The USA and Canada Journals
- Sadams day off (click here to look closer)...?
Please enjoy the final installment from Bhav, Marie and Stuart, updates of their travels in the US of A and Canada are bellow :
~ Viva Las Vegas -Bhav ~
~ Time for Home -Bhav ~
~ 5/09/2002, LA la la dum de dum -stu ~
~ The Grand Canyon -stu ~
~ Vegas and Venice Beach -stu ~
~ The Road is Long -stu ~
~ Winding Roads, Huge Trees, Bigfoot and Skunk Powered trains -stu ~
~ I Bearly know her -stu ~
~ Slow down Boo Boo! -stu ~
~ COME ON - DO YOU WANT TO LIVE FOREVER! -stu ~
~ The Canadian Circuit -stu ~
~ Right on dorg, welcome to Miami -stu ~
~ New York New York -stu ~
- MORE TO COME, New York Pics to be added...
So finally our arrival in LA. Baby!!!!! Our Flight there had been delayed for an hour and a half, and suffice to say we all a bit groggy and smelly when we walked through the gates. but for the first time in our travel we had some friendly faces there to meet us. Stu's mum, dad and sister. After sorting out our money, we headed over to the People carrier Stu parents had hired and checked into our Motel in Santa Monica, right on the beach. The evening was quiet one as we were pretty cream crackered, but we did managed to get to a bar, where we given load of free drinks by Scantily Clad promotions girls, and told off my the bar man for not tipping. In the States it expected to tip the barman after every round, and if you don't, don't expect to get served sharpish when you try again..
The following day we headed up to Riverside, where Stuart aunt, Daphne lived. We drove through Beverly Hill, trying desperately to do some Star Spotting, alas Hollywood Hulk Hogan was not around. We passed the Hollywood sign, but the traffic was pretty intense, and it actually took us around 3 and half hours to arrive in Riverside. You truly cannot appreciate to the size of LA, the public transport here is not very good, so without a car you really would struggle. There were a number of occasions I asked for directions to places, and they would say 10 minutes down the road, but only after walking the ten minutes did I realise they meant by car. and it was actually 4-5 miles away!
On our third day in LA we had all been invited to a pool party at Stu's Aunty Daphnes' sons house (phew!). ((That would be Stu's 'Cousin' then Bhav #Guy))It was great night, seeing the Chaney's reunited, and it was a great opportunity to meet some Americans having a good time.
However the next day we begin our long drive to the Grand Canyon, (one of things I had been most excited about seeing in the USA). On the way we stopped at London Bridge (A bridge that had been in London many year ago, and brought over to America and plomped in the Arizona Dessert and is now a massive tourist attraction. That night we stayed in Laughlin, a mini Vegas, where we had a little flutter, but made sure we saved some money for the real thing. Actually we warned by one of the bar staff to avoid gambling while in Vegas. We heard later he had been fired and beheaded.
And so the Canyon. Unlike some of the High Vantage point we have to on our travel, here you actually stay at the top end of the Canyon, so you can marvel at the view without actually walk up to the thing. We took our first view from Mather Point, which was breathtaking, it is hard to comprehend the size of the thing, but lets me assure you it is bigger than big! For Sunset we went to the Yavapai Observation point. It is true. the Canyon walls do change colour when the sun sets. One of the sights of my travel that I will never forget. In the morning Stu and Marie got up at 4.30am to take a hike down into the Canyon, I stayed in bed and gave them my camera. Apparently seeing the Canyon at Sunrise was awesome, a lesson to all lazy people out there. get out of bed..!
And Finally Las Vegas.. A Fantasy world built in the dessert. We took a cruise down the Strip and passed Hotels such as New York New York, Bellagio's (From Oceans 11) Mirage, Treasure Island, MGM Grand, Venetian ( A replica of Venice), Paris, etc etc. This would look great lit up, and so we headed over to our hotel, Circus Circus. The evening we all went for a walk along the strip, taking in the fountain shows at Mirage and the Fire, Volcano show. Stu and I managed to end up at Coyote Ugly's, and for those that have seen the film it pretty much the same, girls are encouraged to get up on the bar and dance for free Tequila shots, as the guys go mad.
The next day was Stuart birthday and we were to be joined in Vegas by Rob, a school friend of Stuart. Me and Marie went to meet him at the airport, and it was great seeing a face from our past in the flesh for the first time in over 10 months. Rob had hired a Convertible to cruise around in Vegas so after all the formalities of paperwork were completed we were told to go the Car Yard, and pick up a Convertible of Robs choice. We got there. and every single convertible was gone. The look of Rob's face was a picture, but after an hours wait Rob was presented with a Funky Blue Sebrine Convertible, and finally we were able to cruise the strip is style..!
That evening we Casino crawled around Vegas, and as quickly as the minutes passed so did our dollars. The machine state a return of 97 to 99%, but I'm buggered if that was the case. I think all our losses were ending up in the pocket of Rob, who seemed to be winning a hundred bucks every time was saw him. He even had a burger vendor give him a 100 doller bill in change instead of one buck. There is no doubt the Casino's are the true winners in Vegas. Money simply flows into their grubby pit like water flows freely across the Thames. In an evening you will see old ladies pumping Quarter after Quarter into the slots, grown men losing thousands on the Roulette, and the occasional winner who will be grinning widely and willing to share his quarters with anyone close by. Vegas gambles 24hours a day, and for a Gambler it truly is paradise. However to actually get away from the Gambling is almost impossible, there are Poker machines at the bar, heck you can even stick some money the slots whilst waiting for your luggage at the airport. We often found that a trip from a the Casino to our hotel room would cost us 10 bucks, as there be a million slot machine on the way. However, Stu had a great Birthday. Me, Julia, and Marie had bought him a Stetson (Cowboy) hat, and he looked the part when we ended the night in Caesar palace, puffing on the largest Cigar that Rob could find. The next couple of days in Vegas were pretty much the same with late night gambling, although Rob did treat us to a meal in Steakhouse, at the Luxor which was great. Our first proper posh meal travelling (ever.?). On my way home one evening I sat next to guy who was selling a Gold chain. I told him I was skint (as many people are at the end of a night in Vegas). Anyways as he tried to sell his chain I slowly discovered that he had a gun.. I decided a swift exit was called for, except as I walked down the street, I looked over and saw that he was sitting at the next bus stop.. Shocked thinking he done some kind a Paul Daniels magic trick. I jumped in cab and went back to Circus Circus. Fight Night fever was building as De La Hoya, a Mexican boxer was fighting an important fight that weekend. It was great seeing all the excitement and having chats with all the fight enthusiast about the upcoming bout.
After fours night in Vegas we made the trip back to La. That evening we stayed in the Cadillac's Hotel, which used to be the summer residence of Charlie Chaplin. This place was slap bang on Venice Beach. I loved the place, my favourite place in America. An early morning stroll on to the beach, was great to the clear the cobwebs, and just fascinating to just watch the weirdo's walk up and down the beach. One Character, Wilson (Named after Tom Hanks in Castaway) has a big grey bushy beard, and jogs up and down Venice beach in just his G-String, an unpleasant but equally funny sight. We moved on the Hollywood, where at one point we were positioned behind a car with three bullet holes in the back. Here we did the usual walking up and down the Hollywood boulevard while trying to find the stars for our favourite movie character. Rob seemed well chuffed to have found not only the star but the hand and foot print of Steve McQueen. That night we found a cool Hollywood bar, where we settled down and watched the WWE. I got chatting to the bar owner who was telling me the cost of just obtaining a Liquor licence in the states. $200,000 plus an annual fee, I now understand why every patron is given an ID check.
The Following day we went to Universal Studios. It was a cool day taking in the various shows and ride. The Waterworld one was the best, with plane plunging into the sea, and all the crowd getting soaked. In the Back to The Future ride we managed to stop Biff taking over the world, and we also took in a Terminator show and Jurassic Park ride. Universal was pretty good, but I was disappointed with lack of Roller Coasters and White Knuckle ride and I'm told that the one in Florida is much better. I'll save that for another day. Later that evening we scored some tickets to watch the filming of a US Sitcom "Less than Perfect" which has starring in it Eric Roberts (Julia Roberts Bro). It took nearly 5 hours for the 22-minute sitcom to be filmed. In between take they had a stand up comedian who kept the crowd happy with jokes and little competitions, and we did find that the Yanks were completely mad, and there seemed to be a constant battle to outdo each other. Since being in the States I have discovered two things. There are a lot of American who loved our accent. There are also a number of American who mistake the British accent for an Aussie one (I have no idea where that come from, but it true.. Someone even had the gall to suggest that our very Benny Hill was Australian. Jokers...! Anyways "Less than Perfect" was pretty good and if you ever see the episode where the lead actress goes to the Gym, you may be able to hear me, stu, Marie and Rob sniggering in the background!
The next day was spent shopping for me which was stressful in itself. Before having some final drinks in an Irish Bar in Venice Beach. We finally managed to meet up with Suzanne, a girl we had met in our first week our travelling in Hua Hin in Thailand ( she who I shocked with my hate of Sol Campbell.) It was great to catch up, and it was a cool emotional night.
And yes after ten and half months, I have finally come home. I had decided that I would fly home after LA and Vegas, and as the end quickly approached the whole reality of what I'd achieved and seen over the past year hit home. Whilst I had always been excited to come home, the last few day were very tough for me, as I had immense regrets about not being able to see out the full year of travelling, and missing out on the fantastic places that we had planned to see in America. Even more so it was so hard leaving Marie and Stuart behind, as whilst I was going home to my family, it was like leaving another family back in the States. The year spent travelling with them (and Julia) had been fantastic, and whilst this may sound cheesy I feel blessed that I have such great friends, and its something I will treasure forever, especially with the love and support they have shown me over some difficult times in the last year. I am sure the rest of your travels will be great, and whilst I am back home in England, I travel with you in Spirit.
Also an apology to John and the boys that are going to New York. I am sorry I will not be there with you. but again New York will be an absolute blast.
What have I learnt from my year travelling. Personally I don't think I have changed that much. I was pretty happy with who I was and where I was going before I left, and for me travelling was opportunity to see some sights and meet some people and just take out a year from what will be lifetime of work. I will never forget Asia as it was such a culture shock flying straight from the UK to there. Probably my favourite time in my year, with the people I met and the culture's I saw. I will go back, and would love to see India and Vietnam. Samoa was another massive highlight, especially the people, who lived a life of peace. New Zealand was probably the most beautiful place, and to have done Bungee and Sky Dive there was memorable. Australia, was also fantastic, especially some of dudes I met, ( A special mention to Pistol Pete AKA Sherminator), who was a bit miffed at no mention on Roadtrip.. A top dude who starts in Nottingham this year. Good luck you Bald Manc!
Hope to catch up with everyone soon! Its great to back!
P.S - America is a nightmare for Internet access, and I know Marie and Stu are finding it hard to keep in touch. I spoke to them a couple of days ago and they had reached San Francisco, and were on the way Alcatraz. From there they were to see the Golden Gate Bridge before moving onto Seattle. They managed to hire a car to get them to Chicago in 4 weeks. From there they will probably bus or coach it to the Niagara Falls, before finishing up in New York.
~ 5/09/2002, LA la la dum de dum -stu ~
Greeting us at LA international were three familiar faces holding up signs with our names on. Mum let off a little scream and hugged me, my little sister Kerry burst into tears and Dad gave me a reassuring pat on the back as if to say – thank god you’re here. It was so very good to see them all again…
Soon we were all packed up in a huge MPV that Daddy had hired and carted off to a Motel in Santa Monica. We all caught up with each other that evening over drinks in a bar on Santa Monica pier – here Marie, Bhav and I learned for the first time that everyone here serving you in some way expects a tip. It seems to be the American way… and tax free I guess
Over the next few days I got to experience LA and to meet some more family. As in Australia with Derek and Carol, I had never met my Aunt Daphne before and the only contact we really had was the postcards I send a few weeks in advance. Daphne lives in Riverside, a valley forming part of the LA suburbs – lovely houses and appeared to be a nice friendly town, yet it struck me as being incredibly spread out. It was then I realised that you just could not survive in LA without a car. It’s quite impossible to walk anywhere! On asking for directions people will assume this and therefore the 10 minutes down the road is only 10 minutes if you can walk at 40 mph…
This kind of left us stranded in the Motel Dad had dropped us off in, but we made the most of it by trying to get into American TV while we waited to be picked up and carted around (ever the plight of my farther). Let me tell you right now, TV in the US is a complete joke – the news looks like something out of Starship Troopers, the soaps are so poorly acted it’s like watching a school play, the films are so crammed full of adverts that you can actually forget what you are watching and the documentaries are only ever about Hollywood. A joke it may be, but you do find yourself often staring hopelessly at the screen for hours on end…
Dad finally rescued us from the box and took us out and about – I had a great time with Daphne, we share the healthy loves of gambling and eating spicy food. Marie, Bhav and I were invited to a pool party with my cousins, Paul and Shelly. There we drank and splashed around mingling with my newfound family and friends. A fun time was had by all….
Soon we had to leave LA and drive out east into Arizona – towards the Grand Canyon. We stopped at a border town called Laughlin that was recommended to us by one of Daphnes friends. This was essentially a mini Vegas resort, at a guess there were 10 large casinos plonked on the Nevada side of the Colorado River. We stayed in one called the Pioneer – a huge mechanical waving cowboy sign sat outside beckoned us in.
Trying hard not to loose our money before getting to Vegas we sat down for a Buffet meal and just lost our trim waistlines instead (yea right). All you can eat and anything you want was the general rule – certainly in the case of deserts I could not come up with anything they did not have and ended up being lucky not to bring up everything I did have. America can turn a year of eating mainly pasta and fruit to a few months of eating like a sumo wrestler with the munchies without you even realising it…
It’s not called Grand for nothing – quite literally it’s the hugest dam thing I have ever seen. So much so it actually made me dizzy just looking at it – the sheer scale boggles the mind so much you can loose your balance, which of course is not a good idea near the edge as it is over a mile deep. 277 miles long by 10 miles wide, it’s not just a strole in the park – but Marie and I were determined to get our hiking boots on and set off towards the base where the Colorado River cuts through the canyon on it’s long journey through 5 states towards the sea. Of course, we don’t actually have hiking boots and so it was my DMs and Mers trainers that took us down to Crescent Ridge on the Kaibab trail, a little over half way to the bottom.
We had to get up at before 5am to start our hike, it’s not often you get to see the sun rise over the worlds largest hole and we had to be walking back up before noon or we would loose the shade. We did well to make it down in time to a point where we could see the sun come up – but it was so worth it. The views we got will stick in my mind forever, it’s sending goose bumps up the back of my neck just thinking about it. Marie and I found a rock in a perfect spot that stuck out over the edge so we could dangle our legs out and watch the birds flying underneath them. The canyon altered its colours as the sun rose up from deep browns to bright reds, rain to the west created a half rainbow that glimmered as the heat started to bake the rocks beneath it. We were on top of the world…
When we made it to the ridge we were rewarded with a 360-degree view of the canyon. The yodelling possibilities were endless, and everyone in a 5 mile radius must have wondered just who the hell was doing all that clapping. On the way back up we started to regret being on top of the world, at around 7000 feet in altitude you’ll break a sweat for sure – if you don’t pace yourself panting like a dog is a serious possibility.
During our two days at the Canyon we managed to see a sunrise, two sunsets, do a hike and see most of the viewing points on the South Rim. The sunsets bring masses of tourists out of the gift shops and to the viewing points armed with all types of digital photographic technology. This does spoil it a bit, but is unavoidable unless you hike to an out of the way spot – this is when the Grand Canyon truly becomes a magical place...
~ Vegas and Venice Beach -stu ~
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Please understand that anything written in this section is as close to the truth as possible. The whole of Vegas after the first night is a complete blur and even though I took notes in my written journal most of them say things like, “where’s my hat”, or, “bloody dealers working for the casino I rekon”.
Before we start a few Vegas facts.
Fact 1 – Vegas is built in the middle of the Nevada Dessert and therefore surrounded my lots of nothingness. If you get into trouble here there is a good chance that’s where you’ll end up…
Fact 2 – Vegas is completely driven by money, don’t think anyone is interested in you in anyway – just your money.
Fact 3 – You have to tip, every order if you want to get any kind of service. A large tip gets you served quickly and generously, whereas a small tip gets you served in line with the other filthy peasants.
Fact 4 – There are no clocks in Vegas hence you never know when it is time to go home. Casinos are pumped full of oxygen to keep you going… It is rumoured that this is why there is no casino based around London, as this would naturally have to include Big Ben.
Fact 5 – Everything is rated as number 1…. Everything
Fact 6 – Sigfreed and Roy are actually real people!!
Mr Robert Holt, or Bob the Boozer as I like to call him, was to join us soon but before he arrived the 6 of us went out for some Gambling and drinking mayhem. This we achieved although there is little to tell other than some very bad Guinness was served and all of us got hooked on the slots. Of course, none of us came out up – but we held are own for quite some time.
The next night I seem to remember going out and then all of a sudden it was just Bhav and myself – not sure how this happened, but I do remember finding a Coyote Ugly bar in the New York New York casino. If you have seen the film you’ll get the general idea of how that night went. We eventually walked home, which took a good deal of time even though we were staying at Circus Circus on the same road (the Strip). On the way we had to take a rest in another Casino (where else) and of course this lead to me accidentally dropping all of my money on the Roulette table and then having to borrow some money off of Bhav to accidentally drop on there again.
Bobby B arrived a little late on the 12th – my bufday!!! He told me that he wanted to find some Mustangs as soon as possible – being an owner of a 1967 Ford Mustang himself, he has a keen interest in the area as it is where they were produced. It was great to see my old drinking buddy - already I was hyped up from getting a load of very cool presents and drinking a string of Budweisers. We partied hard, or at least I assume we did… Armed with my new hat and looking like Terry Pratchets younger hobo brother, we hit the strip. There are pictures of me with a fat cigar in Monte Carlos, I recall some malicious spiking of my Guinness taking place, dancing in the Coyote Bar, loosing badly at Blackjack and little else. Oh, I think Rob said that he saw a Mustang…
My folks had to leave the next morning and so we said our sad goodbyes, it would only be a short while before I would see them again but I did get a little homesick before passing out. I probably made little sense at the time, as I don’t think that I actually ever made it to bed before then… This is how it continued in Vegas, sleep when you pass out, the same could be said for drinking – we did manage to drive round the city a few times as Rob had a hire car (not a Mustang). It was just a matter of finding a window when he wasn’t completely smashed…
We cruised around in Robs convertible, playing the one CD I had with me – Fatboy Slims new one. Looking cool – except it was anything but being well over 100 degrees in the sunshine. During our stay we did nearly every Casino on the Strip, which is a lot, and Rob noted down every Mustang he caught a glimpse of (which is also a lot). Give that man a half a second peek at the left hubcap and he can give you the year, engine capacity and probably the weight and ambient noise levels as well….
All of the Casinos are just HUGE – you can easily get lost, which is deliberate on part of the Casino floor planners because it keeps you in there. Nearly all of them have a stage where live acts perform all night long and most have roller coasters with some sort of Theme. For example the Treasure Island Casino has a show that takes place every 20 minutes or so outside. Here two full size battleships face off, a British warship tries to board a pirate ship that fights back and sinks the Brits – YES the boat actually moves over to attack and then gets sunk. YES there are loud explosions, people falling 15 meters into the water and things on fire - all this is on the street. It’s just a gimmick to get people to go into the Casino!!!…. While we were watching the show I think Rob managed to see the left rear taillight of a 78 mustang… E series
Robin treated us to a steak and Champaign meal one night – certainly a step up from ‘Fatburger’, where we ate lunch. I think it was the same night he spent a good half hour chatting up a girl only to find out she was a hooker. Marie apparently knew this but just let him chat away until he was asked if it was going to be paper or plastic while I sat behind him giving him the “Go on my Son”, routine… Needless to say the Skippy Snap was a regular occurrence in Vegas, often I would see Marie walking through the huge casino floors concentrating hard on not falling over. To finish off my Vegas stories with a traditional American Happy ending, I did manage to walk away over 100 dollars up on the last night there and the casino bought my drinks all night.
Robin drove us back to LA in the swanky convertible, the hood did not stay down long though as Marie and Bhav in the back were beginning to look slightly charred. This would probably not have happened if we had a Mustang convertible, but what can you do… It took some doing to actually find a place to stay in Santa Monica (cheap rooms there) and so we ended up checking in at the Cadillac hotel in Venice beach. Pricey rooms, but apparently cheap for the area and we did get a good room for the four of us.
Venice beach, in short, is full of nutters – so we fitted in quite nicely. Bob and I grabbed a fry up and just spent the day chilling out around the sea front. All manner of hippy goings on were spread out up the prom – peace protesters issuing pamphlets, environmentalists doing the same (not on recycled paper I noted), Tattoo Artists who insist on being called Body Artists, Crystal Ball and tarot card readers who insist on being called mystics or karma witches…. Something like that anyway, aside from not being green – many did resemble Grotbags.
Many of these stall owners appeared to be living in the car park (sorry, parking lot), while anywhere else in LA it simply would not be tolerated. There were numerous banged out RVs there that must have been reclaimed from the tip, most had anti nuclear war slogans on them and where patched up with old boxes. Strangely it did not seem to spoil the scenery in anyway, if anything it added to the atmosphere. Good Karma perhaps… Rob spotted a Mustang in the car lot next to the Nissan 47GT turbo+, but it was in terrible condition.
Out of all the residence of Venice beach the one I was most intrigued with was an old, typical tramp looking dude. You know the type, beard, walks with very deliberate steps but stooped and hates making eye contact…? Anyway, the thing that made this chap so different from the rest was his dress sense – or lack of in this case. He spent his days wondering up and down the beach wearing nothing but a very small thong. Of course he can’t venture off the sea front because he is already wearing the minimum legal requirement for the beach – this is where his problem lies.
We all got talking to some body artists in a bar, “Tattoo Man” informed us that Wilson, as he had be affectionately been nicknamed (anyone seen Castaway?), did in fact believe he was stuck on a dessert island. Although he seemed very well looked after by the hundreds of people living and working up the prom – the poor man was a prisoner of the beach, or in reality, his own mind….
We soon found ourselves drawn like magnets towards Hollywood, LA’s capital of the stars . . .
First up – the walk of stars down Hollywood boulevard, Rob scanned the floor for Steve McQueen (legendary Mustang driver) and I kept an eye out for Lon Chaney (legendary Chaney). We found them both, but the best was to be found at the Chinese theatre where collections of the greatest stars have imprinted feet and hands next to their signature. Actors ranging from Marilyn Monroe to Arnold Schwarzenegger had marked the ground, there was even a slab signed by Daffy Duck, imprinted with webbed feet and all.
The next day Bobby drove us over to Universal Studios and we enjoyed a day of big shows and rides, the best of which was the Back to the Future ride – I think it was the oldest as well. Outside the original DeLorion was parked, rob got quite excited and in the two pictures we got of the car with you can see him investigating the interior – probably thinking to himself, that flux capacitor looks like it needs swapping out…
A bit further on the Dodge Charger from the fast and the furious was parked up along with its Japanese counterpart. Robin almost wet himself; I remember him walking round for the ten minutes after with uncomfortable strides and his hands in his pockets...
The studio tour was the most memorable experience from the whole day for me; we scored VIP tickets that meant no queuing and seats in the front of the trolley train thingy. It took us round sets from Psycho and Jaws as well as the current sets from Hulk and some Jim Carey movie I can’t remember the name of. The tram whatsit thingy do dar took us into studio buildings where we got to sample special effects up close, everything from train crashes to freak floods were generated up close and then seamlessly reset for the next trip – all very realistic.
After the studio tour we signed up to be Audience members of a new show coming out called Less Than Perfect. The show stared Sara Rue, Andy Dick and Erick Roberts (Julias older brother). A warm up comedian kept us laughing for the first hour and the show was genuinely entertaining – but they shoot everything 3 or 4 times and you have to laugh each and every time. This is hard – why don’t you try:
What’s black and white, and eats like a horse?...
A Zebra
...
What’s black and white, and eats like a horse?...
A Zebra
...
What’s black and white, and eats like a horse?...
Yes, a Zebra
..
What’s black and white, and eats like a horse?...
A bloody Zebra
.
What’s black and white, and eats like a horse?...
ZEBRAS YOU DUM SONS OF...
(are you even reading these now?)
After hour 3 (the show runs for something like 22 minutes) the warm up comedians job was getting extremely hard and enthusiasm running very thin – Rob was most upset that there was no car chase scenes…
Our time in LA was coming to an end, soon Rob and indeed Bhavnit had to fly home – just leaving Marie and Myself. On the last night we met up with Suzanne, a friend we made in Thailand many months back. It was great to see her again but unfortunately, being the last night for Bobby H and B, we were in slightly sombre mood.
It had to happen, I hate airports at the best of times – and now I had to say teary goodbye to a couple of truly great mates. Rob flew out first; I think he had managed to achieve all of his Mustang sightings (I suspect he had some sort of checklist hidden away). Bhav had a painful few hours extra to wait – it was especially sad to see him go as we have achieved so much together in ten months. Unfortunately his health was responsible for forcing him into taking the earlier flight home as most of you now know. Bhav had been ill for some time and had to take it easy for a while, which is just impossible when you are travelling.
Marie and I shared a moment of silence after he walked through customs and out of sight…
…
The road is long
With many a winding turn
That leads us to who knows where
Who knows when
But I'm strong
Strong enough to carry him
He ain't heavy, he's my brother
So on we go
His welfare is of my concern
No burden is he to bear
We'll get there
For I know
He would not encumber me
He ain't heavy, he's my brother
If I'm laden at all
I'm laden with sadness
That everyone's heart
Isn't filled with the gladness
Of love for one another
It's a long, long road
From which there is no return
While we're on the way to there
Why not share
And the load
Doesn't weigh me down at all
He ain't heavy, he's my brother
He's my brother
He ain't heavy, he's my brother...
(Thank you Neil Diamond)
To cheer ourselves up, Marie and I spent a large chunk of our now very small pot of money on a hire car. If we were going to see the USA for what it truly is the great American road trip was the only way to go. Taking a shuttle bus straight from the Airport to Hertz we arranged a Chevrolet Malibu for 4 weeks, eventually dropping off in Chicago. We were lucky with the car, the Chevy had to be taken back to Illinois so we got a free double upgrade. We had air con, electric windows and seats, CD player, 3.8 litre V6 petrol engine with cruise control – with the amount of driving we had planned, these were essential…
The holiday was over – that same day we headed towards Santa Maria, a general Northerly direction up the West Coast was about all we had planned. We both wanted to get some distance between us and LA, with my folks gone, Rob heading back and Bhav retiring hurt from the batting order - Marie and I were on the road again, full time travellers. Our first job, Escape from LA… Driving on the right was not so much of a problem, but finding our way through a metropolis far larger than anywhere else we have been with nothing more than a photocopied map from Hertz proved troublesome.
Eventually we made it onto the open road and into the fog that loiters around the coast. The many hills along route 101 take you out of the fog and let you see the mysterious mist from above. So thick and pure white was the fog that it almost looked like a blanket of clouds covering the towns and villages below. We had been on the go all day, but were determined to get a lot of ground between us and LA – it was getting dark and we had strayed off course somewhat…
While we were trying to figure out how to get back on the road a strange thing happened. As I drove up and round a corner on the road we had unwittingly joined, a clearing in the fog developed and we noticed a small white light racing up in the night sky. It was travelling at an incredible speed and producing a tail that from top to bottom had developed in just about every colour imaginable. I pulled the car over and we watched as it hurtled towards the moon. Eventually it appeared to explode – although there was no bang, the small white light had turned into a very bright and now very large white light. It continued to glow for about five minutes before Marie and I thought it best not to get to stick around any longer. We drove into the nearest place called Pleasant Town, got directions and then got the hell out of there – it was all getting a little to X-files like. In my opinion, Pleasant Town is entirely run by aliens living in human hosts. Don’t go there…
We drove all the next day up into San Fran Cisco, but did not think to ware a flower in our hair. It was dark when we arrived and I had to pull out some interesting guesswork on the freeway as to where to come off and how to avoid the rush hour traffic (V6 engines really help here). We managed to get a place in the centre of town that was cheap, clean and run by a very friendly Indian family. It cost almost as much to park the car as it did to park ourselves, but as with many things in the USA – you don’t have a choice but to pay. Marie and I grabbed a beer and some food that night, we had promised ourselves a few beers each time we arrive in a big city. Afterwards we watched the traffic and pedestrians going by from our large motel window, there was a good car smash that entertained us for a while. Before this I amused myself by watching people walk past our car and setting off the alarm from the key remote. The security alarm was ringing on the building next door and so these mindless games carried on most of the night…
A daytime drive round the city was essential if a little dangerous. Marie attempted to direct me round the block maze that is San Fran, I was just beginning to really enjoy the unique feel the city had when I could not help notice that every lane in front of me was filled with traffic… coming at me! This would explain why the motorcyclist was waving his arms at me like they were on fire moments before… San Fran is all one way and no right turn – all of which I had ignored at the previous junction. A friendly BMW driver (unheard of in the UK I know) shielded us the oncoming traffic after I screeched to a halt in the right most (which was in fact the left most) lane. On spotting a gap in the traffic and quick 180 later we were back on track again, and still in one piece…
San Fran’s second most dominant feature is the Rock. Here Sean Conery was holed up for 30 years and was the only man that had ever escaped from the island called Alcatraz. Fortunately he helped Nick Cage thwart a gang of gone wrong Military types from gassing the San Fran public and showed how Alcatraz can change a hardened criminal into a lovable old hero. Enough to send Goosebumps to the back of your neck isn’t it…
Marie and I jumped on the boat, plugged our ears into the mobile audio commentary machine and took the tour. Occasionally I would pull out an ear piece just to amuse myself with how silent everyone around was – not much to talk about when you’ve got genuine murderous criminals and the old prison guards explaining what you were seeing, telling you where to go next and giving you a very good feel of how life was on the island prison.
Alcatraz was built to hole up the gangsters during the explosion in numbers of criminal syndicates / families during the 30’s. Al Capone and Machine Gun Kelly to name but two – in other words, the rock had a lot of stories and I really took a shine to the place. It certainly was a step up from the old student accommodation I visited frequently during my first year at Portsmouth Uni. The canteen looked a lot cleaner and the menu was in a whole different class! Of course the Americans have an amazing ability to describe all kind of brutal and horrible things to you and then sell you a large chocolate chip and cookie dough ice cream (fantastic)!!!
We left San Francisco feeling fresh and excited about what was to come even though exiting San Fran just makes you want to turn round and drive right back in again. The Golden Gate bridge, may just be a bridge – but it has a magnificence about it that just can’t be denied. We took a detour up a nearby hillside to get a better view of the worlds most orange structure, so orange that it has to be painted almost constantly - Bhav would have loved to have seen this…
If it was not for the toll to enter the city, we may well have never left San Fran, but we had to get to Seattle and sample the coffee. We estimated a three day drive up the costal road, out of California and into Oregon, through the valley of the giants and into Washington State….
~ Winding Roads, Huge Trees, Bigfoot and Skunk Powered trains -stu ~
We tried to stick to the coastal road as much as possible during the drive up from San Fran to Seattle. This added at least a day to the journey, but made the trip far more interesting – Marie and I had decided to stay off of the interstates as much as possible because most, however quick, are incredibly dull. You don’t get to see anything but wasteland and bill boards, route 1 and 101 however was anything but. At the end of the first day we had stopped a number of times, just to take in the views. The road has ‘vista’ points every ten to twenty miles down and nearly all of them are well worth the stop. Our route took us through some remote costal towns, usually found next to a great looking beach and would have houses the size of castles dotted about them. The towns were all self contained, each having everything a family would need to spend a lifetime there.
The dramatic coastal regions of Mendocino and Humboldt included some cool little fishing communities and so we decided fish and chips was a must for lunch. We sat down in a café and had some of the local catch while listening to the road workers who were discussing the tired old winding road that had been turning Maries stomach a few hours before. The road workers in the states seem to work in family groups, the men will dig and work the machinery while the wives stand in the road spinning the stop go sign and gossiping on the walkie talkie. The job is far more hazardous than any work you’ll see being done on the M25, Route 1 spends a lot of time running along very steep cliff edges and winding up and down thick-forested mountains. Great for boys pretending they are rally drivers trying to win the 2002 world series, bad for girls who feel ill as soon as there legs loose contact with the ground…
Towards the end of our drive the scenery flattened out becoming even more forested and the towns became more scares. Giant Redwoods lined the road as route 1 merged back into route 101. It was getting late and these giant trees cut out the little light there was left leaving us in some very dark and imposing woods. We had taken a small detour through a stretch of road called the ‘Valley of the Giants’ in the heart of Redwood National Park. This is where the mighty Bigfoot is said to roam, and being the couple of Muppets we are – Marie and I were there during an almost full moon in the middle of the night. The moons rays cut through the forest at times making the road ahead look like a scene from Sleepy Hollow. I amused myself by convincing Marie that the locals run old steam trains on Skunk Carcasses, of which we had seen many on the side of the road. Marie unquestionably agreed that we were indeed in a rather weird area of the world…
That night we stayed in a place called Eureka - at one time this was home for many lumberjacks, now it serves as just another small tourist trap of which there were many in the Redwood area. We had seen small buildings all the way up advertising anything from amazing tree wonders to UFO crash sites to real Bigfoot evidence. Homemade bill boards informed us of the upcoming wonders up to 250 miles in advance and every 50 miles we would be reminded that it was in our best interests to stop - a once in a lifetime chance!
Bigfoot country continued all the way up into Oregon from where we stayed in the North tip of California. We gave in after crossing the border and decided to stop at the ‘Tree of Mystery’. As it happened, the only mystery was why would anyone cut a huge hole in a perfectly good tree… Still – we got a picture and visited the gift shop that was full of tacky wonders.
The landscape again began to change into a more rural picture as we passed through Oregon. Many rivers cut inland and we had to cross through a range of whopping metallic bridges while driving past the Oregon Sand Dunes. It dawned on me that Grooze Armada must have passed by this way at some point in their career, probably just before they bought out At The River – great driving tune…The sand dunes are exactly what you would expect, miles of sand dunes on which you can hire dune buggies and have tremendous fun. This is of course is at the expense of scaring the bejesus out of the wide range of bird life that lives in and around the 50 miles of sand dunes. On first sighting the dunes our view was obstructed by a huge monstrosity of a building - a power plant of some sort I guessed. It must have been some years old, of course there was no real environmental concerns in the US 50 years ago, and there is little now. The plant was gutting the surroundings in fumes and had turned a once beautiful location into an industrial hell. It is true to say that America has much beauty and perhaps it can’t all be saved – but you try telling that to the people that live next to the Cuyahoga River in Cleveland. In the 1960s the river had become so polluted that it actually caught fire!!!
Oregons more rural look comes from the timber trades poor (or complete lack of) planning and although there are still many areas of ancient forest, it is clear that much has been lost. It is one of the first places settled by Europeans on the west coast of America, and is rich in colonial history – this obviously has had an affect on the landscape. With all this in mind, while driving North through Oregon you rarely loose sight of the sea and the towns dotted along the coast are very pretty and inviting. We eventually stopped in Lincoln City for the night – feeling the affects of the long driving hours, it is never hard to sleep. Even in a 25 dollar a night Motel sharing a bed with Skippy the kicking kangaroo…
We made a decision the next morning to make up some ground. I have a habit of wanting to stop everywhere and this unfortunately meant that we were in the car all day – not wanting to do this again we switched our route onto the interstate and Motored all the way out of Oregon, through the South of Washington state and into Seattle by the afternoon. It was time for some city life, and the rules of travel state – each new city means an immediate night out on the raz. We used our ever helpful discount coupon book to book into the cheapest motel in town (which was not all that cheap) and went for a walk. Our wonderings took us to the sea front, round and back into town. There we stopped at an Irish bar and joined in with the pub quiz – Englands Finest v’s the Americas.
It was a fix for sure, there was one question on our royal family, and the rest of the questions were entirely unanswerable unless you grew up in the USA. Marie and I left in the middle of round three and rock bottom on the leader board. We finished our drinking in a small unmarked club, the only reason we noticed the place is because two girls fell out of the door as we walked past. It was for sure the cheapest place to drink in Seattle and after some of those mentally large shots of bourbon they love to serve, Skippy had snapped and snapped again before we even ventured onto the Drambuie. Night night Seattle and all right kids.
Seattle is expensive and appears quite under populated. The city feels quite large but there does not seem to be many people there at all. The roads are clear of traffic most of the time and there’s never more than a few seconds wait while you’re trying to get served. Everything in Seattle was on the pricey side, even the elevator to the top of the Sky Needle was borderline criminal. The only cheap thing in town is the monorail – which was broken down just outside our hotel with the local press outside reporting on the only interesting thing happening that day I would guess.
The city obviously tries very hard to promote it’s upper class image, the coffee bars and many fancy restaurants see to that. (and Frasier on channel 4) Even the internet café Marie and I sat down in served up some java in a swish mug and then charged us handsomely for the privilege. I had an enjoyable time visiting the home of grunge, but it is not what I expected. To think Soundgarden, Pearl Jam and Nirvana sprung up from a city that makes barmen ware aprons – it’s an odd thought… I was later to discover that Pearl Jam spend much of their time in Montana, but that is another story. While on the subject of music, I happened across an Irish bar that was promoting Liam Gallagher – Thursday nights, 9 till close…? It through me to start with, but of course it must be another Liam – which got me thinking back to my Student days. During the first two years of Uni I often visited Southampton and stayed with Dumass and another friend of mine, Junior Chief Johnson. One of their housemates was called Liam Gallagher; he was Irish, played the guitar and had a singing voice to rival that of any other Gallagher you could name. Could it be…..? Alas, I never found out for sure – but John informs me that it is unlikely as his Liam now lives in Whales.
Marie and I spent the last night watching the idiot lantern in order to conserve our funds. Our journey was about to shift direction and head east towards Idaho – Marie plotted a rather obscure route out of Washington. I don’t think she planned anything, but boy did she do good. We were to move away from the coast for the first time in months - inland towards some serious looking mountains called the Rockies.
With Seattle behind us we travelled north towards Vancouver for a short time before turning east into the countryside. Surrounding us were farms and homesteads, but looming ahead were some ominous looking mountains. At first I thought these were the Rockies, but they were in fact the Cascade Ranges – something I had never heard of before. We were unexpectedly heading through the North Cascades national park – but by then we had accepted that we were about see a lot of places quite unexpectedly. It is the only way to travel...
As Marie no doubt started bracing herself for some more stunt driving on my part, I sat back and watched as the mountains got bigger and bigger until their shadow enveloped us. As the process of adjusting our eardrums with the ever increasing altitude began, we started to wonder about something that (cursed) planning might have prevented. As we went up, the temperature went down and so snow started becoming a common site. Fortunately we passed an information centre that sat next to a stunning Vista point and our fears were set to rest – all roads were open.
A postcard they were selling in the information centre helped us select a hike from the many possibilities that were ahead– it was at the far end of the ranges so we got there with only a few hours of daylight to spare. Wrapping up warm, we set out towards the mountain lake that looked so beautiful on the postcard. It took us some time to reach and Marie had this whole Teddy Bears Pick nick paranoia thing going on. In Bhavs absence she appeared to have picked up all his fears and phobias (of which there are plenty) – or perhaps I never noticed Maries anxieties while he was around. This may explain why they are such an inseparable couple most of the time – she hangs around him so people don’t think she’s paranoid or easily panic struck, and he hangs around her so people don’t pick up on him being a slothful shandy drinking lightweight. It’s like the birds that sit all day long on the elephants back, or the fish that follow whales around – a natural evolutionary step of mutual beneficiary standings. Either that, or they are a couple of idiots – I don’t know which...
Marie was doing double-time, she did not want to be eaten by the savage bears that frequent the woods and attack at whim. I just about kept up with her, but the body language was dam right dirty whenever I stopped to take a picture. I think she must have been told a few X rated nursery rhymes as a child – she does have a striking resemblance to Goldilocks and often thieves food and beds...
The lake was every bit as stunning as the postcard made it out to be and the buzz only developed whenever you’re in a very isolated place was swishing around inside me. It’s hard to get that kind of excitement anywhere in England – Dartmoor is about as close as I ever got. Marie appeared to relax completely after we arrived having calculated the distance and time remaining before sunset – or perhaps it was just the sheer calmness of the spot that soothed her nerves. I was so lucky to have her there with me, she was a lot better with the outdoor stuff being a country girl. If it were not for her I would almost certainly be bunking up with Bigfoot in some cave around California rather than here typing up my travels. Persecuting the Skippy is too easy – but I do give her the occasional break. Marie missed the bear footprints I had fraudulently created on the way there – not being able to bring myself into pointing them out and risk her running screaming into the forest and possibly off the edge of some cliff. See – what are friends for...
It was pitch black by the time we pulled up into Winthrop village. We stopped for dinner in the old mining town that was now made up in a Wild West theme, apparently it is the original setting of Owen Wisters – The Virginian -. I was wearing a t-shirt with a great big gold star printed on the front, my very worn DMs and a huge black Stetson. Yes – I was sheriff Chaney, come to clean up this town of scum like you. That’s right YOU. You the reader – out of my town vermin!
After a few minutes of strutting about like a right nimrod, saying howdy mam to any passing women and a good slap up meal, we figured out that we could not actually afford to stay in any of the hotels. Now wise in the ways of travel cost cutting, we set out towards the Colville Indian Reservation in order to find some cheap digs – fortunately I had snapped out of the sheriff routine or the pair of us might have ended up getting scalped...
The next morning we crossed the border and found ourselves in Idaho. We were crossing the state at its most narrow point, which meant that we only spent a few hours driving through. To make the most of things we decided to follow a minor road along side of St Joe River – which is a beautiful drive that never takes you out of spitting distance from the river. The sun was setting by the time we made it into Montana and the road took a nasty turn. We had again been steadily climbing in altitude, almost without realising it. Thinking back, the river should have given it away as it was flowing fast in the opposite direction – certainly not safe for a gentle swim (fully tested with sticks)… As soon as we crossed into Montana, the road turned to gravel, the sky turned black and the road wound its way down steeply. It was slow and steady going until we got to a town called Superia where we crashed out for the night. I went out for a cheeky beer in the local casino – which all bars were called in this particular place for some reason. All you needed was a fruit machine / pokey / or whatever you want to call them and you’re a fully fledged Casino.
The next town was Missoula, here we intended to stop and meet up with some of my family – cousin Mike and Heidi. Unfortunately they had no idea we were coming as the phone number my father gave me was in fact for Clutch Master. Not needing any help mastering our clutch (it was an automatic) we arrived in town, stopped for a bite to eat and emptied our backpacks into the local laundrette. It then occurred to me that my Aunt Daphne in LA (my fathers sister and Mikes mother) would have his number – slow or what!
Mike was most confused. Stuart ‘Chaney’. Roberts son…. You’re where. Missoula Montana!!? Erm. . . .
Eventually, when Mike got to grips with the situation, he rounded up his family and came into town to meet us (luckily it was a Sunday). God knows what he must of though of Marie and I, what a couple of weirdos – just turning up to say hello without any warning. Poor old Mike was totally unprepared but he made us very welcome – it was quite touching to meet people willing to drop everything because a family member has rolled into town.
While our clothes were spinning round and Mike was probably out desperately searching for his children – I took a walk round the local shops hoping to find a map as we had driven off of ours the previous day. Not usually being that interested in shopping I did not expect to find myself hanging around for so long in the hardware store – but this store was like no other I had ever been in. An Englishman in Missoula must be quite easy to spot, they’ll be the ones staring at the racks and racks of huge weapons for sale in the local Hardware store. Aisle 3, between the camping gear and portable toasters was a dazzling array of Guns and ammo. On careful consideration I decided Marie would get a little concerned if instead of coming back with the Central North America road map I came back so fully loaded I could take down a Boeing 747 from the ground.
It was quite staggering – at the time of writing the UK news is filled with the peoples fear of gun crime escalating further and images of tables covered in guns seized by the police. It’s quite difficult getting too concerned about a table with perhaps 12 guns once you have seen a shop with more fire power than the English Navy. Picture Tescos in your mind, got it….? Now imagine all the frozen items being replaced with Rambos wardrobe. Don’t add any security mind – it’s probably harder to steal a VCR from Dixons than an AK47 from Missoula. Then again, it’s unusual to visit Dixons theses days without having to put up with some ear piercing alarm in one ear while some drip drones on trying to sell you a digital camera in the other. Actually, it’s just unusual for me to be visiting Dixons at all… what the hell am I banging on about??!! It’s 130am and going off on a tangent seems to be getting a little too easy. What was I talking about.? Ah yes.
It’s a funny topic to bring up in America – guns are treated differently state to state (remember that many states can house more than just a couple of European countries). In general though – most Americans will defend their right to bare arms, it is after all part of their constitution. The guns in Montana were designed for hunting as opposed to any military style weapons – but there is some very large game about. A Moose is what everyone wants to bag, aside from Bigfoot – for this you need a special licence and a very large gun. If you happen to be American and reading this – please understand that guns are generally something only seen in the England on TV (up to now at least). That is of course, unless you are in the army, RAF, Navy or live in the Mosside area of Manchester...
When Mike arrived he took us out for a quick bite to eat at a nice restaurant and we chatted about all sorts of stuff. Of course Marie and I were the assumed couple again – something that never bothered me nearly as much as it did Marie for some reason. We were used to just playing along by now - having tried explaining it to others before and finding it rarely works. Mike and Heidi with their two daughters Ashley and Alex had made an amazing effort making us feel welcome, we were given cake and coffee and chatted for hours about England, travelling and family stuff. Mike asked me if I had heard of a band called Pearl Jam, which is one of my favourites – he told me that Mike McCready (the guitarist) lived just up on the hill nearby and sometimes you could here the band jamming. Needless to say that at this point I just turned completely green...
Their house was wonderful and in a terrific area that was near to town but still felt like it was on the edge of the great outdoors. They bought the plot of land and had the house built to their own design – I have to say, it was fantastic. The whole estate (if you can call it that) was very open with no garden hedges and no set pathways. In order to prevent the dog from running off, he had to wear a special collar that detects the underground wire Mike had laid around the edge of his property (anyone remember The Running Man). If the dog strayed over this invisible line it gave him a little electric shock – wonderful stuff, I must get one for my cat Danny and put the wire round the outside of the fridge.
Mikes garage alone was about the size of your average one bedroom flat in London – on top of that, his lawnmower was about the same size as my car (no joke)! There were some confused looks as I laughed after Mike mentioned the small car he had bought his daughter to learn in – it was about the size of a Mondeo!
We could not stay too long as we had to make it out on the open road to find some cheap lodging. Eventually we waved goodbye to Mike, Heidi, Alex and Ashley – and set off towards the Bitterroot Valley. My one regret is that I completely forgot to take any pictures while I was there, but it’s a good excuse to go back…
(This story is dedicated to the unidentifiable dog we found cooked on the back seat of our car the next day – we won’t forget you Smokey, and shall not rest until we find out who did this to ya!)
From Missoula we drove into an area called the Bitterroot valley, the ranges were filled with wildlife, thick forest and wonderful little American towns. We spent our first night in a town called Hamilton and checked out Lake Como – a large lake used by locals for recreation and by a vast array of bird and fish life as a home. The scene was one straight out of all those sad father and son bonding moments you see on film in any family movie made pre 1995…
The next day we drove down south towards the Pioneer Mountains – on route we passed through a village called Darby. A charming little place set out in the Bitterroot wilderness that happens to share its name with Maries family. We stopped for a bite to eat and took a look round main street which was lined with shops, bars and cafes. Marie was in search of somewhere to organise a horse trek while I found myself in an antiques shop playing with the coolest piano you could ever dream of.
I’m not an overly musical fella, but I do love a good tune and tried my hand at playing the guitar on the odd occasion - usually much to the discomfort of anyone within earshot. This piano however, is definitely the instrument for me. It had a windowed section underneath so you could see the internal workings but it’s when you peer through the glass that you realise it is much more than just a piano. Inside you can see along with the hammers and strings, a full drumkit, some computer bits and bolted to the side – a colour LCD touch screen. Clearly this “Antique Piano” had a few modifications.
After the shop owner had asked me if I was interested the most expensive item in the shop and Marie was clearly bored of The Beatles – we had to leave. There was little chance of me fitting a full size piano into my backpack, and moments before entering the shop I had discovered that the ATMs were now refusing to pay me any money. Life can be so cruel…
We continued on towards a town Marie had picked out as being a likely place to find some horses. On the way to Ennis we passed through some historic points of interest. Marie and I were inadvertently following the same path the Nez Perce Indians took while desperately fleeing the area trying to reach the sanctuary of Canada as Government troops and Volunteers ruthlessly pursued them. War was affectively declared on them when they tried to defend themselves against resettlement in 1877 and 250 warriors led by Chief Joseph had to escort around 500 women and children 1700 miles on foot and horseback. Big Hole Battlefield was made famous by a native Indian going by the name of Looking Glass who once made the mistake of throwing an impromptu party - thus allowing his warriors and their families to be sneaked up upon and mass slaughtered.
I do not wish to lecture on about what happened so many years ago – but the stories must be told or the human race just won’t learn. Learning about the Native Americans during my time in this area gave me a small glimpse into their culture, but it was enough to move me. The Native Americans had deep respect for nature and lived in harmony with it as opposed to farming the land and building brothels on top of it. The new USA government legally gave them rights to their land at first – but this soon changed whenever gold was discovered or a railroad needed to be built.
Not fancying living in the government designated camps the Native Americans elected to stay where they had lived in relative peace for tens of thousands of years. The land was regarded as sacred, in part because buried there were the bones of their ancestors and in part because it provided them with what they needed to live. Water, shelter, animals to hunt… Government reservations meant that they would be dependant on handouts, forced into following the culture being imposed on them – it they would eventually all but destroy them.
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On August 4, the Nez Perce camped near the confluence of the Bitterroot River's east and west forks. Two young warriors, Lone Bird and Wahlitits, told of dreams they had warning that death would follow if they did not hurry. Looking Glass was still convinced they need not hurry. The Dreams were disregarded. Looking Glass prevailed.
‘My shaking heart tells me trouble and death will overtake us if we make no hurry through this land! I can not smother, I can not hide what I see. I must speak what is revealed to me. Let us be gone to the buffalo country.’ Lone Birde, Nez Perce warrior
‘My brothers, my sisters, I am telling you! In a dream last night I saw myself killed. I will me killed soon!’ Wahlitits, Nez Perce warrior killed at the Big Hole Battle
On August 5, the Nez Perce travelled up Spring Gulch, across Low Saddle on the north side of Sula Peak, dropped down into Ross Hole and camped near present-day Indian Trees Campground before crossing the Continental Divide.
‘We travelled through the Bitter Root Valley slowly. The white people were friendly. We did much buying and trading with them. No more fighting! We had left Howard and his was in Idaho.’ Yellow Wolf.
Completely unaware of Colonel Gibbon and his regiment, Looking Glass expressed the same belief by proclaiming, ‘War is quit!’
The steep trail over the Divide was familiar, but difficult. After the climb, and one night at Trail Creek, the Nez Perce made camp on the banks of a clear, cool stream where the forested mountains meet the green meadows. Horses grazed. Woman cut lodge poles and gathered roots. Children played and men hunted game. They had made it to the Big Hole! 'That night the warriors paraded about camp, singing, all making a good time. It was first since war started. Everybody with a good feeling. Going to the buffalo country!' Yellow Wolf, Nez Perce warrior
Most of the Nez Perce believed they could not relax and savour their freedom. Still, a few questioned Looking Glass' optimism. Several young men wanted to scout back along the trail and signs of trouble. Looking Glass would not agree and said that scouting would violate trust in their peace agreement with the Bitterroot settlers.
‘All right, Looking Glass, you are one of the chiefs! I have no wife, no children to be placed fronting the danger that I feel coming to us. Whatever the gains, whatever the loss, it is yours.’ Five Wounds, Nez Perce warrior who wanted to send scouts back over trail.
On August 6, Gibbon, commanding the 7th Infantry and the volunteer army, crossed the hills south of Rye Creek. A crude wagon road was so slow and difficult that they had to make a dry camp before reaching the summit. They crossed into Ross Hole the next day, making camp just a few miles below the spot where the Nez Perce had camped two nights before. Here, near the confluence of Waugh and Camp Creeks, Captain Humble, and many of the volunteers, returned home fulfilled their obligation to accompany the soldiers as far as Ross Hole. Thirty-four settler volunteers, enticed by Colonel Gibbon's offer of captured Nez Perce horses, continued the chase.
‘Now some have accused us of going out just to steal the horses; that gives the wrong impression, as we did not think of that until the general made us the offer. He told us that we could have all the horses except enough to mount his command, if we could whip the Indians’. Tom Sherrill, Settler.
Colonel Gibbon dispatched Lieutenant Bradley and Captain Catlin, with some of their men and a couple volunteers, to locate the Nez Perce. Early of the 8th, Gibbon and his men started over the Divide. It required many laborious hours, using double teams and men on drag ropes, to get the wagons up the esteem slope.
Before reaching the top, Bradley's messenger arrived with news that the Nez Perce camp had been located. Leaving the wagon train to follow later, Gibbon and his men pushed on. They reached Bradley and his scouts about sunset.
On August 9 the dawn's silence was shattered when Gibbon's 7th Infantry and Catlin's Bitterroot volunteers attacked the unsuspecting, sleeping Nez Perce at their camp beside the Big Hole River at the present Big Hole National Battlefield.
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The Nez Perce first encounter Europeans during the Lewis and Clark expedition in 1805. The tribe fed the starving travellers, returned their livestock to health and sheltered them until they were well enough to continue. First impressions obviously did not count for nearly as much back then. Generally the ignorance and arrogance shown by the settlers appears incredible – it was Columbus who named the Natives ‘Indians’, believing that he had in fact landed in Asia!! Nice one Chris, the discoverer of the New world you may be – but clever you aint. I can just imagine the crew sighing and shaking their heads as Chris proclaims another islands inhabitants as Indians. I’m sure at least one shipmate must have complained and asked him to come up with something more original and unique – and after days of deliberations he decides upon West Indian on account of his beloved compass. Had the man never heard of India???!! It’s hardly small - at that time India covered the whole subcontinent south of the Himalayas.
The road continued taking us through Nevada and Virginia City, a couple of deserted ghost towns that resembled old western movie sets. Not wishing to hang around too long just in case we got into a scooby do type trouble, we soon made it into Ennis that sits happily at the base of Madison Valley. Here we found a lovely place to camp down, nice bar with a pool table and some friendly punters (that like to make up their own pool rules) – but no horse riding much to Maries disappointment (out of season). Incidentally, if you are into fishing and happen to be around south Montana – Ennis is supposed to be the place to go.
The following morning we awoke early and eagerly as our next destination was West Yellowstone Park! We had made it into town by the early afternoon and grabbed as much information as we could before entering the park. Unfortunately there was a coach crash that day (no one badly hurt) and only half the park was open, so we visited the spots near the west entrance and saved the rest for the next day.
Snow in England can make the ugliest housing estate appear fresh and inviting, it can brighten up a derelict building site, cool off a hot coffee and even make the M3 a little more interesting – apply that rule to some of the most beautiful countryside in the world and you get something really special. Yellowstone Park was carpeted throughout with lovely thick snow. Every branch on every tree was shadowed in bright white – snow clean enough to eat. The only clear spots could be found around the pools of boiling water and mud where steam was bellowing up into the sky as cold winter air hit the magma heated earth.
. . .
Every so often I have to pause as I am writing these journals and just sit here with a smug grin on my face, what a lucky git I really am. . .
. . .
Being completely out of season had its benefits. Tourists were few and far between – in fact, there were far more Elk roaming around the pathways than humans. At fist Mer and I thought this wonderful and took pictures of every one we saw – but after 10 minutes we realised that they were everywhere, the park does after all really belong to the animals that live there. I’m sure the Elk must think we are very strange creatures indeed – they all seemed to have the expression of ‘what are you looking at’, all over them. They can get a little tetchy as well – it’s hard to describe the noise they make. It sounds something like a boy with a half broken voice screaming just after Alan Shearer has kicked him square in the nuts, but about ten times louder.
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We took a hike to Mystic Falls through Christmas Tree Forrest – it’s impossible not to feel Christmassy when surrounded by Christmas trees covered in snow. The falls themselves were quite spectacular and well worth the extra effort and enduring the freezing cold. On the hike back I stopped to take a picture of Marie and was fortunate enough to snap a picture of her in a state of complete panic. My cheapo camera does not take a sharp enough image to show up the facial expression, but body language can give so much away... As I lined the shot up a rather large growl came from behind and to the left of me – the bears were almost certainly out looking for food before their winter snooze. Marie pulled a funny face, loudly announced, ‘COME ALONG STUART’, and stormed off at one hell of a pace. She was so set on getting away from the endless scores of savage beasts behind us she almost got us lost! I felt like Wile E Coyote trying to catch the Road Runner – every time I managed to get near her, she would be off again in a puff of snow. For someone that watches TV almost as a full time profession, Marie had not paid much attention to any episodes of Yogi Bear. As far as I was concerned, we were fine as long as we were not carrying any pickernick baskets...
With my tired feet, the weather getting progressively worse and Maries brain stuck on automatic survival mode (again) – we called it a day and headed back out into West Yellowstone Town. We had decided to stay about 15 miles out of the town where it was about half the price, completely isolated – but it had a good café and a spa to soak in. I was up for half of the night arguing with the tumble driers – but eventually they done what I asked and dried my clothes without either stealing my quarters or exploding. Marie watched TV in a bid to escape from reality...
The next day we awoke to clear skies and bright sunshine. All but the odd blob of snow had been melted and Yellowstone Park sparkled gloriously. The weather gods loved us!! When visiting Yellowstone Park, as with most things in America, you need a car. A road circles the park with side roads that connect to various spots of interest. Geysers can be found all over the park, mostly (oddly enough) in Geyser County. Old Faithful is the most consistent geyser in the world; the eruption shakes the ground and fills the air with steam and boiling hot water. However, we hardened travellers all know that the Lady Knox geyser in New Zealand goes off at exactly the same time each day. Evidently the yanks consider soap powder cheating, but not being that patient – I was tempted to chuck my last laundry tablet into the spout. We waited a good twenty minutes past the estimated eruption time before we got any action – someone needs to buy Mother Nature a watch.
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Marie and I done the full circuit that day but for what we had seen previously. Yellowstone is full of geographical wonders, full of different wildlife and has its very own park culture going back a hundred years. We took walks through volcanic formations, learnt about the forest fire in ’88, took pictures of the huge waterfalls at the end of Yellowstone Canyon and relaxed with a picnic by the lake. We left the following day out through the east entrance, into Wyoming and heading towards South Dakota. Some long driving hours were ahead of us and some unexpected twists are to come.
~ COME ON - DO YOU WANT TO LIVE FOREVER! -stu ~
We left Yellowstone Park with Montana behind us and headed into the heart of Wyoming. Our first stop was a town called Cody where we stayed overnight in the local brothel. I tried to sell Marie to Madam Nora – but she would not deal in Foreign goods, no matter what the cup size. Irma accepted us for dinner at her Inn where we sat and ate with the Moose and Elk heads keeping a watchful eye on us from their wall mountings. The townsfolk were chatting about the best spots for fishing and the last animal they managed to bag – leaving us ignorant tourists to guess at what happens to the rest of the creatures anatomy after the head is removed… My steak dinner was very good none the less.
The family run Inn was originally owned by Buffalo Bill himself, and we were led to believe his descendants are still there today serving up great grub and wonderful life saving booze. After a good helping of both Marie and I crashed out for the night after planning to visit the museum before setting off the next day.
The Buffalo Bill Museum was well worth a stroll around – I especially enjoyed the gun exhibition that had displays ranging from the American Civil war to the present day, all from different countries around the world. You are greeted by a huge cannon at the entrance and you would have to spend all day in there if you wish to see all the guns in the show. Buffalo Bill was not just about guns and Buffalo (of which there are none in the USA, only Bison), he obviously enjoyed the arts and Natural history of his country as these exhibitions were equally impressive. The Indian Art section I found a puzzling addition after learning that Buffalo Bill was once known as the Youngest Indian Slayer of the plains…
William Fredrick ‘Buffalo Bill’ Cody was born in 1846 and served in the army from an early age. Will was well known locally for hunting Buffalo and selling on their meat. He recorded 4200 kills in just 18 months before returning to the army and receiving the congressional medal of honour – presumably for killing many Indians as well as Buffalo. Americans appear to mostly ignore Bills early years as they paint a rather bloodthirsty picture of the man – his fame comes not from threatening a misnamed species with regional extinction, or scalping Chief Yellow Hand after slaughtering many of his fighters – but in true USA style, it was from his work in show business.
Billy was quite at a loss after the Indian Wars had escaped their most bloody days and instead moved his career to tourism, taking ‘dudes’ as he called them on hunting expeditions and putting on ‘Wild West’ shows that illustrate battles such as Custers Last Stand. He made Millions – which in those days was, well shit loads. At one point he was considered the most famous man in the world and his shows toured ‘the civilised’ world. Although Buffy was probably earning more money than could be reasonably fathomed during the very early 20th Century – he still managed to die penniless at his sisters home in Denver after a string of poor business decisions.
Not wishing to paint a bad picture of a great American hero – Fred became a figurehead for Native American Freedom towards the end of his life and even spoke out again his governments hidden policies towards Native Americans. Hats off to ya Cody…
Our journey now was taking us up into the magnificent Big Horn Mountains, although not as mighty and impressive as my own patented Big Horn – the unspoilt wilderness was enough to catch the imagination of many Native Americans whose artwork depicts the region… After a short stop over at Hardin inside the Crow Indian Reservation, we visited the Little Big Horn Battlefield sites and monuments that lie back in south east Montana. Custers Last Stand took place here in a bloody battle that took many lives, mostly Americans, where Sitting Bull directed an assault lasting only a few hours. This ended up as the last true show of resistance from the Indians as the Americans boosted their military and forced the Indians into their designated camps.
From the monuments at Little Big Horn we moved back into Wyoming and past the Devils Tower National Monument – where Close Encounters of the Third Kind was filmed. It certainly looks a lot larger in the film – but does hold the impressive title of the USA’s first national Monument that was imposed on it in 1906. From there we were heading into South Dakota to visit the marvellous Black Hills.
That night was spent in a town called Deadwood – here Marie and I considered our route as there were now two clear choices. We could head straight across South Dakota and Iowa into Chicago where the car was to be dropped off, or we could head up into Canada and round the great lakes. A night on the town was in order before this decision was to be made, and so we jumped on the silly bus that was made out to look like a tram and hit the town. Deadwood is a lively tourist trap that has a plentiful number of Casinos and Hotels for us to choose from – some of them were top banana!
Octoberfest was raging in the town centre – all the Casinos were in on the action. Get yourself a special Octoberfest glass and you can fill up on the cheap at any of the bars down the street. We finished the evening in a good basement boozer after sampling a Buffalo Burger and topping up with as much German beer as possible. The alcohol was flowing freely through our bloodstream at this point and any decision on where to head next was completely forgotten.
The vast quantities of Ponderosa Pines that cover the slopes in the vast Black Hills region (covering more ground than Yosemite and Yellowstone) give the foot hills there dark appearance. The forests are teeming with wildlife and full of natural beauty. Marie and I took our time driving round the gravel roads that twist around this mountainous area that marks the last place of any high altitude heading east into the plains. Isolated homes are dotted here and there, most keep livestock – one even had a pen full of lamas! It would have been nice to stay longer and try a bit of hiking or rock climbing – but Mer and I were on a mission to see as much as possible of the country before handing our car back over and so we moved on eastwards…
There was one more spot marked on our map to visit in South Dakota and as ever the drive opened up more opportunities for us. On the way to Mt Rushmore we stopped at the Crazy Horse memorial site and am I glad we did. Crazy Horse is an Indian fella that was stabbed in the back by a American soldier under a flag of truce (and too my knowledge has never jammed with Neil Young). Korczak Ziolkowski, a New York world fair winner, is responsible for the massive undertaking of creating the worlds largest statue of the Native American icon. A group of Indian chiefs asked if Korczak was willing to take on the phenomenal task of creating the 563 ft tall 641 ft long creation – and he agreed, moved to the Black Hills and started his work with less than 200 bux in his back burner. Drilling and blasting the huge mountain was at first done entirely on his own with very basic equipment and over ten years after his death the work is being continued by his children and his children’s children. It is estimated that four thousand people could stand on the statues outstretched arm – and the work is entirely funded by visitors. (thanx to Rough Guide for the stats, if you are interested check out - http://www.crazyhorse.org/).
The visitors centre from where you can view a scale in line with the real thing also homed a school for Native American arts and displayed much of Korczak Ziolkowski work which is very good indeed. I highly recommend anyone in the area to play this spot a visit – it’s worth the entrance fee for sure.
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Mt Rushmore, although finished and quite extraordinary, seemed a bit piddley after the truly colossal Crazy Horse Monument which is ten times it’s size. Finished in 1941 the US sponsored sculpture was supervised by Gutzon Borglum who obviously had never met George, Tommy, Abe and Theo before as he badly misjudged the size of all their heads. You do get a lot closer than you can with the unfinished Crazy Man and there’s always the prestige of seeing one of the most famous sites in America – plus I think it was free…
From Rushmore we were going to stop at Keystone for the night – but the place was a blatant tourist trap had about as much life as the ghost towns we passed some days back. Moving on to Rapid City where it’s all go go go seemed like the obvious choice where we camped down for the night after I spent a small fortune on sending email jokes to everyone back home…
The road East lead us into bug territory. Coming straight out of boot camp, the Skippy and I were raring to take on the filthy alien menace that was threatening the entire human race with extinction. We got our tattoos done and took a detour through the Badlands to come face to face with the enemy – clearly it was some sort of brain bug…
After the sergeant in the vehicle behind warned us of the jumping ability of the alien scourge I was forced to quickly take the surveillance shot for Doogie Houser back at base and retreat to our landing pod. Not wanting to risk any more encounters until we had our orders we decided to avoid the roads and trek out into the safety of a blind uncharted valley. Here we were faced with an new kind of evil that our intelligence had only just considered the possibility of. This one had a rattle and was A LOT more pissed off. I tracked the creature into it’s underground lair where we were faced by another one – must have been a close relation or something because this one also had a scary sounding rattle.
After surveying a area for intelligence we decided it was best to withdraw from the Badlands for now – there was heavy evidence of a previous civilization. Fossils and bones where left scattered around and it’s then we realised the seriousness of our situation – it was nearly dinnertime…
So that’s it again for now – thanks for reading. Again, apologies for the months it has taken me to come up with a new update. I could real off my excuses, but instead I’ll just leave you with the overwhelming suspense over the direction Marie and I take next. Will we head up North into Canada, or East through Iowa? I promise this time – you will find out soon…
The clue was in the name. The USA and Canada journals now takes you up into the home of the Mounties, the land where moose is indeed on the loose and French influences have merged with British to form a unique Canadian way of life. Marie and I agreed that we had enough spare time with the car to make the diversion worth while during our stop over in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. The next day we crossed over the state border into Minnesota heading up towards Minneapolis where Minnesota meets Wisconsin – but first, a short history lesson.
Bitter fighting during the 1750s finally came to a close in 1763, but the battle for rights of land between France and Britain had been on and off since La Salle’s (that boy does get around) exploration of the Mississippi claming vast amounts of Territory around the great lakes in the late 1600s. Even though victory was won by the fleets of British ships and settlers, New France held its influence over the population. British troops were unable hold their positions out in the wilderness where an Indian Uprising was in full swing and by the middle of 1763 the only British strongholds left west of Lake Erie were in what is now Detroit. Many new troops had to be despatched to quash the new uprising, but eventually British Canada was fully, and in the eyes of Britain, legally established.
$11 for parking! You’re having a laugh... As we took a wonder around Minneapolis we started to appreciate the countryside more – which in contrast to Australia, is cheaper to travel through than cities when it comes to grabbing a bite to eat and bedding down. Minneapolis came across as a business hub, it was busy and quite tricky to navigate. I was keen to stock up on supplies – but soon became frustrated with the bustle and so carried on driving up towards Lake Superior. It was a long drive into the night, but we made it up to the tip of the Lake where a town called Duluth sat. Amazingly Duluth is one of the busiest ports in the whole of North America – but when you look out over the massive expanse of Lake Superior you can easily forget that you are not looking out to sea.
The three interconnected lakes, Superior, Michigan and Huron constitute the largest mass of Fresh water on the planet – and they go on for hundreds and hundreds of miles. Tens of thousands of smaller lakes, rivers and streams are scattered around the shorelines of these interstate and international lakes with hundreds of small communities reaping the benefits. Even though heavy industry frequently use the lakes, the sheer size of them prevents this from spoiling the great outdoor feel to the whole area.
Duluth however lived up to its name and we swiftly moved on, up and over the border into Thunder Bay with a boot full of Duty free. The Canadian border control stamped our passports that were by this point boasting the marks of many nations. My bank account was also reflecting the travelling lifestyle and still refusing to grant me any money, the credit card had taken over full time but was coping well with the extra burden. Still – I made the dreaded call to LloydsTSB expecting no end of hassle to get access to the account again. Lloyds pleasantly surprised me however – after calling me back they informed how the situation had come about. Apparently someone stole my card in Vegas, tried to get a crazy sum of money from a casino cash both and failed to produce the correct identification – so the card was blocked. They obviously managed to politely sneak my card back into my pocket unbeknownst to me as I honestly have no recollection of this happening.
The next major destination was Montreal, but lay about 1500km away and we were off map again. It took about 300 km before I realised my Camera was not with me – again. At least this time the camera was worth practically nothing, but it did take my camera loss tally to a staggering 4 – I am not sure what it is about cameras, but I just can’t keep hold of the buggers. We stopped in a small town library to check the internet, print off a few maps and I made a phone call asking Bob (who ran the last Motel in Thunder Bay) to send the film to New York – Bob won a camera out of the deal...
When I rejoined Marie in the library I found her looking over the Ticketmaster web site. She had found out that the WWE were visiting Canada – this was something Bhav and I had planned to see before even leaving the UK. I know I know – it’s sad and completely crap of me, but I do enjoy watching a good bit of fake violence – the sheer silliness and all round nonsense of it all appeals to me. It’s got everything a TV show needs, violence, humour and scantily clad chicks. Wholesome family entertainment! Marie agreed (more out of curiosity I imagine) to come along and so the tickets joined the long list of things to process on my credit card. The day had just turned in our favour, and so we hit the road again with me with me trying to convince Marie the WWE tickets was money well spent and not a complete pile of arse.
I watched the road slide by as Marie picked up on her driving duties. The wipers were in sync with the Moby track playing and as the rain past us by the forested land around us opened up into a sporadic display of small lakes. Small communities of only a few buildings were spread thinly along the long road east, sometimes grouping together enough to form a village or town. Just past one of these we caught the attention of a police car that began to follow us – cursing our luck we stuck to the limit and started wondering just how many hours this would add to the trip...
We were just passing Boggle Lake when the lights flashed, the siren got a short blast and we had to pull over. We were baffled, what could he possibly want – for once we were 100% legal as far as I could make out… We stopped, and waited – I unclipped myself and looked behind to see what was going on and the copper appeared at Maries window.
Police Man – “Good Afternoon Mam”.
Marie – “Hello, is there a problem?”
Police Man - “Sir, you do realise that you are not wearing your seat belt”.
Me – “Yes, I just removed it”.
Copper – “No you didn’t”.
Me – “Err – yes I did”.
Pig – “Ok Sir I am booking you for lying”
Me and Marie – “WHAT?”
Dirty Pig – “You have not been wearing your seat belt for the last 10 minutes”
Me – “How could you possible know that?”
Filth – “... because I have been following you”
Marie gives a nervous laugh
Me – “how could you tell from back there? I was wearing my belt!!”
Bacon smelling inbred scum – moves round to my window and hands me a ticket. “No you were not”.
Victim – “how much is this going to cost me”
PC Pork– “$110”
Sufferer of great injustice – “*#!£ me” – (this is so hard to write without swearing) - if you had a bee would you sting me with it?
I was livid. I was wearing my seat belt. I BLOODY WAS. Never has there been such an injustice. He followed us for 10 minutes – why the hell did he not pull us over before if I was not wearing my seat belt. After about an hour of me cursing and Marie calmly analysing what just happened we agreed that we (or rather I) had just been screwed – more than likely because we were in Canada with US plates. I hate to say it – but that did piss me off enough for me not to give Canada a chance… with their beady little eyes and stupid flapping heads... I opened the duty free
The next day I woke up swearing about the previous days miscarriage of justice and the hangover I had developed from all the cheap booze we had in the trunk. My rage soon subsided with a good helping of poached eggs on toast – I figured the best way to look at it was that the law owes me one. Some day I could reclaim my justice by breaking a few rules, but if it really does work that way I should technically be in jail – so the subject is now officially dropped...
The road to Montreal took us through a town called Timmins – a truly scary place. This medium sized town had its own religion which is verging on fanatical. Hundreds of people worship their divine leader every day at the central temple (see - http://www.shania.com/stimmins.htm). Statues of the eternal ruler are on display and glare at you as you roll past as if they know you are a non-believer. Any radical movement is cause for concern as it can cloud judgment and promote intolerance of other people – but when Shania Twain is head of the church anything can happen… and probably does. We managed to avoid any eye contact and swiftly moved on.
... to an even weirder night stopover. We pulled into a motel/bar, well I’m not sure what to call it. With nowhere else to go for miles (other than back in Timmins which was not an option) we had little choice. I walked up to the bar to enquire about the rooms while the weird old lady smoking a pipe kept a watchful eye over me and the women dressed up like she was Shirley Bassey screamed bad karaoke into a microphone. No one appeared for about five minutes and without even stopping the creature behind the mic seamlessly switched into a bout of Abba. Concerned for my life I ventured under the bar and into the kitchen to escape the music. A girl was sat down on a stool facing the wall which was no more than a meter away. A blank tiled wall. I asked her if she worked her and she swung around startled – “sorry my dear, I was miles away”. It was then I realised that she must be related to the old pipe smoking women as they looked identical minus the wrinkles. She eventually handed me a key after I had to scrape together the cash up front. An upgraded porter cabin covered in the forests darkness greeted us with loud creak as we opened the door. All lines were cut, no TV picture, no radio signal and no phone. I stated to speculate that the owners were Timmins outcasts – perhaps Shirley Bassey was their god. An uncomfortable nights sleep followed, filled with animal noises through the inch thick walls and the weird plopping noises coming from the stream running past the car park outside.
Montreal was unfortunately full. Some sort of Gay convention had filled up all the cheap hotels in the city – but Skippy and I made the best of our day there by grabbing a thanks giving dinner in a nice restaurant. We wondered around as many districts as we could – I remember China Town being especially rich in East Asian culture and very vibrant. They day soon came to an end and we got some digs sorted out in a truck stop just off of the freeway. It was a shame to leave so quickly as the city had a great feel and there were some funky looking places to relax and drink the day away.
Ignoring our own principles we carried on using the freeway all the way into Toronto to make up some time. The speed limits in Canada annoyed me greatly – huge empty open roads and all you can get up to is 80 kmh. In our big fancy car it felt so slow I could hardly bare it, but as I said before – everything about Canada annoyed me in some way. Even the weather started to turn against us, the rain thundered down as we arrived in Toronto. The CN tower dominates the city – it is truly HUGE. By now I had been up so many tall buildings that the idea of going to the top did not really appeal – but I figured that I won’t be let into Canada again after using my traffic offence ticket as toilet paper just outside of Timmins and headed up to the top to check out the views.
Wrestling is a whole different kettle of fish when you turn off the commentary. It is very much like watching a TV show being produced rather than a sporting event. Marie had been so insistent on going by this point that I had to tag along to see what all the fuss was about. There she was, dressed up in her ‘I love Hulk Hogan’ T-Shirt, telling everyone stories of how she snogged a wrestler called Triple H in Sydney and screaming every time she caught a glimpse of her heroes going down to the ring... or rather we both sat there in bemusement of just how sad much of the crowd was. One chap sat behind us enjoyed shouting out the word ‘Jackass’ a lot when there was a lull in the noise before an event. I never managed to figure out why he had to tell everyone this when it was quite apparent that he was one.
The highlight of the show for me was at the end when Paul Heyman spend 15 minutes crawling out of the ring and up the ramp after receiving a couple of choke slams from the Undertaker. He managed to gasp three words out just before disappearing from view – ‘I Hate Canada’, to which I jumped up and cheered ‘Wooooooooo, YEEEEEaaaaaaaaa’. ‘WOOOoooo Woooo’, ‘yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeha!’...
Toronto itself was a enjoyable city and we stayed for a couple of nights to soak up the sights and sounds of the area – but soon we were off again heading toward Niagara. I was not really sure why, I think they have some interesting water features there…. Ah yes, now I remember – there was this great arcade there. I spent hours playing a Jurassic Park game which eventually got completed. Marie and I also took a stroll through a ‘Ripleys, Believe it or Not’, which had displays and features showing us the weirder side of human nature. All in all Niagara was very much like my home town Portsmouth – but without the seaside and piers. It even bucketed it down with rain all day just to add an extra layer of polish to the effect.
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There was this one other thing there – the Falls. As with towers – I have seen rather a lot of waterfalls and after a time watching water fall over a rock can loose its appeal. But Niagara is like no other – as anyone who has seen Superman can tell you that. I tried to put my self in the place of the first Native American who discovered the falls – must have been quite something. Half a million gallons of water crash over the edge every second, that’s one hell of a power shower...
I grabbed my shower gel out of Burt and headed in – the current looked quite strong so I thought it best to take the Maid in the Mist. Wearing an all over shower cap the boat forced it’s way into the pool where only yards away gallons upon gallons of very cold water was freefalling down. The spray encompassed the whole boat and none were spared a dowsing. The views from the water were something else – anyone who finds themselves at Niagara simply must give it a try!
Well I’ve drivelled on again – seems that I have not covered nearly as much as I should, yet still managed to write over 2500 words. Next instalment takes us into Chicago – see you there...
~ Right on dorg, welcome to Miami -stu ~
The car rumbled its way into Detroit with the engine purring in pleasure. Our Chevy Malibu had now seen more of its country than all the other cars back in the Hertz garage and could not wait to get back home to Chicago and tell all the other cars about adventures it had experienced. During the border crossing back into the USA I had to deal with claiming tax back on my latest camera purchase, not something made too easy by the Canadian authorities I can tell you, but I had expected as much. Detroit marked our entry back into the USA and I could now stop looking over my shoulder for the corrupt joke of a Canadian police force. The military rejects that constitute much of the Canadian Law Enforcers all make me feel physically sick and remind me of special low IQ sectioneers of the TA. I suspect they all pride themselves on their Mounties ancestry and frequently sleep with their cousins. . . Now that’s over with.
Marie directed me around as we tried to find our way back onto the road to Chicago after a quick night stop over. It took about half an hour before I realised that she was far more interested in getting herself a straight flush on the electronic poker toy I had got from my folks in Vegas. It was either that or she was getting me back for watching the free porn channels that were being played the previous night in our Motel. Of course everyone reading that knows Marie can tell you that she would have been watching it the minute I jumped in the shower, or popped out for a drink – who does she think she’s kidding! To deny ones own impulses is to deny oneself. (thank you mouse)
The GameBoy had disappeared along with the string of Cameras I had lost. This time I was truly baffled as to where it went – I had managed to figure our roughly how all of my other belongings had disappeared into the great beyond, but not this. Perhaps it felt threatened by the new poker toy, became homesick and had mailed itself back to Malaysia – who knows?
No seriously – who knows? I want it back!
As much as I loved our hire car, and as much as I loved the sights, sounds and smells it granted us access to – Marie and I were both tired of the intensive travelling we had done by the time we arrived in Chicago. With one days use left we decided it was time to cut ourselves free of the wheels and take to the air. The day we said our sad farewells to what was almost our home for the last 4 weeks was the day we started planning an easier going end to our travels.
Chicago is a city full of character and has gone through incredible change over its two hundred year history. Once standing tall between the increasingly populated East and the wild frontier to the west it doubled its population every decade. The original city is all but gone now as a fire in 1871 destroyed nearly everything. Mrs O’Learys cow was alleged to have started the blaze – but refused to comment. In the years after the fire the rebuilding of the city brought in prohibition which helped spawn the start of many years of strong mob influences and even controlled some if not all of its politics for a while.
It’s not hard finding somewhere to grab a drink these days though – Marie and I visited a few Jazz and Blues bars around the city. All I can say is that if they had anything like these in England I would be in them all the time – so very cool and almost impossible to not enjoy yourself in one if you can appreciate the music, which was in my view extraordinarily good. If you ever happen to visit a Bar Blu in Chicago, check out the money pinned to the wall behind the bar – there should be some Tallas with our name on. I walked round Chicago for an entire day and never got bored, our hostel was just outside the city centre but the subway was always there to ferry me around. It was stuck in the centre of a residential area where large houses competed with each other for the most elaborate Halloween decorations which not only worked there way into the gardens but out onto the street as well. Dressed up dummies hung themselves from trees, huge fake spider webs clung to front gates and zombies peered out from behind flower beads. I made a mental note to get Marie drunk, walk her into the estates and then legging it away screaming...
The Sears Tower was yet another worlds tallest building that Marie and I visited – not going to write much about this one because this is something like the fifth building we have been in that claims to be the worlds largest. There is always some small print, in this case it was the measurements from sub basement ground level 2 to the tip of the highest side tower when the 16th window in from the top left corner has a carrot hidden behind someone’s coffee. . . but only on Wednesdays
The last full day in Chicago was spent in internet cafes and walking round travel agents trying to decide what we should do next. After much deliberation we decided to sample the delights of Florida by getting a flight to New York via Miami and it was not long before Marie was abusing her credit status in full. We were going on holiday again!
It was brave of the Darbey to pay for the flights – she hates leaving the ground, but there was not many other options if we wanted a bit of sun and with the end of the travels dangerously close we each now did not mind parting with what little cash we had left.
With that being said, we still took the bus from Miami airport though to Miami Beach which successfully demonstrated the clear differences between living in Miami and living in Miami Beach. After a long trudge to the Hotel “Yes, Hotel – not Motel”, we began the last few days we were going to see in the sunshine at least until the English summer. Living along side the beautiful people of Miami Beach we explored the area finding many fancy places to drink and eat – all with fancy prices to match. McDonalds became an unfortunate necessity to get through the day but we did manage to squeeze in a few good meals and the occasional bout of drinking. If you get in early enough to some places and look like you’re having a good time (not a problem) you often get free drinks. Especially when you tell them stories of how you came to be there, how expensive the whole ordeal was and the crippling insanity Marie suffers every day. “It’s all about the alignment of the planets”, I’d tell them. Most people just nod, look a little scared and pass me a Budweiser.
Although our hotel was perfectly ok – it was lacking a good pool and so we moved on after a couple of days to another place that was also nearer the beach. It was another shock to the system moving from cold wintry conditions to a blazing hot summer in the matter of a few hours. The beach stretched for miles and was in constant use.
We made a trip to the cinema one night to celebrate Halloween by watching Ghostship, the R rating did not deter the barrage of kids from joining us – they payed dearly in the opening ten minutes of the film when…. Na – I won’t spoil it for you.
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THEY ALL DIE!!!
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sorry
It was an enjoyable film, but I think anything would have satisfied me as long as it did not have an advert break every 10 minutes and replace all the curse words with sad terms like “fidely”, and “dang”. Watching Tremors 2 and 3 a few days previous to this took an entire night and by the end of it all I could not even remember what happened – but was left with an incurable urge to buy kitchen cleaner and eat a Snickers, which I don’t even like! “Old Navys Painters Pants – there the one for you”!
After drinking some half pint measures of Bourbon and paying dearly for it Marie and I collapsed on the beach and watched the stars for a while. Marie drifted out for a minute or two and I moved in quickly discovering that pouring sand between Marie spodacious breasts is a quick and efficient way to bury her. Sand poured itself evenly only leaving her head, toes and twin peaks proudly protruding. Within a couple of minutes she had been completely absorbed by the beach and the sea was drawing ever closer to her feet. My hopes were finally dashed when she came round – and after a barrage of strange and unrecognisable ramblings she forced her way free. We spent most of our time by the pool after that.
We organised some transportation out of Miami for a days visit to the Everglades – there was an Airboat begging to be hired and so we took a trip out into the swamps. I was warned that there might be the odd alligator lurking in the waters by a friendly parrot before boarding the boat – turns out Polly was spot on, they were everywhere. Big ones. Very close. Right bloody next to me close! Still, they seemed quite friendly; although I did not chat with them for long as the parrots warning was still fresh in my mind.
Mingling with the alligators and parrots were all sorts of other wildlife, turtles and birds took food from my hand without even a thank you – but I didn’t mind. I don’t think manners count for much in the animal kingdom. Have you ever seen a wild bird wait its turn? Or heard of a shark saying its pleases and thank yous…? If you have, seek help.
After the skipper had some fun ragging the Airboat around the still waters we stopped and stomped around in the rotting vegetation with the super big fresh water fish and swarms of bugs. Doesn’t sound like a lot of fun – but I loved it. As soon as we regained our hearing the motor started up again suitably redeafening us before returning to base. Here we watched an American version of Steve Irwin leap on alligators from behind and generally torment them. I was amazed this guy still had all his limbs, but what he had in limbs he suitable lacked in brain capacity. Hey ma – I wana wrestle large angry lizards when I grow up! Maybe I’m just bitter because he shoved a rather large snake in my face on the way in but this guy had definitely take a few evolutionary steps in the wrong direction…
Marie and I resisted eating an Alligator burger and instead done some window shopping. I never ceases to amaze me what you can make out of animal, I haven’t seen my dad use the Kangaroo testicle money pouch I got him for his last birthday, and I haven’t seem Marie wear the racoon hat she bought that day in the everglades. The thing still had a tail! – but god only knows it’s not my place to make any sort of judgment on fashion other than knowing that I’m entirely clueless in the field.
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The Darbey gritted her teeth and tried to think happy thoughts until we touched down at JFK. There we were – our final destination, the big apple. We left the airport knowing only too well that the next time we were due to be at JFK we would have reached the end of our long adventure. All stories must come to and end and ours is no different. This is the final update to be made on Roadtrip2001.
As many of you have probably noticed I often like to throw in a few facts to add some educational benefit to my scrawlings, however all my investigation into the origins of why New York City is often referred to as the big apple ended up fruitless (get it). I have been left to make my own assumptions that self proclaimed Greatest City in the World has lush enjoyable exterior whilst having a tough and seedy core.
There had been a long standing plan for Bhav to meet up a group of his friends in New York, but as all faithful readers of this website will know – Bhav was no more. We left him for the vultures in Nevada after he claimed to be world champion in one too many events. His pals had already booked up their flights and rooms next to Central Park so Marie and I went to join them.
I had met some of the crowd before – but aside from Jon knew little about them. What we were in for soon became apparent to the Skipster and myself. Describing the experience is not easy - I imagine it’s not too different from running away and joining the circus, or going on holiday with The Three Stooges – aside from the fact that there were far more than three of them and not one pie got thrown. John, Stewart, Chris, Will, Gary, Paul, Thomas, Jono and Dave. Between them was this solid London bond, an insult was exchanged on a 30 second average taking into account the 4 hours sleep we would get each night, I even heard Jono calling Gary something unmentionable in his sleep.
It’s wasn’t long (however long it took us to sign in and drop off our bags) before we were all out down a near by boozer – funnily enough called the Soho Bar. Marie and I had all our beer paid for by the whip round, a fantastic concept that I had never really used in full before. Everyone chucks in 20 bux and the designated purchaser, whose one sole task was to get the rest of the group totalled, kept the glasses topped up. Every last one of them are experts at this. Each round was accompanied by the tradition insult exchange, towards the end of the night a friendly punch up was used to prevent any insults having to be repeated.
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With there being so many of us we tended to break up into groups during the day and go off to do our own thing. Marie and I walked through the park to the Met. This museum is as large as any Vegas Casino and displayed an unrivalled number of works of art and antiques. To see everything properly would probably take three or four days – as it happened Marie and I spent better part of the day in there wondering whether Egypt had any artefacts left or if they had all been pinched and incarcerated in this giant museum. We happily lost ourselves in the twisting corridors, being educated at every turn. Suits of armour sporting huge broadswords, collections of every art group you can think of, thousands of catalogued antiques and entire temples shipped over and rebuild stone by stone were but few of the wonders stored and guarded.
The first museum trip that I truly thought was worth every penny – especially as we were not obliged to pay. There was a cash desk where we queued up, but on asking if they would accept (be fooled into thinking) that we were foreign students we were advised that payment was actually optional. The cashier had to repeat this several times – it’s these sorts of golden moments I would have loved to share with Bhav. Whilst strolling around we soon discovered everyone that did make a contribution (including the students) got to sport these tacky metal pins. Getting tiresome of the constant nose raising I gave in, went back to the lobby, and stole some out of the return jar.
First on First was the obvious starting point for a pub crawl, but the concept is wasted in America. There is just too much distance between bars – we overstayed our welcome to a point and then swiftly moved on before the US pool rule book was thrown at us. As the night progressed we eventually ended up in run down boozer where we all seemed to fit right in. I liberated a girl from the bar who was desperately trying to get rid of some drunk repeating the same two chat up lines to her over and over - Eve joined us from there on out.
Yellow cabs are not all they are cracked up to be – they were forever getting lost, at first I thought it was because we were tourists and they could squeeze more cash out of us by driving around in circles but having a New Yorker in the cab just proved that they are actually winging it most of the time. After being informed by what I can only describe as a band of Street Gays wearing pink spandex that the Godzilla bar had been “Shut for two full rotations of the sun”, I decided to quit and head back to base. Marie during all this had consumed several skinfulls and retreated early with some of the others – fortunately we had bunks in our hostel so there was no chance of the kicking kangaroo breaking any of my ribs that night.
Instead she rolled off of the top bunk flying past me and landing head first on the concrete floor accompanied by a nasty skull crunching sound. Semi-conscious and mumbling something about David Hasselhoff I watched the curious site of some in pain without actually realising it for a minute before heading down to reception. I broke into the kitchen with the help of the cleaner, filled a surgical glove full of ice and returned to find that Marie had climbed into bed with Eve. I prised Maries arms away from Eves legs (who was probably just pretending that none of this was happening), stuck the ice glove in it, placed it on her head and went to find coffee.
That morning Jon woke everyone as per usual being the bloody Cockney Cockerel that he is by asking everyone “what do you think of that Eve bird last night”. He only realised that she was in the room after informing the entire dorm that in his opinion she was a bit pastey. We never saw her again. The same applies for another female member of the dorm who he abruptly asked “Are you up for it then?” - with severe lack of context. Jon is a wicked character and I never fail to have fun when he’s about – but he also never fails to astonish me whenever a girl walks into the room. He develops the disposition of a sex starved rabbit and looses all control over the mechanism connecting his brain to his mouth – it’s hilarious to watch...
We mostly used the Metro to get around the city during the day. It had been recently modernised and compared to the London Underground it was positively futuristic (then again so are Morris Minors and Spitfires). It appeared that everywhere in New York was familiar but it’s more likely the Metro stops were all housed among the popular destinations (I know that sounds obvious but the tube does stop in Chesham and Chalfont). Around every corner I would see a landmark, or at least a familiar looking building. 75% of American sitcoms must feature the Big Apple, and tonnes of movies have scenes filmed there which makes visiting New York almost like climbing into your TV set. I strolled past Madison Square Gardens, through time square, watched the performers in central station, shopped in china town and ate in the legendary McDonalds.
The Statue of Liberty was unfortunately just a spec on the horizon which was a little disappointing but the view from the summit of the Empire State was well worth enduring the freezing winds. I feel obliged to let everyone know that this member of the worlds tallest building family remained so for the greatest length of time... In fact let me clear this up once and for all, it is the last update after all. Here is the list of the worlds lankiest buildings that we visited :
CN Tower. Toronto – built 1976, no stories, 553.33 meters high.
Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia – built 1998, 88 stories, 452 meters high.
Sears Tower, Chicago – built 1974, 110 stories, 442 meters high.
Empire State Building, New York – built 1934, 102 stories, 381 meters high.
Sky Tower, Auckland – built ?, no stories, 328 meters high.
For the record the worlds tallest sky scraper at the moment is in Taipei, Taiwan – 101 stories filling a whopping 508 meters.
Ground Zero as it’s called now registered heavily on my mind – it’s not until you spend the 20 minutes it takes to walk around the rubble before you appreciate the sheer magnitude of the attack. The faces of surrounding buildings had partially collapsed and the foundations were showing - half of which appeared to have fallen through into the subway. Visitors were sombre, quiet and visibly emotional as they stared through the building site.
Bhav was not the only one to have organised meeting friends in New York, Marie’s sister Andrea and two of their friends Kate and John were to meet us before and after running the New York marathon. Andrea and Marie are in fact twins – although you wouldn’t be able to guess it. The idea of Marie running a marathon is more than laughable, it’s incomprehensible. Watching exercise make Marie jumpy, all the joggers in central park put her on edge enough for her to scream when she saw a squirrel run up a tree. I mean come on – we had been closer to Rattle Snakes and Redbacks, you do have to wonder.
We headed into Time Square to meet Andrea at her hotel – which was also the hotel where I had asked Canadian Bob to send my camera film a few weeks back. Getting there with time to spare we wondered around the shops for a bit. Toys’R’Us is something else, huge animatronic dinosaurs, fair ground rides and every imaginable type of action figure “all under one roof”. We didn’t see Jeffery though, it’s not like he’s hard to spot – but I guess he’s a very busy giraffe. He didn’t get to where he is today with out sticking his neck on the line, these business animals probably work 20 hours a day – just look at the Cadburys parrot or Coco the Monkey.
Andrea was nowhere to be found and nor was my camera film. After interrogating numerous organisers and hotel staff (Pedro in the mail room must have though I was hitting on him) Marie called home to prove her fading sanity if nothing else. Andrea had developed Gastroenteritis which was bad news yet let Marie breath a sigh of relief – not barking mad just yet. John and Kate were healthy and successfully run the marathon, so well that Marie and I missed them pass by the park. Something must of happened during their run though because the next day they were happily engaged!
A heart warming and over all fitting way to end our 12 months of thoroughly documented travelling. I have to admit to having no idea that Roadtrip2001.net would be so popular. The web site has inspired two people that I know about into packing their backpacks – who knows how many more. It has made us feel positively famous around one remote town in Western Australia and cost me an inordinate amount of money in internet café time.
All that’s left for me is to thank Bhavnit, Marie, Julia, Steve, and the scores of people mentioned / and those who were not for the most memorable year of my life so far. It’s now over a year since returning and I know how crap I’ve been with the final few updates. I won’t bore you with long lists of excuses - suffice to say that day to day life in England is far more demanding than being on the road. Life is now full of different wonders, office work, direct debits, credit agreements, junk mail, tax...
It did not take long to get into the swing of things – my father picked Marie and I up after what can only be described as Maries worst nightmare of a flight (I think the pilot was drunk – although I must salute the hostesses how carried on selling duty free in the face of mortal terror) and inadvertently took us on a site seeing tour of London. Before dropping Marie at Waterloo station we had seen Big Ben, St Pauls Cathedral, Piccadilly, Nelsons Column and Tower Bridge. We were home.
This is not the end, to quote a well used phrase from these pages – it’s a holiday from the holiday. I hope to be writing again – there are plenty of places left in the world. Plenty more people to meet. Plenty more worlds tallest building to climb.
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