Posted: 02 April 2010 at 5:32pm | IP Logged

After I collected the Goldwing from Eaglerider in Orlando I had to take Denise back to Tampa and then head up to Jacksonville Beach ready for my start at noon the following day. No problems with this, but I was getting increasingly nervous about the size of the task ahead of me. It wasn’t the mileage as much as being 2400 miles away from where I started when I finish the ride. My SS2000 was in the UK and so I was never further than 800 miles away from home. It’s a different sort of distance. Also, I had no idea what to expect along the way. We all have a very good idea of what it’s like to ride in the UK and Europe but I had never been very far in the USA (car or bike). I was also questioning the wisdom of the kit that I had brought along. I had done my research and gone for my usual textiles – with layers – and two pairs of gloves. All the time in Florida the temperatures were in the 70s (F) and most bikers ride around in jeans and t-shirts. It turned out I was right and I used every bit of kit – sometimes all at the same time! It’s not warm in the desert after dark.

The ladies at the hotel reception in Jacksonville were interested in the bike and my plans – very easy to get away with being crazy in another country! – so I asked them to be my start witnesses rather than ride up to Neptune Beach police station. Packed the bike and went out for some photos and to dip my feet in the Atlantic (sand and water keepsakes don’t do it for me) before heading to the nearest gas station to fill up.

Credit card pay at the pump – “Do you want a receipt?” Press “Yes” – no receipt – arghhh!!!! Into the kiosk to ask for a receipt – “No problem” but it only has the ‘Location ID’ (it’s a BP station and they do the same in the UK). “Can I have a receipt with the address on?” “They all have that”…..slight panic! What I should have done – ride over to Starbucks and get a muffin and a receipt. What I actually did – “Oh, I guess that somewhere there will be a database where I can put in this location ID and find the address.” The data nerd won over common sense. There isn’t a database, but there is your credit card receipt, your SPOT tracker (on this day – see later!), and Ira who thinks it shouldn’t be a problem (I’m guessing it’s a common starting point). We’ll see when the papers go in. Point bike west and go!

Two tanks of gas and almost 400 miles later and I’m leaving Florida at last. I-10 is a doddle and I’ve got at least another 1200 miles on it but that day Houston was my target. I had planned a two-stopper so that I will arrive in San Diego at a reasonable time in the morning. As I head further west it becomes more difficult to use a UK credit card at the pumps – more and more gas stations have ZIP-safe where you need to enter the five digit ZIP code that relates to the billing address for the credit card and it doesn’t work with non-USA credit cards. Luckily, I had a big fold of twenties so resorted to cash pre-payment. The Wing took about $17-18 to fill up (6 US gallons). But the cash payment did get me decent receipts for the rest of the trip.

It was getting dark and I started to come to places where it obviously had been raining – a lot. The road had lakes of standing water and the spray from the trucks was pretty bad. But no actual rain – yet. That all changed in Louisiana and from Baton Rouge to Houston it pretty much rained the whole way. Nothing too heavy but enough to be concerned with but at least the traffic was thinning out. Coming into Houston in the early hours of the morning was very strange. It was raining lightly and quite misty so everything had an eerie look to it. The road was almost empty and I found myself occasionally riding along eight empty lanes with these huge intersections of towering concrete and no one else in sight. Very 28 Days Later! I soon found out why there wasn’t much traffic – I-10 was closed – two HGVs collided, both on fire (one driver dead I later found out), and about 30 emergency vehicles. Luckily I didn’t have far to go to my hotel so the detour didn’t add too much time and distance.

A fairly large storm passed through while I was asleep so I woke to a chilly but clear morning and the long slog through the rest of Texas beckoning. Round San Antonio – no problem – then the 80mph limits and long distances between gas stops. It was quite windy – coming out of the west so head on – and that dropped the fuel consumption by 25%. I made a plan to fill up at any gas station when I had less than half a tank. One good piece of advice I was given was to only leave the highway for gas if you can see the gas station. The exit signs might say gas but it’s not until you leave that you find out the gas station is 4 miles down the road. I did wonder about “seeing” the gas stations in time but soon realised that most have a signpost 5 or 6 stories high so you see it from miles away! The Wing was made for this sort of riding – wind up to 85, click on the cruise control, slippers on, pipe lit, sit back and watch the miles roll by. We change time from central to mountain but I’m still in Texas!! El Paso looms in the dusk – a real border town. The road runs right along the border – the fence with the razor wire to the left or right most of the way. The bridges for border crossings, the brightly lit casinos on the US side, and the shacks up the hillside on the Mexican side. The dividing line reminding me of my time patrolling the Sino-Hong Kong border – the clear demarcation line of wire and narrow concrete path but the perverse reversal where the paddy fields were on the Hong Kong side and the tall buildings of Shenzen on the other. But I’m into New Mexico at last and with some daylight left so I press on. Night comes before I get half way across NM so all I see of Arizona are tail lights. The mileage signs count down to Yuma as I’m looking forward to my bed and some kip. As I pass Tucson I think it would be good to stop here but I have a hotel booked in Yuma. Stop, drink, refresh for the final tank full to Yuma. It’s been a long day – FO, FO, FO!!!! I was a little alarmed at the signs saying “Zero visibility possible ahead” and “Sandstorms for the next 30 miles” but nothing came of them and Arizona passed in the dark.

The night duty clerk who signed me in is still on duty when I leave the following morning. He looks at me strangely but that’s getting to be old news by now. Only 180 miles to San Diego. Weather looks nice. Let’s go. Ooops, forgot to turn on the SPOT tracker which I don’t realise until I get to SDO and get a text from Denise. So all the time I was riding through the Californian mountains I was thinking “Jamie and Leslie will know where I am. I bet they know the road I’m on and what I’m seeing.” Doh!! The mountains on the side of I-8 – yes, forgot to tell you about the one junction in 36 hours of riding – are like large piles of enormous pebbles just waiting to topple over. Which they do, apparently, with alarming frequency according to the signs on the road. When the road starts descending from a very chilly 4000 feet then I know I’m on the home stretch. There are tantalising glimpses of a city in the distance and I know the Pacific is waiting beyond that just itching to wash my boots of all the dust. Before I know it I’m back in the city as the I-8 weaves through the outskirts of San Diego and then I see my first sign to “Beaches”. It’s just as the highway ends that I see the ocean. It’s three or four blocks to a Shell gas station. When I ask for a receipt the guy says “Of course. Where have you come from?” I tell him “England” but he laughs and says he meant on this trip so I tell him and I’m obviously not the first to tell him Jacksonville. “50 hours?” he asks. “49 and a half,” I answer. “Great! Have a good ride home.” Two blocks to the beach and a paddle in the Pacific. The sand isn’t as clean as in Jacksonville but it looks pretty damn good to me. Parked next to the bike is an old VW van with a couple of young guys sitting in it, smoking their first joint of the morning while watching a very lithe young lady go through her stretches on the grass. “Nice morning” they say. “Sure is.” “Where are you from?” Where do I start…….?

Posted: 02 April 2010 at 10:50pm | IP Logged

Enjoyed SPOTting you, and enjoyed the report, David.  Well done!

Posted: 03 April 2010 at 2:24am | IP Logged

Great ride David, and nice write up.

Almost felt I was on your pillion seat.

Ride safe

Regards Bob

Posted: 03 April 2010 at 3:22am | IP Logged

Brilliant stuff Dave..... It was great fun trying to work out your miles and times along the way, well when you had stot on anyway....

hope theres a write up of the 'return trip' on its way.....