The Native Iowan

I spoke to my bro-inlaw, Ron, yesterday. He’d just done 625 miles on a 3 wheeled motorbike. That is impressive. Even on 3 wheels. Almost impossible on 2 wheels.

the art of riding is an interesting and diverse topic. I have discoursed on the different types of rides there be. Each style carries its own restrictions.

I’d like to table this subject as a topic to be discussed…

How do you ride? What are your tricks and tips per the art of riding…

Tuesday morning, my time. I am tooling down highway 5 through central California. It is fitting I end this road-trip by road. I was thinking of flying out of Sacramento. Looked at a couple of options. But grabbing a rental and driving to LA is what I decided to do.

Pulled out of Manteca about 8am. It was almost too easy to get on the road, on 4 wheels.

One thing I think of quite a bit is the fact that I wore ‘leathers” for 5 days straight. I shall describe my leathers in-depth in another posting but the gear weighs quite a bit and, though comfortable, is restrictive. The pants don’t zip down but do “open up” a bit so pumping the bilges in the leathers is less than easy.

I sit at a “Denny’s” about 100 miles out of Bakersfield. LA 200 miles away.

I know most people on this wonderous planet think all coffee is either instant or created by a large, noisy machine. One thing I like about the USofA is what I call – an honest cup of coffee. Choose the right franchise and you get a good cup of honest coffee refilled as many times as you wish. No froth or fluff. Just a nice dark and bitter cup of joe.

Driving through CAL is OK. Traffic is thick in most all places. The roads are not that great. Lots of commerce and business in this central valley so the roads are bizzy, bizzy.

California… what a place. Very cool and very weird. I always contend that CAL is not part of the USA. But rather a country unto itself. I need to do some research and write a bit on this wild and urbanised place. Bankrupted by Arnold, abused by generations, CAL is a golden land that shall forever be contested.

More later…

So I sit in CK’s Bar n grill in Lathrop, California. I have just ordered some Mexican style “Arizona egg rolls” and a tall IPA.

My body has that inner-ear confusion, like when you are on a boat too long. A mild case of vertigo and a strange buzzing in my ears. I dropped over 7000 feet today with many ups-n-downs so my hearing is impaired. I can’t quite equalize.

Friendly folks around here. Have been asked to be served by 3 different people but still no drink… lets see where this leads. I think they are putting a keg in on the tap I ordered. Ahhh, I see it coming…

That first icy cold drink of adult beverage after a long, long day… ahhh… hardly touches the sides… need to get another pulled and ready when this is done.

Ahhhh…

Today’s ride was grand. Once I got into Taho traffic became urbanized and it continued into CA and to where I am now.

I marvel at how the terrain, roads, truck stops, stores, hotels, et al change from state to state.

Iowa is a gentle state. Being almost flat (lets be fair, it is a rolling plain place) there is indeed little change in altitude north to south/ east to west. It is a relatively well off place as well. Employment is relatively high. People smile a lot. Especially in summer time. Winters are harsh but the single growing season is indeed bountiful. Tho historically important Iowa does not jump to the forefront of past or present importance. It is perhaps best known as the place where the first primary poll in the US presidential race is held.

Nebraska is a hard place to describe. Consider that Warren Buffet calls Omaha home. Historically Omaha was a central brokerage house/ location for the USA’s commodities exchange. Much like New York and Chicago, Omaha has always had it’s own importance. And I still do not understand why. Though names like Ogallala, Fort Kearney and Lincoln are and shall be forever renowned.

Why renowned? I hear you ask… The path I just traveled is, in modern days, known as “Interstate 80”. In times past it has been known as the “Lincoln Highway”. Mainly because this is the route that Abe Lincoln agreed to for what became the “transcontinental railway”. Indeed a modern feat/ wonder of the modern world. Before that it was the “Oregon – California trail”. The early settlers of this grand landscape walked, bled, starved, died and thrived on this route. Before that it was the path the indians followed over and through the great divide. They had followed the bison and they had been traveling these byways for millennium. The path I have just traversed has been trod by generations for millenniums immemorial.

Wyoming is cowboy country. I have traditionally struggled with Wyoming. As a youth I thought goat ropers came from Wyoming. Hell, western Nebraska had goat ropers when I was a youth. Now they are just interesting people. Wyoming (and western Nebraska) favour large oval belt buckles. Stetson hats. Boots are also part of the attire. Names like Laramie, Cheyenne, Castle Rock and Butte are well known and shall be names generation after generation hear-told.

Utah is a hard, hard land. Dry mountains and high chaparral, and Mormon religion, and salt flats, and… It is a harsh place. I honestly did not stop in Utah (only for a quick refuel) but know in 95 when I’d last visited I could not get a cup of coffee in Salt Lake City… now that IS HARSH.

Nevada is a whore that makes no bones about being a whore. Like a whore Nevada has little to offer so it premeditatedly prostitutes itself. And does so with confidence and, while banking the proceeds from the prostitution, a sly smile on her face. Everywhere I went in Nevada there we slot machines. Gambling is endemic. Think of the mythical names of “Vegas”, “Taho”, “Sparks”…  I think I like Nevada a lot…

California… man, oh man, CA… Love n Hate with me. A state so large it should be a country. But is perpetually bankrupt… financially? Morally? Spiritually? Dunno… I am still doing my research.

And the smells…

Iowa smells like agriculture. Iowa smells like shit. But, as I was sold when a kid… “that’s the smell of money, boy”.

Nebraska smells lonely and confused. Hard to explain. Perhaps Nebraska smells like Iowa in the east and Wyoming in the west and… Or perhaps I have not given Nebraska enough time.

Wyoming smells like dry, high, chaparral… dusty and dry. Nebraska has rivers. Wyoming is dry, dry, dry… mainly because it is quite high. The Continental Divide runs through Wyoming at over 7000 ft but, there are no peaks, there is no snow. Because there is no water. Everything flows either into the western or eastern drainage. No water stays very long in Wyoming.

Utah is Wyoming’s drainage. If Wyoming is dry then Utah is worse than dry… all that ever flows from the western side of Wyoming ends up in the Great Salt Lake. A depository for salines and minerals but little water.

Nevada has the Sierra Nevada mountains that smell of spruce.  Pine trees.  High, clean air, surrounded by trees and water. I rode past Donner Lake. For it’s less than strategic past Nevada has a lot of names we all know.

California… Cal I forn I A… San Fran, Holly Wood, LA, San D., and, of course, Malibu… Hell!, Mendocino… What a place. Insane. Psychotic, the home of all the fads… fudged up and happy to be so… I am going to say I shall change my view.  CA is way cool. I dig CA.

One fly in the bar is hassling me…

Life is a bitch… A very merry bitch with pink nickers and a warm smile…

I like life. I like friendly bars in the middle of urbanization. Where Spanish is as common as English. Where south meets east and the egg roles ain’t egg roles but are very tasty and remind me of a good mexican food.

So many thoughts per this 2000-mile sojourned…. the physical, the mental and the spiritual… I am stronger now than when I started this trip. I have had many hours to think through my personal here and now and am better for the time spent in contemplation. Spiritually I am still a punk.

I smile. An inebriated smile… a happy smile. An accomplished smile.

I do defy preceding generations to do what I did; in the time frame I did it, at my age.  Yee-Haw…

I feel good.

In fact I’ll state that I am inebriated. Drunk. Pissed. Merrily pissed.

Life is grand.

After a long, much-needed sleep. Without the urgency of “moving on”. It feels great to NOT get back on a bike today.

Though I must admit each day has been easier and I now reckon I could ride with impunity.

I feel great. The riding has made me younger. The shoulder and back and the arthritis in the hands… all ain’t cured but through the constant use all has become “better”.

So some apple juice and coffee here in the free breakfast area then I’ll sort a rental car and prepare to drive to LA.

All is goo.

I get to put on clean clothes. I am soooo happi….

Am in Lathrope, California. just did 8 hours over 500 miles. Feels good.

The ride and knowing I am done.

Have scrubbed. Will dress and go find a feed.

And I get a complete set of clean clothes. Something I have not seen since past Tuesday morn.

Will start my report at the bar as I wait for the grill to do it’s magic.

More later

Great day in the saddle.

Man oh man… I really dig this bike. The more I ride it the younger I get.

I may never stop riding it!

Sitting in my hotel room… my One-Night-Stand… my $100.00 hooker… I have found that the “Comfort Inn” franchise of “one-night-stands” is as good as any.

I have a ground floor room so no stairs. My lovely machine sits outside my room…

I know, I sound like a foolish old fart. And I am. But, allow me to explain… the sense of accomplishment after a ride like today. I know, the accomplishment is similar to peeing your pans in a dark suit – you feel better but no one will notice.

But this ride is an accomplishment for me. I thought I’d struggle with it all and each and every day is easier than the last.

Sorta like riding horses… it can’t much worse than  the first day!

400 solid miles behind me today.

Woke at 4, in the saddle at 6. First stop was a quick refill near Evanston, Wyoming. Straight on toward Salt Lake City. Through the labyrinth which is the I80 maze. Followed Ron’s advice and found the place by the airport where there were heaps of hotels and a Perkins. Refilled and ran on toward Wendover. Refilled again and got a very, very bad coffee. Big truck stop place. Advertised as the best cup of coffee around. Took ages to sort and pay for and it was not that good. It did take a while so I was ready to ride and the coffee was forgotten after I hit 75 mph.

Somewhere in this changing landscape I stopped at a place named “west- something” and refilled and drained and rode on. I crossed another time zone. Now in Pacific Time. I arrived at Elko Nevada at noon local time. 1 PM in my starting time zone. I’d run a solid 7 hours. Considering all my stops and breaks worth 1.5 hours, I did 400 miles in 5.5 hours. Averaging a bit better than 70 mph.

yee haww…

So I hit Elko at noon. I was thinking of riding further but decided to stay. I was up early. I am fatiguing. I can do another 100 miles but I am not in a rush.

I find the local “Comfort Inn” and get a room but cannot check in until 2pm. So I dump my gear and have a look at ol Elko…

– quote – unquote-

Elko (Shoshoni: Natakkoa, ‘Rocks Piled on One Another’)^[2] is a city in Elko County, Nevada, United States. The population was 18,297 at the 2010 census. It is the county seat of Elko County^[3].^[4] The city straddles the Humboldt River.

Elko is the principal city of the Elko Micropolitan Statistical Area, a micropolitan area that covers Elko and Eurekacounties^[5] and had a combined population of 46,942 at the 2000 census.^[6] It is the largest city for over 130 miles (210 km) in all directions, making it, as its city motto states, “The Heart of Northeast Nevada”.

It is home to Great Basin College, as well as to the National Weather Service Weather Forecast Office serving most of northern and central Nevada.

…

The path I have been traveling is an age-old byway that traverses an amazing landscape…

I picked this trail up in Kearney Nebraska and am heading to Sacramento.

Known as the Oregon – California Trail is was created by the Bison, used by the humans and turned into steel and concrete  initially by Abe Lincoln and later by others. There is a rich history here.

I rode with the rising sun in my rear view mirror this morning. I was chilled until the sun rose and heated the air.

I rode through the wind ravaged buttes and natural monoliths that is the Great Divide. There is a starkness to this magnificent land. And a changling-ness. You can’t trust a land that can bake you one day and freeze you the same night.

Castle Rock Wyoming…

Coming down the western slope we end up in the lowlands of the Great Salt Lake.

-quote – unquote-

The Great Salt Lake, located in the northern part of the U.S. state of Utah, is the largest salt water lake in the Western Hemisphere,^[1] and the fourth-largest terminal lake in the world.^[2] In an average year the lake covers an area of around 1,700 square miles (4,400 km²),^[2] but the lake’s size fluctuates substantially due to its shallowness. For instance, in 1963 it reached its lowest recorded level at 950 square miles (2,460 km²), but in 1988 the surface area was at the historic high of 3,300 square miles (8,500 km²).^[2] In terms of surface area, it is the largest lake in the United States that is not part of the Great Lakes region.

The lake is the largest remnant of Lake Bonneville, a prehistoric pluvial lake that once covered much of western Utah. The three major tributaries to the lake, the Jordan, Weber, and Bear rivers together deposit around 1.1 million tons of minerals in the lake each year.^[1] As it is endorheic (has no outlet besides evaporation), it has very high salinity, far saltier than sea water, and its mineral content is constantly increasing.

…

I smiled as I rode past the Bonneville Speedway’s turn off.

Elko is cool. I like the vibe…

Found my attention snagged by this sign…

So I had a pie and a ginger beer which were great…

Toured the town a bit more and checked into my room.

As one night stands go this is a good’un…

My riding pants are airing out on the door. I have one change of clean clothes and shall save them. Recycling is the best I can do for now.

Tomorrow may be my last day in the saddle.

I feel so confident after today I am going to attempt the last day in one-run for tomorrow…

I know after today I can do the miles. So, with a big-arsed grin I say…

stay tuned.

Been a good day of riding.  350 miles or more. Not as far or as long as yesterday but this is my third day of riding.

Planning for a solid 300 miles tomorrow. Now that I am over half way with 1100 miles behind me and 800 to go I can take an easy pace.

Tomorrow’s ride will put me, Saturday morning, ready to run across the salt flats. I think I’ll get to the hotel early using the cool of the morning to do my riding. Temps are running high. I also have laundry so an early check in is welcome.

We have been traveling through the great mid-nothingness of this huge land mass. We cross the Great Divide at 7000 feet about 2pm today. We are now in the western continental drainage. It is a dry, stark land. It has legendary names like “Laramie” and “Cheyenne”. This is cowboy country.

It was quite cool this morning and into the midday then, was we crossed the Great Divide, things got warm. I am in Rock Springs Wyoming for the night. Very reasonable 100.00 a nite hotel with friendly folks. I was even flipped the finger by a lady when I came in. I was crowing about having soo much fun.

It was a warm welcome.

Holly and Ron turn back to Iowa tomorrow. I joked early that old folks have to pee a lot so I can travel faster than Ron’s big trike. But in reality, even for the super human, an hour and a half  on 2 wheels going 80 miles per hour / 130 ks per hour is a very long time.

We aim for 100 mile hops and stop if needed. Basically we refuel every 100 miles or roughly 1.5 hours. I note that my 3.3 gal tank allows me about 150 miles range so stopping is not a choice. We ride the first hop, refuel, drain and ride. Second hop has refuel and food. Third hop is a restful coffee after fuel and, like today, you decide to either do the last hop or not. Today we chose not.

It often appears that the first ride of the day and the last ride of the day manage 30% more distance.

So I am very pleased with the progress. This little Trumpet-Bike is a sweetie pie. What a nice bike. I am a bit weary but then so are Holly and Ron who basically ride a big easy chair on three wheels.

What makes you tired is the wind. 80 mph/ 130kph creates a lot of wind. And your body gets beaten and shaken and rattled as you roll down these aimless highways. And I ride my bike. I know my neck is stronger and I frankly feel very, very good.

I can brag but admit that once in my room I sat in a hot bath and soaked my used but happy muscles. I feel good. This is a very good time of the year to do a ride like this. The highways are open. Traffic is usually easy. The roads are either good or not so good. I think we are averaging over 70 miles per hour so like is very good indeed.

Such is life. More fun for the foolish old fart tomorrow…

Here is the world from Holly’s point of view…

Holly was official photo taker today…

Verry good day of riding… a bit over 6 hours in the saddle. 8 hours of travel. about 450 miles all up.

I am very pleased with the way things are going. All is very good.

Tomorrow we have another long day… west Nebraska to west Wyoming…

In the world of motorcycles there are a number of divergent species of riders.

Heavy or light?

Cruise or Touring?

Highway or back road?

We have the big-boy tourers. These bike range between 800 and 1200 pounds with their boxes empty. They brag the likes of full stereo/ intercom/ cruise control/ heated seats/ heated grips/ adjustable windshields… by nature these bikes are heavier and slower than the others.

I know people that call these bikes “granny-glides”.

We have the medium cruisers that have a wind screen and bags but is a bit lighter. Less options but usually a dynamic ride. A bridge between a fast sport ride and a slow cruise.

We have the sport bikes which trade weight for speed and manoeuvrability. Engines in these bikes are often the same size as the big ones. They just turn the ride into more of a sporting adventure than a comfortable cruise.

Each of the species have their different colours and decorations. The large riders prefer to look like bugs, all black and hard and scaly. The smaller the bike being rode the brighter the colours of the critter riding. Sport riders like bright reds with racing stripes and greens.

Which is better? Of course, this discussion has no end so I shall simply move to discussing the riding I am doing…

I must preamble and digress… both at the same time…

I am sitting at “EMMA JEAN’S” Diner and lounge at the cross roads that is Walnut, Iowa, on I80, west of Des Moines, about 50 miles from the Nebraska boarder and the crossing of the Missouri River, into Omaha.

I blame this all on the bad company of a good bike…

The place is  empty but for me and the gal running the bar and kitchen. I guess the rush hour crowd has not arrived yet.

I am riding a 900cc/ 70hp Triumph motorcycle. It is designed to remind us of those early days of motorcycle madness when man was just nudging the 100mph threshold on two wheels. It all happened post WW2, in the early 50s…

– quote – unquote –

A number of British, post-war, companies went into building motorcycles. And the goal was to build a bike that could run at 100mph for as long as the rider could hold on. They ruled the world when I was young….

And…

The Ton-Up Club was born…

– quote – un quote –

Rockers, leather boys[1] or ton-up boys[2][3] are members of a biker subculture that originated in the United Kingdom during the 1950s. It was mainly centred around British cafe racer^[citation needed^] motorcycles and rock and roll music.

My “Triumph Thruxton” is a modern classic… Traditionally known as a cafe-racer, it is a modern -retro- that was done with taste and attention to detail.

These are light and fast machines designed to make the rider ride low to reduce drag as well as to be nimble and balanced around corners. You load these machines up too much and you lose the advantage of the “naked” ride. They then become “pigs”… which is what the original VTwin bikes were affectionately called.

Contrary to the modern “cruising” machines, known as “dressed” rides, offering easy-chair sized saddles; These machines are not technically built for long distances. More of a racer, more of a cornering machine. Hell, it ain’t even got a passenger seat.

So I am running naked across the US of A.

I ride in a very good “suit of leathers”. Keeps you warm enough. Keeps you cool enough. Has heaps of armour “in-case”. I ride in a very good full faced helmet. So, considering I have no bug deflection or wind shield or cow catcher… I need to wear armour.

My naked run across half of America is a fast n light run. Hell, how can you run naked and halve yer pockets full of stuff…

So I have a big condom I put my gear in… lets take an inventory:

2 x jeans

4 x underwear

2 x socks

3 x tshirts

1 x computer

1 x iphone

1 x gopro camera

1 x toiletries

My leathers allow me to ride in a tshirt and my jocks. I have my redwing boots. My tank-bag is basically a pillow and has a hooded sweatshirt in it. I hope I don’t need it because I do need a pillow for my chest.

At the end of my first day, after around 5 hours in the saddle and only – only ! – 200 miles, my bike looked like this…

 Tomorrow’s ride will need to be a bit more aggressive. At 200 miles a day i’ll need 9 or 10 days to do this trip.No, I need my hours to build maximum mileage. I am aiming tomorrow to cover well over 400 miles in about the same amount of time as I rode today…

Now, I hear in the back row…. I hear in the peanut gallery… I hear a bit of heckling out there.

You think I don’t hear the sniggers and back-talking… “dumb-shit”, “going to look like the” hunchback of nitre damn”, “midlife crisis”, are all things I hear.

And we know I am a dumb shit. And I know I do live in the past.

But I ask you… ain’t this one hell of a purity bike? It deserves to be driven. And it deserves to be driven by me. The old fart who likes to behave foolishly…

So I sit in Walnut, Iowa. I have had a couple “Redds Apple Ales” and feel pretty floaty. I got here about noon, dropped my bike off to be serviced, looked at all their purty bikes, borrowed a modern Bonneville and drove to a local pub for lunch. I had my bike back and was at the hotel by about 230pm. Sorted my life and checked the email and showered and untangled my hair and …

EMMA JEAN’S is next to the hotel. The sedative is working well. I just got a call from Ron. He and Holly will be here soon.

Holly is my elder sister. Of my numerous siblings she is closest in age to me. (EDITOR’S NOTE: I am the middle of 9) Ron and Holly were high school Sweeties. Been married 40 years or more. I am taking this bike to their son, Andy, who lives in California.

Holly and Ron ride a trike…

So one can very quickly see where I may be at what wrestlers call a “distinct weight disadvantage”.

So… day one complete. I will ride for the next 5 days through 4 more states… Nebraska, Wyoming, Utah, California. Total will be at least 25 hours. I know I shall be less than enamoured with my “cafe racer” at more than one point in the proceedings… but that is OK.

I joke with my family members who are riders… these folks ride a lot. I note here that I only mentioned to Ron n Holly that I was going west on a bike and they quickly found time for the ride.

Mind you, Iowa is cold for 9 of it’s 12 months thus when it is warm anyone who has a bike is riding their bike.

And, one day down… 5 more to go….

Day 1 of 6 all done. On the road at 630am and road through Gladbrook and Des Moinse to Marne, Iowa. I bought the bike in Marne so took it to get serviced. I have 1000 miles on the clock.

loaded after riding Independence to Des Moinse

At the end of the day in south west Iowa

Feeling pretty good. I did 300 miles in 5 hours today… I can go further faster. I got the bike serviced so stopped riding at noon. I could ride another 300 miles. I find the interstate is better as I can run at 80mph…

I admit one must get used to this ride… the back pegs are your “highway” pegs. The big bag on the tank is my pillow. Once you stretch out you’re pretty good unless your belly is too big. I bought 3 helmets before I found one I liked. Needed something light and comfortable as it’s your only protection from the air/ wind.

This is what we’ll do tomorrow…

All good.

Independence Iowa:

And it begins. More old fart foolishness…

I am going to ride this:

over the next 5 days over this route:

Stay tuned for daily reports…

Beche-de-mer controversy

Container stored at minister’s residence

CONTROVERSIES have erupted again over a 20-foot container of beche-de-mer due for shipment this weekend.

The container (No: CAXU3249964), owned by a local Chinese Xu Qiang, is being kept at the residence of Foreign Affairs minister Clay Forau, at Henderson.

It was feared the contents may have been falsely declared and authorities are called on to check it out before shipment.

Sources familiar with beche-de-mer export said while the number of bags loaded and quantity declared may be correct, Customs need to check out the different species.

“It’s common for exporters to make false declaration of the types of species they are exporting,” one source said.

For the container at Mr Forau’s residence, some say it was filled with high quality beach-de-mer species but are only declared with less number of bags.

Sources further questioned whether Mr Qiang has a licence to export beche-de-mer.

Previously, Mr Qiang is a business partner of Jerry Sun who recently exported his beche-de-mer container under Rendova Trading Company.

They split over differences and Mr Qiang has since moved on and started buying beche-de-mer himself.

This week, the police went searching for Mr Qiang to speak to him, and some claimed he was hiding at Mr Forau’s residence.

But Mr Forau strongly denied harbouring Mr Qiang.

Reached for comments yesterday on his mobile phone, Mr Qiang said he did nothing wrong, declined to make further comments, and instead referred the Solomon Star to his lawyer.

When contacted, private lawyer David Lidimani said he just received his client’s file and is still looking into it.

However, Mr Lidimani stated it could be something to do with the beche-de-mer issue.

He added he will be seeing the police today over the matter.

Mr Forau said the majority of Mr Qiang’s customers are from Temotu.

“In fact he has been buying beche-de-mer from Temotu since 2002,” Mr Forau said.

He said he knew Mr Qiang since then and they become friends.

Asked why as a minister he allowed his residence to be used as a loading point, Mr Forau said this happened due to the recent issue between Mr Qiang and his business partner Jerry.

The fall-out between the duo last month resulted in the burning of Mr Qiang’s car at his residence at Tasahe by those believed to be associates of Jerry.

The incident was now a police case.

Asked whether Mr Qiang is a licensed buyer and exporter, Mr Forau said he did not know.

“What I can tell you is we used to sell beche-de-mer to him since 2002,” the Foreign Affairs minister said.

Asked whether it is right as a minister of the crown to allow his residence to be used by an Asian to load the container, Mr Forau said he did not see anything wrong with it.

“I am a just an ordinary person like everyone else and we all do things for survival. We all work hard and do things for our livelihood,” he added.

Meanwhile, the Malaita Ma’asina Forum president Charles Dausabea called on Mr Forau to resign.

If he refused, Mr Dausabea said the prime minister should sack him.

But Mr Forau said: “I think my conscience is clear because I am merely helping a friend who is helping my people to harvest and sell their products. I am doing this not as a minister of the crown but just like an ordinary person.”

Mr Dausabea also called on relevant authorities to properly check the container.

“If Mr Qiang is found to have committed fraud, he should be referred to the courts, or deport and ban him from returning to the country,” he added.

By Daniel Namosuaia