Category: North America

Epilogue

We arrived at Whistler, a little bit north of Vancouver, three weeks before we were due to fly home.

We had a lovely Airbnb overlooking this park and we rested and contemplated our next move. Susan wanted a photo in front of the Olympic rings because she thought she deserved a gold medal for putting up with me. Oh, she’s got such a sense of humour!

So what’s the best thing to do in these circumstances – when the big journey is done, when the goals have been achieved, when we’ve smashed our way through the Yukon and Alaska, when you’re now ready for some rest and relaxation?

Well, you go on a motorcycle holiday of course!

So we left Canada and headed back down to the USA and the Oregon coast.

Our first stop on the Oregon Pacific Byway was Astoria and that’s where Susan and I had serious problems with our relationship. I’m being very open and honest here.

Now, I know what you’re thinking – such an arduous journey over the last four months was bound to raise underlying tensions, bring frustrations to the fore and cause life defining relationship ruptions.

And who was the root cause of this trouble, you ask?

Well, it was Big Bad Dog Susan of course!

I know, I know, I see you rasing your eyebrows – you’re not bloody surprised!

So what happened? What happened? Tell us what the Big Bad Dog did to rupture your relationship?

Well this is not an easy story to tell and I choke up trying to write this! Please be patient with me whilst I explain (quiet sobbing).

It all started when we stayed at a most wonderful Airbnb hosted by Trish and Thaddeus. Delightful.

At the end of our stay, Thaddeus, a flight instructor, offered to take us up in his light aircraft over the Columbia River. Susan was excited to go up in the plane and her enthusiasm was palpable.

Note: if it’s not got two wheels I tend to be a bit more calm about transport options.

Just look at the Big Bad Dog grinning with Thaddeus before the flight.

So let me tell you, let me tell you this – when Thaddeus asked who was sitting in the front, Susan’s enthusiasm boiled over so much she shouted ‘ME!’

She even raised her hand! Hear that! Like at school – me, me, me! Bloody teacher’s pet!

I was lost for words. I was stung into inaction. I was overwhelmed with despair as I quietly, meekly, climbed into a half seat at the back that was only big enough for a small child!

Do you realise the implications? Has the story got meaning for you?

Yup, you’ve got it – I had become the bloody pillion passenger!!!!

After 12,000 miles of being in command, lion of the road, looking forward to the horizon and beyond, scanning for adventure and danger, with only the road ahead and Susan behind, here I was looking a this …

I’m sitting in the back with my knees around my ears like a big seething toad.

Then it got so much worse!

Yes, that’s Susan flying the bloody plane!

Sorry for swearing again but it was quite an emotional time for me in the pillion seat and Susan flying faster than a motorcycle.

Honestly, it was terrifying. If I had I known she was going to fly I would have worn my boom boom jacket and my lovely helmet!

Thaddeus even asked her if she would like to land! Well I nearly bailed out there and then! Thankfully, Susan passed back the controls and we had a safe landing.

After the flight, we had a couple of hundred miles on the bike down the Oregon coast. It was a very quiet journey with huffy hot pants back in front.

Susan is, of course, very empathetic. Well, that’s another way of saying she knows how to get me out of a huff – she bribes me with beer!

So for the next two weeks we toured Oregon and it’s countless local independent breweries. Yes I did say two weeks! This wasn’t a huff I was going to give up easy once I had worked out a way to milk it!

In Eugene, we hit the colourful hotspots.

I bought a ‘reasonably’ expensive 3 year old experimental American whiskey after the salesman gave me 15 free tasting shots of whiskey. Some were so strong that by the end I genuinely was having trouble speaking because my lips were numb.

Then we hit a backwater bar with a ‘cowboy’ teuchter band.

Now I appreciate it’s not the correct thing to say but there’s really no way to describe better – not one person in this photo is the ‘full shilling’!

Other patrons, outwith the photo, were too risky to photograph.

I highlight the lady on the left with the cat ears who winked at everyone, the guy in tie dye shirt in the centre who didn’t stop dancing even when the band had a break and the guy that confused me for a while – the black haired guy with the two tone jacket in the photo.

In Scotland we call would call him a ‘jakey’. Oh I know it is a ‘bad’ word to use but it’s an effective and efficient adjective in this instance.

He had his worldly possessions in bags at the side which meant he could do multiple clothing changes during each song.

Now I like to keep track of the zoomers when I’m in a zoomers situation. You can imagine my concern when my attention was distracted and the black haired guy dancing with a stick vanished and a baldy with a tie dye t shirt appeared. Suddenly I’m minus one zoomer and plus another zoomer.

To explain I was distracted by the red haired mother (dancing in the photo) giving her three year old daughter a lager ice cream float.

It was only later I noticed his switching clothes and wig trick. Yup his thick black hair is a wig. Tricky old zoomer.

The music was great. The people were colourful and a bit edgy but, as long as you didn’t stare too much, it was a great place. Kind of like a Weatherspoons in Glasgow where the standards have dropped even further. Yes I know, hard to believe, but there is such a place and that place was here!

Another day, in a town called Bend, Susan and I peaked. This town has the most (30) breweries per head of population in the USA.

We were only there a couple of day but managed 7 different breweries, including the simply magnificent Crux Fermentation Project. Please don’t make me drink beer in Scotland again!

Susan was a trooper. Brewery after brewery. We rebuilt our trust and talked beer and motorcycles. Nobody mentioned flying. Nobody!

Bend, in particular, was great as the weather was perfect. Honestly, being with Susan that couple of days was nearly as good as being out with the guys! Well done Susan!

We did go to the seaside. Susan likes the seaside. I knew if I kept milking it too much my fun would be curtailed and so we endured the seaside. And the best thing I can show you about the seaside is a photo of me.

Seriously, the Oregon coast was lovely and the the roads were motorcycle heaven. What a great motorcycle holiday.

We ended our holiday in Leavenworth. What an interesting town.

Established as a logging town with a freight railway but seriously declined when the railway rerouted in the 1930’s. There was almost nothing left, no lumber mills, no employment, no stores and next to no people.

Then someone had a bright idea – let’s have a Bavarian-Alpine theme town!

The idea came from a guy, who had a cafe in town, and who had served in Bavaria during World War 2. Since then tourism and employment have boomed.

It’s an extraordinary place.

There’s a city order that states all buildings have to have a Bavarian theme. The pubs have imported German beer and German food and even the McDonald’s looks like a chalet!

Tacky yes! Authentic definitely no! But it works in a cheesy sort or way and the tourists flock to it.

After Leavenworth, we crossed back into Canada and are now in Vancouver.

Today was a sad day. The bike has been handed over to the cargo courier.

So let’s finish with some stats for the stats people.

You people who can’t deal with numbers, please just scroll back to the photo of me for a few seconds.

Miles done this trip: 12,606

Hotels, motels, Airbnb : 66

If we add South America:

Grand total North and South America miles: 22,925

Grand total hotels, motels, Airbnb: 125

Grand total border crossings: 26

(okay people who hate stats and have been staring at the photo of me instead can now return).

So, in North and South America we have nearly circumnavigated the world (earth’s circumference at the equator is 24,901 miles).

The co-pilot and I have obviously got some unfinished miles.

See you on the other side.

Arrivederci amigos.

Long Way From No Hope

Ten days biking from Calgary to Anchorage. One days rest. Nine days biking to Hope. This is no way to treat an old man.

We thrashed it down the Alcan Highway. We thrashed it down the Stewart – Cassiar Highway. We thrashed it along the Yellowhead Highway. Roads that we had already travelled. They weren’t easier the second time.

The bike performed well though it could do with a wash. I kind of look the same – splattered dead flies and mud. Susan is fine and clean – she hides behind me and laughs when she hears flies the size of small birds bounce off my helmet.

Susan suffers in another way. The gravel and sand roads are her nemesis. I think she’s getting better although I’ve now had to ask her to stop breathing. Yes I know it’s cruel but it sounds like a cross between a heavy breathing phonecall and an express train over my intercom helmet!

In the evening she’s exhausted – nervous exhaustion. I’m exhausted – symbiotic exhaustion. I go to sleep dreaming of a whooshing in my ears. It’s not easy being me!

When she’s not whooshing in my ears, I keep Susan’s spirits up with junk food. Just look at her happy wee face. Susan has some kind of chicken salad sandwich whilst I’ve got the only Subway sandwich a biker should have – meatball marinara!

Here she is again at a petrol stop. I think she disinfected her hand after touching my handlebar – she thinks my gloves smell of dead Moose! I don’t disagree. It’s just a pity my hands smell the same.

So we reached Hope, less than 100 miles from Vancouver.

Chainsaw aficionados recognised the wooden sculpture in the last post as Sheriff Will Teasley (actor Brian Dennehy) from the movie First Blood, starring Sylvestor Stallone as Rambo.

Here’s a wooden version of the main man himself. The real wooden version can be seen on your TV.

So First Blood was essentially about Rambo walking into a small town and coming into conflict with a small town sheriff. It’s a classic movie of our times. Oh really? Yup, a classic!

The movie was filmed in the quaint mountain town of Hope and Susan and I have been here before – 11 years and 1 month ago.

Since that time we have referred to the town as No Hope. Sometimes Susan calls it Tantrum Town. Yes, there’s a story and that’s why we have returned.

First, let’s have a couple of photos of me.

Just to clarify, that’s me incorporated into a wooden carving – it’s not all wooden! Well maybe just the heid! I will give you that!

Here’s me 11 years ago! Amazing isn’t it? The wings look older but I’m just the same. You never know I could possibly be Marty McFly.

11 years ago we were starting our tandem journey from Victoria Island to Newfoundland. We set off with all the confidence in the world for our marvellous adventure.

Coming out of Vancouver and into the mountains we struggled. I cannot emphasise enough how we struggled.

After a few days we made it to Hope and Susan needed a day of rest. We had our day of rest and wandered the town taking photos for our marvellous adventure.

The following morning we left Hope with hope. We were rested, we were ready for our marvellous adventure.

Ten minutes out of town we reached this corner.

The photo doesn’t show it but it’s a bit of a slope. Just a bit. The newer lighter concrete wall wasn’t there at the time and, right at that spot, we faltered, and stopped. We were knackered. We couldn’t go on. And it was bloody cold and raining!

One of us had a tantrum and boy did they shout and moan. They even blamed the rain on the other person. The other person remained calm despite being presented with reasoned logic why it was their fault it was raining.

We were never going to bloody cross Canada on our marvellous adventure if we couldn’t even make it out of No Hope!

Now this was THE pivotal moment on our journey to adventure land and all our subsequent travels. We genuinely thought we would have to give up and if that happened then the rest would never have followed. Everything was about to fall like a train of dominoes.

So what is the one thing that separated our success from failure? Attitude! Our attitude was wrong.

We had no shared experience of such an undertaking and no understanding of the commitment. Our confidence, built on a flimsy platform of hope and a marvellous adventure, had disappeared.

We didn’t know how to cope in No Hope.

We decided to gave it another try. We pushed on, soaked and freezing and made it to the end of the day. We didn’t get to our intended destination – nowhere near it. But we got up the following day and did the same. The next day ……. you get the picture.

That day was a lesson that’s taken us through all our adventures – ‘just keep moving!’. Don’t contemplate the enormity of the task or journey ahead or how bad it is or how bad it could get – just keep moving!

Of course, we’re now on a bike with an engine. The physicality is not the same as the tandem but, as any motorcyclist will tell you, it’s the most satisfying but exhausting way to travel.

Panama literally feels like it was years ago. It’s difficult to explain. We’ve crammed in hundreds of places and destinations, gone through countless experiences. Neither of us can comprehend that Panama was only 3 months ago. We’ve lived a hundred ‘holidays’ since Panama.

It’s not for everyone but please never take my motorcycle away.

Now, without getting too sentimental, I’m going to get sentimental. Because of this story I’ve unburdened onto you, Susan and I decided this was the official end of this particular adventure.

It all really started here. So let’s finish this journey here.

10,998 miles.

We have another three weeks left before we fly home so we’re heading for Whistler then the Oregon coast.

So for now I’m going to leave you with a beer photo of me. Yup you’re getting bang for your buck photos of me today. You damn lucky person!

And in true Rambo style I ordered a pint of ‘First Blood’ at the excellent mountain brewery.

Looking like Rambo. Well perhaps not. At least the beer was excellent – nicest pint of red beer I’ve had.

Of course, at the end of another grand adventure, I’ve got to acknowledge that I was part of a team.

I couldn’t have got through this without you.

Until the next time.

Skol.

Long Way Up

Our route to Alaska was always going to be a long and winding road.

We had a break – the weather was settled and so we decided to go through to Anchorage with no rest days.

2,250 miles from Calgary in 10 days motorcycling. Doesn’t seem so challenging? Well, it’s 10 days over demanding roads, with a motorcycle carrying two old people. It was going to be tough at my age – I’m no spring chicken!

We left Jasper on the road we had previously cycled into Jasper. Yeah, yeah more memories!

We stopped on the road and tried to recreate a photo I had taken 11 years ago. That’s Mount Robson, the most prominent mountain of the North American Rockies.

We pushed on through Prince George and up the Stewart-Cassiar highway. The sun shone and we made good progress.

We kept up to date on the situation with our original planned route – the Alcan Highway. It closed for five days and whilst now open it continues to be affected by smoke. It’s not an option for a motorcycle.

On the third day we reached accommodation which was a little bit of luxury for Susan. I did say she was high maintenance!

The following day we crossed the border into the Yukon. Absolutely bloody marvellous wilderness! Love the Yukon.

The Yukon is, of course, famous for its gold rush, also known as the Klondike Gold Rush. In 1896, the idea of striking it rich led to over 100,000 people abandoning their homes and families to embark on a life threatening journey across treacherous, icy valleys and harrowing rocky terrain.

Less than half who started the trek actually arrived. Many gave up, many died. Those that made it found that reports of available gold were greatly exaggerated. The Klondike Gold Rush made some men wealthy beyond their dreams but most ended with nothing but broken dreams.

On our first night in the Yukon, we stayed in another chalet at Nugget City. More compact and bijou than luxury. I should say, Susan’s obviously not high maintenance all the time!

Met a lovely couple in the restaurant. Both retired. He was in the RCMP and she was a nurse. How often does that happen? All over the world policemen marry nurses.

Where was my nurse? What happened to her? All I got was a nursemaid!

The scenery in the Yukon was bleak and outstanding.

On route, we’ve seen brown bears, black bears and even a blonde grizzly foraging by the roadside. Once we had to stop whilst a brown grizzly slowly walked down the road centre line like he owned the place. Then we came across a very rare Canadian Lynx crossing the road with a menacing nonchalance. Wonderful.

We stayed in another chalet before crossing the border into Alaska.

And I drank another beer.

Honestly, I’m going to suffer going back to Scotland where the beer quality and choice is second division compared to what I’ve grown accustomed to since landing in Panama.

The scenery and beer are outstanding, the roads are not.

Most of the roads are paved but there’s long sections of gravel and mud. Susan hates gravel roads. Hated them in South America. Hated them in Central America. Hates them in North America.

Whenever we hit a gravel section the tension on the bike is palpable. I can’t keep the bike from slipping on occasion and this adds to the drama.

The permafrost destroys roads and, even where they’re paved, they can be treacherous. Potholes, dips, drops, undulations, subsidence, gravel pits, cracks, sand and mud are a nightmare for the motorcycle. Warning signs of danger for motorcycles are common along the road.

Sometimes, for a few miles, the road is wonderful but, suddenly, it can become very different and we’re braking hard, weaving and bouncing. When the bike comes down with a loud bang we ride along wondering if anything is broken.

Throughout the day, the road is an ever evolving challenge. You can’t take your eyes off the surface for a second. It’s pretty exhausting.

I’ve said it before and I will say it again. Susan is unbelievably brave on the back. How she copes with the bike hard braking, bouncing and slipping all over the road is unbelievable. Nobody else I know could do it!

Okay I know, I accept – nobody else would bloody want to do it!

So here’s a photo of Susan at the Alaska border. Fresh from a 20 mile mud and gravel section. Still smiling!

We were back in the USA!

Here’s me doing my crucifix impersonation.

Great, easy border crossing and the roads in Alaska are a significant improvement. Thanks America!

The Americans look after their roads (including roadside forest management) better than the Canadians. And Canadians if you’re going to retort you have a huge country and can’t afford to maintain the roads properly then give a chunk of your country to the USA. I’m sure Donald will take it 🙂

Helped by the settled, sunny, warm weather, biking through Alaska is simply magnificent.

As we approached Anchorage, the last 30 miles were four lane freeway. Oh how we flew into Anchorage.

Susan wasn’t happy we were flying faster than anyone else but, after 10 biking days on treacherous roads, I wasn’t going to take it easy today.

We finished with a flourish and then went for beer, of course!

Tomorrow is for the old man resting. The next day? Well it’s back down the same road of course.

We’re not hanging about in Anchorage. It’s a bit of a dump, if I’m being honest, but we knew that before we arrived.

We thought about taking a few days on the bike and explore the peninsula but I’m fearful the weather changes. This is North America and when a bad weather system comes in it can be devastating. I can’t contemplate riding some of these roads in very bad weather.

Also the forests are on very high alert for fire all along the Alaskan road and into the Yukon. If a forest fire arises we’re effectively stuck. There’s one way in and one way out for us.

So need to make progress whilst the weather is fair and the forests are calm.

It’s not a time for two exhausted old people to sit and nap in Anchorage.

It’s time to move. Again!

Yogi & Boo Boo Visit Jellystone

Cody was our gateway to Jellystone National Park.

We were up early and had a wonderful hour ride to the gates of the park in time for it’s 8am opening. Let’s start with a video.

I chose this video because Susan got off the bike reasonably nimbly. I’ve got to be honest and say sometimes she balances like a flamingo on one bike peg trying to get her other leg over whilst I’m hanging on like mighty mouse trying to keep us upright. Some days are graceful. Some days are not. All days are amusing for us both.

So what’s Jellystone all about?

Well I’ve always wanted to visit. Always.

You see Yellowstone National Park sits over a supervolcano and magma lies just below the surface. Past volcanic eruptions have been global disasters and, though it stirs occasionally, Yellowstone currently sleeps.

Thermal activity throughout the park is, nevertheless, extensive. Yellowstone is home to more than 500 geysers; that’s more than half of the total active geysers on Earth! Geysers come in all sorts of shapes and levels of activity, from towering eruptions that occur sporadically to small fountains of steaming hot water that erupt almost continuously.

In amongst all this volcanic activity live the bison or, more commonly called, the North American buffalo.

Then there’s the geysers, mudpots and hot springs with their multicolored layers caused by different species of thermophile (heat-loving) bacteria.

Absolutely amazing. And there’s the wastelands created by the acidic hot water.

And there’s the Grand Prismatic Spring with its striking colours.

And the bubbling mudpots.

And the crystal clear hot springs.

And the magnificent caldera lake.

And of course, there’s the famous geyser ‘Old Faithful’ that gets its name because of it’s 50 metre high eruptions of boiling water every 60 to 90 minutes.

Yeah I know, photo of Old Faithful doesn’t look impressive. To be honest, it wasn’t that impressive in real life either. Still it was good to see

And how did we get around the park over two days? By iron horse of course!

Talking about iron horses, just look at this bar diner sitting on the banks of the Yellowstone River.

What a fitting place to end our two days in Yellowstone National Park. The beer was wonderful and the food was great.

So what did I have to eat at the ‘Iron Horse’? Well I like seeing Buffalo on the American plains so, of course, I had to try one. What a great BBQ buffalo burger.

Before my buffalo dinner I must admit to having a small pre dinner beer at our high class rustic lodge. Unfortunately, there’s a limited choice of beer from the gas station but at least it helps cut down my calories.

No we didn’t see Yogi and Boo Boo but the scenery, sights and experience of this park were exceptional. I will repeat myself – this place is exceptional.

Let’s now move on and get this blog right up to date.

We left Yellowstone and made good progress north. Weather and roads were great and we were soon crossing the border from USA to Canada. Great border crossing and we were through in a couple of minutes. Thanks USA and Canada border people.

Here we are entering Alberta.

How about a retro shot.

That’s from last time when we cycled through Alberta. As you can see I’ve matured since then and I don’t wear tights anymore.

Then it was straight to Calgary and the bike shop to ask if they could arrange a service and new tyres. They understood our circumstances and did it there and then whilst we waited.

The mechanic even replaced quite a few bolts that had been rattled loose and lost. He said the bike was in good shape though his eyes widened when I revealed I had a fuel filter bag floating around in my tank and the petrol gauge wasn’t working.

So we’ve been in Calgary in a lovely Airbnb apartment for the last few days chilling in the extra time we had because the bike was serviced so promptly.

It’s nice to be here in Calgary again after having visited on our cycle ride across Canada. It’s just like I remember which is surprising since it’s so unmemorable.

Now, we move on towards Anchorage and it feels like the journey is nearing its end. It’s a sad thought. No genuinely it’s a sad thought and so we’ve been thinking about plans to extend this trip to cheer us up.

That said, there’s still another 6 weeks to go.

That said, we’ve still got another 4,500 miles to go.

And did I mention our planned road to Anchorage, the main Alcan Highway, is currently closed due to multiple forest wildfires?

Yup, there still appears to be some life in this old journey!

The Wild West Meets Scotland

From Buffalo to Cody we detoured over the Chief Joseph Scenic Byway in Wyoming. Motorcycle heaven. Outstanding scenery. Outstanding roads. Outstanding weather.

We stopped for a couple of days in Cody (established and named by William F. ‘Buffalo Bill’ Cody) and checked into a nice motel to provide us with a ‘theme park’ experience.

Unfortunately, on the way to the pub, Susan and I got into a bit of an argument – she found alternative transportation for our trip and wouldn’t get out.

I had to resort to threats. Sorry guys! – sometimes even us metrosexual guys have to resort to unmetrosexual like conduct.

I proposed towing her in a traditional carraige – the local historic museum had a few spare that were available for reasonable cost.

Yes, I know the photo doesn’t really look like much of a historic town. Well it was and you know me – I always deliver!

Let’s start with with something impressive to demonstrate I know what I’m talking about.

This is Curley’s (Bull Half White) cabin where he lived with his wife ‘Takes A Shield’. What great names Native Americans had. So descriptive! I mean you certainly know not to leave your shield lying around when Curly’s wife is about!

Susan and I realise we now have adopted Indian names – ‘Clif Bigheid’ and ‘Susan Bigdug’. You see how us travellers easily metamorphosise ourselves into the local culture.

By the time Curly was 12 he had killed a buffalo and received his own horse. By the time most Scots lads are 12, they’ve completed the latest video game!

Ah, perhaps I should explain who Curley was?

Well, he was a Crow scout for Custer and the 7th Cavalry at the Battle of Greasy Grass. He was on the outside of the charging circle of Sioux and Cheyenne warriors and managed to escape. Well, that’s Curly’s story!

Okay, I’m listening, I hear you – you hadn’t heard of Curly and you’re quietly singing to yourself ‘that don’t impress me much’.

Well look at this!

‘Oh-oh you think you’re something special’? you ask.

Well, yes I do because look at this …..

Only the bloody table where the ‘Hole in the Wall’ gang played cards!

Yes, yes I know, I’m playing a blinder.

And whilst I’m on top – how about an original wanted poster for Kid Curry!

In terms of delivering on cowboy history I think I’ve knocked it out the park again!

If you don’t know about these infamous characters then you were probably not raised on a diet of cowboy movies and television series. I feel sorry for you.

I could show you more. I could tell you more, but I don’t have time and you don’t have the patience. I’ve got to move on and ramble on about another Wild West character.

Let’s talk about Bill.

We visited the Buffalo Bill Centre of the West, a museum affiliated to the Smithsonian Institution. Proper culture stuff. Yes, yes I’m not all about beer and beer and ……. well beer!

Here’s Bill. What a dandy!

Oh, I know it’s a photo of a photo. Best I can deliver cause he’s deid.

Here’s his coat.

Yeah, yeah it’s only a blinking coat and you’re still reeling in awe having seen the card table so let’s move on with the story.

Buffalo Bill, born in 1846, was a buffalo hunter, US Army scout and pony express rider. His marksmanship, courage, endurance and knowledge of the land made him a legend in his own time.

It should also be recognised, he was chief scout for the U.S. Cavalry throughout much of the government’s attempt to wipe out indigenous resistance to settlement of land east of the Mississippi. So he wasn’t a saint.

His exploits made it into newspapers and dime novels of the day and transformed him into a Western folk hero. He even formed a partnership with an author and they produced a stage show, dramatising the west.

For many years, Cody performed during the winter and scouted for the army in the summer. The lines began to blur between the two when Cody famously wore his theatrical clothes into battle.

In 1883, Cody organised his famous Wild West Show, a spectacular outdoor entertainment with a cast of hundreds, featuring cowboys, Native Americans, along with recreations of buffalo hunting, the robbery of the Deadwood stage and the battle of Greasy Grass.

Buffalo Bill’s relationship with Native Amercans changed and his Wild West show offered them an alternative way of life that allowed them to earn money. A cynic may say he exploited their destitution brought on by his summer job.

Lakota Sioux warriors became a centerpiece of the show and, for a time, even included Sitting Bull and other warriors who had fought at the battle of Greasy Grass.

The show played through the USA and toured Europe, including a performance in front of Queen Victoria.

In 1893 alone, three million people attended the show and, by the end of the 19th century, Buffalo Bill was one of the most recognised people in the world.

Surely he wasn’t recognised in Scotland? Oh, he surely was!

Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show first visited Glasgow in 1891-92. It ran for 3 months, staged in a 7000 seated theatre in the east end.

The most famous of the Native Americans in the show, at that time, was Kicking Bear who was the last Lakota Sioux warrior to surrender to the US Government.

Kicking Bear was a familiar figure in the streets of Dennistoun and one of his most well known photos was taken in a studio in Bellgrove Street.

So the Wild West Show in the Wild West of Scotland? What could possibly go wrong?

Well, George Crager, who toured with the show as a Lakota Sioux interpreter, sold a famous ‘Ghost Shirt’ to Kelvingrove Museum. Yup, if you’re going to reset stolen goods where else in the world would you go?

Ghost shirts are sacred to the Lakota people and thought to be imbued with spiritual powers. On a winter morning, on the banks of Wounded Knee Creek, a slain Lakota Warrior was stripped of the one item that was supposed to protect him from death: his Ghost Dance Shirt.

It became part of a collection assembled by George Crager and this looted artefact found its way into a Glasgow museum.

Fast forward to 1998 and, after a six year campaign, Kelvingrove Museum agreed to return this Ghost Shirt, stained with the warrior’s bloody, to his descendents.p

That’s not all that happened in Wild West Glasgow.

Crager also hit the headlines when he was assaulted by Lakota Sioux warrior ‘Charging Thunder’.

Jeez, even the wee neds fae Glasgow would think twice about upsetting a guy with that name!

Charging Thunder obviously lived up to his name and hit Crager over the head with a block of wood. And what did the Glasgow polis do? They did what they’re best at – they ‘gied him the jail’ and, subsequently, Charging Thunder was sent to Barlinnie (prison) for 30 days.

Nowadays, ‘Charging Thunder’ would claim diplomatic immunity and get out of jail or, alternatively, he would have a 5000 flag waving march in Sauchiehall Street proclaiming injustice and his innocence.

On the second visit to Scotland in 1904, the Wild West Show came back bigger and better than ever. It performed at numerous venues in Scotland to an estimated 500,000 people at a time when Scotland’s population was around 4 million.

They travelled in their own trains, extending to three quarters of a mile long and in Edinburgh they played for a week at an 18,000 amphitheatre in Gorgie.

Before the show, it was written that the participants collectively represented men who had served in almost every major conflict waged throughout the world since 1861.

So that’s Bill Cody and Scotland.

I could tell you more but, at your age, most of you will have dozed off by now. And you know what they say – always leave them wanting more.

Or as I always say – leave them with another famous coat!

Worn by Annie Oakley, greatest sharpshooter of the West. Now there’s a story!

The Greasy Grass

We had a good few days sitting about Buffalo doing nothing much apart from walking to the local ‘historical’ bar. They call any bar ‘historical’ in these parts if it’s over 100 years old.

At least this pub had bullet holes in the walls and I had a drinking partner looking over me.

There was a multitude of stuffed animals in this bar including a huge moose heid and a standing grizzly bear. I like stuffed animals on walls. Susan doesn’t.

We left Buffalo and my stuffed animal friends and headed north to visit the site of the ‘Battle of the Greasy Grass’.

Where’s that? you most certainly will be asking? Well let me enlighten you once again.

It’s the site of the Battle of the Little Bighorn. You know the one – Custer’s Last Stand. Where the 7th Cavalry were defeated by the Lakota, Cheyenne and Arapaho tribes in 1876.

The Battle of the Greasy Grass is what the plains Indians called it and, as they always say, the victors get to write history, then I think it’s only appropriate we give it its correct name.

We stopped for lunch at the trading post run by native Americans and we each had an ‘Indian Taco’.

That’s deep fried bread with chilli and stuff. Delicious. Bit more calorific than a Scottish deep fried pizza and I’m not sure how Susan mentally coped with it. That said she certainly stepped up – there’s a real man in there somewhere!

So what happened at Greasy Grass?

Well the Native Americans were being persecuted, their ‘agreed’ lands appropriated and treaties ignored. Bad duplicitous white man.

The US Government, under President Ulyssses S. Grant, then ordered the Sioux to leave the South Dakota Badlands (their home) by the end of January knowing they wouldn’t be able to make the trek during the harsh winter. The government planned to use this as an excuse to expand hostilities. Really bad white man.

When the subsequent US campaign against the Native Americans began in mid-May, a large group of Lakota Sioux, Cheyenne and Arapaho tribes had already converged for a meeting called by Sitting Bull. An estimated 2,000 warriors and their families gathered on the banks of the Little Bighorn River. It was a huge encampment.

The Native Americans were no doubt wondering what to do next when along comes Custer and his 650 men of the 7th Cavalry.

George Armstrong Custer gained fame during the civil war (he was on the right side) and in post war conflicts with Native Americans. He was capable, experienced, vainglorious and eager for more battle glory.

Custer didn’t scout the camp properly, didn’t listen to advice, and was unaware of the true numbers of Native American warriors encamped there.

He split his forces into three battalions in an attempt to prevent any American Indians from escaping from either side. He wanted this to be a complete victory.

This was a huge tactical error when faced with an overwhelmingly superior strength enemy as his battalions were unable to support each other.

Of course, his batallion took the centre position, the position where he could get most glory.

The 7th cavalry engaged the Native American encampment thinking it would be an easy victory. They were eager for battle and thought it would be a rout.

The first action was the battalion, under the Command of Major Reno, flanking the village and opening fire on warriors, women and children. The soldiers were charged, defeated and retreated.

The other battalion, commanded by Capt. Benteen, was still approaching Little Bighorn and too far away to assist. Everything had started too early in a effort to stop any Native Americans from potentially escaping.

Once Reno retreated to a defensive position, the Native Americans turned their attention to Custer and his 210 men.

Custer’s Last Stand lasted under an hour as they tried to defend the high ground above the village. They were all killed and the only accounts of this ‘stand’ were from Native Americans. They said the soldiers fought courageously to the end.

The stones mark where some of them fell. It’s not widely known that Custer’s brother fought and died by his side.

Only a single, badly wounded horse survived from Custer’s batallion. Oh, I know some of you will be more concerned about the horse so I can tell you it subsequently lived a long life and was a bit of a celebrity horse.

Personally, I would like to have seen the horse’s head stuffed and on the wall in a ”historical’ bar I could visit. Wouldn’t that be great? Susan would disapprove.

The outcome of the battle, though it proved to be the height of Indian power, so stunned and enraged white Americans that government troops flooded the area, forcing the Indians to surrender.

Here’s a photo of the memorial stone at the 7th Army mass grave. Over 200 soldiers and scouts from at the ‘Last Stand’ lie here. Custer was reinterred at West Point Cemetery.

Let’s not forget Native Americans who died that day protecting their families, their freedom and their way of life.

Indian battle memorial outlook looking up to the mass grave of the 7th Cavalry.

Historians debate the pre-European population of North America and whilst disease and famine played a significant role, the American Indian Wars fought by European colonial empires against various Indian tribes has been characterised as genocide.

By the close of the Indian Wars in the late 19th century, fewer than 238,000 indigenous people remained. A sharp decline from the estimated 5 million to 10 million living in North America when Columbus arrived in 1492.

This was done in the name of civilization?

‘When we show our respect for other living things, they respond with respect for us’.

Arapaho Proverb.