The Trans America Trail

Toronto  

From my home in Northumberland, I rode to Manchester a couple of days before I flew out to Toronto, this is to allow time for safety/security checks and to crate the bike.  

I stayed with my girlfriends parents in Marple, Cheshire the night before I left.  Her mother nipped out to buy some vegetables for our dinner and was knocked down by a car crossing the road.  Thankfully she was ok but for a fractured leg, a bump on the head and bruising.  She came home later that night.  I couldn’t help but think it was some sort of omen.  And she forgot the veg! 

I flew with my bike to Toronto the next day with a teary farewell to Holly.  And for the first 2 nights, stayed in Toronto.  That wasn’t the plan but it took 7 hours the first day to get my back back.  This was due to customs red tape and taxiing back and forth from office to office.  I spent the day with a couple in the same situation trying to get their Moto Guzzi through - cargo, customs, different customs, original customs, cargo, severals taxis, bike!

The following day I set off South, via Niagara, toward Jellico, Tennesse - getting stopped (thoroughly checked) at US border control by Sgt Foley from An Officer and a Gentleman.  No kidding!  Mainly following the I-90, the I-71 and the I-75 through upper New York State, Pennsylvania, Ohio and Kentucky, getting drenched by a 4 hour downpour which found it's way into everything I owned, including all my documents.  A lesson learnt!  I double bagged all my stuff after that for the rest off the trip (it rained again once for 10 minutes somewhere on the Oklahoma/Kansas Border).  The ride down was 800 miles and took 2 days.  This was the bit I wasn't looking forward to as my bike was geared fairly low (14/47) for the off road sections and it was very hot – in the 90’s.  I should have taken a spare 15 tooth front sprocket for the road sections.  I will next time!  

I got to Jellico and checked into the Days Inn – just off the I-75.  I couldn't help but think 'What the hell am I doing here?' And thought I had bitten off much more than I could chew and still had 5,500 miles to go and I hadn’t really started yet.  I hadn't riden much off road for years, not since me and my mate Dave used to ride up to Alwinton and ride around the Cheviots.  Probably 7/8 years ago.   I had been having problems with my back for a couple of weeks and thought it would 'go' at any minute.  I had kept that to myself and hoped it would just go away!  It didn’t.  I sorted out the maps for the first day and loaded them into the roadbook holder and set my gps.  I was ready.

Tennessee

It didn't start well.  I came to the 2nd turn and realised I'd taken the wrong turn at the first.  I'd gone in a 3 mile loop and ended up back at a point just passed the real 1st turn.  It took me 5 minutes to work out where I was, then I was off again.

Tennessee was a gentle start.  Lots of gravel and a fair bit of tarmac.  Tennessee is green and wooded.  Lots of run down wooden houses, small farms and permanently placed mobile homes.   Everyone seems to own a pickup, and I'm not talking about small Toyota's, I'm talking huge things twice the size.  Ford 150/250/350's and Dodge Rams with 5l V8's.  I passed alot of quad bikes and caravans in the forests.  Something that wouldn't be tolerated back home by the anti fun lobby (Ramblers Association)!  Out here, walkers would smile and wave as I rode past instead of spitting at me as I'm used to back home.  I liked Tennessee.

The second day was much the same as the first until I stopped under a tree for a break for 5 minutes to get out of the sun.  When I came to set off again, I reset my odometer for the next turn and the reset knob span off in my fingers - shit, how the hell was I going to reset it now? - At every turn you have to reset the odometer so you can measure the distance to the next turn -  often marked down on my map to a hundreth of a mile.  I ended up trying to turn the steel spindle with my bare fingers, until they became sore and reddened.  I started to follow my gps instead which had check points marked every 5 miles or so.  Following the gps brought me to a river, a big river, and the only crossing was 30 miles NE.  I was going SW.  After getting back on the trail I eventually found a gas station that sold super glue, glued it back on and everything was rosy again.

I saw a lot of snakes (cottonmouth and chicken snakes), most killed on the road, a couple of tortoises, alot of dead armadillos, apparantly they have the unfortunate tendancy to jump in the air when danger appears, which is not the best idea when trying to avoid a Ford pickup!  And dozens of buzzards, big and graceful, soaring on a wiff of breeze and the thermals.  I was fascinated by them and would often stop to watch them floating above my head.

I passed through more than one Amish community, living in what seemed like a time warp from 200 years ago.  Women and children tending their crops by hand, and horse and carts driving up the roads.  I stopped and spoke to a woman and her son who were cutting firewood, I couldn't help thinking that she was somehow cheating when I saw Husqvarna chainsaw by her feet.  Her son (about 10/11) looked shocked and scared of me, as if he had never seen a bike before.  Perhaps he hadn't.

I went to KFC in Columbia.  Chicken, mashed potato, broccoli and gravy.  No chips!!!??  What the hell was going on?  Another night I went to an Italians and had chicken and salad.  I was the only person in the place using a knife and fork.  I felt small next to locals in there, even the kids!  Jeremy Clarkson was right.

I soon realised that I was going to struggle with the amount of stuff I was carrying.  So I posted my sleeping bag, jumper, ground mat and a few other bits and pieces home.  It made a big difference.  I had already binned two old rucksacks that I'd used to bring my gear over with.  I kept the tent just in case.

My accent was causing a bit of a problem for some of the locals, having to speak slowly to be understood.  Sat in a bar in Columbia the pretty barmaid asking me 'you like another beer sweetie? I love your accent, where you from?'  That happened alot in the more southern areas, but as I travelled further North and West, the local accent softened as I left the Southern 'drawl' behind and it became easier to be understood.

The gravel roads through the forests were fun and I was starting to get the back end out on the corners.  I was now enjoying where I was.

Mississippi

 The 2 small towns I passed were both fairly poor.  I got a couple of unwelcoming looks from people in the streets and didn't want to stop there.  I couldn't help wonder how in the richest country in the world, poverty could still be so obvious.  When I got to Arkansas, I was talking to an old farmer and I asked him about it.  He told me it was because it was a 'Black State' and the government didn’t spend money there.  He made it clear his thoughts on the place, and black people, and warned me not to camp there.  'They'll pull a knife on you for your shoes down there’ he said, ‘never mind your bike'.  I found this a regular thing in that area and realised that there were still unsolved, historical problems that made me slightly uncomfortable.  Apart from this one issue, everyone I met along the way was more than helpful and genuinely interested in what I was doing.  Often approaching me for a chat after seeing the Union flags on my bike.

The section finished at the Mississippi River.  It's a massive river crossed by a huge bridge that must be about a mile long.  On the Mississippi side there's the Isle of Capri Casino and Hotel.  It's posh and cheap.  I rang Sam Correro to tell him where I was and he agreed to come and meet me with his friend Wade.  It was great to meet the man who planned the route.  They both gave me advice and were keen to know about my bike, my gps system and maps.  He gave me a Trans America Trail T-shirt and we had a beer and discussed a couple of route changes.

Arkansas

I enjoyed Arkansas, it started out as open farmland and ended in The Ozark National Park, which  covers over a million acres of forest and gravel/rocky trails.  I sat on my bike on top of the White Mountain, looking over the mist covered forest below for what must have been at least 50 miles.  I came across a few people out camping and/or riding quads.  I met a few groups of quads taking up more than their fair share of the tracks around blind corners.....made things a bit exciting!  I didn't back off, I was enjoying myself too much.

Staying for a night just North of Clinton I had to stay at 'The Executive Inn' (everywhere was full), what a shithole.  It was anything but executive!  It was a motel where nothing worked, the sink, air conditioning, shower, door lock!!  In the rooms next door, there where groups of foreign workers that kept me up half the night drinking.  Cars coming and going, loud t.v’s, while something went on in the room 3 doors along while a girlfriend was banished to the expensive looking, blinged up Corvette which was parked outside for 2 hours.  My bike slept with me that night and I was on the road by 6.00 the next morning.

My back was getting worse.  I now had a stabbing pain next to my left shoulder blade (this troubled me for the rest of the trip).  I pulled up outside a massage place which was shut.  The owner, Dan, a man in his mid 50's, had just come back to the US after spending his life living and working in Ethiopia for the US army at a listening post, then in Australia and finally for 20 years in Hawaii as a masseur, agreed to give me a quick chair massage to my sore back.  Great bloke, he gave me his address and I promised to write to him and tell him how I got on.

The next morning was cool and misty and led off to the Ozarks where the real fun began, and I soon forgot about the night in that place.  The new, extra padding on my seat that was bought from a local upholsterer seemed to help my sore backside.  It didn't last long - 2 days - and was replaced by a pair of $3 cotton shorts from Wal-Mart.  It took a good week – 10 days for my arse to get used to riding 8 hours a day, even with a Corbin seat. 

I met a guy at a gas station who was filling up his pickup.  A huge Ford 150.  He told me it had a 5.2l V8.  I want one!  He turned out to be a real estate agent who mainly sold ranches.  A smart wooden house was across the road set in beautiful countryside.  I asked him 'how much for that?'  He thought for a while and said 'for that.....and 20 acres.....about $180,000.'  Back home, it would have been at least £350,000 ($700,000)!!  Unbelievable.  His name was James, he shook my hand, gave me his number and told me to call him if I needed any help while I was here.  It became a regular thing, people giving me their number and telling me to call them if I got into trouble.  I loved it here.  It reminded me of some of Northumberland, only bigger, cheaper, and still inhabited by locals rather than rich townies (not bitter or anything!!)

There where dozens of squirrels in Arkansas.  Every one made me laugh out loud.  They ran left and right, jumped up, span around and finally (always at the very last second), jump back into the trees.

I'd long forgotten about my initial doubts about being able to do the trail, I thought that perhaps I'd brought the wrong bike and that I should have bought a BMW GS650 which would have been better for the gentle early trails and the road trip.  I would, however, change my mind back again once I reached Colorado.

I rang the Honda dealer in Bartlesville, Oklahoma to order a new tyre and to look at the bikes excessive use of oil.  I’d be there in a couple of days.

Oklahoma

I wasn't looking forward to Oklahoma.  It's big, and for most of it, the roads are in a 1 mile grid pattern.  The roads are dead straight for dozens of miles.  Initially the reality was completely different.  Very similar to Arkansas with green farmland and small hamlets and farms.  This soon opened out into a vast, rolling open countryside.  Miles and miles of gravel roads flowing across it to the horizon.  I had changed my mind about Oklahoma.  I loved it.

Due to the high rainfall the previous week, 2 of the creek crossings were still uncrossable, meaning I had to double back and go up into Kansas to find an alternative route.  At one point I took a wrong turn and went down a tractor track for about 100m.  At the end was the gate to a run down house.  A sign at the gate saying 'Private KEEP OUT', the place was overgrown and intimidating.  On top of the gate post, on a spike, was the head of a wild boar.  Flies swarmed around the thing, and I thought of William Goldings book 'Lord of the Flies'.  Just then, as I was thinking 'I've got to get a picture of this!', this HUGE dog appeared, running towards me showing his its teeth, barking and growling.  'SHIIIIITT!!!'  I was pointing down hill on a narrow track, but I had done a 5 point turn and was out of there before you could say 'Squeal like a pig boy!'  Looking back, I saw the monster dog standing at the gate looking pleased with himself.

I got to Bartlesville on Sunday afternoon I had to wait until Tuesday for the Honda garage to open up.  I was miserable as anything.  I wanted to keep going, but couldn't.  I didn't like Bartlesville too much.  The place was designed to drive everywhere.  There were hardly any footpaths and I had to walk the 200m from my motel to the food shop across garage work areas and driveways. This was a common thing in the bigger towns I passed through in the South. 

While they changed the tyre and checked over the engines top end, I hired a car.   A big V6 3.5l Hyundai that felt like it had castors for wheels and blamange for suspension!  I drove 40 miles to the Tall Grass Buffalo reserve.  30,000 acres of natural tall grass prairie with 4,000 buffalo wandering free.  Fantastic.... camera at the ready.  I drove around the 10 mile loop and what did I see? Not a bloody thing!  Plenty of grass, but no sodding buffalo - bollocks.  The view was breathtaking however, hundreds of square miles of natural prairie as far as I could see in every direction.  It was in the middle of Osage County, a huge county, bigger than some States.  It was made an Indian reserve in the middle of the 19^th century by the US Government.  Several tribes were put here.  It turned out that the area had the biggest oil reserves in Oklahoma………..justice??  I laughed about the government thinking of how to rob the land back a second time.

I drove back to a thumbs up from Zack at Cycle Sports.  My bike was ready.  The valve clearances were adjusted and the new rear tyre fitted.  I was ready to get back to the trail the next day.  While picking up my bike I got talking to two guys on Harleys from Colorado.  They gave me some good tips for places to visit there and in Utah.  One said ‘when you’re in Utah, if the local don’t do it, you don’t do it.  Don’t speed, don’t drink and don’t smoke anything you shouldn’t – unless you hide in the bushes.  Take it from me that’s good advice!!’

It was great to be back on the road again, the weather forecast for 25-30 mph winds was a bit of an underestimation.  It was 40-50mph by the time I neared the end of the section.  I was riding due West on pea gravel or sandy tracks and the wind blowing from due South.  The struggle to stay on the road was getting harder and harder as it continued to increase.  My arms were aching at the pressure I was having to put on the bars, the bike sliding sideways on the looser gravel.  I had about 20 miles to the motel and I turned South towards the highway which left me a 10 mile highway ride which was still a struggle.  The bike wouldn’t pull top gear into the wind so I rode at 50mph in 4^th for 10 miles until I reached the highway.  I was knackered.  The man at the motel had only one room left, ‘it’s a disabled room sir’, ‘I’ll take it’ I said.  ‘Would you like a look at it first, it’s a bit different from the others?’, ‘No, I’ll take it!’

The next morning the wind had eased slightly and the trail opened up again to beautiful open plains, the wind dropped to zero and I loved Oklahoma again.  I rang Holly to tell her things were going great and I’d be at my motel in 20 minutes.  Within 2 minutes the wind increased from zero to 30 mph, the track turned to sand and I realised I still had 30 miles to go.  An hour later I checked in.  I was now in Liberal, Kansas having crossed the border for somewhere to stay.

I looked in at the Ford Garage, and in particular at the Mustang parked out front.  The salesman came over.  I told him he had no chance!  He took me inside to see the new one in the showroom, it was the GT version and it had a 5.4l V8 and cost $30,000 (£15,000).  The guy was gobsmacked when I told him I would just get a Focus back home for that much.  That’s the thing out here, everything is so cheap.  A new CBR1000 for $9,000 (£4,500), the car, houses and a steak dinner with 2 bottles of Corona for $12 (£6), the beer alone would cost  £6 back home!!

Oklahoma finished with straight tracks of gravel and sand.  I was looking forward to a change of scenery now and I got it  almost immediately when I got the New Mexico border.