Mainland Mexico
Sunday, January 24th, 2010
Posted by Simon Buckley @ 01:00:46 PM
After a couple of hours riding through the back roads with the other guys I came up to a sign for a toll road. I pulled over to let everyone know that I was going to go that way and I didn’t expect anyone to come with me, I was in a hurry and wanted to get some kms under the belt.
I was glad when jimmy said he would head with me and off we went, leaving the other guys to take it easy on the scenic route. The first toll booth was a joke, we paid a toll for the overpass to get to the toll booth?! Then they wanted more, which we didn’t pay, but it was the first of many. Tolls in Mexico are ridiculous, so expensive. I am talking about $20 per 100 – 150km.
Jimmy had an electrical problem with his bike, and although it was a KLR, it was a new model and it took a while to diagnose the issue. Another case of a remote fuse. We got that sorted and made some good time, but were slowed down a lot when we turned off the highway onto the coast road. It was starting to get dark and we decided to shoot shorter and head for Sayulita, nth of Puerto Vallarta.
Although it was a tourist town it was hard to find the campsite. I managed to break my brake lever while we were trying when my bike fell over parked on a hill – schoolboy error. Once we found the campsite and set up, I spent the evening on an elaborate fix for my lever, using gaffa tape, tent pegs, some bicycle tyre irons that Jimmy was carrying, and a couple of meters of fencing wire. I guess the problem was that I didn’t use zip ties, because it didn’t work. It was an interesting attempt though.
The next morning was spent trying to track down a new brake, I would have gone with just the back brake, but as anyone who has a KLR would attest, they are not worth turning the brake light on. After visiting what must have been every motorbike shop in town, the Yamaha mechanic threw on a temporary numer for free, because he was a legend, and we were off. By now it was about 12pm and the original plan of heading down the Pacific Coast and crossing closer to Guatemala was gone, and it was onto expensive toll roads.
It got dark just as we hit the toll road, and the plan was to get through Guadalajara and find the next place to stay at a road hotel or something. It was always a good idea to get through bigger cities when it was quieter at night time and start fresh on the other side in the morning rather than get up and hit city traffic straight up, so that was the plan.
In this particular instance, there was nothing the other side of Guadalajara, at least not on the toll road. You could tell it would have been a beautiful mountain pass, it was high, cold and windy with lots of trucks, but nowhere to stop for a tent or hotel. We ended up at San Juan de Los Lagos, famous for its cathedral and a pilgrimage sight for catholics in the country. It was about 1am in the morning and I was absolutely spent. It takes so much out of you riding at night, especially in places where you didn’t know what to expect. The bed could have been made of rocks, I could have slept anywhere. The next day was another big one, around Mexico City and on to Puebla. It was another mission and we ended up in an interesting hotel. I had see a lot of ‘auto hotels’ on the highway, where every room has a garage and you can drive right in your car, sleep (or whatever) and leave again without being in the open. I can only imagine that they are designed for people who want to be in hotel rooms with people they should not be seen with.
This one was peculiar, they didn’t give you keys, and you had to ask to be let in to your room by the attendant. I was in one room and Jimmy was in the room that led into the garage. He pulled the plug on the automatic door for the garage to make it harder to get in to the bikes which I thought was a stellar idea.
We headed into town for a spot of street food to say goodbye, Jimmy was heading south from here and I was continuing to Cancun. We bought a couple of beers at a little shop by the hotel and Jimmy cracked the glass cabinet they were using as a counter so we were out of there.
Bidding farewell to Jimmy bright and early the next day I wanted to get 900 – 1000 kms on the board that day. It was still 1600 or so to Cancun and I wanted to get in early enough to sort out some accommodation. It was getting dark as I made the decision to find some accommodation at the next town.
Not 5 minutes later the road turned into a massive thunderstorm and my headlight blew. There was no point stopping in the middle of nowhere so i pushed onto the next town at Catazaja. There was a little hotel and the couple running it must have felt sorry for me when they gave up trying to overcharge me at my first offer. Everything was closed except for an oversized tostada stand, so that was dinner, some chuck norris dubbed into Spanish and so was my experience of lovely downtown Catazaja.
Mexico - Baja California
Sunday, January 24th, 2010
Posted by Simon Buckley @ 12:54:41
Maybe it was because I was expecting a big hullabaloo going across the border, but it was pretty hard to know you had crossed the border at all. There was no checkpoint, no sign – you just drive straight through. If I hadn’t been warned to stop off at the border and get my bike documentation organised I would have driven straight past. In fact the compound to get all of the papers sorted was in town, “behind Mc Donalds”.
I needed to get a visa, and also pay a bond for the bike. There a drop in street cleanliness and a somewhat different style of organisation on the roads, but apart from that I could have been in the anywhere.
I rode past a few street food stalls on the way to the customs compound and they looked good. I was looking forward to hooking in to some of it as soon as I was done with the bike paperwork. The system was pretty organised and mostly standard, only problem was the computer system was down and they were backed up to the proverbial house, so it took a lot longer than it would have ordinarily. It was lucky because in the queue I met Felix and Casper who picked me for an Aussie when they saw an Aussie passport.
The boys were in a GMC van they bought in the states and were cruising south. They were from the northern beaches of Sydney and had been working on private motor yachts, the kind really, really wealthy people have.
Anyway we decided to hook up for a few days and travel through Baja until I needed to keep moving and they wanted to stop somewhere for a while. Felix was keen on a surf, but they didn’t have anything of a board at this stage.
Once we were through customs we headed into Tijuana to have a quick look around and chase up some medications for a friend of the boys. The acne drug was 10 times the price in the USA. We spent the afternoon running around pharmacies and finally getting what they needed we headed down the coast, breaking the ‘don’t ride at night’ rule on day 1.
We arrived in Ensanada, at a campsite right on the beach, a very popular point break, about 8 then set about finding something to eat. There was a tomale stand not too far from the campground and we hooked in, back to the campsite bar for a margarita – we were in Mexico after all. Given that the only other people in the campsite was a mystery van we didn’t expect too much action at the bar, but luckily the barman was thoroughly off the hook, and had a collection of wigs. A man after my own heart.
I talked the boys into heading across to the other side of the Peninsula with me, and after spending the morning looking for surfboards and at the post office we headed across the way. It was a beautiful drive, and it was getting dark by the time we decided it was a good idea to find a place to camp. We got directions for a campsite from a bunch of gringo expats at a restaurant on the road, and went looking.
We eventually found it after rolling into a few front gardens and private roads, and there was no one around. In fact the whole side of Baja looked deserted. The toilet block was boarded up and there was no one around. Beauty.
We set up camp and headed back down the road to the restaurant we met the gringos in for dinner and an interesting chat before heading back to the camp to burn everything we could find that wasn’t nailed down. The boys were loose, walking away and coming back with shipping crates, throwing them on and heading off for more. The fire was so big and so hot you couldn’t actually sit near it, but it was fun. Felix attempted to skate over a plank on the fire and fell in, but apart from burning his foot got away relatively ok.
The next day was a long day of dirt roads and the boys had to take it pretty slowly. The ride was amazing, and it looks like they are working on putting a road through so it was good to see it before it happens. I took off ahead and waited for the guys a few times, and the last time i made a run for the tarmac, only 50 or so kms and waited for the guys there.
It was starting to get dark and there was no sign on the boys so I though I had better head to the next town and find somewhere to put up my tent and wait for them to come through. I ended up putting my tent in someones front yard in a tiny town on the highway and sitting on a chair facing the highway until 11pm when i thought it was safe to assume that they had decided to call it a night and park the van up. There was two of them and they weren’t idiots so I assumed they were fine.
I woke up in the morning to no sign of the boys and hooked into it. It was my intention to get as close to La Paz as possible, as this is where the ferry to the mainland left, and I wanted to ensure I had it organised. I stopped for fuel and a break just on the south of Muluge, and as I was leaving the station a guy on a KLR was coming down the road the other way. We both waved and then tentatively slowed down. When we realised that we were both doing it we met in the middle for a chat.
James, or Jimmy as I immediately began calling him, was on a trip from Canada to wherever. He was camped down at a beach not too far away and invited me to join him and the crew of people at the campsite. We headed into town and then to the campsite to meet the motley crew.
There was a mix of expats, part time expats and visitors. Nigel and his wife come from Canada in the rv for 6 months every year. Mick owned and ran the small bar/restaurant, and there were a few other long termers. There was also a lot of firewood and combined with a beautiful setting,
Beer and stories made for a great stop. One of those places you intend on visiting for a day and end up for a few. We ended up hosting a BBQ and beach party at our little site on the beach, but I retired injured quite early after a day in the sun.
Jimmy headed to La Paz with me, although I lost him on the way. I stopped for fuel and convinced myself after waiting for a while that he must have ridden past when I wasn’t looking so I headed off to avoid riding at night – again. I got into town right on dusk and found a great place to stay in Hostel California. A great old school hostel, there was room for the bike, and heaps of people to chat to, just the way I like it.
I was a little worried about Jimmy, but I assumed that I would see him on the ferry the next day and went for a meal with a couple of guys who had been at the hostel for a few days and tried the local eating establishments. I got back to the hostel to see Jimmy’s bike parked in the hostel next to mine. He had spoken to some other riders who had seen me heading into the hostel so that all ended well.
I had all of my paperwork in order for the ferry, but Jimmy hadn’t been given the tip about getting things done at the border and so didn’t. He had to go to the port and sort it out, but it wasn’t too much of a hassle. It was one of the most expensive ferries i had taken so far at $250, but I figured it was worth it for the chance to see Baja.
Almost all of the people I met at the hostel were on the ferry, some Canadians, a few Finish, some Americans and me. We loaded up with two American guys riding to Brazil for carnival, and another Canadian having a look around central America with no real timeframe of destination, and agreed to meet at port in Mazatlan to discuss where everyone was going and whether we should ride together, for how far and the like. It felt cool to be getting a bit of a crew together again.
I had planned ahead and had brought along some chips and dip, and modelling balloons to get the party going. It wasn’t long before every kid on the ferry was running around with a Simon or James balloon toy, and loving it. Throw in some card games, a very uncomfortable attempt at sleep, a poor breakfast and an overshot arrival time and you have a pretty standard ferry ride.
We unloaded about 11:30am rather than 7:30am and met the other riders. After some fiddling around and fuelling we were ready to go. I had hoped to make it beyond Puerto Vallarta that day, but it wasn’t looking likely. I had to rearrange my plans due to an extended stay in Muluge. I was on a mission to get to Cancun to meet Karen who I met in East Timor, she was heading to Cancun to meet me for Christmas and New Years and I was really looking forward to seeing her again.
Kawasaki HQ Los Angeles
Sunday, January 24th, 2010
Posted by Simon Buckley @ 02:57:41 AM
After San Fran it was down to LA to stay with Stephanie, who is married to Dietrich but lives between San Fran in LA as she works as a actor, teacher and comedian and LA’s where the work is. We took highway 1 which is touted as the best costal route in the world. Although it was a beautiful ride, and very popular, I wouldn’t say it was any better than the Great Ocean Road in Victoria, australia, or some of the roads in the Indonesian Islands. We planned to spend the night somewhere on the way, but Steph encouraged us to push on through and was a fantastic host, driving us around and cooking for us for the couple of days we were there.
We had pushed it on through to LA in order to be there for the Movember Gala Ball, and work with the guys at Movember to do some press. Again, yet another disappointing relationship, there was nothing organised and they took absolutely zero advantage of having us there. It would have been more disappointing if being there wasn’t a waypoint keeping us on target time wise, and if Steph hadn’t cooked us a big ‘home style’ roast dinner. She was an absolute legend!
The HQ for Kawasaki in the USA was also in LA, and Steve from ‘Roadbike’ magazine had organised for us to meet the team and get a couple of things done on the bikes. We were hot on the tail of a few disappointing letdowns and weren’t expecting much, but the day turned out to be one of the best of the trip. Jeff, Jan and Greg were amazing, not only did they show us around the HQ (including pointing out the r&d area that was top secret), and fixing up the issues on our bikes (including giving me a new front wheel, they sent us out on a ride on some new Kawasaki models. I mean, instead of having us sit around while they worked on our bikes, they took us riding on the new Concourse 14, Ninja and Versys through the hills of Southern California.
What an afternoon, the Concourse 14 was a beautiful machine, as a 1400 it had awesome power out of the turns. It was a physically big bike which I like and had a bunch of little gadgets to play with including intelligent breaking that spreads the force from the back to the front or front to the back for smooth breaking, and the adjustable windscreen. The Ninja rode like a pocket rocket, redlining well above my one cylinder klr, and handling like it was on rails through the corners. It was a little small for me though, as most sports bikes are, but well worth it for the adrenaline rush that’s for sure. The Versys is like a hybrid bike, set up like a cross between a sports tourer and a roadtrail bike. It handled well and had a nice power range. It was almost like a more street oriented KLR. What a day!
All in all, the day at Kawasaki was amazing, not because of the work they did for us, or the tour of HQ or the bikes, but because of the feeling of support they gave us. It was really heartwarming to have that kind of support from Kawasaki in the USA after getting little in Australia and hitting a brick wall in Japan.
LA was the point where Todd and I separated. He had never been to the US before and wanted to have a look around California. I was keen to keep moving and keep to schedule which was pretty tough. He was going to look into opportunities to meet further down the track, or perhaps in NZ or just go home to Australia depending on the cost. I was going to head to San Diego and then into Baja California in Mexico. I would await news of what Todd decided to do, but the show had to go on.
I stayed in a hostel in San Diego by the beach that I had stayed in nearly 10 years before – banana bungalow, and it would appear that they hadn’t actually done any maintenance in that entire time. The place was falling to pieces, although the position was one in a million, literally right on the beach. There was a massive storm that night and the best part of the following day, so I decided to stick it out in San Diego rather than head to Mexico wet and miserable. Several beds were flooded out in the hostel but thankfully my room remained dry and safe. Although spending the extra day gave me the opportunity to get some things done, it wasn’t the best opportunity, because i only had the bike as transport, and getting to the bike shop and book store had me soaking wet. I was dripping wet walking around borders looking for a guide book, which is a technique I recommend if you want to get quick service!
The rain began to clear in the late afternoon and I headed to a bar down the street to watch ‘the game’ with some locals and a young guy from Melbourne who i convinced to try and get in because he was with an old guy. I didn’t know much about this whole phenomenon of watching the game, so I wanted to be part of it. Let me tell you, if you don’t know much about the game itself the experience of sitting in a bar staring at a TV isn’t much different to any game in any pub in the world. There was a bar with an unbelievable margarita that had a full beer sat in the top of it though. I was disappointed the camera was in my room for this one though. Regardless of the amazing drinks on offer i had to head home, to jeers of ‘old man’ and ‘pussy’ to make an early start . I had some printing to do, and wanted to hit the border as early as possible to make a good run of it into Baja proper the next day.
After meeting an interesting Russian fella on the way to the border, who was sat behind me at lights and blew his horn signalling madly for me to pull over. I though there must have been a problem, but as it turns out he just wanted a chat about the trip and the bike, the state of the tourism market in California (he was a tour guide), politics in Russia and the USA, food and I had to interrupt him when the subject changes to kangaroos otherwise i would never have made the border! i took the last exit before the border to pick up insurance for Mexico before pushing on to see what was in stall!
Middle America
Sunday, January 24th, 2010
Posted by Simon Buckley @ 02:45:55 AM
Pushing on from New Orleans we headed for Silver City, New Mexico to stay with Paul and Giz. They had got onto the project through a friend and had not only invited us to stay, but also organised coverage in the local paper. As expats from South Africa who had done a bit of travelling, they were awesome to spend the evening with, and another case of somewhere it would have been awesome to stay a bit longer, but the weather was closing in and we still had to make that appointment in LA.
Paul had the ultimate of man sheds. Tools, drag cars, racing cars, dune buggy, 4wd’s. Spent the evening in the shrine of masculinity that was the shed upgrading bolts on my bike that were continually snapping off which was an absolute godsend. Paul not only had the tools, but knew how to use them. Next stop, Phoenix and the home of Al Jesse and Jesse luggage, who manufactured the bike luggage we were using.
We took a ride through some beautiful mountains on the way to Arizona, courtesy of some inside information from Paul, hitting town in the late afternoon. Phoenix was the first time it was actually warm in about 5 months. The temperature just seemed to change coming across the border into Arizona, and I felt the unfamiliar sensation
of sweat once again, and kind of enjoyed it. We met Al at one of his workshops, and he grabbed some upgrades for our panniers, and a new top box for Todd.
The panniers have been working really well, it is easy to see that they are designed and manufactured by someone who has actually done a great deal of motorbike touring and knows what works and what doesn’t. We spent the night at Al’s, and he invited the international crew around for dinner and a chat which was great. It was a shame we hadn’t more time to stick around, but that is the nature of things and we were off to see the Grand Canyon for Thanksgiving.
You could feel the temperature drop as we climbed higher and higher heading for the grand canyon. I didn’t realise that is sat at around 5000ft, I kind of assumed that because it was a great big hole in the ground that it would be at sea level and below. You become very aware of the changes in temperature and altitude when you are on a bike, there is no hiding from it. When it is cold, you are cold, so you notice – and it was cold. Thankfully the sun was shining and we hit the national park from the east side and made our way through the lookouts which seemed to get more and more spectacular as they went on, but there is only so many views of the Canyon i could take so we stopped for a meal at the café where the bikes became a hit with the other visitors, who were mostly International travellers given it was Thanksgiving. Now it was pretty cold up at the Canyon during the day, but when the sun went down it was finger cracking cold, but we did manage to make it to Seligman at the start of ‘Route 66’ before bedding down for the night.
Seligman is a little country town interesting café that was the inspiration for the cartoon ‘cars’, with a bunch of old cars in the yard that have eyes painted in the windscreens. I have it on authority that the producers did pay a commission or royalty to the café owners (which might explain why the café was closed the morning we were there). We dropped into the café after getting Todd’s bike going with a battery problem, and then headed down the last original part of the famous Route 66, which as a ride was not as interesting as I thought it would be. it was, in fact, pretty much a straight go for 150km, and after numerous warnings about the cops being pretty tough on speed in the area, pretty boring to boot.
The ride did get interesting heading towards the hoover dam, where the traffic was backed up for at least two kilometers either side of the dam, as it was also pretty much the border, and only one lane either way. The bikes were able to get around the majority of the traffic and we were off to Vegas baby!
Las Vegas is pretty much a standard American sprawling city, with a bizarre set of casinos and entertainment complexes through it’s core. We had a hint on a reasonably priced place to stay, not far off the strip called ‘terribles’ funnily enough, and we headed in. I was looking forward to seeing what Vegas had to offer but unfortunately it was cold and off season so there wasn’t much of a vibe around town, that was until we found ourselves at an outdoor karaoke bar and made our own fun. We did pop into Hooters for a feed because we heard they had good chicken wings. Not being gamblers, we decided to bug out of Vegas the next day, ride into death valley and find somewhere to cross the Sierra Nevada Range and head to San Francisco. We had a tip from Al Jesse on a ride through Titus Canyon and it was an amazing ride, little slippery on the deep gravel though. The plan was to hit up the first open mountain pass, and no one really knew if any were open as it had been snowing, the last resort would be to head around Lake Tahoe on the northern side of the range.
Spending the night amongst snow capped peaks wasn’t very encouraging, as there was a pretty real likelihood that we would be in the snow at some stage on the way to San Francisco, which did end up the case. It was a beautiful ride though, a little nerve racking for a guy from Australia, but beautiful. Todd blew a headlight fuse just before we hit town and we were already running late, but managed to sort it out and we arrived at Santa Rosa, near San Francisco in the evening, and bulldog machine.
Pete moved from England to the states years ago and was a enthusiastic about adventure riding. He heard about the project through a friend and was keen to help us out. We spent the night at the factory, and the next day working on the bikes (with his help) in preparation for Mexico. He was an awesome guy, as were his staff at his engineering firm, and it was great to get support from someone on the other side of the world.
The next day we headed into San Francisco proper to stay with Dietrich, a friend of Craigo’s who used to work with us at top deck. Dietrich’s place was awesome and in a great spot. We spent a couple of days with him there, I caught up with some planning and some old travelling mates, Jared who I met in Portugal almost 10 years earlier and Jen who I met while she was travelling in Australia. San Francisco had a really cool vibe about it, and really reminded me of Melbourne. The Golden Gate was a lot more impressive in the flesh than it was on ‘full house’ that’s for sure!
Sunshine USA
Sunday, January 24th, 2010
Posted by Simon Buckley @ 02:39:07 AM
Even with winter gloves, heated grips and gauntlets, it was still pretty cold and uncomfortable riding in Canada, but every time I even thought about complaining about the weather someone would say ‘it isn’t cold yet!’, or ‘you are pretty lucky with the weather for this time of year!’ so I saved my whinging for when I was really uncomfortable to limit the number of shutdowns I had to deal with. Nevertheless, it was time to head south for the sun.
A little disappointing that we couldn’t head across Canada as planned, especially because the motorcycle ride for dad were so switched on, but also because Canadians were extremely friendly and supportive – a sentiment that I didn’t expect to see in the commercialised neighbour, where I feared people were too busy trying to outdo each other to listen to a stranger about their health. First stop, a good mate of mine – American John.
American John lived in New Jersey on the top floor of his parents place, across the river from New York City. He had mentioned that his cousin was storing his Harley in the garage, and he was keen on coming along with us on the USA leg of the journey. I was looking forward to having John along, I worked with him in Europe when I was a driver and he a tour guide, and found him to be interesting and very organised, in his unique way. Unfortunately, John didn’t take the testing for his license too seriously and failed the written test. He was looking into ways of getting it sorted quickly so he could come along, but it was all going to be too hard, so we all missed out.
Over the next few days John worked on PR, calling TV, radio and newspapers. It was a familiar feeling when I saw his frustration with not being able to get hold of anyone, and with people not returning calls. For those uninitiated in PR, it is by far the most frustrating part – constant rejection. One radio station wanted a submission on how running an article on the ride and prostate cancer would benefit or otherwise affect the local community. Not only did they have to ask, but they wanted a submission! John did a great job chasing up media around the New Jersey/ New York area and we had a couple of articles and interviews sorted.
Not only was John now a PR expert (I figure you are one once you have realised that it is pretty much a case of dealing with rejection), he also used to be a tour guide in the USA, so he helped plan a short, yet interesting route through the USA to San Francisco for us and we were off. We hit Washington DC, Natural Bridge and Foam Henge on the way to Memphis.
There was a place that served ‘the best’ dry rubbed ribs in the world (according to John) so we hit it. We also visited Graceland on the way out of town. Mississippi was interesting, we met Bubba and his mate, as well as Elvis’ cousin (which was no real surprise), and chatted with them about hunting and drinking beer. We got a card with his website on it which didn’t actually exist.
We were getting closer to New Orleans now, and passed service station at close to 300km. I thought to myself as my stomach was grumbling to me ‘ I’ll stop at the next one’. I mean there had been a station every 5 – 10 kms so it wouldn’t be a problem, and just then we hit the bridge. Km’s and km’s of bridge leading into town. Not long after we hit the bridge Todd ran out of fuel (for the first time). A trick I had learned about while researching bikes, tipping it on the side so the fuel flows from the opposite side of the tank got us through, and we made it in to town. A bit of customary messing around and we had accommodation at India house, not far from the action.
Finding somewhere to park the bikes always went hand in hand with finding reasonably priced accommodation, and an extremely inhospitable staff member was first to greet us with “you can’t park there – go over the street, we haven’t had any problems there. Plus, it is all under video surveillance.” It was difficult to explain that we wouldn’t be parking on a vacant lot across the road from a hostel in a side street in a strange city because it just wasn’t safe, and didn’t feel comfortable. Furthermore, being able to watch replays if the bikes being stolen or vandalised didn’t endear the idea to me.
Canada and The Ride for Dad
Friday, January 8th, 2010
Posted by Simon Buckley @ 04:16:31 AM
Arriving in Montreal at 1340 there was no time to relax, I had to find out where my bike was coming in on the Air Canada flight and how to go about getting hold of it. I also had to track Todd down to see what he had sorted out with Byron. The fun never stops.
It wasn’t that hard to get info on the bikes, they were coming in at around 4pm and would take about an hour to clear and get to the warehouse. Todd hadn’t managed to get on to Byron, so I called him myself. Byron and Steve were wandering around the airport looking for me, so I gave them the news about clearing the bikes and arranged to meet everyone at the Air Canada cargo terminal. Too easy. So when something seems too good to be true it probably is. The information that wasn’t hard to get was also horribly wrong. Not only did it take 4 hours to get the bikes to the terminal, customs was located at the passenger terminal after hours, and they generally didn’t deal with cargo that wasn’t perishable. I bit of back and forth and some cash and some stamps, and the bikes were free in Canada.
We broke the crates up right there in the car park, and the guys had us throw out the waste right there. The third time the shipping agent had tried to convince us that we should pay them to organise disposing of the crates, and the third time I was glad I didn’t. The boys loaded us on to The Ride for dad trailer and we made tracks for Ottowa.
The Ride for Dad Team were by far the organisation that have taken the Ride Right Round most seriously thus far. They were switched on, organised and saw us as an opportunity to further awareness for The Ride for Dad and for prostate cancer. Perfect. We had an interview with CTV Ottowa and met some more of The Ride for Dad Crew before
dropping our bikes in to ‘good times’ motorcycle shop for a once over and service. Again the team from Ottowa good times centre were awesome, helping out with the service and ensuring that the bikes were both safe and ready to hit the long roads that lay ahead.
The motorcycle Ride for Dad is a not for profit organisation with chapters in twenty Canadian cities from coast to coast (and growing). Since 2000 the MRFD has organised motorcycle rides raising money to fight prostate cancer through education, awareness and research. Originally the team had organised chapters across the whole country to host us as we traversed Canada, but the plan had to be amended as the cold weather closed in on us, with the next stop Kingston, Ontario.
Again, the welcome we got in Kingston was absolutely amazing, with as many as 50 crew turning out to welcome us to town. The brew pub put on dinner and drinks and the Sheraton put us up. Again, another fantastic reception and show of support really gives you a boost of energy. Alison had an unbelievable passion for the cause, having lost her father to the disease that started The Ride for Dad. I was finally beginning to believe that what we were doing was important, especially after a very disappointing European experience.
Peterborough, Ontario was next on the Canadian route, stopping in to see Karen's folks, Terry and Ann. I was looking forward to seeing Terry’s gun collection and having an opportunity to relax for a couple of days and catch up on rest and work, but the time was action packed. We visited the cottage in the countryside, saw the lift lochs, patronised the canoe museum, bought supplies (including hand gauntlets for my handlebars), ate game meat, had interviews, met Alexander Keith's and became well acquainted. Action packed.
Time in Toronto was a little more relaxed staying with Matt and Jess, then onto Niagara to hook back up with The Ride for Dad crew, meet the Mayor and see the falls. The Marriott – Niagara falls put us up in an amazing room overlooking the falls.
Again, any time the team from Motorcycle Ride for Dad are involved, the experience is amazing. It is a notable difference when people are switched on and actually care about what they are trying to achieve. In a lot of the charities and research organisations that were very poor on follow through, I tended to be dealing with people who just lacked the passion or connection with men’s health. The worst, a shame to say, would have to be the PCFA in Australia who were absolutely challenging to deal with.
The Border
After lining up for 45 minutes in the traffic queue, getting the passport check, we had to head up into the office for visas. There is an online system, but it doesn’t work on land borders so don’t waste your time. The visa waiver took another 45 minutes. When we tried to get our bikes through the border we were sent back into Canada to go over the truck and freight border down the road.
It wasn’t too far, but the traffic was mad so, we ended up queuing up for an additional 45 minutes, then being ping ponged around the border to get sorted. I guess the Canadians were so involved in the project that they just didn’t want us to leave. It was a real surprise that it was such a crud fight given the level of information development in both countries, but at the same time Americans are so suspicious and sceptical I guess it wasn’t really.
Canada
Cruising the Old Country - Quickly!
Friday, January 8th, 2010
Posted by Simon Buckley @ 03:15:51 AM
Customs in the UK was pretty easy, it actually made sense. For once it finally made sense and I am afraid to say it was the English who appear to have got it right. Not reams and reams of paperwork, just a couple of questions and a stamp. I felt like I was finally somewhere that things were going to make sense.
Portsmouth was a couple of hours away from London and I had organised for us to stay with a friend, but had agreed to drop in on the top deck end of year shindig on the way. It was great to see my old friends, but I was struck by the familiar feeling of just not really fitting in, although some of my best friends in the world were there. It was a life I had left behind and it felt like it, but it was good to know that part of my life could be finally laid to rest and it felt right to do so.
I had a few days in London to get things organised with media and to catch up with old friends, and there was a lot to do. I had been corresponding with three prostate cancer groups in the UK and i was hoping to see them use the project for some real value. Oh, how I was wrong.
As it turned out, no one had actually done anything to plan any PR activities, in fact, it seems as though I had been wasting my time keeping people updated at all. It was a real shame, because I felt that I could leave some of the work to the experts – alas I was wrong. It was good to be back in London though, I had the opportunity to catch up with friends, go to the church, and generally enjoy speaking English without too much sign language.
Heading north from London, Todd stayed in Sheffield to see an old mate, but Edinburgh was my next stop. What an amazing place, grand castle on the hill, ancient city and a great vibe. I stayed down in the Grassmarket where there was a great bar and club scene. It was pretty cool to have trouble understanding Scots speak English for a change, as I tried out my woeful scottish accent.
The Association for International Cancer Research (AICR) was the charity I had been working with in Scotland, and they had organised a radio interview with a local station, so the hunt was on to find a land line that they could call me on. Couldn’t be that hard, I mean it was a good cause after all! About an hour and a half of traipsing from shop to shop tot hotel to pub asking if I could receive a two minute phone call, Maggie Finigans, a pub in the Grassmarket were happy to help out.
Although Glasgow had only ever been a drive through day stop on the way to the Straener to catch the ferry to Ireland, we had met Julie and Karen from Glasgow at Oktoberfest in Munich and they had invited us to visit so they could show us the finer points of Glasgow, and it is always good to see a city from a locals point of view so it was off to Glasgow to meet the locals.
We headed to Julie's place in Glasgow, where the girls had organised for us to head to a ceilidh, a traditional Scottish dance. Not only that, but her dad and brother had organised for us to borrow their kilts for the evening. Things were looking pretty good for a Scottish night out, but the kilts brought up a whole other conundrum – undies or no undies? Now i am not a shy man, and the idea of my bits and pieces being on display after a gust of wind, or energetic dance move was of no consequence. It was, however, the idea of going naked in another fellas ‘man skirt’ that formed the core of my concern. Was it ok to let it all hang out in someone else’s gear, or is that just taking the piss? I guess my decision was made when I thought about someone else's wang in my party dress, and decided to go with undies after all.
Exhausting decision, and man, are those things hard to put on! Julie's mum was on hand to help get my gear all sorted, adjust my sporran and give general advice. Done, we were ready to get all Scottish on Glasgow, kilts and all. It was also when we were told that people generally didn’t wear kilts to the ceilidh, and that the only two people likely to be wearing kilts would be two Australian motorcyclists. At least todd did have the hair to match the outfit i guess!
Although the ceilidh was sold out so we couldn’t get in, we did manage to see some of the highlights of Glaswegian nightlife, a German style bar and the ‘Cathouse’. a great night and fantastic stop, the McGavins made us feel very welcome.
The Stranraer ferry hit Northern Ireland at Belfast, and although the original plan was to head to Belfast for the night and then head down to Dublin, we decided to flag Belfast and headed south for Dublin to stay with my surrogate sister Sadhbh who we met in Laos. Sadhbh travelled with us for a couple of weeks after her travel partner unexpectedly went bonkers and didn’t come to meet her, and I was really looking forward to seeing her again and in good spirits.
Sadhbh’s place in Dublin was a real Irish affair, with Lorraine, Sadhbh, Danny boy and Niebh sharing the place. They were great hosts, showing us some of the highlights of town and a few hotspots, although it was all a little disappointing that we had to pay a cover charge at a bar where Sadhbh was a ‘good’ friend of the security guard!
I was looking forward to another whirlwind of media attention, as a friend of my brother and apparent PR dynamo was on the case, alas, same old story. Nevertheless Dublin was great, had a Guiness in temple bar and chased around a few leprechauns and was very very sure.
A great dose of Ireland and it was time to hit another UK hotspot in Liverpool. I managed to convince a woman at a service station that i was Ewan McGregor on the way, so that broke up the drive a bit. The Al and Norma were great hosts, we had a few beers, told some stories, met the family, saw the kopp and managed to avoid getting a ‘kiss’. we did have one of the best Chinese feeds i’ve had in a while.
From there it was on to Manchester to visit Zoe and Matt, and Claire. I was privy to see Matt’s ‘man room’ complete with turntables and the choice of two gaming systems. The last stop on the whirlwind tour of the UK was to see an old friend Tina in Cardiff.
It was starting to get pretty cold by now, and in the back of my head the clock was constantly ticking as the time was getting short for the Canadian leg of the tour, not a huge fan of riding in the snow, so after some careful thought I decided to go with air freight to get the bike over to Canada. It was going to cost about £900, but would save a couple of weeks.
Back in London we enlisted the services of James cargo to move the bikes to Canada. The original plan to go from Halifax to Vancouver had to be amended somewhat, flying into Montreal instead, and heading south into the USA to chase the warmer weather. The team at James Cargo made it extremely easy to organise the shipping, if only it was as easy on each leg. We just dropped the bikes off at the warehouse, signed some paperwork and it was done. It seemed too good to be true, but the setup looked to be all above board and very professional. Bikes away and all that was left was to do was get to Canada.
Todd picked up a flight the day before mine and left for Montreal the day I took an overnight bus to Paris to catch my super cheap (€130) transat flight to Montreal. I wasn’t entirely sure I had all of the details right as it was in French, but the Polish girl on the bus seat next to me spoke English and French and assured me I was heading to Canada and that I had my details all right. She was moving to France to look for work because she thought her French was better than her English. I spent a while trying to convince her to give tour guiding a go before settling in to a very hot and uncomfortable 10 hour ride to Charles de Gaulle airport to jump on my flight. I was looking forward to hooking up with Byron and the motorcycle ride for dad team who had been amazing supporters since day one.
UK & Ireland
While in the Scotland, Simon was interviewed by local radio station 'Radio Tay'. You can listen to his interview below.