Category: Adventure motorcycle

Two Mile High Club

We left Santa Fe and headed north west towards Pagosa Springs. Into the Rockies, into Navajo country and into Rio Grande National Park. It’s a slight detour but life doesn’t travel in a straight line and neither do we.

Just throwing in a handful of philosophy for pint sized brains. Quart people please read Freud. Pint people just you stay here and I will meet your requirements.

The sky is shining and the sun is not hot enough for any melodramatics from the pillion seat. Life is good. I’m relaxed.

Well I’m not too relaxed because there’s been a minor mechanical problem with the bike since Fort Worth that I haven’t mentioned. But if I don’t mention it and hope for the best then all will be fine. It’s called ‘head in the sand’ leadership. I’m sure you recognise it.

Here’s the first of some stills from the video camera.

Everything is great and we reach our motel in the early afternoon and relax. Well Susan does. I’m still thinking about the problems with the bike. Susan leaves the worrying to me. Oh, did I say problem in the plural? Yes I did. I was misleading you. I’m sure you recognise that management style as well!

In a one horse town there’s not many options for beer. There’s even less options for food but that’s not really my main concern. It’s beer, Susan, bike then food. That’s the order of my life priorities on this journey.

There’s one option for beer – the scruffy (from the outside) motel bar.

Well how wrong can outward appearances be? An ugly duckling with a heart of gold. I just know you can relate to that as well.

I swung open the old black scruffy front door with purple windows and was met with bar heaven.

A speakeasy bar with more cheesy than easy.

With outstanding beer, a great barman and me. What else could you want in this world? Not many patrons because it’s a one horse town and all the interesting people in town are already in the bar!

After I had a beer too many we went to a Texmex restaurant next door with great food. I had another beer after my one too many. The only downside to another beer was the obligatory frown from the frown maiden.

Next day we travelled to Montrose. Yup, that’s Montrose, Colorado, that was named after the Marquis of Montrose who a character in Sir Walter Scott’s novel ‘The Legend of Montrose’. The novel was an inspiration for an early citizen.

Small world.

We then went to Maccies for dinner. I had a nice Texmex lined up but Big Dog had her Maccies face on. I had no choice.

Now I know what you’re thinking – move on Clif, we already know Big Dog loves a Maccies when she’s on holiday. Let’s not dwell.

Well what if I tell you something interesting. What if I tell you this Maccies is one of a few in the world.

So have you ever seen this?

A single arch! Over 38,000 Maccies in the world and only seven in the world have a single arch! Nice!

After Montrose we headed for Manitou Springs. It was a big ride over the Colorado mountains and we reached 11,300 feet. That’s 2.14 miles!

Oh I know some of you with salacious minds will have read this article thinking ‘big helmet heid’ has joined the two mile high club.

Well, I will tell you quite honestly, just between you and me, when we got to two miles I was thinking about those problems with the bike and it entirely slipped my mind!

We stopped at Silverton for a break. I wasn’t relaxed – it’s the bike problems that I’m not talking about.

Susan relaxed with the old silver carts, forgetting about her worries and her strife. She’s thinking about her bare necessities, the simple bare necessities like her Ritz snack crackers and life.

I petted the bike to make sure it would get us home.

These roads don’t have any safety barriers and it’s a very long way down. Apparently safety barriers restrict the snowploughs’ ability to shove snow off the mountain.

On the incline there’s usually two lanes and I sit in the overtaking lane. If cars want to overtake they can undertake. I’ve got my position and I’m keeping it. We don’t want to be on the nearside where the road is often subsiding down the mountain.

I will give the American drivers the credit they deserve – they’re generally very understanding and considerate. Not without exception of course, but they’re so much better than British drivers.

Oh that’s controversial!

Well that’s a sweeping statement and this blog is all about sweeping statements.

American drivers kind of appreciate they share the road with other road users and are less selfish, arrogant and more considerate.

What’s more it’s quite apparent to Susan, both on the motorbike and as a pedestrian.

Nuffsaid.

Another mountain pass photo. Yes Susan is actually looking at my speed, looking at the corner ahead and giving me guidance. Teamwork.

It was the most wonderful journey to Manitou Springs and the town itself, whilst a little bit touristy, is still very nice and relaxed.

We checked into our hotel, went for a walk and found heaven.

Finally, more motorbike photos. This time from ‘Garden of the Gods’.

Colorado is wonderful.

If I ever go to heaven then let it be like Colorado!

Is This The Way?

Every night I’ve been hugging my pillow.

No these are not the words of a man who has finally broken under the relentless struggle against the highway.

When the day is dawning, on a Texas Sunday morning.

Another clue?

Sha la la la la la la, Sh la la la la la

Got it?

Final clue for this edition of pop master.

Show me the way to ….

Well I’ve handed it to you – we’re heading to Amarillo!

We left Fort Worth in the morning heat and sunshine and finished our journey in the cold and rain. This is Texas and when Texas does cold and rain it does it bigger and better than anywhere else. Even the raindrops are bigger.

By the time we got to Amarillo we were absolutely frozen. We hadn’t properly dressed for this weather and we were two chattering numskulls when we reached our hotel.

After a long hot shower we went for dinner to the place where the old people go – Cracker Barrel.

Cracker Barrel is a restaurant chain and we’ve been before during our cycling trip. I know you would definitely like it.

I like it but Susan hasn’t made her mind up yet. That’s Susan though – I swear she’s still making her mind up about me!

It’s not hip fine dining, it’s just good old home cooking for good old people. You know what I’m talking about – wholesome carbs straight from the freezer to the plate. Food that can be eaten with dentures and doesn’t need a lot of chewing. That’s what us old people like – don’t we?

You can see from Susan’s ‘distant’ expression she’s still not recovered from her freezing bike ride. What a trouper she is! On the other side of the camera I’m looking great.

And that was Amarillo. We didn’t see the town. We didn’t see Tony Christie. We were too damn tired. That’s what happens when you’re old people.

The following day was Amarillo to Santa Fe but we had to delay our start until 11am because of the weather on our road.

We were on the edge of some weather system with tornadoes, large hail and torrential rain. A local told us we were going to be ‘trapped’ in Amarillo for two days.

Show me the way outta Amarillo.

So we waited and watched the weather radar to see what’s passing over the road ahead. When it’s red rain we can’t motorbike. When it’s yellow rain we don’t want to motorbike. When its green rain we just have to get on with it.

We left in green rain and I was soon congratulating my ‘geniusness’ at threading the weather needle.

There was sh*t happening all around us, moving toward us, hitting the road behind us but we kept in the clear. I’m a bloody weather threading god!

Or so I thought, until big God apparently decided I should be brought down a peg or two.

So there I was, wee weather god, speeding along a dual carriageway when big God shoved a batch of weather across our path.

We were at 8000 feet, cruising along in the misty clouds, when big God played his Jack of Spades – heavy clouds rolled in over the interstate faster than you can say ‘oh dear’.

(writer’s note – Susan’s trying to get me to swear less in the blog because ‘not everybody swears’. I’m afraid you lose a little authenticity with my story but ‘what the Big Dog wants …… ‘ well you know how the saying goes by now)

Back to the story. The heavy clouds were rolling in then big God drops the temperature to 2c and throws down some hail. I mean BIG hail.

‘Oh dear’ I say to myself.

At first it was amusing to hear it bounce of our helmets but the amusement quickly faded as it started covering the road. Within seconds the highway was covered in slush.

It’s incredible how quick things change when big God plays his Jack of Spades.

I looked at the ascending interstate ahead. We had another 500 feet to a summit that I couldn’t see. The bike started slipping ever so slightly. It wasn’t good. I didn’t feel good.

Susan wasn’t talking. She knows not to talk when it’s not good. I can’t do talk and ‘not good’ at the same time. I’m a man after all and men can’t multitask.

Big God must have been smiling at my predicament. Not only was the weather crashing, so was my bottle!

But there’s always fight in this old dog, especially this old dog that’s been fed at Cracker Barrell. My carbs were high and energy was flowing. I played my Ace of Hearts.

A large ‘refuge’ layby suddenly appeared through the mist.

It was a split second decision. I braked heavily, almost an emergency stop. Susan crashed into me – that’s Newton’s laws of motion in action.

We’re in. We parked the bike and sought sanctuary in the lee of a large trailer. Yes, I had the foresight to take a photo for you.

Now, the photo doesn’t convey just how terrible it was and but here’s Susan sheltering.

I’ve named this composition:

‘She’s Not Moaning About The Bloody Heat Now’

On the other side of the camera I looked great.

Within minutes this refuge layby was chockablock with heavy vehicles, motorhomes and cars waiting it out.

We stood there for 30 minutes until we decided to leave. Most of the cars were waiting longer but then again they were nice an cosy.

The weather lessened just enough for me to consider going for it. We couldn’t keep standing there as I could see another batch of weather coming towards us over the mountains. I wasn’t going to let big God play his trump card – the Ace of Spades!

We were leaving the interstate at the next junction and, at a cautionary 30mph, we made it. What a relief!

Well it was and it wasn’t.

At this point I must apologise for heaping more of our hardship on you especially when it’s self generated. But if you will read a blog written by a dunderheid then you take the lows with the very occasional high.

So it was a relief when we went up the slip road. It was a relief when we saw a gas station with a coffee shop. It was a relief when we decided to stop and rest. Relief! Breathe!

I hadn’t felt so much relief since ‘idiot with a spanner’ got the main fuse replaced.

Pure relief quickly turned into a nightmare when dunderheid took the wrong road to the garage. We were now on the slip road back onto the interstate!

How did dunderheid manage that? Well we stopped, we peered through the mist, we discussed the road layout, we chose our road. Oh dear we took the wrong road!

I’m sorry, I’m sorry to you people that do swear. I wasn’t really thinking ‘oh dear’ at the time. My thoughts had more f’s than riffraff.

(writer’s note: riffraff is one of the few English words with four f’s. Nothing has five. Read and learn. Read and learn)

I stopped half way down the on ramp. Decisive move dunderheid.

I checked the sat nav and it said continue 5 miles up the interstate, u turn, then 5 miles back. Yeah, that will be shining bright – remember you’re talking to a dunderheid!

Obviously, the sat nav couldn’t see that big God had played his Ace of Spades and black skies were fast approaching. Listen, I’m not talking dark skies, these skies were from Hell itself. You would be scared. I was scared.

Susan was also scared but, to be honest, she was more scared about what dunderheid was going to do next!

Susan volunteers to get off. She’s so quick to bail out. She leaves dunderheid to do what only a dunderheid would do – he makes a three point turn and heads back up the slip road the wrong way.

I hear you mutter to yourself – ‘lucky dunderheid that no vehicles were coming the other way’.

‘Lucky they all stopped’ I reply!

Yes, there was a bit of chaos on the interstate ramp – dunderheid motorcycling and Susan walking, up the off ramp, but that’s the kind of thing that happens when you give a dunderheid the keys to a motorcycle.

When I got to the end of the on ramp Susan jumped on and we rode off – she’s great at bailing back in when the trouble has gone.

Haha, but I suckered her in this time!

I will give her some credit though – it didn’t take her long to realise we were going down a dual carriageway the wrong way!

It was okay though dunderheid was in control. It was the right dual carriageway and we were heading in the right direction. It’s just a minor point that we were on the wrong side of the road.

Yes there were other vehicles. Not many though and in a few hundred metres or more I saw a gap in the central reservation. Smoothly I adjusted our position and we were back. Nice move dunderheid.

In my rear view mirror, I saw big God chasing us with his black sky from Hell. We decided to forego the shelter and coffee in the garage and head onwards. It was also probably prudent we made off from the scene of multiple road violations.

We zoomed off into the distance, left Texas and entered New Mexico where the skies were clear.

Big God learned a lesson that day – he can throw hail, thunder and black skies from Hell but he’s not as fast as two old folk on a motorbike that have been to Cracker Barrell!

We reached our destination at Santa Fe, New Mehico and stayed in an authentic adobe hotel room.

Now I may have mentioned adobe buildings before. I may not have. I’m old and Cracker Barrel has only limited memory rejuvenating powers.

Basically, they’re made of mud bricks. It’s ‘traditional’ and authentic. I wouldn’t wish an adobe motel room on any of my friends who are pansies.

Santa Fe is a lovely town. It was a spur of the moment decision to stay an extra night and visit.

We got the bus into town and it was a bit of an eye opener. It’s America and people don’t get buses. In Santa Fe they do. In Santa Fe the homeless get the bus and run around all day.

I tell no lies. Susan and I were the only people on that bus with a house that night. Yes it’s a mud house but we had a house. On the bus, a few of the homeless were sleeping despite one guy playing the harmonica and singing about taking ketamine. There were a few other unsavoury characters you just made sure you didn’t catch their eye.

My only concern about this whole journey was that the driver let us on for free. I can only assume that Susan looked like one of the homeless. That’s life on the road for you!

The town itself is lovely and if you’re ever in the area then I would encourage you to visit. Please take a taxi though.

Yes mair mud buildings.

We left the town centre after a wonderful day. How did we get home?

Well we took the bus of course!

You have to – life is too short to miss the bus to Santa Fe!

Lone Star State

Texas is bigger and better than anywhere else. Well that’s what Texans say – big ranches, big egos and big hats for their big heads. Actually, damn fine big hats – if only I could carry one on the bike!

It’s the second time we’ve been to Texas, having passed through on our tandem in 2018. I liked Texas then and I love Texas now. It’s not for everyone but then neither am I – just like Texas 🙂

Leaving the lovely San Antonio we made the short 80 mile journey to Austin and it’s magnificent state capitol building.

With a magnificent African American History Memorial in the grounds.

Sitting alongside other statues.

This is a monument to ‘Terry’s Texas Rangers’ who were a group of cavalrymen that fought on behalf of the Confederacy in the American Civil War.

It stands among many other Confederate memorials that lionise and honour Texas’s participation in the Civil War on behalf of the Confederacy, serving as a reminder of how strong Confederate memory maintains a hold on Texas.

Okay, that’s enough of Mr Morality, here’s some Austin Joy.

We sat on plastic reclining chairs and listened to Joy for 45 minutes. Yeah, I know it’s a long video for a blog but please just play, chill, listen and watch Austin life and the world walk on by.

Talking about Austin life walking by, how about new Austin life driving by?

That’s the self driving taxi behind Joy. After successful trials in other cities, they recently arrived in Austin. It’s a strange sight to see a car rolling along city roads with no driver. These taxis are being steadily introduced across American cities and will be in Europe soon.

When they’re at the front of a lane and the lights change to green they accelerate and beat every car away. Of course they’re soon overtaken when cars with drivers break the law and exceed the legal speed limit. Says something about drivers!

Here’s another Austin photo.

Oops sorry wrong one.

Two Susan’s you ask, what’s all that about?

Well, the first one was from when were here in 2018.

I could have given you a photo of myself ‘before and after’ but you would just say ‘oh he’s had a hard paper round the last few years’.

So we left fabulous Austin and moved to Fort Worth. Another great place – well it has to be it’s in Texas. We’re bigger and better than the rest of you! Oops, sorry getting carried away there. Sometimes I’ve got to remind myself I’m a 21st century meterosexual and not a 19th century Confederate sympathiser. Oh jeez there I slip into Mr Morality again. Sorry!

So what do you want to see when you go to Fort Worth? Well of course we want to see cattle and if we’re in Texas we want to see longhorns.

I’ve no idea why they call them longhorns – suppose it’s just Texas saying we’re longer then the rest of you. Well damn right we are!

These are real Texas Cowboys just like Mickey Mouse is real at Disneyworld.

Fort Worth is ‘cowtown’ and cowboys once herded cattle along the Chisholm Trail to factories in Fort Worth where they were ‘processed’ and loaded onto trains to feed America.

I’m going to move on from giving your further details of the millions of cattle ‘processed’ at the Stockyards in Fort Worth in case I turn you vegetarian. I wouldn’t want to have that on my conscience!

So let’s quickly change the subject from cows to sheep. Here’s a photo of sheep.

‘Oh nice old photo but what’s this to do with me not becoming a vegetarian’ you may well ask. Well nothing quite frankly.

I just introduced another animal ‘processing” story with a bit of subterfuge. And now you’ve seen a photo of sheep you’re hooked on my next story. I’m a cunning old meat eating evangelist.

Ah, but there’s one or two of you out there who will notice that all these sheep are not quite the same! Oh yes, the penny is dropping – one of the sheep is a bloody goat!

Yes, yes, unbelievably I’ve got a story about sheep and a bloody goat!

Fort Worth also ‘processed’ sheep and as sheep are herding animals the cowboys came up with a unique way to get them to move from the stockyards to the place where they were ‘processed’.

You would think they would use sheep dogs. No, they didn’t – they’re Texas cowboys, the biggest, the best and the cleverest. Instead they used a goat because sheep like to follow goats!

I know, I know, everytime you read this blog you learn something!

It appears only cowboys know this and our farmers in the UK have been training dugs to do the job for generations. If only they were as intelligent as us cowboys.

Now, there’s more cowboy ingenuity to this story and I will share it with you. We all know goats like to eat anything and so cowboys at the ‘processing’ place gave the goat chewing tobacco. The goat became addicted.

Every time the goat leads sheep to the ‘processing’ place he gets tobacco. So what does he do thereafter? He goes back to pick up more sheep. And so on.

The clever cowboys called the clever goat ‘Judas’.

Us cowboys don’t need highly trained collie dugs to herd sheep. We just need a few goats and some tobacco. Cowboy genius.

Now to show I’m a real Texan cowboy here’s one of my meals

Now let’s set the record straight – Susan’s mountain of coleslaw has come out disproportionately large in the photo.

There’s over a kilo of the most tender smoked brisket, ribs and chilli sausage you will never have had unless you’ve been to Texas. It’s BBQ food heaven.

Before I leave Fort Worth I’m going to put you off food altogether. My apologies.

We regularly stay at motels frequented by workmen – we like to stay with real people who have a job in the morning and are up at dawn. Just like us.

In such motels, breakfast can be pretty basic. In North America it’s always eggs and sausage stuff moulded into a shape. It’s quite efficient when the eggs and sausage patty are both round. Yeah yeah, square bread does grate against my OCD but sometimes you just need to relax. So relax and DON’T mention my square bread! Please! I’m struggling with it!

Susan has unfortunately gone over to the dark side.

She’s making her own waffles in the waffle machine and she’s so expert she gives tuition at the breakfast bar. It’s embarrassing.

And yes that’s a waffle in the shape of Texas with peanut butter, blueberries and eggs. Yes she does eat them together – enough to turn you into a carnivore. Disgusting!

Finally, a photo of me and a disgusting eater at a donut shop.

If I go to heaven then let it be like Texas.

Remember The Alamo

So here we are in San Antonio, Texas.

3,239 miles done. About 8,000 miles to go.

Feels like we’ve already motorcycled a lifetime.

It’s fiesta time in San Antonio and it felt like we hadn’t left Mehico! I’m not complaining, it seems like every time I’m in town the ladies start dancing!

Thanks ladies. It’s much appreciated.

Now please don’t be jealous – if you had a motorcycle they would dance for you too. Until then you can share a look at my dancing ladies.

Just look at the great motorbike parking space at our hotel.

Thanks hotel. It’s much appreciated.

So what’s the first thing we did on the first morning in San Antonio? Well we did the obvious thing, the big ticket thing. Surely you know what San Antonio is famous for?

We went to the Alamo! Yes this is where it is.

It started as an 18th Spanish Mission where a community of friars brought Jesus to the people. No not the guy that part fixed my motorcycle in Nicaragua, the other one.

This main building was the church but later, once the missionaries had left, the Spanish military added a few walls and defensive structures.

Much has been written about the battle of the Alamo but what do we know as fact?

‘In 1836, a small band of soldiers sacrifice their lives in hopeless combat against a massive army in order to prevent a tyrant from smashing the new Republic of Texas’.

Well that’s the truth isn’t it?

After all that’s how the movie website, IMDb, describes the 1960 ‘historical’ movie ‘The Alamo’, directed by John Wayne, starting John Wayne and Richard Wydmark that went on to be nominated for 7 Oscars (note: it only won ‘best sound).

Isn’t that how most people think of the Alamo? Isn’t that how it’s spoken about? Isn’t that what’s taught?

So what is the truth?

As you know this blog isn’t just a traveller’s diary – it’s a bloody education for people with short attention spans. Don’t thank me, it’s my calling. I’m an educational missionary bringing pint sized stories for pint sized brains. So let me tell you a story.

It all starts in 1821 when Mexico wins its independence from Spain. At the time, Texas was part of Mexico which had a federal government similar to the United States. So in 1829, when the Mexican government outlawed slavery, it allowed Texas to continue using slave labour.

In 1832, Mexican president and general, Santa Anna took control of the government. Everything was fine for a while but we all know what dictators do don’t we – they dictate!

The Texans didn’t like the centralist policies of Santa Anna and wanted a federal type government where they had control over their own laws. Basically they wanted to do as they pleased. In particular, issues of slavery, immigration and customs were very contentious between Texas and Mexico.

Growing tensions led to rebellion in 1835 and so begun the Texas Revolution.

As you can see, this isn’t a story of self sacrifice by freedom loving settlers fighting in the service of liberty for Texas. Oh no! – this was actually a fight for freedom to enslave people.

Ouch, that’s a uncomfortable truth!

Now, to the battle of the Alamo. I won’t go into the immediate lead up to the battle because this is a pint sizes travel history. I’m not giving you a quart. You quart sized brain people need to find supplementary information elsewhere. Sorry quart people.

Around 1800 Mexican soldiers, led by General Santa Anna, surrounded the Alamo. Inside were around 200 defenders, led by the frontiersman James Bowie, Lieutenant Colonel William Travis and the famous folk hero, Davy Crockett.

After a 13 day seige, the actual Battle of the Alamo began on March 6, 1836, and lasted 90 minutes.

Every fighting soldier was killed and, it is said, that even those who surrendered were executed by Santa Anna.

Although the Alamo was a defeat, it galvanized the rest of Texas against Mexico and General Santa Anna. A few months later, Sam Houston led Texas to victory and Texas gained it’s independence.

It’s often quoted that around 200 ‘Texans’ bravely fought and defended the Alamo. Let me tell you the facts.

Of the 200 or so men that fought and died at the Alamo, 29 are known to be from the United Kingdom.

It’s not been possible to trace all the nationalities of the men involved and it’s actually thought the UK defenders could have been as much as a third of the men. To that you can add a few other soldiers from other European countries.

Of these men, four were Scots – John McGregor, Richard Ballentine, Isaac Robinson and David Wilson.

John McGregor is often known as the piper of the Alamo. It is said that during the siege, MacGregor engaged in musical duels with David Crockett – McGregor playing the bagpipes and Crockett the fiddle. 

So that’s a full pint of Alamo history for you.

Talking of pints, after the Alamo we went for a beer. Look it was hot and humid and I felt sure Susan was getting near a Code 1 and needed to rest in somewhere cool.

You don’t get anywhere in San Antonio much cooler than this place!

You know what’s coming to you now – more pint sized history! Actually, I promise it’s only a half pint this time.

In 1861, a 17yr old bartender opened his own saloon but quickly learned people didn’t have much money. So he came up with the idea to accept horns and antlers in exchange for beers and whisky. The Buckhorn collection became one of the world’s largest collections of horns and antlers.

Cheers horns and antlers. Thanks for helping Susan recover.

Goodbye San Antonio we loved your company.

Border Bandito Country

Susan decided we would leave Mehico City at 6am to beat the traffic and as I always say, ‘what the big dog wants the big dog gets’.

The plan worked wonderfully well and we were soon making great progress towards San Luis Potosi (260 miles). The following day we did 325 miles to Monterrey.

Far too early for check-in at San Luis Potosi, we sat and smelled out reception until they gave us the first room available. Susan is of course fragrant whilst I, on the other hand, have a coating of grime and dust and smell like a box of fish. That’s biker life!

On the road to Monterrey we made good progress on reasonably well maintained roads. I’m mindful we’re in the region of Tamaulipas, an area of notoriety for the Gulf Cartel, one of the oldest cartels in the country.

The area has a US advisory notice ‘do not travel due to crime and kidnapping’ and mentions heavily armed criminal groups operating with impunity along the border region.

The banditos regularly set up armed road blocks and so I regularly check online chat groups for up to date information.

Personally, I didn’t feel safe though I was aware this was most likely because everyone was telling me it wasn’t safe. We were making good progress when Susan starts feeling hot. Well it was bloody hot I’ve got to agree but this is bandito country. We can’t stop at the side of the road fanning ourselves like a couple of fannies!

I think I’ve mentioned before we have a code system – Code 1 (I would like to stop when it’s convenient); Code 2 (I need to stop soon); Code 3 (stop now, as soon as you can).

Whilst that’s all pretty clear Susan now ‘kind of wants’ to stop and it’s ‘kind of not’ a Code 1.

Oh no, don’t start that!! I’m not letting you go on Susan’s side and say we should have a code 0.5! That’s ridiculous. You’re either a Code 1 or you’re damn well bloody fine!

We’re blasting along and I’m watching every vehicle around. We always have a problem when touring – trucks and cars come rapidly up behind us, see us as a novelty and cruise behind to have a look. After a few minutes they pass.

Now imagine what that feels like in this border area. As far as I’m concerned every car following is potential banditos. Every time it happens I slow and force them to overtake. Then I relax until the next potential bandito car follows behind.

At this time do you really think Susan should have access to Code 0.5!! Yes of course I don’t want another fainting melodrama but she really needs to stick to the agreed system.

It’s at this point I make a serious relationship error. I cringe as I sit here telling you. Honestly, it’s quite embarrassing for a new age metrosexual like me.

I don’t remember saying it but it was later mentioned in despatches. Apparently, I asked Susan if she was a Code 1 and when she said ‘no I don’t think so’, I responded by telling her to ‘man up’!

I still can’t believe I actually said what I felt but I’ve since been reminded many times that’s what I said. Honestly, sometimes I’m a bas*ard (I add this last sentence so Susan can nod along as she reads it).

I suppose I can only blame the state of tension although that’s no excuse. That said, at the first opportunity I stopped at a grocery store in the middle of bandito country.

It didn’t feel like the right place to stop but it’s not easy for me juggling the demands of banditos and Susan. Yes, thanks for your kind words – as you say ‘who would want to be me’!

There were a group of heavy lorries outside the store and I had to park 50 metres down the road. We walked back to the shop and bought drinks and food.

In grocery stores, we eat and drink standing in the shop. Sometimes they have a small table, often they don’t. We find the ice cream freezer is a good place to rest our gear and refresh. Everyone is always sympathetic and friendly.

On this occasion we bought a cheese and ham roll in a nitrogen sealed pack. They last forever but Susan is always looking for a sell by date. There isn’t one.

We’ve had these rolls a few times and I usually tear the roll in half and we share. This time, Susan decided to tear the roll as she thought my hands smelled of leather and sweat. She really can be a fussy eater.

I walked outside eating my roll as I was not happy leaving the bike out of sight in bandito country. As I walked to the bike, a truck driver started talking mehican to me.

Of course, I didn’t have a clue what he was saying. Then he pointed to the bike and said ‘bad boys’.

Oh yes, I got the message.

‘bad boys, bad boys’

‘what you gonna do?’

‘what you gonna do when they come for you?’

So I moved the bike to the shop door and, as I finished parking, Susan came out wondering where I was. It was at this point I realised my grave error – I had left Susan to eat her half roll unsupervised!!

Now please don’t be indignant and say Susan is quite capable of eating a half roll on her own! She isn’t! NOT this roll!

You see the usual script is, I tear the roll apart with my sweaty leathery hands, give half to Susan and we eat. I say it’s tasty and just what we needed. She agrees. We drink Gatorade to wash it all down. We get on the bike and off we go. Happiness.

We’ve done the same procedure time and time again. It works.

Leave Susan unsupervised and what does she do? She opens up the bloody roll and looks inside to examine what’s she’s eating!She sees the ham is Barbie pink, the cheese is like white sweating plastic and the butter is yellow like a dandelion.

Immediately, she feels nauseous at the thought of it and makes a decision she’s never eating that again. So we will never again share one of our favourite rolls that’s got us through Mehico. It’s a disaster.

Tasty, sweaty, leathery half roll I will miss you!

We both get back on the bike and I ask Susan if she’s feeling better. ‘Yes’ she says hesitantly – yup she’s thinking of that bloody ham again. Honestly, sometimes I just wish she would man up!

I know you will also be feeling a bit nauseous thinking about that ham so here’s photo of me. We all love a photo of me.

Interestingly, I thought this beer had a sweaty and leathery undertone to it’s taste.

The following day, from Monterrey we headed for the border with USA at Puente Colombia.

It was an anxious fast ride for three hours along a road known to have ‘troubles’ with banditos. We rode through vast desert wilderness and saw another vehicle now and again.

I had made a decision if someone tried to stop us, I wasn’t stopping. Sometimes I think too much about contingency plans as we journey and this wasn’t one of my best but I needed the reassurance that I knew what I was going to do. Thankfully, everything was going to be alright.

Oh yes, cars sped up behind us, time and time again, and then sat on our tail. I slowed, slowed, and they passed.

After a solid three and a half hours riding with no break we reached the border. Leaving Mehico was easy and entering the US was a breeze. After all the media scare reports of US border control we were a bit wary as to what we would face.

We have a current 10 year visa from our cycling days in our old passport. We presented our passports at a checkpoint and the guy was great. He even let Susan walk through the security ‘no go’ area whilst I was directed to the car park.

We were processed quickly by immigration and I can honestly say it was the friendliest, most polite and helpful border crossing in all of the Americas. By a mile.

We didn’t even require a temporary bike import permit. That said, they charged us $12 tariff to get in so I’ve written a stern letter the British Prime Minister to let him know what they’re up to with their tariffs on poor motorcycle travellers.

We were exhausted after the border. Yes, yes, what’s new?

So what did we do? We got on the bike and rode nearly three hours to San Antonio. It was a hard, fast ride with a vicious side wind.

We unpacked, showered and I was smelling of roses again. Then it was out for beer and pizza.

It’s festival time in San Antonio and at a road checkpoint we met BMW biker bros keeping everyone safe.

Looking good guys.

Welcome to America.

Mehico City

We set off for the 82 miles to our Airbnb in Mehico City (CDMX). The bike was running nice and the auxiliary lights were now working.

The journey took nearly 4 hours to complete and was completely exhausting.

The first 40 miles took an hour and the rest of the time we edged along in traffic jams the like of which you won’t see in the UK.

For over an hour we were at walking pace as 10 lanes merged into 3. As the road went up an incline, the sight of what lay miles ahead of us unfolded and the experience really can’t be described. I can’t do it justice. It’s absolute chaos and mayhem.

We’re wet inside our bike gear from the heat and the exertion. Arms and fingers ache keeping the bike upright over an uneven road surface as we inch forward. The clutch is working hundreds, thousands of times. It’s torture.

Nearly four hours on a motorcycle in heavy traffic, without a break, is no easy task. But we keep on going because, as I’ve said before, this is what we choose. This is what we do.

We checked into our home from home in a lovely residential area in Mehico City.

Then, for the next three days, we toured and experienced this busy, chaotic, wonderful city.

Founded in 1325, it is the oldest city in the Americas. First known as Tenochtitlan, it was built on an island and extended over a lake by the Mexica empire. During the final stages of the Spanish conquest of the Aztec empire, Spanish forces razed the city to the ground and founded the colonial Mexico City on its ruins.

There is an extreme water shortage in Mexico City. Nearly 70% of the water consumed comes from the aquifer beneath the city and this draining of water tables is causing the city centre to sink.

It’s estimated it has dropped more than 9 metres in the last 100 years. Currently, it’s sinking up to 50 cm in some places whereas other places, built on volcanic rock don’t sink at all. This differential subsidence is destabilising buildings.

This beautiful cathedral is estimated to fall within the next 60 years unless something is done. Everyone thinks the government will step in and so something before it’s too late but this is Mehico and I wouldn’t put a bet on it. The country is littered with half finished projects.

Interestingly, this cathedral was built by the Spanish over a temple complex and, as the cathedral is sinking, the ruined foundations of the temple complex are rising up.

The whole central city is leaning, roads have dips and humps, nothing is straight and flat. The Leaning Tower of Pisa doesn’t have a look in.

Today CDMX is the fifth largest city in the world with over 21 million people. On the day we arrived into the city I’m absolutely certain they were all returning home on the same road as us.

The city has the second largest number of museums in the world (second only to London). Of course, Susan and I had to visit the Anthropology museum – we like to show we’re high brow, cultured bikers.

Here’s a photo of two cultured people at the museum of anthropology.

We followed our museum visp with a walk through the local parks in Condesa-Roma where we were staying. Lovely park and more statutes for us culture bikers to enjoy. Here’s a woman with big jugs.

I share culture like I share my knowledge of languages. It’s my gift to you.

We followed our walk with a cultural experience – we went for tacos.

Later that day I wanted to sample the bar culture – we went for nachos.

You see we’re not like ‘normal’ tourists – we like to immerse ourselves in culture.

Goodbye Mehico City. Until we meet again.

Spanner In The Works

After wa-Ha-ka and Puebla we headed towards Mehico City.

What’s that I hear you say? I’ve rushed passed Puebla without saying very much? Well there isn’t much I actually want to tell you.

Okay then, here’s a photo of a cathedral. It’s pretty impressive because when they first started building it they thought Puebla was going to be the capital of Mexico and so the cathedral had to be a suitable size and quality.

That’s enough about Puebla, let’s move on.

What do you mean you think I’m holding out on you? I’m a pretty straightforward guy and I would never hold out on you?

The only other Puebla story I have is technical and you would be bored.

Here’s another Puebla church at night.

Oh come on, let me move on from Puebla. Let’s talk about fun times in Mehico City.

Surely, you don’t really want another technical story about a motorcycle? Surely, you’ve had enough after the clutch saga?

Sigh! Okay, okay I hear you!

Let me tell you about a day that started pleasantly and went so far downhill it quickly became one of my most stressful days of the trip. I really didn’t want to talk about this!!

We were in a nice hotel in Puebla with a parking garage under the room.

What a nice arrangement and so I thought I would take advantage of this facility and try to get my auxillary lights working – they’ve been kaput since Josias half fixed the clutch.

Now this is another story where I pass on a little bit of education to you. Today’s learning point is ‘never give an idiot a spanner’.

On this occasion, an Idiot opened the battery compartment and noticed the battery had been installed the wrong way round.

I won’t get too technical as the Idiot would just confuse himself. However, to be brief, the red ‘button’ was wired to the negative terminal of the battery and it should be positive.

That’s when the Idiot got a little bit of knowledge from Mr Google and read that it could be damaging the battery, the bike electrics and a critical failure could be imminent.

What do you do? Nothing? Something?

The Idiot consulted with his ‘Sage Advisor’ who kind of agreed that something should be done.

At this point, the ‘Sage Advisor’, the only sensible control the Idiot had, was actually agreeing with him.

At that point, the situation was fu**ed!

And so the Idiot picked up a spanner.

A few minutes later the battery was installed the right way round. Everything looked good. Now switch on the power.

Nothing. Dead as a donkey.

The Idiot’s heart sank. His legs felt like jelly. Breathe Idiot. Breathe.

Tomorrow we’re booked out of this hotel and into an Airbnb in Mehico City. We need an early start for the traffic chaos. We can’t have a problem at 1230hrs, the day before we leave. We can’t.

We have!

Breathe.

Let’s change it back to what it was like before. It was working before. The Idiot shouldn’t have touched it.

Breathe.

The Idiot and the spanner set to work again.

It’s ready. Breathe. Now switch on the power.

Nothing. Dead as a donkey.

Legs wobbling, breathing stopped.

Press the power button again. Again! Again! AGAIN!!! AGAIN!!

Jeeeeeeeezo!

Take a walk. Breathe. Just breathe and think. Breathe.

A few minutes later the Idiot briefs the ‘Sage Advisor’. There’s no recriminations, there’s no rolling of the eyes like you’re doing just now. The ‘Sage Advisor’ was calm.

Only the Idiot was panicking.

Breathe Idiot. Breathe.

Now to give the Idiot his due he accepted he was already well past the limits of his ability. Oh yes, he could consult Mr Google and look for a solution, cry and wring his hands, contemplate solutions and fall into self recriminations or…….

…… the Idiot could get a grip and put a plan into action.

The Idiot needed an expert.

The Idiot became an example of perpetual motion. Unstoppable today.

Within 10 minutes he was in a taxi to a BMW motorcycle dealer.

Within 70 minutes, he was in Carlos’s truck with the motorcycle on the back.

Within 90 minutes the bike was in the BMW garage.

The service manager said they would look at it tomorrow.

Carlos, a billingual Mexican, helped with the interpretation and there was only going to be one outcome – the bike was wheeled into the workshop.

Perpetual motion. Unstoppable.

The mechanics looked over the bike and the cause of the problem was quickly found. Yes it’s what we thought all along – it was the Idiot’s fault!

Whilst the battery was in the wrong way round and the red ‘button’ was indeed negative when it should be positive, Josias had also changed around the wiring looms. Everything looked wrong but it worked right.

Idiot with a spanner changed all that and blew the main bike fuse.

Did the garage have a replacement 50 amp fuse? After all we’re in a garage full of motorcycles exactly the same model. Of course, they didn’t! It’s Mehico after all.

Idiot gives the mechanics a great laugh when he told them to take one from another bike.

Oh they laughed out loud. Idiot laughed. Then they realised Idiot was serious. They shuffled hesitantly to stand protectively in front of their spanners.

With one mechanic guarding the spanners , the other chap found a 60 amp fuse. Not the same but it would do. We had a solution.

The fuse was installed, the bike sprang to life and everything was going to be alright.

There was no charge for their work. Nice. BMW looking after travellers yet again.

For me, Carlos, was the real star of the day. An independent breakdown guy who was on hand within the hour to help. He now keeps in touch via WhatsApp. Muchas gracias Carlos.

Tomorrow we can ride for CDMX.

Unstoppable today.

Welcome To Mehico

That’s how we pronounce it.

Just giving you a little bit of language tuition at no cost. No need to thank me, I know you’re grateful when I share.

Our first stop in Mehico was Tapachula. We soon recognised there were security issues in the area because we were processed through more than 25 paramilitary checkpoints.

In this area, the UK Govt. advises against all but essential travel and the US Govt advises against travel due to risks of crime and kidnapping.

Our travel in this area could be considered ‘essential’ as we were obliged to ride up and down the ‘danger’ area to reach the alternative border for our bike import permit. Thanks Mehico!

At each checkpoint we’re slowed by ‘topes’ which are suspension killing speed bumps. The topes in Central America are monstrous and regularly scrape the protective guard on the bottom of the bike engine. They’re deadly and you go slow, very slow, for a tope.

They even have topes on dual carriageways with no highlighted markings. They’ look just like a normal road surface from a distance – try seeing them when travelling at 80kmph!

The security checkpoints are staffed by military guys with machine guns. Often there’s also a chap pointing a hefty mounted machine gun at us. It all feels very intimidating and not safe.

I appreciate it’s better to have security than not and they rarely stop us. If they do I think it’s usually out of curiosity and after producing our documents and a cursory search we’re on our way.

From Tepachula we did some long days on the bike. The roads are better in Mehico and we rolled along nicely.

The road from Tehuantepec towards Oaxca was a stunning motorcycle road. 170km of motorcycle heaven over mountains, climbing over 10,000 feet with 54 bridges and 12 tunnels. Hardly a straight in sight and an average speed of about 55mph if you’re not faint hearted.

The road was only fully opened earlier this year and it’s wonderful. Perhaps the best motorcycle road I’ve ever ridden and all credit to Susan for taking it all in her stride. She’s as awesome as the road.

We reached Oaxaca. Now that’s pronounced wa-HA-ka. Again I’m happy to pass on my knowledge of Spanish. When a friend gains from my knowledge it’s no loss.

wa-HA-ka is recognised as the food capital of Mehico. That nicely brings us to the point where I’ve said too much and it’s time for a photo.

Yes, I know you expected a photo of food but you shouldn’t expect the expected. It’s a photo of a wa-HA-ka street.

Okay, here’s something better. It’s me with a 950ml bottle of beer. Doesn’t get much better than that! The beer I’m talking about, the beer!

You want more? Here’s Susan with a tiny glass of beer.

Now that’s not so good! The beer I’m talking about, the tiny glass of beer!

What else can I show you?

How about a mural or two?

Yes, yes all very nice but I know what you’re really thinking? ‘Come on Clif it was Easter weekend when you were in wa-HA-ka and we want to see a guy with a cross’.

Okay here’s a guy in the ‘Silent Procession’. Susan loved it but I found the whole ‘silent’ thing a bit of a challenge.

Here’s some more silent people. Shhhh shhh!

And while we’re being religious on what was Easter weekend, how about if I throw in a 16th century Spanish Cathedral.

Oh I did mention food, didnt I?

Here’s lovely shin of beef in the famous mole poblano. Mole is a big deal in this part of the world. Some are reasonable, some are a bit too sweet for my liking. The mole poblano is fine.

Now I’m going to ask you a history question – who’s this guy?

Well of course, this is Pancho Villa. I’m sure you will have heard of him but let me add a little background.

Pancho is considered to be one of the most widely known Mehicans of all time throughout the world. If I told you who the other top famous Mehicans were there’s a good chance you wouldn’t have heard of any of them.

Okay, okay I will give you Carlos Santana but I’m certainly NOT going to allow you Salma Hayek!

Pancho is seen as a Robin Hood, bandit, killer and, since 1812, is the only foreigner to have actually invaded and attacked USA. He was a key figure in the Mehico Revolution 1910 – 1920.

The President, Porfirio Diaz, ruled as dictator between 1876 and 1911. His time in power ended decades of economic stagnation and, even today, Mexicans recognise his achievements for Mehico in terms of the economy, transport and infrastructure. However, as is usual with dictators, corruption and power got to his head and despite promising democracy he reneged.

Pancho Villa, a General with his own small army, aligned himself to the uprising against Porfirio and after a stramash or two, a new president was installed. He didn’t last long and what followed thereafter was years of armed conflict and changing heads of state.

Now the first casualty of war is truth and Pancho reportedly signed an exclusive contract with a leading American newsreel company in 1914. Hollywood, not far from the border where most of the stramashes were occurring, came to Mehico.

Newsreels were a coming force and cinemas were growing rapidly in popularity. There were obvious advantages in controlling the way in which these newsreels portrayed the revolution and Pancho himself. In this way, Hollywood helped finance Pancho, his army and the revolution.

Pancho even starred in a 1914 silent movie titled ‘The Life of General Villa’ shot on location during the civil war, incorporating authentic footage from real battles. This movie has since been lost but the making of this movie was dramatised in the movie titled ‘And Starring Pancho Villa as Himself’ (2003) with Antonio Banderas.

Pancho was a brutal character and although he semi retired from politics to his ranch, his enemies eventually came calling and in 1923 he was ambushed in his car. Seven gunmen fired 40 dumdum bullets (usually used on elephants) into his car hitting Pancho seven times. He died at the age of 45.

Now that’s Pancho and the Mehican revolution. It took many years for him to be regarded as a ‘hero’ of the revolution but today, on balance, he’s better regarded than he once was. As they say ‘history is written by the victors’ or I suppose we could say, in this case, perhaps history was written by Hollywood.

So let’s now fast forward. Zoom zoom. We moved on from wa-HA-ka to Puebla and did you know the first shots of the revolution were fired in Puebla? Of course you didn’t and, as I always say, ‘a good friend teaches you something’.

Here’s the damage.

This was the home of the Seridan family and it’s now known as the Museum of the Revolution. Aquiles Seridan was a ‘revolutionary’ who opposed Porfirio Diaz and his house was stormed by the police and he was killed. The Mehican Revolution had begun.

Let’s finish with something more cheerful. It’s party time in Puebla and my friends are dancing.

Viva Mehico!