Amtrak, Greyhound and drug busts

We completed the bike a bit earlier than expected and so used up the remainder of our US visa exploring the US tandem free. We jumped on the Amtrak for overnight trips from Seattle to San Fran and San Fran to Denver and did a 46 hour slog on the Greyhound from Denver back to Vancouver.

Before embarking on this loop of America's West everyone warned us about the trains – full of weirdos and not very comfortable. The opposite was true. Trains are pretty up market in the states, which is not surprising given they cost 4 times the amount of the Greyhound and most domestic flights. Even if you don't opt for the luxurious all meals included sleeper car you have plenty of space to spread out. Weirdos were of the soft and harmless variety – eco warriors, old couples looking for an adventure, those afraid of flying and those that are simply too large to fit on aeroplanes. In front of us were three ladies discussing the benefits of 'erbs' and bragging about eating dandelions from their garden for 5 hours, whilst behind us an obese women fed her children chocolate to shut them up whilst telling them off for how fat they look. Between such eavesdropping delights, an observation cart with live commentary about the intriguing and stunning places we travel through and some good books the journey pases incredible smoothly and quickly.

From the moment we walked into Denver's central Greyhound station we knew the bus was going to be considerably weirder than our Amtrak experience. The first person I laid eyes on pretty accurately sums up Greyhound clientèle. He had grey hair that merged into a food ridden beard which hung just above the collar of his white wife beater, equally food ridden and covered in holes that resembled bullet marks. He wore a cap that announced he was an Iraqi war veteran across the front, that he supported McCain and Palin on the right and that knowledge was power on the left (oh the irony). As he sat waiting for the bus he was mumbling to himself in a variety of angry tones in between munching on the contents of his nose. I later grew rather sorry for all the US army recruits on the bus who had to sit for 46 hours watching their possible future in this man. As it happened they spent too much of the bus journey worrying about their next fag to notice. I turned to Nick, 'I think baby carrots and humous was the wrong choice of food for this journey'.

As our eyes wandered beyond ex-army hobo man it became clear it wasn't going to be a relaxing journey. Hugely obese guys crammed in as many last minute burgers as possible whilst their girlfriends screamed at them for looking at 'skinnier bitches' asses'. Angry men bragged about just being back from the war zone whilst little old ladies (lord help them) put on their hygiene masks and loaded their walkmans. Mexican families prepared their worldly belongings whilst their kids hammered on vending machines in search of free candy. Within 5 minutes of standing in a Greyhound Station I saw more of America than most do on a two week holiday.

After 30 minutes or so its time to get on the bus. We instantly longed for the luxury of Mexican buses. The difference between being rich in a poor country and poor in a rich one suddenly sprang to mind. As we were all crammed into our seats we headed for the front of the bus – choosing the troubled elderly over the troubled youth. The next 46 hours was a blur of trying to take in all that was going on around us without looking too much like visitors at a zoo. Within 15 minutes of leaving Denver one of the guys just back from Afghanistan threatened to shoot the driver for not letting him off to have a ciggi. At every stop girls with everything and anything hanging out of their hot pants flirted with whatever guy had the loudest mouth. The bus quickly filled with rotting fag, burgers and piss smells. Drivers swapped shifts and all looked like they had seen a bit too much of life. Conversations were often about why people were on the bus, which invariably led to gory accounts of dramatic truck collisions and drink driving incidents. The crowd seemed to get more juiced up as we got nearer the end of the journey. At one gas station in Washington one of the guys tried to throw some punches at a local and about 5 people had to pull him off, reminding him about how close he was to doing more time. He couldn't have been older than 20 and had returned from Iraq a year ago.

About 2/3 of the way into the journey our sympathies for our fellow passengers grew. Age, race and sex didn't matter to these guys. They were all up against it and that made them stick together throughout the 46 hours or so. Everyone chatted to everyone else and were in it together, it was a temporary team and old ladies even commented on what 'good hearted' boys the younger lads were. And to some extent they were right, these guys had just come back from war and were now lost in a world of poverty and boredom. Even if the bond was through fags, war and car crashes, at least everyone was getting on and making the most of a pretty shitty journey. I quickly sucked up my middle class judgment and regretted staying in my own bubble. Sadly when you are stuck with the same people in claustrophobic circumstances for a while the excitable wanting to know and experience everything and everyone can sometimes give way to a desire to keep heads down and just get through it.

So we arrived in Vancouver knackered and dazed. All we wanted was a shower and a quiet bed to get some horizontal time in. Little did we know it was only going to get weirder. We had booked a weeks accommodation through a random website that lets out rooms in houses. Off we headed into the depths of Vancouver's suburbs only to realise that the address we had been given didn't exist. The house number we were given was a crossroad, not a house. Up and down the road we trundled knocking on houses looking for 'Paul Waikong with rooms to let'. After 4 hours of scratching our heads and somehow fighting off extreme tiredness related moods we found the house that matched the photo on the website. We had knocked on the door of it earlier and a small Chinese man had told us to go away. This time two Canadians opened the door.

'Hi we've got a room booked here for a week.'
'Ha ha good luck!'
'Er ok... We came along earlier and a Chinese guy told us to go away but we're sure this is the house. Are there any rooms?'
'Yeh that was the landlord. There are rooms here. You know there's no power here right?'
'No...'
'Yeh a week ago the police busted this place for growing $1 million worth of marijuana plants in the basement and have cut off all power.'
'Well is there a room for us? We're a bit knackered.'
'Come on in!'

So we have spent the last week staying in what must be the closest to a 60s squat house I have ever experienced. The basement has been ripped out, there is random crap lying everywhere and at night a BBQ is our kitchen and candles our light. The house is home to about 15 people. The Canadian couple are the most long term. Hannah laughs hysterically one minute and screams at people for using her things the next whilst her quiet musician boyfriend sucks up abuse left, right and center. Two other Canadian guys seem to be involved in some kind of swinging activity with Hannah and boyfriend and both seem to like the drink a little too much. Next is a Hungarian couple with a baby who are out here for work. They suffer the brunt of Hannah's anger because they don't recycle, even though I tried to explain to her that with a small baby in a strange city with no power you can kind of understand why sorting rubbish is not their priority. Then there's the landlord, Harvey, a small Chinese man who doesn't know what is going on and has a variety of Chinese children walking in and out of the house daily. The living room is also home to three Lithuanian guys who like to hang out on the web or working out in their boxers. Nick bonded with this lot early on after seeing photos of them dressed as Hawaiian girls on a night out and spending the next couple of hours discussing fancy dress and motorbikes. All in all its been much weirder and entertaining than a hostel and though a quiet bed will be appreciated we'll be quite sorry to leave tomorrow.

After such a weird and slightly exhausting few days we are now blessed with some family time. Papa, sister Gee and her fella Al have rocked up in Canada for a two week tour of rainforests, wild beaches, lakes and mountains. So far we seem to have spent most of our time admiring 'produce' in Vancouver's grocery stores and searching for the biggest starfish amongst the harbour rocks. Not a conventional tour of the city but each to their own. I have no doubt that the weirdness will continue but at least it is now of the familiar variety.

NERD FILE: El Paso to Vancouver

For the last 2 months I have spent a unreasonable amount of time studying maps or glued to a speedometer being alternately fried to a crisp in the desert, huddled in snowy blizzards or sheltering in the tent from blood thirsty mosquitoes. I never seemed to learn, as Hol did early on, that knowing exactly how high we have to climb will not make the pass lower, that knowing the hourly wind shifts for each day will only make you more angry when the supposed brisk tailwind is slowing you to a crawl going downhill, and that the supposed water stops on the map only have a 50:50 chance of materialising in the heat. I still don't understand why map makers haven't yet come up with a symbol to mark a deserted trailer with a bourbon sluggin', gun totin' owner that differs from the one they use for 'town: population < 100'

Total Distance: 2753.6 miles
Days on the road: 53 [46 on the bike]
Total Time Pedaling: 192h 26m
Longest Day: 115.2 miles, 7h 20m of pedalling
Highest Pass: Red Mountain Pass, Colorado 11,007 ft
Longest Climb: 5,100ft vertical gain from Durango to Silverton over Coal Bank and Molas Passes
Top Speed: 49.2 mph (dammit)
Worst headwind: Gusting 45mph 2nd day riding to Radium Springs, New Mexico
Coldest Night Camping: Fontenelle Creek, Wyoming -7 degrees C
National Parks: The Black Canyon of the Gunnison, The Tetons, Yellowstone, North Cascades
Best signpost: Next to a Wendy's advert saying Home of the famous 3/4lb cheese triple we found a vet in Sedro-Woolley advertising the Home of the famous $25 cat neuter

Having chosen to ride up the spine of the Rockies also meant we took in our fair share of passes. In the course of crossing the continental divide 8 times we took in the following passes:

Coal Bank Pass, Colorado: 10,630 ft
Molas Pass, Colorado: 10,879 ft
Red Mountain Pass, Colorado: 11,007 ft
Indian Creek Pass, Utah: 9,100 ft
Francis Creek Pass, Utah: 8,400 ft
Bondurant Pass (The Rim), Wyoming: 7,900 ft
Craig Pass, Wyoming: 8,262 ft
Virginia City Pass, Montana: 6,950 ft
Badger Pass, Montana: 6,760 ft
Big Hole Pass, Montana: 7,630 ft
Chief Joseph Pass, Montana: 7,264 ft
Lost Trail Pass, Montana: 7,014 ft
Tiger Pass, Washington: 3,300 ft
Sherman Pass, Washington: 5,575 ft
Wauconda Pass, Washington: 4,310 ft
Loup Loup Summit, Washington: 4,020 ft
Washington Pass, Washington: 5,477 ft
Rainy Pass, Washington: 4,855 ft

High Points: Meeting someone who claimed to ride at 65mph on the flat on their bike and pedalled so hard smoke came off his wheels, seeing the Black Canyon of the Gunnison for the first time, almost every down hill, every tail wind, 5 days off in Jackson with new friends and family.

Low Points: Agonizingly cold hands coming down in a blizzard into Silverton without warm gloves, the 4th puncture and wheel about to collapse after riding 108 miles with only another 7 to go Vernal, running out of water in the desert.

Luckiest moments: Our tyres delaminating and collapsing just as we pulled into Durango. We had just come flying down a twisting 4 mile descent dodging oil trucks and RVs and it was home to the first bike shop in miles and miles.

Scariest moment: Front tyre blowout after hitting a rock at 40mph coming down the main road from Lost Trail Pass, being chased by packs of dogs in New Mexico.

Thanks to my Dad for sending our gear over to El Paso, Charley and Kamala for getting us on our way, the hosting from Stuart and Veronica in Alburquerque, Jason and Devon for the bed and the survival kit in Durango, Breton for letting us sleep in his airstream in Montrose, KP for the free overhaul for Carlos in Vernal, Dick and Nancy for the brilliant guided tour of Jackson, Sally for our R&R base in Vancouver and many more who made it such a flippin' sweet trip.

So that is about it for now on the bike.

We are now ready to do a more leisurely return loop into the US. Having spent so much time in small town America, it's time to check out the cities courtesy of Amtrak and Greyhound. It's going to take a little bit of adjusting. Day 1 in Vancouver and looking for books to read, we strayed into 'Little Sisters' second hand bookshop. I faltered at the door at the rainbow feather boas and arty black and white male nudes, but Hol had dived straight in. The fact that I was genuinely looking for a copy of Lord of the Rings seemed apt, but I managed to just stop Hol before she engaged the assistant in hunt on my behalf.

We are told the US rail system is the preserve of over talkative freaks and weirdos and so I can only think we will fit right in. We have a couple of days in Seattle before a 23hr ride on the Coast Starlight to San Francisco on the 15th and then a 33hr ride on the California Zephyr to Denver on the 24th.

We have also got our final sea leg booked aboard the HANJIN Madrid. A little different from Lista Light as it weighs in at 69,000 tons, is 278m long and cruises at 27 knots. We'll be setting sail from Vancouver to Gwangyang in South Korea on the 19th August for an eleven day crossing.

So... we made it

2750.1 miles and 53 days of riding. I don't want to be melodramatic, but I think its safe to say that was an epic adventure.

The closing stages weren't easy ones. We hadn't looked to closely at the map of the Northwest of the USA before but it looked to us like that page of the atlas had been screwed up, thrown in the bin, retrieved and then been just slightly uncrumpled and left, well... lumpy. However, we were keen to get to Vancouver for Nick's birthday and so rode 21 consecutive days from Jackson Wyoming over 5 states and many, many mountain passes. Knees, bike and bums did surprisingly well at holding up despite noises, both literal and metaphorical, from all. Money saving for the upcoming city times meant we also stuck to camping on rec grounds on the edges of towns with no showers and such. Canned chilli dinners became more frequent as fatigue after long days stifled our 'one pan' creativity. Smells got worse, clothes crustier and conversation mono-sylabbic as we gradually retreated into a pedaling machine not all that fit for the civilized world. Scorching days of up to 100 degrees beat down on us for longer as the sun rose earlier and set later the further North we got, and we found ourselves desperate for shade at the end of the days. The damper climate also bought out the insects. This all compounded with an attack of hay fever and consequent sleepless nights meant that we were spandex zombies as we autopiloted our way through the suburbs of Vancouver.

But determination was very high and with fitness levels at a peak we were eating up 90 mile days regularly. The challenge of time brushed all doubts to one side and whatever our aches and pains were telling us we were set on living it up in Vancouver to see in Nick's 28th year. After two days of feasting on Greek, Japanese and Belgian meals, cookies and cakes, sparkling wine, cocktails, Tanqueray and tonics and pints of Guinness it was well worth the rush!

So for all the drama above, the last couple of weeks of the trip were as spectacular as any. Following fast flowing rivers out of Montana we found hidden green valleys sprinkled with European villages with cherry and apple orchards, vegetable patches and wild flowers, whilst the snowy peaks of Canada loomed vast in the distance. Our most surreal night was definitely when we returned to our campsite next to the river to find preparations in full swing for a local paramedics training afternoon. 50 civilians were being made up to look as if a drunk gunman had gone on the rampage whilst panicked students tried to save their lives. We couldn't have asked for a better afternoon's entertainment. When you have a very friendly 10 year old with a hugely realistic gun shot wound to the face asking if we had been to see the live Dr. Who show in London there is little that seems wrong with the world. We even got a free BBQ dinner after telling people our tales.

Then we crossed over into Idaho for 2 days and followed the Pend Oreille lake. It looked on the surface like Lake Maggiore until we found a roller disco on the other side playing Hall and Oates on loop. We both got very excited on seeing such a huge expanse of water after being so land locked for so long. This was only just pipped as highlight of Idaho by seeing a rotund (pushing 20 stone) woman whizzing about on rollerskates in a white wedding dress. Our one night in Idaho we found a camping spot right by the lake in the town of Sandpoint. It was prom night, there was a brew pub and it was folk night at the local whisky bar. It suited us very well. The night ended with Nick getting chatted up by a local girl who 'accidentally' split some of her drink over him whilst I boogied to the tunes in a whiskey haze. After much dropping in of the word fiancé we ended up getting invited to a tofu breakfast which was hastily skipped in the morning when we woke up with steaming hangovers and a 65 mile day in front of us. The only consolation was that 3 pitchers of Mick Duff's IPA meant we were probably the only people ever to stay in a tent within 20 feet of the main east to west coast trainline of the US and get a solid night's sleep.

Washington was as mixed a state as the whole journey thus far. Everyday brought on the challenge of a new mountain pass and varying temperatures. Just when we thought we were well entrenched in the green, forested lands of the North we cycled through another dry and boiling desert and popped out the other side to climb up to snow level Alpine mountains again. Very confusing. Then we finally hit the North Cascades National Park. Our final land mark for the trip and the 6th mountain pass in 5 days. We conquered the 17 mile 4,000' climb to Washington Pass (5575') smoothly and so pushed on for another 75 miles of a headwind that meant you had to pedal hard downhill and fight to stay vaguely out of the middle of the road. Huge Alpine covered mountains with steep dropping valleys and water spilling out over rocks everywhere you turn. It was a magical and dramatic day of awesome passes, enchanted streams and terrifying wind. The perfect accompaniement to our current reading of Lord of the Rings (you can imagine how flippin' cool we look in a campsite reading matching editions of The Hobbit and Fellowship of the Ring of an evening). Once we made it through The Cascades the mountains gradually became foothills and before we knew it we were on flat farming plains that stretched out towards the Pacific. For the first time in weeks we didn't have a huge mountain range blocking the path in front of us.

On the last day we had 46 miles to cycle over the Canadian border and through the suburbs of Surrey, Guildford and Richmond into the heart of Vancouver. We ended up cycling over 70 miles as we struggled through road closures and one way systems. The closure of the only bike friendly bridge into the city meant we got stuck on the very bike unfriendly freeway for a while before hauling Carlos over a giant suspension bridge, squeezed between a huge drop one side and rushing trucks on the other. All in all it was a pretty terrifying day that eventually took us to a spot in the sun overlooking the Pacific only to see the ice cream van pull away as we walked towards it. It was only after a pitcher of beer and a plate of Nachos in our hotel before we could calm down and really contemplate what we had just completed.

It seems strange to have finished it now. We lived on the bike for just under 2 months checking wind, inclines, tyre pressures and applying copious amounts of vaseline to all manner of regions best not discussed. Arriving in a big city is a huge shock to the system but a good one. It feels like we have made it half way round the world and when we looked across the harbour and saw a Hanjin container ship that is sister to what we will be setting sail in for South Korea it felt like a big milestone. Time to rest.

More photos here for those who are interested:

Wyoming and Montana: snow, grizzlies and geysers
Idaho, Washington and British Columbia: alpine wonderland, more mountains, Nick's new shiny red cycling top

Also, Nick will be posting a nerd file of cycling trivia sometime soon.