Into the West

- 152950 km on the bike

The storm came and went, all is well this morning. I set out south-westwards towards my initial target, Lancaster County in Pennsylvania. It is just a two-hour ride and just after noon I arrive there.
And yes, as expected I see lots of Amish people. In one garden I see an ordinary, obese US housewife mowing the lawn with a ride-on mower. Next door a skinny Amish housewife does the same using an entirely human-powered one.
Horse-drawn carriages are abundant, but I do not take any pictures of them. I don't think it would be right - alas, they are no zoo animals.
At Millersville they have a jet wash. For the first time since my arrival from Europe do I clean the bike.
I suppose it is needless to say that within the hour after cleaning the bike dark clouds are chasing me from the north-west.
I divert from my route south-east over the Susquehanna River using highway 74. One mile before the border to Maryland I come across the Peach Bottom motel.
The guys there not only get me a room, but also offer me covered parking for the bike. And the room is an icebox - the air conditioner is on full blast.

- 153200 km on the bike

Like yesterday the weather is fine, but hot and humid. And again we had lots of rain during the night, but this morning the weather is nice and sunny again.
Just a few miles on my way into Maryland I encounter the very first roundabout in North America - it only took 6000 km to find it. Half a mile before reaching the roundabout, large signs have been put up to explain this strange animal to the unprepared US driver:

If I think about all those hours I have spend sitting before useless red traffic lights over here - these people could save billions of hours and zillions of dollars every year by replacing these annoying traffic lights with roundabouts.
I take the freeway to bypass Baltimore, but soon I leave it near Frederick and beyond that town the Appalachian Mountains are just brilliant biker country.

Soon I am back in Virginia, and biking here is really great. The mountains in this border region between Virginia and West Virginia go only up to about 2500 ft., but they are empty and smooth.
Food for today comes from a pizzeria; the smallest pizza at eight dollars is "only" 12 inches in diameter - I manage to eat about two-thirds of it.
The one thing that is really bothering me is the stifling heat and humidity. Suddenly I have an idea; my protective jacket and pants have been in a washing machine so many times that they have lost all of their water-proofing. In fact, my kit is now highly hygroscopic. I stop at the next brook and simply soak the outside of my pants and jacket with water from the stream. Jacket and pants "soak up" about a pint of water. I get back on the bike - and my makeshift air conditioner works splendidly. It takes just under an hour to evaporate that pint of water, and all this time the jacket and pant (and myself) feel nicely cooled. After the water has evaporated, I just stop at a petrol station and re-soak my kit at their faucet - and have another hour of "cool running". Tomorrow I'll make sure that I have enough water on board to keep me cool for several hours.

State road 826 leads me into West Virginia. As you can see in above picture, the route is a bit rough. But that picture is nothing compared to the two fords I have to wade through. They are running high with last nights rain and their bottom consists of rough pebbles - my pants get a free "refill" of the new air conditioning system and lots of steam is bulging up from my exhaust system.
This is nothing for the un-initiated, but thanks to my offroad experience I get through OK. I finish the day in Franklin, where the local pizzeria also comprises a cozy motel.

- 153650 km on the bike

If you'd have a look around my motel room in the morning, you'd probably wonder where I am going to stow away all that kit? There is usually the laptop, the camera, the GPS and lots of cables and computer stuff strewn around. Then there is all that bike gear and wet gear, lots of clothing, bags full of laundry, bags full of pipes and other knickknack - in short, the room looks like an army has camped here. But in reality it takes me less than 15 minutes to make all this stuff disappear into and onto the bike. I also do not really need to check anymore, if I really packed everything. I have done it so often, that I know the size and weight of each bag and pannier, and notice immediately if something is missing.
So when waking up at 8.30 this morning, the sequence of events goes like this on most other days, too:

1. Check weather outside (which is even hotter today than yesterday)
2. Do the chores, shower, shaving etc.
3. Plot a route for today based on the latest weather info into the GPS
4. Grease the bikes drivechain and re-fit the GPS
5. Check e-mail, telephone messages, NOAA website
6. Put baggage and computer away and onto the bike
7. Get into my bike gear - and we're off...

All of the above takes about one hour, so by 9.30 am I am under way. And what a way that is today.

West Virginias road makers must all be bikers. They have put in just the right type of curves and bends into these roads; you can still roar through them at full speed, but at the same time leaning over quite a bit. I can hardly wipe the smile off my face, it really is so good.
The large number of local bikers her on US route 33 are proof, that my choice was not a bad one.
The road is smooth and the miles are clocking up fast. Elkins just rushes by, then Buckhannon and soon I reach Spencer, where they give me directions at a petrol station to their only Chinese restaurant in town. A Wonton soup and some chicken chow mein sort me out for the day regarding food.
It appears that this particular restaurant offers an "all you can eat" lunch special for a flat fee. At the next table sit two grossly obese females with two kids who are quite fat already, but these two are obviously still working on achieving that unique state of near total disability due to extreme obesity and complete dietary disregard for health or looks which the older women have reached. In those 30 minutes it takes me to eat my soup and chicken, these four visit the lunch buffet each at least three times, returning every time with another plate loaded with a mountain of food. I discretely slide around my table and turn my back to that horror show of gluttony at the next table.

Later when I am back on the road, a tree has fallen onto the road. I have no problems to stop, as I am in no hurry. It is too heavy to be moved by hand, so the guy in above picture has just called the fire brigade.
A few miles beyond Ripley I finally reach the Ohio River. That river represents the entire length of the border between West Virginia and Ohio. But it flows from here in a long circle north, so I need not to cross it here. Instead I ride on until the river returns southwards at Henderson, where I take the bridge into Gallipolis on the Ohio side. This town runs for quite a few miles along the river, and all these useless traffic lights are getting on my nerves. But finally I reach the open road again, heading south-west towards Ironton. This area also is a stronghold of the Amish people. Though they do not use cars, they nevertheless leave their mark on local signposting:

For the third time today the Ohio River is blocking my way when I reach Ironton. This time I cross it on the bridge into Ashland, which means that I am now in Kentucky. Ashland does not look like a nice place to stay for the night, so I ride on to Grayson, which is much smaller.
My motel room even has HBO and a jacuzzi - I never tried one before, but I believe one is never too old to try something new.
If you like you can download my route and tracklog for this great ride here.

- 154100 km on the bike

The NOAA website predicts a repeat of yesterdays weather. It will be even hotter today, probably up to 95° Fahrenheit.
The motel thermometer already shows 85 degrees when I set out south-westwards from Grayson at 10 am.
The countryside here along the Little Sandy River is very pleasant woodlands. As it is Sunday, there are already many local bikers out here. I have to say that the large majority of them from my type of classification fall into the "irresponsible idiots" category; hardly anybody wears a helmet and T-shirts and boxer shorts are apparently the standard outfit for Kentucky's bikers. The scale is topped by those bikers that ride without helmet, but have one tied to their sissy bar.
But at least the biking is fun. The country is still fairly hilly and the heat is still bearable this early in the day.

I have a brief lunch at a pizzeria, where they do a "mini-pizza" of just 10 inches diameter, intended as a little snack in between meals for US Americans - just the right size to see me through another 24 hours.
It is really heating up now, and I resort to watering my jacket and pants again - this really works fine.
At Raywick there is a bar with a "bikers welcome" sign outside. Inside it is 25 degrees cooler than outside - the air conditioner is working overtime. While I am having a chat with the barman, another chap comes in and asks whether anyone knows the way to Fort Knox. Apparently his navigation system is misleading him (he uses another brand than myself). The locals tell him how to get there. I find that it is just 25 miles north-west from here, so I decide to have a look myself to find out if my Garmin system can find the place all right.
The bar owner categorically refuses to accept any money for the two cans of ice-cold diet coke I had to cool me down.
40 minutes later I arrive at Fort Knox, where supposedly the US government currently stores about 4500 tons of gold bullion. As it is classified as a US military installation, I am unfortunately not allowed to take any pictures. As I do not intend to finish my journey at Guantanamo Bay prison, I adhere to the "no pictures" policy. Here is a picture from the Wiki taken before the US government became too afraid of its own electorate:

It is now 6 pm and it is still sweltering hot, so I just drive into nearby Elizabethtown and get a room at the local Econolodge. The receptionist has been in the US Army stationed in Germany during the 1980's and has spend some quality time in Switzerland as well - and liked it so much that I get the room at service personnel rate.
A cold shower and the air conditioning in my room set to 68 degrees ensure that I feel much cooler in no time.

- 154550 km on the bike

The tap water here in Elizabethtown is awful and undrinkable, so I have two cans of diet coke instead for breakfast and set out at 10 am, once again past Fort Knox to highway 60 heading due west towards Cloverport and my fourth encounter with the Ohio River. I have to stop at a railway crossing. The freight train is already running over the crossing, so I can't say how many freight cars have already passed the crossing. But I count 78 more, each 100 feet long, before the train is through. Everything in this country is just bigger and longer than in Europe.
I cross the river into Cannelton, which means that I am now in Indiana. I follow the river on its northern shore for a few miles, but this part of Indiana is far too urbanized for my liking. Boonville, Evansville or Mount Vernon are just some of the crowded areas I have to pass through.
I also leave the last traces of the Appalachians behind - the countryside is nearly as flat as a pancake now and the last curves are disappearing in my rear mirrors.
But then I reach the toll bridge (only 30 cents for bikes) over the Wabash River, which forms the border to Illinois here, and hey, that place is much better for biking. The ride into Harrisburg is fast and good fun - and Kittie is running perfectly, in spite of the stifling heat.
Once again I am one of the few bikers wearing a helmet (though it is actually required to wear one by law in Illinois) and definitely the only one wearing any protective clothing. The one compromise I made was to do away with my heavy gloves during the last few days. This however has roasted the backside of my hands into some dark brown colour which makes my hands look like they belong to a bricklayer. I sort this out by stopping at a Wal-Mart and getting myself a pair of thin bicycle gloves.
The roads are straight as arrows around here, but again the numerous traffic lights which could perfectly well be replaced by roundabouts are sometimes rather annoying. I have worked out that on any given day I spend about one hour sitting in front of a red light that has no right to be there at all. This inefficient traffic system must cost the United States billions of dollars annually in wasted time, wasted petrol and delayed arrivals. Has none of these guys responsible for road building ever been to Europe?

At last I arrive at the Mississippi River at Chester, about 30 miles south of St. Louis. In honour of its most celebrated citizen, the town even has a Popeye statue.
The river also marks my entry into the state of Missouri. I am doing well on the mileage today, but that is easy because I have "gained" another hour, now biking through Central time states.

I finish the day after 500 km at a cozy motel in Fredericktown, where I am invited for a beer by two bikers on Harleys. This is the country of Samuel Langhorne Clemens, which I hope you have read - else download his work here. So what better to do than to have a drink and a chat with bikers from this area. As usual, you can download today's entire journey here.

- 155050 km on the bike

Do you know Apu Nahasapeemapetilon? Probably not, so let me explain step by step how this gentlemen from India becomes important in today's biking.
I have an early start, setting off at 9 am on highway 72 towards Arcadia. It soon becomes apparent, that yesterdays weather forecast was a total fairy tale. Instead of the thunderstorms predicted in the severe weather warning issued yesterday at 3 pm, the sky this morning gets more and more overcast and soon it starts to drizzle. Instead of the predicted 82 degrees the temperature drops slowly to 71 degrees instead. Don't get me wrong, I like that kind of weather much better than 96 degrees and sweltering humidity, but I fail to see how any weather service can get it that wrong just 12 hours before it happens.
Biking however is all the more pleasant for me. And Missouri has a surprising number of winding roads. I do not see any reason why the roads do wind - the country is fairly flat. The possible explanations are:

1. The southern Missouri road planners are all ardent motorbikers
2. The southern Missouri road planners were completely drunk when they plotted the course of these roads
3. The southern Missouri road planners plotted these roads along old pioneer tracks - and those pioneers were completely drunk when they first came here

But that is just the beginning of the fun.

Soon I turn onto highway 32 into the Mark Twain National Forest, and that place is truly amazing. Not only does it cover most of southern Missouri, it is also next to unpopulated. Villages are about 50 miles apart from each other. Near Roby my GPS system even guides me along 6 miles of dirt road through the middle of the forest, incorporating a ford that luckily is easily passable due to the dry conditions in the recent weeks.

But soon I am again biking on immaculate highways towards the town of Lebanon, where I have my usual frugal lunch at a Chinese restaurant for the princely sum of six dollars.

Highway 32 continues to carry me westwards - and fast. At El Dorado Springs I notice a large Triumph dealership. Let's stop there and see if they have a replacement for the front windscreen rubber frame in stock that went AWOL in those heavy showers in Northern Québec a few weeks ago (can you see it missing in above picture?).
I talk to the parts guru - and they don't have one. But they have a 2006 Tiger in stock, and they are happy to strip that bike of its rubber windscreen frame and give it to me for 12 dollars - sounds like a good deal to me.
I also ask them for a quote on a replacement of Kitty's tyres - and the quote is nearly 500 dollars. I expected this, but considering that I can get the same job done for 200 Euros at Feneberg tyres in Germany I am not amused. But unlike in Europe, ordinary tyre fitting shops do not do motorbike tyres in the United States.
While I have been at the dealership, the drizzly clouds have disappeared and it has again become stifling hot and humid outside.

Later I continue westwards on highway 54. I can see a big, black cloud looming over the border area to Kansas. Out here one has to watch out for every unusual weather phenomenon, as I am now in the centre of tornado alley. Luckily all I get out of that big cloud is a good dousing of my clothing - a very welcome cooling down, as it is now already about 85 degrees again.

If compared to Missouri, Kansas has to be called a quite boring state for motorbiking. But it is good for making rapid mileage. I end the day after more than 500 kilometres in Chanute at the Skyline motel. This motel is about the cheapest digs in town, being run by an Indian family.
Let us now come back to that Indian gentleman, Apu Nahasapeemapetilon I mentioned earlier. If you ever saw this fictional character in the Simpsons animated cartoon series, then you may get an idea what I am on about; they always say "Thank you, come again", even to the most unpleasant guests at the Skyline motel. The big sign outside the town announcing that one can stay here for 25 dollars per night of course attracts all sorts of low-lifers who can't afford to stay anywhere more expensive. And it attracts me, because I always like to see how things are on the not-so-bright-side-of-life in those countries I visit:
The motel has air conditioning, cable TV - and that's it. They also have Internet access, although the owners do not know that. The rooms are grimy to say the least, the towels have holes in them because they are so old and the plumbing produces interesting sound effects.
At the reception I meet Nick, a spaced-out hippie about ten years older than me, who still thinks that it is 1968. We go out for a drink and he tells me that for the past ten month he has been hitch-hiking all over the United States from one odd job to the next. Like 47 million of his fellow countrymen he has no health insurance (ooops, come to think about it, for the past seven month I didn't have any either...) and prefers to work "cash in hand".
We walk into town, and with an amazing display of instinct, Nick finds the one bar in town where there is now "Happy Hour". His numerous giant pitchers of lager are sold for two dollars apiece, and my four gin-tonics set me back just eight dollars. I leave after an hour, as it becomes obvious that Nick is intending to get himself completely stoned in town - watch this space to see if there is anything else to report about this evening.

- 155550 km on the bike

No, to my surprise they were no nightly parties, drug dealers or shoot-outs during the night. So I am off at 10 am due west. After a few miles I reach highway 400. Sally tells me "Drive threehundredandseventeen kilometres west, then exit right". I do exactly that. Two hours later I reach Wichita. The city is gigantic considering that only 350000 people live here. Traffic runs smoothly through the town, except of course for those idiotic traffic lights.
At Kingman I stop at "Houdini's Pizzeria". This stop is memorable, because I am being served the worst pizza I have ever had in my life. The whole thing is covered in one inch of green salad. I scrape that stuff off it and start searching for the cheese that is supposed to be there somewhere. I find a microscopically small amount of factory-processed junk cheese on the thinnest pizza I have ever seen. The ice tea they serve with it tastes as if they have washed the dishes in it.

But soon things look up when I am back on the road, which is of course straight as an arrow. That is, until I reach Kiowa County and in it the town of Greensburg. When I said yesterday that this here is Tornado Alley, I did not know that today I would come across a town that has been virtually wiped out by a magnitude 5 monster tornado.

The above picture I took today in downtown Greensburg, 10 weeks after the destruction of the town. The townspeople have removed most of the debris, but the place couldn't look more devastated if a nuclear bomb had exploded in the town centre. We all have seen these things on television, but I can now vouch for it, that on TV one does not see a fraction of the real destruction. This occurrence was (so far) the only category five tornado hitting a town since category five was defined.

Going onwards I now begin to suffer from the ever increasing wind. The land is flat and without forests or other windbreakers. I am heading west, and the wind blasts very gustily from south-east by south. Regular, constant wind is no problem when motorbiking - the bike just leans permanently a few degrees against the wind. That looks funny, but is quite safe. Gusting wind however is a nuisance, because the bike tends to be blown off course all the time, requiring a lot of concentration and a lot of brute force from the biker.
This is not helped by those trucks going in opposite direction. They drive into the wind, and as most American trucks feature aerodynamics similar to a brick wall, they nearly blast me off the road when they pass at 70 mph.
I decide to call it a day, but that is not so easy when biking out here - because the nearest town may be 100 miles down the road. I have to continue for another hour before I reach Ulysses, where I find a much nicer motel than last night.

- 156100 km on the bike

I had a rest day yesterday. Instead of biking, I had a stroll through the town, surf the web and finally manage to get the Gnome network manager going with all forms of encryption.
I find, that channel 12 of local TV is run by Ulysses college - a great idea. Another channel is dedicated entirely to tornados; when twisters are located, they show maps and radar images of the affected areas. At all other times they show advice on what to do if a tornado is about to strike. I would suggest, that the implementation of proper building standards instead of the usual cardboard box style housing and the introduction of compulsory cellars and shelters would do much more to protect the local population as well as its environment.
My lunch is taken at a Pizza Hut junk food parlor next to the motel. The food there is not too bad - at lunchtime one can choose from a large buffet, that also includes items fit for a foreign tummy.
Next morning I set out under brilliant conditions. Ulysses is already 3000 feet AMSL, but the High Plains now slowly get even higher up. After 30 miles I reach the border to Colorado.

The picture above looks like I am biking in perfectly flat country, but really I am climbing up all the time and my GPS shows 1840 metres for the above picture (5600 feet).
At Trinidad I have a brief lunch
I am driving along the border of Colorado and Oklahoma on highway 160. On the horizon appear the first ridges of the Rocky Mountains. Then Oklahoma drops behind me and I am now driving along the border with New Mexico. Snow-topped mountains appear ahead, and soon my route traverses the San Isabel National Forest - and tops at at 3048 metres AMSL (9300 feet). This is higher than the highest passes in the Alps.

The views are excellent up here, and though it is fairly cool and I am a bit tired from the high altitude, biking is good fun.
At Fort Garland I am out of the San Isabel Forest. Ahead I see the large, flat area of the San Luis Valley. This "flats" is still 7300 feet AMSL, but now I also see heavy rain showers ahead. At Fort Garland all motels are full. Apparently there is a big funeral going on locally. But at Alamosa (which I manage to reach without getting overly wet) I find a cheap room at the Valley Motel.

- 156600 km on the bike

Below is the usual map with my GPS tracklog and some trip markers.