over a beer, who were also based in Bellingham just over the border near Vancouver. Looks like I have a place to visit for the next trip to Whistler. A slow three-hour drive to Durango Colorado trying to squeeze the last of my energy and attention from an empty tank. Infamous red rocks were replaced with sun burnt grassy fields and rising roads. Snow-capped ranges out the front windscreen with silhouetted ranges in brilliant shades of peach in the rear view mirror. Tonight’s Airbnb is near a small airport shrouded in darkness. I write this eating green grapes and fighting to keep my eyes open.
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A great nights sleep in a spacious Airbnb last night, without the farting and snoring ambiance of the hostel. After about 5-6 days of riding everyday I was a little sore. I even had a grazes on my bum cheeks, which should heal in a day or two. Up, quick breakfast and then out of there. One hundred meters down the road on a patch of grass I spied my first pro Trump sign, making for a great photo opportunity. So the landscape was shaded in darkness last night but this morning it was more of the rocky hills. Pulling into a gas station to fill up, a staff member smoking out front noted how cold it had turned so quickly. I agreed and started pumping my gas. An annoying voice spurted out advertising babble from a small speaker beside the pump. I was now officially in New Mexico (NM) and decided to stop off at a hardware store to buy some double-sided tape in order to position my phone on the dash. Out front was parked a 2003 Suzuki GSXR750 motorcycle with skull and bone decals all over it. Inside the shop a younger guy in leathers noted my accent and struck up a conversation. I mentioned I had a 2004 version of his bike, and he talked about how pimped his bike was and how most of the corners here were left handed so his tyres wear out quicker on that side. Back on the road I started driving south, deep into Apache territory. My attention span and eyelids was waning so I stopped in at a gas station up ahead for some stimulants. Beside the gas station was a large separate building that had a sort of tribal style to it. Inside to the left of the entrance was located the casino. Inside the loud garish noise and lights of the familiar pokies machines pinged and plopped away. A well-run crew of indigenous staff and security watched on as indigenous locals in cowboy hats feed notes into the machines. At random I sat down and fed a dollar note into a pokie machine, pressed the buttons and….. no win. With all my gambling done I popped out and collected a cherry coke. The girl at the counter mentioned the other building used to be the old casino but was now an entertainment venue that could be booked for events. The following drive to Los Alamos involved some interesting landscapes of the exposed history of layered rock. On the side of the road a police pickup truck with a mountain bike strapped to the back had pulled over a car for speeding. In Los Alamos there is the Bradbury Science Museum, which has some information on the history of the Manhattan project. A short fifteen-minute video played for us, ensuring it was known the nuclear weapons are being used as a deterrent for any future world wars. There was even footage of Kim Jong-un for a few seconds. Back on the road to Taos high up in the mountains, known for it’s skiing. Dinner at a cheap and cheerful Mexican restaurant that was pretty decent, and then off to tonight’s Airbnb. The wind is picking up, the radio warned of snow and ice tonight, and on cue it starts snowing. As I pulled up to the house a tall girl with short pixie hair welcomed me in, then showed me around the upstairs room. I packed away some things in the fridge and the child of the earth and I start chatting. She talked about the list of events that brought her to this place, and how every event can be seen as an opportunity – how Zen. Tonight I write this as I eat some more grapes, sitting by a wood fire. It’s a pity I missed the chance to take a photo of the swirling snow laden winds whipping around the nearby visible mountain ranges. Maybe tomorrow?
Requiem :

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An old nights sleep on a creaky hard bed. Frozen ice on the car windows made for some trippy visual patterns. Out on the road with blue skies and clear views of the snow-obscured mountains from last night. The road headed downhill and eventually met up with the Rio Grande as a small trickle beside the road. Back through the suburb of the have-nots, and then onto the freeway all the way down to Albuquerque. The first stop today was Saul Goodman’s office in Breaking Bad. There was no inflatable statue of liberty on the roof, but instead a sports bar. Next was Walt and Skyler’s house, with workmen out front apparently erecting a fence to stop tourists like me from rubbernecking. Another car pulled up in the middle of the street, a man with visible breasts hidden in his shirt took some photos and then got back into the car with his wife. Third place was the infamous car wash. Nothing special here, but the local bizarre had some cool toys. Fourth place was a uniform business that was used to film the hidden meth lab. Nearby I sight a meth head that looks very similar to Coolio from Gangsters paradise video clip. More people with strange erratic body language down the street. For lunch I thought it was appropriate to hit up Los Pollos Hermands aka Twisters for some average fast food. The place was way out of town in an area heavy with Lantino car repair shops. I arrive at the restaurant with some Mariachi tunes playing on the radio. The same couple that was shadowing my photo locations arrived soon after myself and busied themselves with taking photos of the restaurant. I don’t know how or why but it soured my experience. Maybe it was a reflection of my own activities of today. After lunch it was off to stop by Jessie Pinkman’s house, in a nice well-kept neighbourhood. I hit up a goodwill store, but as expected found it picked clean. The best stuff seems to be in well off neighbourhoods. The sun was out and the air was cooling. Time to head towards tonight’s Airbnb. The afternoon was early so I messaged Ash on Airbnb, who said the place was open and replied that “my wife and I won’t be home until later”. Once I arrived at the place thirty minutes east of Albuquerque, I took the time to rearrange all the stuff in the car and attend to some repairs on the bike. I was sitting on the couch sewing up the heel inserts on my 5-10 mountain bike shoes when Ash and wife arrived home. My expectation was that there would be a manly shaking of hands with Ash and his wife, but instead two tatted up ladies with facial piercings greeted me. Their psychotic Chihuahua spat rabid little threats all over my legs, but their larger dog was boisterous and wanted to hug me. I write this as I consume a blue meth themed doughnut from rebel doughnuts. Tomorrow, El Paso.
Eye candy -

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A blissful nights sleep in a quiet bunker-like bedroom, with a poster of Deborah Harry looking down over me. On the way out I got talking to the tatted and pierced married couple. They shared their embarrassment of their current president, lack of constitutional rights, willing to sell everything and move to the Netherlands or Mexico. Their psychotic little Chihuahua attempted to chew off my ankles without a successful follow through. So today I was thinking of mixing it up for breakfast and checking out a drive through diner called Sonic. You can do the drive through thing or pull up to a board with menu and interactive touch screen, and the staff will bring it to you. For breakfast I chose a burger, onion rings and a strawberry cheesecake thick shake with cream and a cherry on top. To break my thinking down I took into consideration the following. The brain needs a necessary amount of fat to function; the meal includes some vegetables, protein; and the artificial cheery could be considered a fruit. With this in mind you could make it a stretch to think it was a balanced breakfast. With thick shake in hand, cruising down the freeway at 75 miles an hour my attention was stolen by a series of consecutive billboards daring me to take the next exit for the fireworks shop - challenge accepted. I wandered around the shop full of mind-blowing variations of vision-blinding, limb-severing explosives. After taking a hand full up to the counter I ask the lady which one is the most popular. She walks me to one that functions just like artillery, and I add that to the collection. Back on the road driving along some dead straight dessert stretches, with the radio tuned to Rush Limbaugh going off on political tangents like our very own Derryn Hinch. Eventually I turn into the White sands national monument park, flash my national parks card and drive on in. The brown desert ground quickly changes to mounds of white beach like sand, heaped to the side of the road as if a snowplough had been through here recently. There is an 8km walk through the sand dunes, but I chose to do a short walk around. If you have seen one sand dune…. The white sand seems to have a glittery quality to it, which would be right at home in a kitty litter tray. In the distance I could hear a jet engine, maybe from the neighbouring missile test facility. Done with all the sand dunes, I turn back onto the road passing through a series of high tech cameras and inactive speed camera type flashing devices. More long straight roads with similar desert landscapes on the either side. On the skyline dormant mountain ranges appear in silent slumber, indifferent to the happenings in this wide dry valley. After traversing a pass in these mountain ranges the road leads down over the state line into Texas. The freeway is wide and flowing, rising up again to reveal the border town of El Paso below. My Airbnb tonight is in a fresh soulless addition east of town. As I get out of the car I am greeted by retired el viejo named Joao standing at his front door. We go inside, he shows me around the two story McMansion and we start chatting. He seems to gasp now and then as he tells me he served in the armed forces and spent some years in the El Paso sheriff’s office. I jumped a little when through the small cat door, a huge dog head froths as it snaps off a series of guttural vocal threats. Joao tells the dog off and laughs as he points out the last owner had a cat. I ask which place he would recommend having dinner, and he gives me some directions, and dangerous places to avoid in town. Peak hour traffic flows pretty well through the freeways and byways of El Paso. Soon I have pulled up at Rubik’s arcade and bar. The tall windows are tinted solid black and inside are located a cache of old school games. I get a little excited as I relive my childhood arcade playing days back at the local fish and chip shop. There is Double Dragon II, Golden Axe, Michael Jackson and lots more. Most games costs a quarter and soon I am out of coins. Back on the road, passing by the El Paso University, which is perched on the high side of town looking across the sister city of Juarez, with only a freeway separating them. Next stop is Carlo’s and Mickey’s Mexican Restaurant. The place is busy for a mid week meal. The food is good, the service is quick, and the margarita goes straight to my head. Arriving back at the Airbnb I congratulate Joao on his recommendation for dinner. Home, hosed and ready for bed.
Panoramas here :

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A warm night, but a good sleep. Opening the door to my room I could hear the thick heaving snores from downstairs, which I confirmed by sighting Joao laying half-dressed on the mattress in the lounge room. I considered having breakfast, but decided to skip it, as I didn’t want to wake the sleeping beast. Back on the road heading east from El Paso, when suddenly I was directed to stop at a checking station. The officer in light brown uniform asked for my passport and once confirming my entry date waved me on. The land became mainly flat, green/yellow and uninteresting, but soon started to rise with some rocky mountain outcrops. Beside the road large winged birds of prey rode the rising heated air in search of lunch. Eventually I turned into the road leading to Carlsbad Caverns, with well-organised areas of cacti and native plants that looked like a Mexican garden on the roadside. Tickets collected and a quick comedic spiel from a vertically challenged young ranger girl, we were ready to descend into the dark abyss. Carlsbad Caverns is well known for the mass exit of Brazilian bats from their daily place of sleep inside the caverns. I wasn’t going to be here for that this evening, but I was here to explore the caverns today. I passed through the small bat-viewing amphitheatre before starting the slow threading pathway down into the darkness. It takes about 45 minutes for our eyes to adjust to the darkness, and initially I had problems making out where the pathway led as I followed the switchbacks down, down, down. The cool air had a humidity content of 90%, so any lights shone through syrupy air. Once I had passed chattering couples and was alone there was perfect silence, with only the constant metronome of dripping water from the roof onto the cavern floor. The darkness was broken by dimly lit, strategically placed lighting along the pathway and against notable rock formations. Huge displaced rocks had made their home beside the pathway. After about 20 minutes of falling altitude stalactites and stalagmites started to dominate the surrounding cavern. Now I was standing in the main cavern with features named after the form the first explorers decided upon. To me some of the strange dripping rock deposits looked like one of HR Geiger’s savage Aliens. The abject silence was cleaved by small conversation or self-mutterings of other tourists in this subterranean cathedral. Some of the thin hanging features reminded me of a high school game, where you needed the right mix of sputum and saliva to spit onto the roof of the walkway in order to make it hang down and fix into position. Half way through my tour I sat down and spent some time looking at the weird and wonderful sculptures. The more you stared at a feature, the more the themes of your subconscious were projected onto them. My mind mused that this place looked just like Fraggle Rock. The trip up took much less time on the lift and soon I was shading my eyes from the New Mexico sun. On the road again traveling through more uninteresting and flat landscapes. Bit by bit the scene became littered with pump jacks. Next to them was iron chimneys burning off the pockets of natural gas found with the oil deposits. This was southeast New Mexico but it looked just what I thought Texas would look like. A little later I was in Texas and stopped off in Odessa to ride the local mountain bike park. Some of the tracks were underwater but I had a quick ride around, passing Peter Rabbit and all 40 of his cousins. On the way out I had a quick chat to an enthusiastic new rider moving on up from his Wal-Mart “Bike Shaped Object” to his first real MTB. Conversations of hunting and upgraded MTB parts could be heard in the parking lot. On the way east out of Odessa I sighted a pump jack in the backyard of an industrial area. Outside of Odessa I continued along, wide, straight four lane roads in seemingly slow progress. Single pump jacks quickly turned into silent cities of orderly spaced resigned clones. There also seemed to be a nauseous smell that hung around the pump jacks. The sun was falling along with the light, and I was tiring of driving, so pulled into a small town of Garden city. I made a phone call standing outside a small B&B called Vara Guest House, and soon after a friendly dark tanned Texan named Alex came out ready to show me the room. Inside the house I learnt it had started life as a 100 odd year old house over time being built onto and improved. Lining the side of the house was an RV park that Alex and his wife had expanded into. Apparently my accent was interesting and novel, and within a short time I was offered an IPA beer and entry into the communal game of Corn Hole. It is a bit like Quoits but with sand filled bags and a hole in a piece of wood. A set of large sized Chihuahuas heckled and barked as the sandbags were thrown. A few beers later I got talking to a Canadian/American Paramedic, and guy working in the procurement of real-estate for oil and gas. I learnt that the bad smell was Carbon disulphide (CS2), which can be deadly if at certain levels in close proximity. I write this as I finish off the last of my quality IPA beer. Representations here :

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A great nights sleep in a queen-sized bed. Up, packed and a quick chat with a young guy staying at the B&B over hunting coons and working in the local area. Back onto the wide, straight Texas roads again. Pump jacks started to thin out and cotton fields took their place. The landscape began to have a greater range of green shrubbery and decent sized trees. A passing truck carried one huge blade of a wind turbine, which seemed incongruent to all the oil transporting trucks here. The miles clicked over slowly, but at least I got to see many of the fauna of the local area. There were all types of road kill on the side of the road including, raccoon, skunk, chipmunk, and other unidentifiable furry objects. After an hour or two I needed to ‘spend a penny’, so stopped under a tree at the roadside, sighting empty beer cans and a chewing tobacco tin. There was only so many hours of listening to audiobooks on the car stereo before I needed a change, so flicked it on the local Christian radio station called “The Word”. The two presenters were debating God’s grace, and answering a listener question as to whether it is right to claim donations to church on tax. This past Sunday I was riding in Moab so skipped my church service day. Maybe listening to a bit of this will cover that day? I also noticed that the satellite radio has 235 different channels. Just then a huge billboard offering a $4000 reward for a missing dog flashed up in front of me. Oh look up ahead on the roadside, another furry lump of meat. Austin was the destination plugged into Google maps, and 888 Vietnamese was the name of the cheap eats restaurant in the southeast part of town. Once inside I was sat at a tablet next to a horizontally challenged fellow finishing off a tasty meal. After ordering I sat there listening to “all you need is love” Muzak style, playing on the overhead speakers. The food was fresh, tasty, cheap and cheerful. Now the journey to Katy was the last leg of the trip today. The spaghettification of multi-level freeway roads led me out east of Austin and then south. The city and suburbs dissolved behind me leaving lush grass lined country roadsides. Men in cowboy hats and cowboy boots mounted ride on lawnmowers engrossed in their weekly meditation. Just then I came to the realisation that I was heading the wrong direction, quickly corrected and sighed as I realised I had another two hours til Katy. Angsty Friday afternoon traffic zipped along the main arteries leading to Katy, eventually taking me to my friend Dee’s house. Dee had warned me she had some animals, but there was a whole library of personalities. Tonka the pit bull greeted my first by licking my legs and then busying himself in my crutch, while Bailey the basset hound loitered, and Crimson barked in confusion and extreme worry. Eventually they settled, and Dee, her hubby and myself headed out for Mexican. The restaurant was packed with families, kids and babies in mums’ arms. A mariachi band serenaded sections of the restaurant and the Margaritas went down well with authentic Mexican food. Afterwards we dropped by the supermarket and then back home. Not since being in Brisbane had I developed fogged up glasses after getting out the air-conditioned car into the thick Houston humidity. A few games of pool (American style rules) while listening to cheesy hits of the late 90s (see Spice Girls, Macarena), and then off to bed. I write this as I eat a red apple.
Abstractions here :

Day 45 More Photos

A grand sleep in until eleven this morning. Eating granola and milk sitting outside by the koi pond. The koi fish moved lazily in the shallow water, but grew anxious and agitated, moving into the dark depths of muck when my shadow passed over them. Eventually the koi settled and two dragonflies danced a complex choreography of flight over the pond. The larger one landed on a Lillie pad, gently placing eggs just underneath the water in the shadow of the pad. The other patrolled overhead in the local airspace. As I looked on with a spoon in my mouth, visions of creatures from Avatar with the brilliant blue colouring came to mind. Nearby a toppled blue egret statue laid motionless while a ninja squirrel jumped along the back fence. So much activity in such a small backyard. Later I found out a specific crane that had been displaced by the hurricane, had assumed this pond was going be providing sushi for it from now on. Eventually Dee got home and the household awoke in time for us to visit a local haunt for lunch called Jason’s Deli. I had resigned myself to knowledge that there was going to be an ongoing shortage of vegetables here on my trip, but was pleasantly surprised when I approached the “all you can eat” salad bar. There was real food, fresh food with minimal processed sauces. After a total of 4 visits to the salad and dessert bar I was done and then we all headed off to Costco. Sure we have Costco in Australia, but this must have been the supersized version. There was time to pose for a photo while looking at the supersized cured meat. A busy Saturday with an equal mix of healthy and morbidly unhealthy families visiting for this week’s supplies. From past observations of people leaving Costco, I was able to help out by placing the mega supply of toilet paper on the bottom shelf of the wide trolley. We considered getting tickets to the Renaissance Fair but put them back after consideration. As we packed the supplies into the car it sparked a memory of Brisbane’s weather. I forgot how the organic volatile compounds become activated in hot, humid weather. Every sensuous and un-sensuous smell is lifted up for your nose to appraise. You could put together an intricate blow-by-blow map of every major event that happened in that car. Later on the way to check out the closest goodwill store, I was passed by a black guy standing up on the seat of his sports bike doing a wheelie for at least half a kilometre. Welcome to Texas. Tonight I write this while drinking my second margarita. Noice one. Thingies to remember here :

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This morning I followed Dee driving her yellow Kia soul to her regular church. I could see Dee’s little hamster arm hanging out the window (see Kia Soul TV advert), as we passed six different churches on our short journey. We headed to the other building called “The Source” since the main building at ‘The Current Christian Church’ usually fills up quickly. The place smelled new and it had a “funky coffee cafe vibe” as some would put it. If the bar dispensed alcohol instead of coffee you would be in a nightclub. The music started with about five different people playing instruments. A younger boy playing the drums looked pretty chuffed as they jammed. The crowd looked heavily Caucasian. Eventually a live video feed from the pastor in the main building started on one of three huge projections. His sermon started quoting a study on the genetic rationale for doing good for others, but then quickly flipped over to the creationist perspective on the subject. The topic of today’s speech was on wanting to serve instead of sitting back and preaching platitudes. He adhered to the historic pronoun of he when addressing God, rather than she or it. Afterwards I hung out with Dee in the main atrium and eyed off the integration of technology from the hardware that can be used by visitors, as well as the strong use of social media. Dee stayed on at the church, but I had plans for lunch. Five minutes down the road I stopped off at Popeyes Louisiana style restaurant. The fried chicken was marginally better than KFC, but the buttermilk biscuits were pretty impressive. So here iz a callout to my homie Chris Jephcott. I be representin’ the south “arse end of the world”, Yo. What it is. What it is. After lunch the Good Will store was open for business. Instead of driving one hundred meters up the road, I made the decision to walk, which you don’t see many people doing here. Just past the goodwill store I thought I would drop into the mega bowling alley to use their restroom. Each bowling lane had a huge screen at the end on the alley, playing a mix of music videos or news reports. There were two different restaurants inside and a huge area for arcade games. One area was dedicated to educate kids, on how the system of inserting money and then redeeming the tickets to swap for cheap toys works. It reminded me of the pokies machines back home. So now it was time to hit up the good will stores. Flicking through the T-shirts I came across many memorable ones, but most did not fit me. See photos for the stunners. There were three different stores about thirty minutes drive between them on the west and southwest area of Houston. Driving between them it felt that Houston was comprised of franchise after franchise, a bit like outer suburbs of Brisbane. I did notice here and in the other states, there were numerous places that lent money from a shop front. It is a city of concrete and bitumen, but where there was exposed land, lush tall grasses grew in pandemic numbers. It hasn’t been very long since the flooding. Some areas further out had perfectly groomed lawns, parks and uniformly built housing. Most roads were well made and in good condition, but the one I followed on the way back home had consistency of quality similar to Robert Downey Jr’s film career. Thinking back to when I first started driving the Caddy in LA, there was not reference to speed cameras beside the road, or at intersections. After conferring with Dee I found that there are no speed cameras in Houston, due to them contributing to actions by drivers that actually increased accidents. That’s one big tick I can put on the column for the USA. A dinner of healthy chickpea curry and then a banana while I write this.
Views here :

Day 47 More Photos

Another superb sleep in with cooler weather that allowed my bedroom window to be left open. Breakfast by the koi pond with 3 heavy breathers at my feet wanting first dibs on my cereal. Inside I looked through the stand of TV shows and games, but moved on to the cabinet housing the Lego. There was batman, Dr Who and lots of other rad stuff – dust magnets. Dressed and cruising down the I10 freeway on our way to a place to walk. The first location was still closed after the flooding, but we found a nice little place to stroll. It was called the Terry Hershey hike and bike trail. I wonder if it is near the Hershey Highway? The waterways still looked a bit scarred from the recent flooding, but the surrounding neighbourhood looked ok. Along the way we stopped to pose at an isolated micro library of books. I am sure I have seen something similar since arriving in the USA. On the way back we stopped off at Best Buy, which looked pretty much like JB Hifi. Across the way we also stopped by the Christian shop. Inside they had books, crosses, bracelets and even the Bible edition of Scattergories board game – Score. Note the rad bible themed Lego in the background. Dee insisted I needed to check out Whataburger, which was like Hungry Jacks with some added jalapenos. Desert at Tutti Fruitti frozen yoghurt place which had some interesting flavours. Back home for a game of pool, a shower and shave. Now it was off to Salsa class about half an hour down the road at a place called the Exclusive Dance Club. The place had a large dance floor, but we were to use the side room. A young fit darkly tanned Venezuelan welcomed us and then got us up and moving. The group was small but included an older Chinese couple, a short Latino girl, a portly black guy, myself and a young couple that looked like they were going on their first date. We covered the basics and swapped partners, except the older Chinese couple who declined to do so. After working up a sweat and pushing the limits of my coordination we were done. I skipped the immediate signup for a reduced fee and stood outside the front door looking nearby for a place to eat. Soon the portly black guy came out and we started talking. Apparently his girlfriend (eleven years his senior) had dumped him last night, and he was looking for something to do to get his mind off it. He had a two-year-old toddler on set weekends and wondered if that contributed to the problem. We shared perspectives and I suggested he might not have time for another person in his life with a baby girl to look after. We shock hands and he suggested a place in town called Gloria’s that he will be at in a weeks time, that has salsa dancing every Friday night. I think I have almost mastered the system of roads they have in Houston. Since the public transport is so shitty, most people own at least one car, which requires a good flow of roads to manage the traffic. There are five lanes on each side of the freeway, with a lane that winds it way on and off to a three-lane slip road running parallel to it. In the very centre is one lane each side that is a tollway. At first it is awkward to use, but eventually it all clicks. I checked out 24 hour Walmart but it was too early to sight the freaks – another night. A burrito takeaway at Taco Cabana, to eat at home and then bed I write this as I eat a Klondike ice cream bar.
Pikz here :

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Yet another good nights sleep in. Today might be a good day to discuss the pets in this zoo. Crimson is a bitsa’ dog who was abused and kept in a cage for two years, and most likely starved. He isn’t well socialized and it took about three days before he warmed to me. At first he would consider me a threat and bark and growl when I entered the main living area or the front door. He still is very territorial about his food and will intensely protect it. He loves to play with his younger friend Tonka. Tonka is a pit bull that is a love machine on legs. For the first two days I don’t think his tail stopped moving when I was around. His idea of a greeting is to lick your legs, and force his nose into your crutch. He is also a rescue dog with bad back legs, due to being a practice target for other fighting dogs. His growl is deep, but his loving personality and wagging tail give it away. When he and Crimson play wrestle teeth are bared but they know the limits so not as to hurt each other. Bailey is an older beagle who is again a rescue dog. She came from a home where everything had its place. Her owner would confuse her by telling her off when she altered the perfect layout of the house. She was neurotic for about a year when she first came to Dee’s house but now is relaxed. She is slow to play and return from the backyard due to her overwhelming sense of smell. Lunar is a stray cat that ended up living here as Dee’s son Darius took a liking to her. She thinks she is a dog and will mingle with the other dogs. It is nothing to walk up to a stranger and greet them, dog style. Poppet is a rescue cat that is very skittish and reserved. With any new animals or persons in the house, she has been known to hide to at least a month. Sir Buttons is a strange rescue cat, who walks a fine line between pleasure and pain. He enjoys a pat but is quick to show you when to stop with is teeth and claws. Deloris is an Eclectus parrot that was passed down from Dee’s father in law, who has assumed Dee to be her soul mate. Anyone else has the danger of having their finger severed if they get too close. Her knowledge of phrases include, what are you doing, ouch, and I love you. She also likes to laugh. Those are all the animals not including the fish inside the house and out the backyard. Dee and I headed out to do some errands in Custard, the Kia Soul crossover vehicle. First to pick up a bike box for me to carry my bike home. Next it was off to Ross and Khole’s clothing shops for cheap, end of line clothing. I noticed a repeating cycle of styles of not too edgy clothing, until I came across a three piece suit that Dr Karl Kruszelnicki would be proud of. The colours and patterns alone would put a digital CMOS into a frenzy trying to focus on any one location. Alicia Eaton would salivate at the chaos of design. Dee convinced me to buy it, and she took home a purple unicorn onesie, officially for home wear. Lunch at Chipotle for healthy and fresh Mexican at Dee’s suggestion – yum. Across the road was a huge building dedicated just to Halloween items. As soon as we walked in the door we clocked the Trump, first lady, and Putin masks – scary shit. Check out the other photos for some twisted inspiration – respect. Later I headed out for a social MTB ride at the Hersey Park, where I had walked yesterday. There were only two others that turned up to ride, due to the recent damage from the flooding. Rob was a local who is happy to get back out and ride since the hurricane. The other was an fellow Aussie from Mildura, who lives alone in Houston as an engineer and travels home once a year, also due to pass through Japan next week for a pub crawl. We left while it was light, and returned with headlights blazing the dark bayou. You could see damage to the trails and rerouting of old trails. The track was a fun mellow cross country ride in the middle of a major city. We stopped half way through to talk about places to eat in Houston, as well as the functional roadway system. They also pointed out that Texas had diversified into other forms of power such as wind. Phillip complained that Melbourne traffic was a nightmare. Rob couldn’t put his finger on what was iconic about living Houston, other that working and relaxing in his backyard with his wife. Eventually Phillip headed home, and Rob left me where we started. Looks like a place to ride same time next week. I write this as I eat vegan friendly sushi.
Eyeballs here :

Day 49 More Photos

An early morning start and then we stopped off at Hertz hire car office to book for an extra few days on the Caddy, then we were headed onwards to the centre of Houston. Even though Google maps was up on the dash, we still managed to take a wrong turn. On the way back to the main road we sat agog looking at the billboard opposite the stop sign. The design, colours and even font aped that of “Better call Saul” TV show – much respect. After stopping for a happy snap we were back on the road heading to the first goodwill store. On the way Dee pointed out the hip way of purchasing a new car. You could see a building maybe eight floors high filled with cars on a internal lift, which you can select and buy then and there- freaky. We also stopped off at a heavily country themed gas station where you can get an honest Texas feed. After visiting the first store and a few good purchases later, we moved onto the second goodwill store in line. Fortunately it was 50 cents for every item today, but unfortunately it was closed today. For lunch I selected the International House of Pancakes (IHOP), for a chicken steak (see reconstituted chicken bits) and pancakes. The lady with a thick Latino accent asked us if we wanted a whole pot of coffee (which is customary), to which we declined. Dee mentioned that at another restaurant called Chili’s bar and grill you can hire an IPad for 99 cents to keep your children quiet – how 2017. Out back in the kitchen I could hear and see the staff horsing around, a bit like the movie “Waiting” (2005). Back on the road after a forgettable lunch, we were headed to the last goodwill store. A sassy black lady working there commented that she “should come shopping with me” as she pointed to my shirt with a sloth riding a hover board with the words “Slow your roll” written below. Near home Dee showed me a huge isolated mall that has planned to extend and add hotel rooms above the outlet stores below. As we walked in I heard the iconic Bubble Bobble 8 bit music playing from the game arcades opposite the entry- super rad. Inside they had the usual shops for clothing etc at a decent price. There was one place smelled like Casa Bonita since it had rain falling from the ceiling and a storm once every fifteen minutes. See the video for more awesomeness. On the way out we were walking behind an older couple holding hands together. Dee asked, “Are they holding hands because they are in love, or for balance”? Dinner of hummus and tabouli, washed down with two margaritas holding 3.5 standard drinks each. We did challenge ourselves to find the best worst song. I was able to counter the first song with Yoko Ono screaming in the middle of John Lennon and Chuck Berry’s jam, and later with some help I suggested Wing doing covers of Dancing Queen and Beat it (credits to Amos Hunt). Overwhelmingly Wing was the found to be the most atrocious.
Things to stare at :

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A lazy morning and then a trip out west from Houston, about one and a half hours journey, to a place called to a Rocky Hill Ranch. On the way there I tuned the radio to country western on the AM radio, and even found a French speaking country western channel. There was one song about falling in love with the waitress but not knowing her name. Smithsville was on the way so I stopped off to buy some doughnuts. In this good ole` Texas town I didn’t expect for a Vietnamese lady with a Bluetooth headset in her ear to serve me. Afterwards I spied beside the road using a whipper snipper an honest to goodness young Texan with his shirt off. That was the stereotype I was expecting. Five minutes down the road I had arrived at the ranch. There were instructions to fill out a waiver and put $10 into the wooden collection box. I did so and at this time an older couple in a maroon Toyota Camry stopped to empty the bins. I said G’day but got a grunt in return. Next to wooden box was a poster for this weekend’s mountain bike race. The trails on this private parcel of land were mostly cross-country with loose river stones in places, but overall fun. I had seen it before, but stopped to look at the new cloud being formed from multiple smaller clouds that were being pushed together from all directions. Returning from the ride I got talking to a young couple who had also been out on the trails. We talked about firearms and agreed that guns seem to be a problem in the greater sense, but not so much in day-to-day life. Before I arrived home, I stopped by the bike shop to pick up a cardboard box to ship my bike back in. It was so long that it hung out the boot like a coffin, but I managed to get it home. Dinner tonight was at the Rainforest café we had visited yesterday. This time the lights dimmed as rolling thunder was announced over the PA system. I caught up on eating flesh with a plate containing half a chicken and ribs. Desert was pretty impressive and with some help the dish was almost demolished. There was one shirt Dee pointed out that I paid for, but will wait until I get home to wear. I write this as a groan a little with a whole lot of meat in my gut.
Memorables here :

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This morning I thought I would walk to the nearest Hooters restaurant to get a feel for the neighbourhood along the way. Lots of tree ninjas running for the trees when I came near, and even some vultures hanging out on someone’s roof. Apparently you can’t have a fence at the front of your house. Halloween is coming up soon so many houses have spooky spider webs and pumpkins out front. Parked in the driveways there was a healthy mix of American, Japanese and monster trucks. Amongst the shops there was even a drive through Margarita place. The shop circumvented the laws regarding open containers of alcohol in cars but taping the lid shut when sold – genius. As I reached the main drag near Hooters a helmetless man riding a Harley Davidson motorbike cruised along with treble heavy tunes spewing into the street from his on board stereo. I wondered what I should expect as I entered Hooters, and just then a young girl with a tight top and short shorts greeted me and showed me to the table. I ordered their famous chicken wings with blue cheese sauce and noticed she had a lot of buttock cheek showing in the short shorts she had on. At the bar an elderly couple sat and ate. To the side a father and ten year old son ate lunch. At every angle in the 360 degrees of the wooden panelled room was a large LCD TV showing gridiron, baseball, news or two women fighting in the UFC octagon. I looked on as the smile on the waitress’s face faded as she went to the cashier. It looked like any normal diner or restaurant. So today was Friday and we were all headed to Austin for the night. On route to Austin we must have spent about half an hour driving around well populated farming country trying to find a place to set the fireworks off, before we gave up and continued on. The Airbnb tonight was a set of apartment buildings in a quiet area of Austin. There was even a small gathering of guys wearing cowboy hats, drinking beers and listening to Mexican tunes from the open backend of a pickup truck. A six-pack of beers were left in the fridge for us, and we necked them and made out way into town via an Uber Toyata Prius. The older black lady driver was nice and answered all our burning questions about Austin. The catch phrase for Austin is “keep Austin weird”. Dinner at a place called Vege Heaven for some vegan friendly nosh. Afterwards we walked up Sixth Street as outsiders looking in through one solid city block of younger peoples drinking and debauchery. The night was warm and humid and we were happy to make to Peterpan’s minigolf. We played eighteen holes side by side with small groups of borderline underage kids drinking beers in stubby holders. Closer to closing time an indifferent office attendant smoked a cigarette while emptying out the overflowing bin on the fifteenth hole. You could almost hear the audible sigh as he did so. The garbage bin smelled just like a pub. A quick Uber home and we crashed in the apartment under the farm of dream catchers on the ceiling.
Things to look at here :

Day 52 More Photos

This morning Jay went over the dry wall of the apartment with methodical forensic interest, trying to piece together the previous altercations that had occurred here. He suggested that someone had kicked in the veranda door from the outside. He was equally surprised when pointing out the fact that all the windows of the Cadillac were still intact and nothing was stolen from the car. Breakfast after a prolonged “hangry” wait at the Vegan centric place called the Bouldin café. It was worth the wait and the clientele here appeared heavily based in the hipster faith. Next stop was the small farmers market in the CBD, with the highlight being hipsters drinking Kombucha from jam jars. After this it was off to Voodoo Doughnuts that specialise in Vegan friendly treats. I opted for the “dirty old bastard” doughnut and found it pretty rad. On the walls of the shop there was a pair of pink ladies panties that read, “good things come in pink boxes”. In the street outside I overheard two drunks debating the concept of the spirit of the music was that of Satan, while a group of people on Segways streamed past. While getting into our car I clocked a passing DIY bat mobile vehicle with large wings on the bodywork painted in mat black. Only half a block away towards the highway the feel changed from the hip sort of scene you would expect in Melbourne, to that of homeless people sleeping on the concrete. To my pleasure I scored a few decent pieces of clothing at the local Goodwill store. A quick pit stop at the 7-11 for some processed sugars and caffeine, and we were ready to take on the Pinballz Arcade. This out of the way place was primarily filled with classic pinballs machines from the early 60s through to modern day, movie themed multi-sensorial displays. Time seemed to melt and disappear as we plugged quarters into the machines. We played until we were spent, but found out we could not be paid out any credit left on gaming card. The front desk staff member reminded me of a burnt out Def Leopard roadie at the end of a long and weary tour. Jay suggested he had a likeness to Silent Bob (SB), but we all agreed SB was more switched on than this guy. The only option was to use the credit to order a hard-core salty, greasy Angus burger with accompanying chips. On the slow drive home we briefly stopped for a photo opportunity with an oversized tree ninja. We also passed a huge open-air graveyard of cars filled with the victims of the recent flooding. I write this as I munch on some watermelon, to water down the lipids and sugars I abused today.
Peak-a-boos here :

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This morning was a miserable grey mix of heavy showers and puddles, but we decided to check out the Renaissance Festival anyways. On the way to the event it was difficult to determine whether we could see a mountain range or just a heavy cloud bank. It was closer to lunchtime when we arrived and the rain had settled. The timing was good so we hitched a lift with the small welcoming golf buggy to the front gate. We had prepaid tickets already so passed through the gate with a nod from the beefeater with a large red lipstick mark on his cheek. Once inside the huge city of Ye olde worlde, we thought it smart to hit the mead early so shared a bottle together. A few doors down we then thought it advantageous to follow up with a daiquiri swirl in a yard glass. Standing there in the middle of a bunch of shops we could hear a man hawking beef jerky, stating it was “made from real vegetarians”. There seemed to be a repeating pattern of shops that covered henna, weaponry, puppets, costume hats and clothing. On the way to the pirate tavern I made the mistake of admiring a girl’s henna on her forearm too much by smudging it as I touched it. We were out of the daiquiri so I approached a busty bar wench asking her if she could make a yard glass of such. She replied in the negative, but said she could make me a “sex in the mouth”. I was caught at a disadvantage and agreed. By the time it was ready Dee walked up and asked for us to pose for a photo, to which we obliged. A few too many drinks in quick succession prompted me to get the ultimate sobering food – a whole turkey leg. Many noms were had. As we walked through the makeshift streets a guy yelled out , “a man who knows how to handle his meat fair mont hazzar”. We sat and watched a Greek themed acrobatics and hoola hoop act and then continued the wandering. A larger man in a kilt and matching beer belly had a sign that read, “will faun for sex” and on the other side “kiss me I’m faunish” to which he posed for photos with a few people. Sitting there we both people watched, with Dee keeping an eye out for kilts. There seemed to be a whole village of people working here that stood out from the half-hearted attempts at costume and alter ego by visitors. Dee mentioned a lot of them lived above the shop or in a trailer during the three months the festival ran. We considered some deep fried Oreos but decided not to, in the name of better health. On the way out there was a performance by a girl with water spraying from her back and hands – noice one. The drive home was quiet, even though we stopped by a Mexican restaurant for something half decent to eat. Just as we arrived back in Katy, Dee pointed out a sign listing what Christmas foods could be pre ordered for this festive season. I asked what the turducken was and Dee read out the following definition: Turducken is a dish consisting of a deboned chicken stuffed into a deboned duck, further stuffed into a deboned turkey. Even though I am not a vegan the dish still sounded pretty dark. I write this as I eat watermelon and neck a Panadeine for my mini hangover.
Mixed memories here :

Day 54 More Photos

This morning it was time to check out the strange story of the two Starbucks. According to the stand-up comedian Lewis Black, the end of the universe exists in Houston. Legend has it that if you stand between the twin Starbucks built on either side of the street, time stops. I parked the car and spent a little time walking between the two, but didn’t trip out that hard. The location is in a swanky part of town, filled with quiet coffee drinkers tapping away on their Mac laptops. On Google maps I had planned a route to cover as many second hand clothes stores as I could before the peak hour traffic filled the arteries of Houston. Some of the beauties I came across fit me, and those that didn’t I caught on camera. My best score today was a hard case piece of luggage, which unfortunately I wasn’t able to open due to a forgotten combination. They sold it to me for two dollars so maybe I can do something with it at home? I had covered at least three places before I got hungry enough to stop off for lunch. Chick-fil-A seemed interesting so I cut through by a solid line of cars passing the drive through. There was even a staff member standing there to direct traffic, and others to take orders on tablets. Inside the small franchise restaurant was bustling with people eating food similar to that of KFC. I ordered a spicy chicken burger and chips, started putting my change away and not ten seconds later was handed my meal. Surprised, I then wandered to a table and tucked into the burger and lattice shaped chips. A few minutes later a staff member approached me asking if I would like her refill my drink. I shook my head stunned. I hadn’t seen service like this before in such a place. The food itself was cheap and cheerful, and I would say better than KFC. I wandered across the shopping centre car park wiping my greasy mow, heading over to a shop called “Mary Lee Donuts”. Inside to the right I noticed a quiet fellow who had a demeanour like that of Heisenberg from Breaking Bad. An older jolly Mexican fellow served me and pointed to Bob the skeleton sitting at the corner table with his untouched pastry. Bob was the silent type and maybe related to the great Silent Bob? At a set of traffic lights there was a woman asking for help, when a car wound down its windows to pass her a plastic bag with drink and food, which was gratefully accepted. A few more Goodwill stores and I then stopped by a much larger Fiesta supermarket that I had been to before. This place was just like El Super, but on a bigger scale. You could buy your cheap legit Mexican food here; shop for all the real and artificial foods you want; and even get some facial hair removed at the in-store saloon. Out front I collected a big-ass watermelon with Dee’s specific instructions for finding the most tasty and fresh by the colouring on the bottom. Nearby at a Home Depot (see Bunnings), I noticed a line of able men standing nearby ready for employment of the not so above board variety. Another random thing I also noticed was that not every vehicle has a front, back or front and back number plate. Maybe it is not mandatory here in Texas? The last random thing I have seen is that many people do not use their hand brake when parked. Is Houston that flat? At home I added the wheels to my new cardboard bike box, while Jay beat the combination lock on the plastic luggage case I scored earlier today – “Ace Rimmer… what a guy”. The sun was setting and we headed off for Dee’s favourite Chinese restaurant. A girl was sitting in a car next to us looking a bit conspicuous. It wasn’t until we were inside the restaurant that Dee said she made eye contact with the girl at the exact time she blew into her alcohol interlock system that allowed the car to start. I write this as I eat some pecan pie.
Two-dimensional memories here :

Day 55 More Photos

Lewis Black

Today after a slow start we settled upon vegging out at local cinemas. Stepping into the foyer of the quiet Cinemark cinemas I noticed the usual arcade games in the corner, but the bottles of alcohol at the bar stood out. Even more so was the margarita machine. Tuesday was half price popcorn, which was still expensive as they make a killing on the mark up. We took a solid three seconds of contemplation before we asked for the supersized cups of margaritas. I prefer to drink during the day, but it is socially looked down upon. This may be since people are generally more apathetic after a few drinks and therefore less productive. Dee seems to like watching the trailers before the actual film starts so we walked in early and sat down on huge reclining sofa chairs. For five dollars each per ticket it was a bargain. Today’s film (pronounced fil’um) was Blade Runner 2049, which I won’t give any spoilers away. Overall the movie was pretty rad. I did notice the product placement by Sony and Peugeot, which wasn’t very subtle. Afterwards we thought some real food would be good so headed off to Taco Ago Go. It was a fun simple Mexican feed, with Mexican coke. Apparently they use cane sugar instead of corn syrup. Next up we checked out a cowboy store stocked with all the country apparel y’all would need. I tried on some hats, but nothing stood out. In the boot section there was library of boots ranging from respectable work boots to something Dolly Parton would wear to a concert. I tried on some comfy boots with the Texas flag on the side, and also some more traditional leather cowboy boots. The traditional ones had high heels that made me feel a little too unbalanced. Later today I headed off the Terry Hershey Park again in the hope there would be another social mountain bike ride. I waited a while next to a friendly drake then decided to head out for a quickie. Last week one of the guys would yell out something unintelligible before we headed down a blind hill. I almost collided with another rider coming the other way, and was able to reason why he needed to call out last week. Along the ride a whole section of trail along the riverbank had been eroded away by the running water, leaving a gaping hole . The ride was short and I got to make use of the bike lights. Back home for dinner and a “Best damn root beer” drink and then off to bed.
Bits n whatsydoobies here -

Day 56 More Photos

Today was the day for our trip to Dallas. Before we hit the road Dee suggested we hit up a vegan friendly healthy place called “a moveable feast”, for some fibre heavy nosh. Sitting at the tables was a mix of ninety-five per cent women and five percent men. About half way on our four-hour journey to the city of Dallas, we pulled over to check out Cavender's Boot City. After some serious contemplation the pair of boots I bought was the ones with the Texas flag on the sides. There was also a pair of boots that Dee described as belonging to a Mexican drug dealer. The day was moving on and we needed to book into the Airbnb for the night. The area was just southeast of the CBD in a weird no mans land, not quite ghetto and not quite industrial. It seemed to be in a thin corridor of land butted directly up against the train line. A short fellow named Fred answered the heavy sliding glass door and welcomed us in, showed us around the New York style loft room and got talking about his painting and sculpture business he has out the back. We hadn’t thought about how to spend our time here, so Fred suggested the grassy knoll and a particular cowboy bar. A quick ten-minute drive through the tail end of peak hour traffic led us to a strangely serene area of grass and a simple monument. People were standing around snapping off photos and taking in the scene. We crossed a busy road to stand looking at some patches of grass and a looming older building nearby. A friendly fellow approached us starting his well-practiced spiel about where Kennedy was for the first and second shot, where the man filming stood and where Lee Harvey Oswald was when he took the shots. He also casually dropped that he accepted forms of gratitude. Two green marks on the road showed the actual locations, and an open window marked the other. Dee needed the toilet so we had to physically purchase a post card before the guy at the souvenir shop to would give us the passcode for the toilet. Seven pm was when the Texas two-step lessons started so we zipped through town to get there. The name of this boot scootin’ mega sized bar was “Cowboys Red River”, with a stage up front and centre and an athletic track shaped dance floor around a central bar. Above this bar slowly twirled a glittery rhinestone horse saddle. The lesson started and we were asked for the men to stand on one side and women on the other. During this time we swapped partners so everyone danced with everyone else. I was surprised how fun, complex and expressive the Texas two-step dance was. We were due to meet back here at eleven pm to meet a cousin of I we know. A quick detour via Walmart for some country apparel and then we boarded an Uber back to cowpoke central. As we arrived I made a verbal slip and asked the bearded black driver if this was the Honkey bar? Watching the crowd of varied ages moving and twirling in an anticlockwise movement around the “dance-track” was mesmerising. Guys dances girls and girls with girls with seemingly no overtones of self-consciousness. A set of social dance rules seemed to plicate the crowd. There we met up with one Columbian and one Mexican born local where we chatted for a time, then all headed off to a more contemporary club called “the Green Elephant”. Both our friends had planned to dress up in costume since they thought there was a Halloween party happening at Red River. They got the days mixed up but decided to don their dress of weird of wonderful for this club. So a Columbian and a Mexican walk into a bar. Not too many steps into the club there were thumbs up, high fives and compliments on the Lederhosen and Wilfred dog costume. Directly inside the club on the dance floor was a full on “dance off” happening with open invitation for self-expression. The music was chilled yet groove inciting. Half way through my quip about our age being of a different generation to these people, I was silenced by an older man with four wheeled walking frame walking past in front of us. Out the back seemed to be a different scene with open aired dance floor with Afrobeats rising from people on drums and a guy playing a saxophone. There were tables of trinkets and weed pipes, which were serenaded by the strong waft of actual weed in the air. I talked with a younger Finn girl on the side of the dance floor, and we got talking to an el natural transgender doe-eyed guy called Alex of twenty-seven years of age. At two am they kicked us out, so Dee and I took an Uber back the Airbnb. The black lady Uber driver mentioned that the area we were staying was between sketchy and bad.
Mental floss here :

Day 57 More Photos

This morning started slowly with a head full of beer and great memories from last night. The nearby neighbourhood was quiet and we did not see anyone walking on the streets. Lunch at a vegancentric place called “Spiral Diner and Bakery” for ‘fully sick’ nachos with faux cheese. To notice the difference in this meal compared to fully leaded nachos you would have had to stop and examine it closely. The hangover was kept at bay with a healthy meal, which allowed us to head on towards the closest ATM. I was a bit unsure at first but managed to withdraw money out of the ATM without leaving the car, by using the drive through – how uniquely American. After this we made our way to the first goodwill store, but happened upon a suburb named after myself – Kessler. The well-off suburb contained huge, ornate, older monolith of houses, with flowing green parks and interesting topography. There was time to pose for a photo ‘ghetto style’ in front of the Caddy in my cowboy hat – word to your mother. At the first goodwill store I asked a random staff member a question about the sizing of a shirt, but then realised a few seconds later she was blind, so then offered to ask another staff member. We moved onto a few other stores and in one of those shops I scored a Tinder shirt. A line was forming at the checkout and from out back a black guy with a mouth half filled with lunch quickly walked to the register, and spiritedly told the next in line to come around his side. His style could be interpreted as domineering and rushed, but I thought he was rather sassy. I told him so as I paid for the shirt, at which he didn’t smile but nodded instead. On our extended drive to another vegan bakery Dee pointed out that no other flag can fly higher than the US flag over here. The vegan muffin that was bought turned out to be pretty average. At this point we turned south and started the long haul back to Houston. Along the way the dedicated 90s radio station played the best, and the best of the worst from that decade - Ahhh… the memories. At a decent distance into the trip we needed a break and stopped by the Dairy Queen, where I ordered a Blizzard, which the lady at the counter turned upside down before handing it to me. A blizzard is a thick ice cream and other sweets in a cup that can withstand being held upside down. If the staff member does not turn it upside down before serving you, you get one for free. Another hour down the road we stopped again beside a small fair setup in the parking lot outside a shopping centre. The florescent colours from the lights atop the Vomatron and other rides popped in the dull fading light of the sunset. Walking through the place was a bit strange since we were practically the only ones there. They may have setup here in readiness for this weekend, with half-hearted enticements for us to come play and win at their games. Darkness had fallen and we chanced an opportunity to let off one of the fireworks down a quiet country road. With the car angled for a quick getaway I setup and lit the rocket, watching as it accelerated up above and popped in a psychedelic umbrella of glitter. We giggled like kids and took off down the road just in time to pass oncoming traffic, which would have spotted us just minutes before if we had dawdled. The last half hour on the way home was slow and tiring, but we got home in time for sushi, watermelon and bed.
Bits and bobs here :

Day 58 More Photos

Today was the last day I was able to drive the Cadillac. After removing bits and pieces of memories from the floor and under the seats, I drove the Caddy to the Hertz car hire office. A young guy came out to record the details of the odometer and inspect the inside and outside of the car. Just as he rounded the corner of the right side of the car I spoke up and said that the over inflated front right tyre had put a bald spot on in the middle. This was given as critical feedback, and to distract him from the long scratch in the paintwork caused by my adventures, which occurred on the way to the natural spas near Mammoth Mountain in California. Mission achieved. On the way home I watched as a school specific police car circled the block of the local school. Later after returning home, Dee and I set out to visit a Hindu temple about half an hours drive away. We arrived and headed straight for the gift shop-cum-lunch nook, for some Indian themed vegetable delight. The fixed swivelling chairs seemed authentically Indian, since the average American would get stuck crammed between the chair and the table. On our way out of the gift shop I listened as an Indian national staff member expertly bargained over the phone to an unknown challenger. With a full stomach we felt much more Zen as we discarded our shoes and walked into the clear-glassed temple. An older Indian man motioned for a group of us visitors to sit on the marble floor of the temple, at which time he started his spiel about the basics of Hinduism and the story of this temple. He started with his story of arriving in the USA in 1976, and how he got to work for the vice-president of the day. He went on to tell us that the marble here was sourced in Italy, shipped to India, and it took many years of sculpting before it was finally shipped here to Texas. After this he went on to cover the basics of the religion, as accepting all religions in the encompassing belief that there is one god, and that all life is precious. When finished he asked if we had any questions, at which I asked about cows milk and chickens eggs. Apparently cows are sacred and the milk is a gift, but eggs are created from lust and are not eaten. What was interesting was he referred to the age of the universe as billions of years old. The doors to the area where the gods stayed was closed while they slept during the early afternoon After this talk the other visitors left, leaving us to walk clockwise around the temple looking closely at the intricate, perfectly spaced marble engravings and sculptures. I asked why they rang the bell occasionally and one man replied, “to clear the mind of our current thoughts so to be in the present”. Back home we dined on home-made blueberry and choc chip pancakes with ice cream. After some deep consideration and group consultation I narrowed the t-shirts I was going to take home, and wrestled to jam them into my luggage. The bike had been dismantled and packed into the long box, and the luggage was ready to roll. Over some drinks we played some rad card games. We played the adult version “exploding kittens”, from the creator of “the oatmeal”. After this we skipped a more complex card game to play “organ attack”! This is a must-play game for any person with a dark sense of humour, specifically nurses. Just shy of midnight we headed to bed, for tomorrow I fly to L.A.
Shits and giggles here :

Day 59 More Photos

Today was my last day in Houston, and the household woke up early to say goodbye to me while I loaded up the yellow Hamster-mobile. A quick detour to buy a neck pillow and a purple shirt from the local goodwill store, and then we made our way towards the William Hobby airport. Alongside the main freeway running into the heart of Houston seemed to be a constant flow of erect US flags, with an average of a mile between each one. In a suburb nearby to the airport we chose to stop at a diner called “Kelley’s Country Cookin”. Out front a billboard read, “Houston proud, lets go stros (sic)”. The place had dark windows so looked like a bit of a dive from the outside, but once we opened the doors it could be seen that this place was buzzing on a Saturday morning. The Houston Astros had won the World Series Baseball game yesterday, so most of the staff and customers were wearing some form of clothing in respect. We sat down at a table and I ordered eggs and a pound of ham for breakfast while Dee ordered something a little healthier. She quipped that I was eating a “heart attack on a plate” and I agreed. Looking around the diner I noticed a table full of on-duty police officers, and then learnt the place had been setup and run by a cop. At a table next to us a family sat down, with the father in camouflage top and pants, who was the spitting image of Fidel Castro – Trippy. I got through most of the meal but the salad looked a little despondent, as though the cook didn’t make salads often. At the airport we said our goodbyes and I went through security screening to get to the departure gate. On boarding the plane I did notice a young man in front of me compliment a veteran sitting in his wheelchair ready to board, for his service to his country. The flight was a mild three and a half hour journey, sitting next to an overly excited six year old and her stressed out mother, making bloody sure she was going to catch up on season four of the new Narcos TV show. In front of me a doppelganger of Isla Fisher sat with an infant and a toddler on either side. I could tell we were close to L.A. when I spied the very mountain range I stood on top of near San Bernardino. Hazy smog greeted us as we touched down at LAX. A quiet Arminian Uber driver took me to the rad little Airbnb and I managed to haul my entourage of luggage up the steps inside. For dinner I walked down to the local shops passing a lady pulling a sling on wheels, which carried a quadriplegic dog. He looked up at me in unfazed interest as we passed. Two slices of pizza and then I was back home in readiness for a Saturday night out in L.A. The Uber driver who picked me up was quiet, but the two Goth girls who we picked up next on the way weren’t. One girl was from Latvia, worked twelve hours during the daylight and was a little crazy. Her friend works as an attorney in defence of people who have injured themselves at places like shopping centres. The topic of conversation moved diet, with the Latvian girl stating the virtues of eating lots of eggs and meat. Her breath did smell heavily of ketones as she spoke to me. My stop was ahead so we both hoped each other’s night was going to be good. Traffic was busy for a Saturday night and a car stopped to let me cross the road in my 80s freak show of a suit I bought in Houston. You could say I stopped traffic with my outfit. A small cover charge and a compliment on my loud suit to get in the club called Plaza. It was early by L.A. standards so I ordered a beer from the bar tender, who was dressed up in face paint Mexican “day of the dead” style, and sat down at a table to nibble on peanuts. Around the room at tables were seated groups of small women and a smattering of men, with a drag queen standing at the bar. The music dipped then on came a drag queen in white, singing a Latino song that was popular which I was not familiar with. She sung and danced for a song, then on the next walked down to give personal short performances for various customers. The customers seemed to tip the queen by putting money down her top or her boots, so I joined in and complied. I stayed on to watch another handful of performances, but a headache from stiff neck muscles encouraged me to head home early. Outside a busy hotdog stall with strong flavours of fat and salt, I jumped into another Uber to head home. The system of Uber pool is setup a bit like a social taxi, so in the back were two UK nationals coming home from a dinner. They were dropped off and a svelte young black girl in costume and stark white wig jumped in the back. She worked in film for productions with Motor trend, and I was quick to tell her my son and I love watching Road Kill on the YouTube channel. She was dropped off not too soon after and the Vietnamese driver and I chatted on the way home. He had been here fifteen years and strongly encouraged me to visit Vietnam so I could find a beautiful woman. At my drop off point there was no places for food open. I don’t think I could handle another greasy meal so soon after the last. The twenty-four hour pharmacy was open and alas I had to settle for granola and milk, since they had not real food such as actual fruit or vegetables. Once home a quick meal and a shower and then bed.
Glittery memories here :

Day 60 More Photos

Another day in L.A and the Uber picked me up from out front. The older beared black Uber driver asked about where I was from and what I had planned today. After telling him about the gospel singing at the West Angeles Church, his eyes lit up and we talked about the bible for the entire trip, almost forgetting the quiet young Latino girl in the backseat. We both agreed that people cherry pick from the bible, but he was adamant that the day of rest was on Saturday instead of Sunday. His tone took on one of a rising sermon and I had brief moments to interject with a question or a point. Overall it was fun, and he dropped me out front of a grocery store in down town Crenshaw. I really didn’t notice the absence of white people in the area until after I paid for my bananas and apples. A block away some black people in their Sunday best stood out the front of a church, with one fellow showing me to the idling shuttle bus that would take us to the new church building a block down. On board it was obvious I was the only white fella but ladies and gents of all ages welcomed me and were interested to hear where I came from. I felt a little underdressed with my “Jordon for President 2013” T-shirt. The bus emptied and we poured into the huge church along with a river of other people. A lady with white gloves ushered us to our seats while the choir sang. The service started with an introduction and some advertising from local businesses. One was of a local places was selling “faithful fries” and similarly themed foods. The building was massive with two levels of seating, a huge stage and beautiful stained glass windows flavouring the sunlight that came in. Next they asked all the new visitors stand up and the video camera caught our images and projected them up on the big screens. I was one of four honkies in this church today. We moved onto some gospel music where everyone on and off stage raised their hands in the air and moved to the holy music. One lady dressed in white lace was so overcome she had to kneel on her hands and knees while a few others patted her on the back. There were others really getting into it but she was the most active. Some ladies were dressed like beautiful peacocks in their glittering sequins. Other people in the crowd even sang in tongues at times. Later a well-known male opera singer performed with much positive feedback from the audience. There was a collection for money and about ten tall well-dressed men walked the buckets to a side room, followed closely by an armed guard. After this the guest pastor was introduced who then poo-pooed Trumps health plan, and started to sell his own health business to the audience. He happened to be a medical doctor as well as a pastor. Once he had completed his sales pitch he got down with his sermon, which slowly morphed into a full blown James Brown singing and dancing extravaganza. The drummer and keyboardist progressively jammed in the time to the gaps between his words and soon the bass of the collective choir, audience and band rocked the hall. It is said that the tingles you experience when listening to certain music starts to trigger the fight or flight response. I experienced it today and I wonder if it could fall under the umbrella of the sublime? The congregation finished on a high like partygoers leaving a concert and the crowd left through the front doors. Next it was time to catch a train east, past crowds of young people heading to a hip hop festival and then stop of at a supposed Ethiopian Vegan place to eat. Walking nearby the place it was hard to guess something so active and busy was happening in such a random sleepy suburb. Outside face painting went on while Mexican youth danced in traditional fashion with skulls and Halloween themed images painted on their faces. The healthy food was just what my tired body asked for. Next was a bus trip headed for downtown L.A. I knew I had arrived when I could see a young fellow leaning against a wall panting quickly, anxious after smoking the crack pipe. The bus station led to the subway and I headed to north Hollywood, with yet another changeover in my journey to visit the house of Workaholics TV show. On the TV show the house is located in Rancho Cucamonga, but in actuality it is in different suburb northeast of L.A. There was a decent walk to the house and I passed a few old RVs parked at the roadside with generators idling away on the footpath. Snapped off a few photos of the house and street, then headed back stopping briefly to charge my phone at a Maccas. A block down between multiple open bail bond shops I passed a small shop sized room with Mexican Christian rock flowing out onto the street. On the road walking back to the bus station a watched a bald Mexican homie on a undersized bike being hailed by a female homie on a BMX, which led to a catch-up session on the footpath. There seems to be a notion that L.A. is dangerous place but I have seen that most people are respectful of others here. On the bus ride back I saw this again with a tatted Latino guy complimenting a black homie on his gold basketball shoes, then fist pumping as he exited at his stop. When back at Hollywood and Vine I passed a skater dewd with identical pants to my wild suit – Respect. Dinner of faux bacon cheese fries at a vegan joint called Doomies, and then a quick uneventful Uber ride back home, where I showered and crashed.
Thingamejigs here :

Day 61 More Photos

A nice sleep in, after a phantom user of the bathroom and shower came and left at four am this morning. Overcast skies provided some cool winds for my planned ride to Santa Monica. Along the pathway to the bike rental place, a confused looking Latino lady asked for directions. She was late for her first job in LA, but I was able to reorientate her to the area. She said goodbye with a “God bless you sir”. An older man at the bike shop with a thick flowing mane of yellow hair pulled out and setup a new single speed beach cruiser for me. The bike had relaxed geometry and a comfortable big-ass bike saddle, with springs underneath like Uncle Buck’s 1977 Mercury Marquis Brougham. The down side to this was that the springs and rails under the seat squeaked and groaned like a bride’s bed on her wedding night. At least I didn’t need a bell to alert other pedestrians I was coming up behind them. After a small amount of riding on the road I reached the water in Venice Beach. There was a dedicated bike lane that swerved and weaved its way between the water and the shop fronts. There seemed to be many tourists with accents as broad as German and Russian. At many spots along the way were camped the homeless, many resting but some were up and attending to washing their clothes at the toilet block. I needed to use the toilet so parked my bike and waited for the cubicle to become empty. When the door did open a contented bearded older homeless man walked out and washed his hands, singing and humming contentedly to himself. Back on the bike path I continued to watch the homeless in their tents or complex lean-tos made from found umbrellas. At the north end of the beach just before turning around, I watched two police officers lifting up used bedding and rubbish, piling it into the back of their pickup. As they came back to the truck to leave I got chatting with one of the officers. A thickset twenty something man said that problems in the 60s and 70s weren’t addressed and this was the knock on problem. He talked about the similar system to Australia whereby you can be as mad as you want, but can’t be detained unless you are a danger to yourself or others. Apparently most of the callouts they get are related to homeless persons. He acknowledged the weather here is similar to the Mediterranean, and also pointed out the contributing factors of mental illness and drug abuse. He wished me an enjoyable holiday and I hoped he had a “fun” day. Lunch in Santa Monica at a diner called “Swingers” for a healthy breakfast burrito, and then back down to the famous Santa Monica Pier. On the main road there were people in a Trump and Kim mask posing for photos. Nearby a homeless man sat against the wall with a group of four women sitting around him, listening intently to his teary personal story. The unusual scene on the footpath looked like a painting of Jesus from the renaissance period. A quick walk around the pier and a happy snap outside Bubba Gump Shrimp Co, and then it was time to check out the shops along the beach walk. Muscle beach looked to have fewer steroid users than I imagined. Half way down I bought a can of beer and sat down on a bench to listen to music, with a homeless black man practicing his chipping and putting on the grass in front of me. The constant pungent smell of weed seemed to ooze from this place. A Latino man with fixed stare approached offering to teach me how to be super smart, if I payed him twenty dollars. His name was Actor and I politely declined, telling him I would think it over and get back to him. A few doors up a handful of green uniformed people enticed others walking by to get pay a Doctor to authorise the use of medical marijuana for only forty dollars. The afternoon was rolling by and I needed to get the bike back to the bike shop before it closed. The ride there was relaxed, but on walking home afterwards I came across an odd sight. A bike rider wearing serious downhill MTB body armour and a matching helmet rode past with a smile. I turned to double check what I just saw, and a cyclist following the guy shot me an expression of “WTF” as he passed. A few set of lights further down a group of Latinos wearing matching orange T-shirts and large signs I couldn’t read, were collecting money from passing cars. They dispersed quickly after a squad car flashed their lights and sirens at them. Once home I fitted in some chill time then crashed. Tomorrow will be the last day of my holiday.
Moving pictures etc here :

Day 62 More Photos

Today I extended the sleep in til ten oclock and then had a quick chat to my Airbnb host. He talked about an expensive divorce recently, having to move out to the shed, while he rented out his rooms to pay the bills. Yesterday he had pulled a fourteen-hour shift mixing audio postproduction for a TV show. That explains the phantom shower user at four am this morning. Next was an Uber-pool to Santa Monica. On the passenger side sat a tripped out fellow who was quiet and polite. We dropped him off a little way down the block watching on as he groggily shuffled to the curb side. As we watched him leave I struck up a conversation with the moustached older Latino fellow driving. He chuckled and pointed out the young passenger said he had dropped some acid, passing out a few times on the journey. The driver reminisced by saying he had tried LSD as an eighteen year old at a dance, but had sore ribs the next day due to not being able to stop laughing. These days he likes to enjoy a twelve pack of beer later on in the afternoon. The Halloween themed Ghostbusters song started playing on the radio just as he dropped me off in central Santa Monica. Standing on the sidewalk I looked down at the ground to notice the off-putting 3D pattern built into the sidewalk bricks itself. I idly wondered if this was specifically planned to scare off the people tripping balls after smoking some weed or such. I know classical music is played in some public places to discourage younger people from loitering. Just as the thought came to mind an older cornrow weaved hair older homie rode past in his electric wheelchair, with some funky chilled beats blasting from his portable speaker. He stopped at the lights and looked around with a blunt blazing in his fingers. The constant perfume of marijuana seems to be intimately linked with this area. It was time to do some wild life watching at the Santa Monica pier, and on cue a dishevelled woman that looked like she had done a lot of kilometres walked up and started busting out some dance moves to the tunes of a local busker. From memory the saying goes, “beware the person who moves to the beat that doesn’t exist”. By coincidence the sloth T-shirt I was wearing imploring people to “slow your roll” worked, and I did slow my roll by taking my time walking back along the beachfront. Along the way a passed a Chinese national who thought the pier was just like it was in Grand Theft Auto five (true dat), and some intellectually handicapped persons singing the song “we like to party” by the Venga Boys out loud. Just like yesterday a portly black homeless fellow leaned against the wall chilling on his corner of the beach, blazing up with a friend. I stopped at the communal basketball court watching as the homeless and well-off shot hoops shoulder to shoulder. There were even some well-dressed women (one a transvestite) talking while pushing a shopping trolley on the edge of the court. By a stroke of serendipity I passed unnoticed the six year old and her mother I had flow over from Texas with, walking the other direction on the beachfront. A quick forgettable lunch at Panda Express, where the Latino staff were asked to pump out low quality greasy western themed Chinese food. Time has slipped and I needed to make my way to the hour-long massage I had booked. The young Chinese lady was pretty awesome with the mix of shiatsu and deep tissue massage, making the hour pass much too quickly. Next was an appointment at the isolation floatation tank a block up the road. There were two other clients here the 101 to using the pods was given to us by the staff. They likened it to floating in the Dead Sea, pointing out the high concentration of magnesium salts. I talked with one of the staff and he gave me some references to research discussing the possible benefits to people with anxiety and PSTD. Finally alone I showered and jumped into the pod, turned the light and music off and settled in. There was a few arm positions they recommended but my body tended to drift from one side to the other of the pod, with autonomic breathing contributing to my body bobbing up and down. I tried to clear my mind like in a meditation but found my filling bladder to be off putting. After what seemed an incalculable amount of time I got out, showered and sat outside in the foyer. It wasn’t as ethereal an experience as I expected but my body did feel relaxed and chilled. My Airbnb was a few blocks away and it was time to head back to collect my stuff. Darkness was bringing all the wondrous young persons out for Halloween. Whole families were walking the suburban streets in costume, door to door, trick or treating, with all the major super heroes costumes covered. An older lady hosed down her driveway watching as excited kids put on their scary and excited faces. I arrived at home long enough to grab my crap and catch a huge yank SUV Uber ride to the airport. The old jaded Russian driver pointed out how the world was getting worse along with the traffic and such. We talked over the reasons for the almost regular mass shootings in the USA, but I didn’t have much to offer him in response. At the airport I crab walked my way to the luggage check-in since I had more pieces of luggage than limbs. As you can tell I am too cheap to pay the five dollars for the airport trolley. In line to pass through the security check I got stuck behind some Asian passengers, who were intent on finishing the last of their perishable food before they hauled their carryon bags with even more food. The security checkout was running behind time, and an idle crowd of waiting people looked up to the massive screen to watch the repeating video of Johnny Depp wearing his trademark guy-liner while doing burnouts in the desert. The flight back was softened by the friendly New Zealand born women each side of my seat. One vegetarian on the left and a 62 year old lady who had travelled most of the known world, settling in the high desert in California with her American husband. The sleepless hours wound on clicking over to about thirty hours, with waves of headaches and nausea before I could lay down and fade to sleep. As you can see I am a bit soft when it comes to sleep deprivation. Home, hosed and safe. What a trip.
Fragments of distant memories here :

Day 63 More Photos

DISCLAIMER

I think all Facebook posts should start with: In my humble opinion (IMHO), so I will start by dropping my disclaimer. Although I was in the USA for an extended holiday of 2 months, I still didn’t get to scratch the surface of what America has to offer. I tried to avoid the areas where tourists visited, but I am sure I gravitated to them. The odd day here and there uncovered a small slice of everyday American life. I talked to many locals about current topics but am sure such a small sample size wouldn't be an accurate depiction of the overall feeling. My view points are my own but shaped through other people such as Jordan Peterson and Allan De Botton. Some of my views stand on the shoulders of giants.

FOOD

The food was so varied, even though it was biased towards the tasty and unhealthy. I hit up a new franchise most days, but still had a books worth to get through. Hip places like Austin and L.A. were easier to find good healthy real food. I did notice there was only one person I came across that could point me to a specific recommended place to eat. Most people pointed to a general nearby area and told me to explore. I wonder if most people don’t appreciate the food they eat, or are just spoilt for choice?
Shopping The cost of new and second hands clothes and shoes was pretty cheap. I think the culture of each state percolates and is distilled down into the clothing sold at second hand stores, warts and all. It’s great to look through other peoples’ memories. On the other hand I see the same thing back in Australia, whereby people go out wearing their good clothes in order to buy more. This smacks of consumerism. What really gave me the shits was the undisclosed sales tax on top of everything you purchase. I tried hard to tip appropriately but never was too comfortable with it. Maybe the restaurants can pay the staff members a fair amount and the patrons pay for it in the total cost of their meal?
Racism I did try to mingle with people of many social stratas and incomes but spent more time around whities like myself. It may be different since I am Australian, but didn’t experience or see any overt racism in my travels. In the southern states there seems to be a big representations of Mexican people. White privilege is of no use if you are white and poor. I didn’t get to door knock on those homes with “make America great again” signs, so missed an opportunity to learn more.
Trump I did get to pick the minds of lots of people and listen to people voicing their opinions on their current president. There was maybe one to two people that openly leaned towards Trump, but most people were slightly embarrassed or passionately disgusted by their president. One perspective is that people were tired of the two horse race, didn’t like Hillary and wanted to inject some chaos to the tyranny, thus voting Trump in. Either way America is stuck with Trump as leader which could be likened to experiencing a temporary sexually transmitted disease. You earned it and will have to wait it out. Trump seems to the celebrity that everyone loves to hate.

Guns

I talked to many people about the gun culture. Most admitted the answer may lay in looking into the availability of guns, but almost all wanted to keep their curated library of weapons. One person pointed out that guns are woven into the daily fabric of Americans’ lives, and are surely not going anywhere anytime soon. I was passing through Las Vegas the week before the mass shooting. Just like the 2005 bombings in London I was not concerned about my safety as the ratio of people effected to the massive numbers of people living there was insignificant. One meme I saw suggested that if a white person does something abhorrent and kills one or many people they may be mentally ill. If a brown or another darker coloured person did the same they may be labelled as a terrorist. Guns seem to be a problem in the bigger picture, but in my small experiences travelling through the USA it was not. I admit it was fun to fire the Uzi at the gun range in Las Vegas. Just like the primordial act of hunting or fishing the answer may lay in our animal instincts. Apparently the NRA has lobbied congress to ban studies by the CDC into gun use.

Religion

My phrase for this trip was “alternatives to nihilism”. I came across many varieties of belief structures and ritualistic behaviour. The use of religion can be made into a business, or used to control people in a communist-like regime. Overwhelmingly I found people associated with these faiths to be inviting and inclusive. I admit people kill in the name of a god, but there seems to be so many positives of gratitude and meaning carried with religion. We go to university to learn our profession but where do we learn how to be a good person? I haven’t found god or had a really deep life changing event, but have grown from listening to others. I would rather choose any religion than to live in the belief that nothing matters, that human beings are like a bacteria on the earth, and that our own existence is worthless. Through the belief structure of nihilism we can dehumanise others and carry out nausea inducing acts on others and even ourselves. Religion in general allows room the intrinsic potential of each human-being room with adds to the betterment of the world we share. I think the comedic Kloons video (see down below) points out the experience of the love required to serve an ideal greater than yourself.

Safety

It is said that by watching the nightly news we are influenced to believe many people are out to rape, steal or harm us. When getting to meet new people we find that they have morals similar to ourselves. In my experiences the layers of trust afforded to us by Facebook in associate with companies like Airbnb and Uber make for a safer and more open society. There were many homeless persons in the streets and intersections I traveled, but I wonder how many of them did it for a day job instead of necessity. The most dangerous wildlife I came across was the domestic dog, and not the bear and big cats of the forests. I do admit I didn’t go too far into the back country. It was noticeable that many motorcyclists didn’t wear their helmets. I nicknamed them organ donors. With more freedom comes greater danger, and visa-versa. I think I make many good choices and never felt in danger or at risk where ever I travelled in the USA.

Regrets

Apart from wanting to ride more mountain bike trails, my only regret is that I really wanted to chew some tobacco. Oh, also not being able to do more of the “Texas two step” dancing.

One idea that stuck with me, was that the collection of American states was like Europe. Each state had its particular accent, style, dress, mannerisms and culture. Just like the varied landscapes the spectrum of American people shadow places from the lowest moral deserts to the highest inspirational national parks. There is just so much variation is a nation of 331 million (edit) people so would not feel comfortable in making sweeping statements about the average American. On reflection I think I could have had similar interpersonal experiences here in Australia. There is a book written by a young officer under house arrest for six weeks, who writes a book entitled “A Journey Around My Room”. He goes into creative details the everyday objects and his behaviours. In our day to day routine of eating, sleeping, working, and spending recreational time we habituate to the wonders going on around us every day. Going on holiday prompts us to wind back our assumptions and live in the moment, noticing the small miracles that happen every day. When you take time away from your work and responsibilities you get to see what is left. Hopefully it’s good, and if it isn’t maybe think about going on an extended holiday.

God is like a girlfriend

Texas Two step

Day 0 - Home

Day 1 - L.A.

Day 2 - Hollywood

Day 3 - Hot as Balls

Day 4 - San Bernadino : Still hot as balls

Day 5 - Sublime?

Day 6 - “We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold.”

Day 7 - It’s starting to feel a bit like Melbourne

Day 8 - "JIN YAAAANG!" Silicon Valley

Day 9 - Santa Cruz

Day 10 - Trump piñata

Day 11 - Goodbye San Fran, Hello ‘all you can eat buffet’

Day 12 - Brad’s cousin

Day 13 - Enjoy the silence

Day 14 - Amazeballs

Day 15 - Dutch Oven

Day 16 - Random hot springs

Day 17 - Mammoth rides

Day 18 - Guns in sin city

Day 19 - Collisions and vortices

Day 20 - Grand plans

Day 21 - Gooseberry Mesa

Day 22 –

The best Mexican in the whole of Caucasian Salt Lake City

Day 23 - Chimichanga

Day 24 - I can’t feel my toes

Day 25 - Hotel Legume

Day 26 - Stephen Merchant lookalike

Day 27 - I ate shit

Day 28 - Piano divas

Day 29 - Twisted YouTube vids

Day 30 - Terror dog from Ghostbusters

Day 31 - Mile high club

Day 32 - Brah

Day 33 - Truth is weirder than any fiction I've seen. ~~ Hunter S. Thompson

Day 34 - McStiffs

Day 35 - Slick Rock

Day 36 - Moab Brand trails

Day 37 - The full Enchilada

Day 38 - Outerbike 1st day

Day 39 - Outerbike Day 2

Day 40 - Outerbike Day 3 : Sunken costs

Day 41 - How Zen

Day 42 - Rabid little threats

Day 43 - El Paso / Juarez

Day 44 - Core Hole

Day 45 - Kuntz

Day 46 - Organic volatile compounds

Day 47 - Yellow Hamstermobile

Day 48 - Taco Cobana

Day 49 - Horrendousawesomeness

Day 50 - Better get Dick

Day 51 - Jesus riding a T-Rex

Day 52 - Hooters

Day 53 - Keep Austin weird

Day 54 - Turducken

Day 55 - “Ace Rimmer… what a guy"

Day 56 - Quickie

Day 57 - So a Columbian and a Mexican walk into a bar

Day 58 - Word to your mother

Day 59 - Eggs are created from lust

Day 60 - Kelley’s Country Cookin

Day 61 - Rancho Cucamonga

Day 62 - Bubba Gump Shrimp Co

Day 63 - Wild life watching at the Santa Monica pier

Day..... Home Sweet Home***Thoughts from my trip***

DISCLAIMER

FOOD

Guns

Religion

Safety

Regrets

Day 6 -
“We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold.”

Day 33 -
Truth is weirder than any fiction I've seen. ~~ Hunter S. Thompson

Day 57 -
So a Columbian and a Mexican walk into a bar

Day 63 -
Wild life watching at the Santa Monica pier

Day..... Home Sweet Home
Thoughts from my trip