Rosebud, Mr Hefner and the Sunset Strip

Hundreds of miles of this

A great piece of kit

They come out of that tube

"Rosebud"
(through the telescope at Hearst Castle)

A new monster for Dr Who

The aging Mr Hefner (centre)

Bullett

San Fransisco on the drive out

You might have guessed from the photos that I'm going to spin a long and disconnected yarn about out travels up the west coast, our time in San Fran, the trip back, the fancy hotel on Sunset Boulevarde, the mechanical bull at El Ranchos (wherein Hugh Hefner and his crew occasioned for a while) and the alcohol-free strip club.

I'm sorry, but there are no photos from the dry strip club. Jane had to see one for herself and I was the guy she had to drag in to see it. The good thing was we had to buy two orange juices after the cover charge, welcome rehydration whilst reluctantly purveying the altered ambitions of the young lasses on show. Jane's jaw was held up by a handy bar-table while the girls were performing somewhere between Okie-gormless and silky serene on the pole. It was pretty funny.

We'd just come out of the western-style bar, complete with bull-ride, where we had met four other Australians without trying. Quite the opposite really. The buzz started when Hugh Hefner and a dozen other hangers-on (and worse) settled in at a table. The gorgeous girls in the crowd decided that the mechanical bull was the place to be from that point on. Some really hammed it up. Again, pretty funny. We escaped one Australian woman who was spinning her centrifuge up to the point of black-out. A very bad influence I thought.

Before that we'd booked into the Grafton on Sunset after a very quick 400 miles down interstate five. The contrast in scenery, between the coast road and the vast, flat fruit bowl of central California was pronounced. Jane drove most of the way and it was easy travelling with the roof down in great weather. A great change from the wobbly camel ride on the Guzzi. I did my cryptic crossword as the huge orchards skimmed by at 75 mph. The orange blossom smell at one point was intense.

We used the sat-nav to take us to the foot of the Hollywood sign and it finally earned its keep. We even thought to take a picture. Not much room up there so we had to be quick.


We'd driven over the Golden Gate after the big drive up Highway One. That was a great road, like the Great Ocean Road but longer. We stopped in at the Hearst Castle, the one lampooned in Citizen Kane, too early for a tour but could see it up on the hill from the huge visitor centre. Some old guys on the front counter were a little fractious about the Citizen Kane link. They put it down to hyperbole and publicity seeking on Welles' part. But then they would.

We found the elephant seal colony after that. Thousands of cows and young bulls waiting out the change of seasons over a mile stretch of beach. There were a few more up the coast but this was the spot to be while shedding their coats. The bulls travel separately apparently and weren't due until November.

So, I guess we've had a great time, having done much more than I dare bore you with.

The only problem we've had was to be remiss enough to park at Venice Beach on the part of the road that they street-sweep between 10am and noon on a Tuesday.

$60 thank you.

Ventura Byways

Read the cardboard

A change of pace

This is a Venice Beach bordello (says so on the door)

They've just changed the laws in California re dope.

That shiny, new, black Mustang convertible I mentioned

Jane with Sesame Street hydrant

Yesterday had us make a very good decision. We looked at the weather prediction and worked out which was going to fall onto the places we were going to ride that day might make us wet. Becoming wet we would, as a consequence, make us miserable and tetchy. Misery and tetchiness might counteract the good effect that the wads of hard-earned money that we've already invested.

If you skipped over that paragraph the end result was a shiny new black Mustang Convertible.

We got the sat-nav with it to remove another source of disharmony and that worked a treat too.

We went to sleazy, grimy Venice Beach for breakfast. It really is a space for anyone with any problems. If you want to goose-step up and down, scowling like an Orc, yelling at your bothersome demons whilst drink raw eggs from a cup. There is a place for you here.

We made the mistake of buying a dozen beers there and we were accosted from all directions from those who felt it was only fair that we share (see pic), they were worse than seagulls. The good-looking guy on the bench with the suspiciously friendly cardboard sign, "Share a smile", was particularly insistent.

We've followed Highway One up the west coast and may get to go across the Golden Gate. The weather turned bad yesterday but we were able to put the top up and diddy-bop to hits of the 80's without too much trouble. Jane is allowed to drive but is still dealing with the reversal of her sensibilities. Today might be the day.

We only have a few days before we fly out but things are going well and the sun is up this morning. It was zero-viz yesterday. Which detracts just a little from our overall intention.

I was very glad not to be subjecting Jane to hours of wet misery on the back of the camel. Score one for uncommon sense.
That's it for now. Breakfast awaits.

Blogiday

Hello readers,

this is my holiday from blogging.

More to follow, Jane and I are hiring a Harley to go up Highway 1 to San Fran.

Hopefully the Golden Gate won't be a bridge too far.

More pictures and action tomorrow.

LAXness

The view from 1062

One tired camel

This many smarties in a 'Trail Mix'

Where we all end up

I've enjoyed 24 hours of stillness. No expressways, no pre-paying for gas and no battling with the turbulence of sem- eye- trailers. I've regressed into that memorable space where Dave took out all of Hal's personality motherboards.

I have an immediate view of LAX (see pic) and see the traffic spiralling and the cops vetting that traffic.

I'm only writing this out of habit but I've enjoyed today. Enjoying a new-found agoraphobia.

The very grand spaces of America are over there now but the West Coast awaits. Jane arrives in the morning and has five metric days to enjoy here. We fly to NY for two nights and then to London.

America is losing its novelty for me but that is replaced by a useful familiarity and I'm sure that it will come in handy.

Come on Jane.

Waiting for Jano

This is Darryl, he gave me directions in LA and liked having his photo taken. Good face eh?

I had to take this shot. Drive-through banking.

Had to stop cycling across America for a smoke.

Hey Maw!

These things are everywhere.

This was worth copying.

It's done. I'm cossetted in the Radisson at LAX.

I've been down Broadway. I've seen thousands of wind generators on the way to LA (Palm Springs. Have a GoogleEarth at it). I've been lost and honked at on LAs great big freeways. I've been hit on by a gay guy in a torn shirt and an old pick-up with an old pick-up line.

I'm having a day to unwind and chill out before Sane Jane arrives.

The big day

The trip so far (spaghetti western?)
My room in Seligman. I had to laugh.






















I woke up in Seligman. I love the name because its the moniker of my favourite psychologist. Seligman is one of many Route 66 nostalgia towns that line the new Interstate 40. I really liked Seligman and had real cause to appreciate its existence yesterday.

I was set on seeing the Canyon today but was torn about the trouble I had to go to. I had to backtrack through freezing blizzard conditions (blizzards don't come tepid), and then try to work out a way out. The countdown to Jane's arrival was vaguely closing in on me.

I managed to luck an ideal outcome. Ride like the divvel hisself to the Canyon, get me on a heelicopter, take some photees, git back on to the said motorcycle and resume the divvel-like riding until I make the border of southern California.

$300 and 500 miles later I am happily idling my life away in Blythe, California. I had a great ride along Interstate 10 as I watched the sun drop. The classic cactus of those old westerns flashed by and I wanted to get a photo, but tomorrow will turn up a few good examples.

It was a big day but the helicopter ride was great value. Steve, the pilot, had started flying in Vietnam and was typically, impossibly congenial and super-well-mannered. Whenever I went to take a shot in his direction ( I was beside him in the cockpit) , he would lean forward or backwards to facilitate my photography. Love that sort of thing.

The others in the chopper were a young family of Canadians in the back seat and two English travellers beside me. It was funny to note the perfect timing of the lurches the helicopter took and her involuntary utterances.

The canyon is best seen from the air and I didn't actually drive into the park, but I was really happy with the way things turned out. It was a real thrill.

I went onto Flagstaff (a very sophisticated and attractive town/city) through a snowy national park, I was at 8000 ft again in risky weather and I decided I really needed to lose some altitude. (please don't be tempted to read that as 'attitude', I won't pay it).

So I launched myself towards Phoenix. I dropped 6000 ft and could see all the bad weather disappear behind me. No more bitter cold, no more endogenously depressive outbreaks.

I had no phone reception in the town and a planned meeting with a friend of a friend just wouldn't work out. I just kept going.

Jane arrives Monday so I need to be somewhere close-by.

I will have ridden about 5000 miles on the Guzzi and every day was a great adventure. I have been lucky not to have come to grief but I've tried hard to avoid that sort of thing.

I feel like it's all finishing, but Jane and I will be doing a trip up the coast and then onto Europe for a month. After a few nights in New York of course.

I better not start on the sentimentality now or they won't let me back into Australia in June.

Bloody moron country that it is. We're just Americans without the breeding.