The End

Back on the right side of the road

After, what I think I can probably safely say was a well-deserved week in Miami doing absolutely nothing but be at the pool and beach, I've arrived back. For those of you I haven't spoken to directly I must say a big thank you for all the congratulatory comments, texts etc. very, very much appreciated.

Still, i couldn't quite completely relax as my arrival back in Scotland is just in time for my main cycling event of the summer on Saturday - The US trip was really all just about training for this http://www.corrieyairack.org/ as my teammates (Pete and Dave) were way too close to catching me last year. Once I'm back from it next week I'll post some more of the US pics and, hopefully, some of the videos.

Riding into the blue

Day 77, Stage 53 - Palm Beach Shores to Miami
80 miles in 6hrs 20mins (incl. one bike shop trip and just snacks and
juice stops again)
Total, and final distance - 4,745 miles

"It's not in the bag. It's not in the bag. Focus. You've still got a long day to do."

I forget the exact stats but is it something like 80% of mountaineering accidents that happen on the descent. And what's the other stat about car accidents within a few miles of home. I didn't know the numbers but I sure as hell knew the principle. I would have to focus for five to six hours in the saddle like I never had before.

This wasn't over, not yet it wasn't.

I quickly had 10 miles chalked up. Still 70 to go so not walking distance yet. And I would walk if need be, of that I had no doubt. The road then turned onto the A1A along West Palm Beach and various other lush neighbourhoods. Where, in the space of the next 35 miles or so I saw more folk out cycling than I had all trip combined, easily. Speaking to a few of them (Tony, then Jim & Mike - to whom I'm grateful for the 'tow' - though I did do my share) it turned out that there'd been a few races on that morning. I was loving the double takes that we were getting from the passing racers as Mike, Jim & I sped along in a chain gang with the full set of panniers on my machine.

The cyclocomputer was showing forty one miles. Less than forty to go. "Now that's walking distance" I thought. Barring a crash, I was going to be in Miami tonight. I was relaxing a bit, but so was the rear wheel as another spoke gave up. To ride on or not? I decided to play it safe so tracked down Downtown Bicycles who quickly fixed it and almost cheered me out the door on my way down the road such was their enthusiasm. Thanks folks.

The road then climbed over the 17th Street bridge - one of the less severe climbs of the trip, but positively Matterhornesque in comparison to the 700+ miles I'd seen so far in Florida. A brief, but hairy stint along Highway 1 beside the Fort Lauderdale Airport was the last noteable obstacle before I rejoined the A1A and 'Miami Beach' appeared at the top of the gps screen. 21 straight, flat miles to go. I still couldn't relax, though, but I was almost smiling. The purple line was getting shorter though. I'd been through this 'end-of-stage' feeling over fifty times already this trip this was the same but oh so different.

'91st Street' was the first I noticed. That's when it hit me, I was in Miami. The countdown of streets felt almost as slow as that of the miles into Perry in Sunday during the 189 mile day but it was excitement today. 59th, 45th, 34th. I was anxiously glancing in my mirror looking for that car/truck/bus that could ruin everything. But, thankfully, there was'nt one.

The road took me round one more corner ... I looked up to the glorious sight of the sunshine on my hotel ... I was there, and couldn't quite believe it.

I pulled off the road and just stood there looking in awe at it for several minutes before moving on to cut a tyre-width furrow in the white sands of the Beach as I pushed past the bathers and into the beautifully warm Atlantic water.

The hotel staff were, I think, a bit puzzled as I pulled up outside coated in sweat, salt, sea and sand.

"Hi, I'm checking in"
"Ok sir. If you just bring your bike in here. Where are you riding
from?"
"Seattle"
Silence

I unpacked the bike for the last time, got into my hotel room, sat
down, switched the tv, then I realised, there was no need to find the
Weather Channel....

.....it was over.

Riding into the blue

I...

..have arrived :)

Touching distance

Day 76, Stage 53 - Cocoa Beach to Palm Beach Shores
129 miles in 8hrs 40mins (incl. a nostalgic Subway stop and an awful lot of juice and water stops) Total Distance - 4,665 miles
I was feeling very, very uneasy at the start of this, the penultimate stage. The length of the stage, at some 120+ miles, didn't bother me that much but it was that I was so close that I knew I'd be continually battling with myself not to switch into wind-down mode and, if I did, and then anything went wrong, I'd likely seriously struggle to get myself going again.

The day started fast and early and before long I realised I needed refueling so pulled over to buy my last Subway of the trip. It tasted the same as the others but the nerves meant it didn't sit well. The road continued almost dead-flat for mile after mile and I was soon regreting having called an early end to yesterday's stage, leaving me so much to do today. My mood was lifted, though as I caught site of the arched back of a dolphin swimming in one of the bay inlets.

However, with no iPod, and the roads so flat and straight it was small relief from the nervous tedium. The only other memorable (and I mean memorable in a bad way) sight in the first hundred miles was the first of a new chain of gas station that I hadn't seen before 'Hess'. I'd suggest some corporate rebeanding might be in order.

I rolled on. Only a mechanical can stop me know, I'd been thinking, then I crunched to a halt as the chain strangely entangled, twisting the front gear mech. A quick bit of 'cold-setting' (i.e. kicking it) thankfully got it back into working shape. Next to go, though, was the rear tyre. Not a puncture but as I pulled away from traffic lights I realised that, in stopping at them, a three-inch strip of rubber had delaminated from the tyre. Not drastic but I'd have to glue it back on at the end if the stage in 15 miles (now I knew I'd carried that tube of superglue all the way across the continent for a good reason). Then, a few miles later, the now all-too-familiar sound of a spoke giving up shot through the air. That was three mechanicals in the space of 15 miles. I couldn't get to the end of the stage and off the road quick enough.

In hindsight, though I should have stayed on the bike for a bit longer. I had done reasonably well to have avoided any real motel nightmares all trip, but that was about to change. The thunderclouds were drifting towards me as I'd ridden around for 20 mins trying to find somewhere to stay so, in fear of getting wet I reluctantly decieded this place would do. I'll post a pic once I get the chance (now there), but just take my word for it, it was comically bad (for those of you who lived there, it reminded me of Temple Park Crescent, only worse). Still, I was chuckling as I knew where I'd be staying the next night in Miami and this place provided such a marvellous contrast it was hilarious.

What wasn't hilarious was when I realised that the spare spokes I'd sought out the night before in Cocoa Beach were not the length I'd asked for.

I was way too tired for the excitement of knowing it was the last day tomorrow to keep me awake so I fell asleep on the sofa, with worrying dreams of breaking spokes the next day.

Chasing Shadows

Day 75, Stage 51 - Sanford to Cocoa Beach
70 miles in 4hrs 30mins (just one quick juice stop)
Total distance - 4,536miles
The iPhone has been threatening to crash for about half the trip since the WiFi failed on it about six weeks ago, lost 90% of my songs a week ago, and I'm now just sitting looking at a blank screen - but, hey, as the advert says, apple products are ultra-reliable. Hmmm!

Hence, i'm logged on to some ridiculously expensive terminal here in the Holiday Inn in Cocoa Beach. No pic today I'm afraid as I can't hook the camera up to it.

Anyway, the start this morning was later than planned as I realised I'm still clearly feeling the effects of the two monster days followed by the mosquito night. Still, today was to be a short day as I discovered last night that there was a rocket launch planned this evening from Cape Kennedy (or whichever cape) so i'd decided to only go as far as here then watch the launch in the evening. Things were mercifully cooler as i set out, only the high 80's, and still humid, as I set out in search of the Atlantic coast. Thankfully the wind was as forecast for the first time in three days, giving me a tailwind as I sped along watching with glee as the the gps screen began to fill with blue. At the town of Mims I made what will be the last meaningful turn of the trip onto Highway 1A which I'll be sticking on all the way to Miami. Within the next few hundred yards I then passed Parker Street followed by Nichols Road. Those of you who worked with me in Finance at Lehmans should understand why I was fully expecting to turn the next corner and find Trouble Court. And within a mile or so I was, indeed, stopped by one of the local Sheriffs who was actually only enquiring if I'd seen some dodgy looking some cycling the other way. The look on his face when I told him where I'd ridden from was by far the best so far.

The wind was well and truly behind me but I hadn't really eaten enough so it was a tiring final 30 miles as I tried desperately to stay in the cool shadows of the passing clouds. The only highlight of that stint was passing the office building with the sign outside stating 'Executive Centre of the Church of God'. I was oh so tempted to to knock on the the door and ask to speak to the boss.

I trundled around Cocoa Beach seeking a bike shop where I picked up yet more spare spokes - here's hoping the last of the trip. Then went out to watch the launch which was, err, an underwhelming sight to say the least. Though the noise was much more impressive as it even managed to drown out the chants of 'USA' coming from the hyperactive schoolkids on the beach. Still, it was an experience and I'd rather have seen it than not.

This has, however, left me a rather long 120mile stage tomorrow so signing off for an early start.

A time for reflection? Not quite.

Day 74, Stage 50 - Silver Springs to Sanford
74 miles in 4hrs 55 mins
Total distance - 4,466 miles
Starting on the final 300+ mile leg this morning I had to work very hard to bring my focus back to today's stage, reminding myself I still had 70 miles to do today which would likely take some five hours in +90F humidity. While it may seem like everything is done and dusted, I've still got a lot of work to do.

One thing I thought I'd do though is reflect on some of the more amusing/perplexing signs and quotes I've seem and heard over here.

"100% ethanol-free gas" - actually quite a common sign, generally in the less civilized parts of the world

"Environmentally friendly gun oil" - Huh?!

"5 Hour Energy with zero calories" - Now I'm no scientist but.... Hang on, yes I am.

"Jesus saves. Obama spends." - yeah, the more I think about that one the more it scared me.

Sarah Palin - "She is a woman without a first language" - enough said.

Anyway, I've got the Atlantic Ocean beckoning tomorrow and, all going to plan I should be arriving into Miami around midday local time on Saturday.

Running out of gas

Day 73 - in the pursuit of air conditioning
The inside of the tent was smeared with streaks of blood, my blood mixed with that of the many mosquitos that, at my hands, had had an even worse night than I had. There was no way I could do another night like that so I packed up the tent for the last time and rolled three miles down the road to one of the nearby motels, exhausted. As the weather developed during the day I was glad I was indoors with the early afternoon heat climbing to the high 90's but with the humidity
making it feel nearer 105 on the Weather Channel's 'heat index'. Thankfully the weather broke in the early evening bringing the severe storm warnings flashing up on the tv. I sat inside listening to the downpour cooking the last of my freeze-dried meals, in not the most glamorous of locations as the pic shows.

My attention then switched to my back tyre. Now one thing I failed to mention about the two long days I just did was the malfunctioning back wheel (the one I picked up in Jackson, MS). Having replaced another rear spoke in Destin when I put the tyre back on, try as I might, I
couldn't get it to sit properly on the rim (I tried switching tyres, but it was the rim). As a result it was running somewhat egg-shaped which was severe enough to make it feel like l was getting a small kick in the @rse every time it went round. Now, the wheel circumference is just over 2 metres and I'd just done over 300 miles on it. That makes for around 200,000 kicks in the butt. Uncomfortable and irritating in more ways than one. I'd managed to get this far without any saddle sores (amazing really), but I knew that wouldn't last another four days of @rse-kicking. After an hour of inflation/deflation cycles I finally managed to get it running true. Part of me was immensely relieved.

Slaying the rat

The warm and tranquil green water of the Gulf sea lapping against the dazzlingly white sand on which I lay basked in sun should have made for a serene relaxing afternoon on Saturday in Destin. However, it was gnawing away in my head. Not getting the triple century clocked up into Vicksburg due to the broken hub had been the source of small, but growing irritation, and let's face it, I'd had plenty of time to think about it over the previous few days.

I didn't want the trip just to fade out into the series of mediocre length stages I'd planned. I really wanted to try and put a marker in the sand, to try to see just what I was capable of and where the past two months had got me. I had penciled in four days to get, via Tallahassee, to Silver Springs. But I could do that in three, I thought. Could I do it in two, though? Over three hundred miles in two days? Yeah, I'd take that as a more than adequate marker.

The roads were flat, the wind was forecast to be a 15 mph tailwind, I was rested, massaged and very well fed. It would still be an enormous ask but if you don't try...

PART 1
Day 71, Stage 48 - Destin to Perry 189 miles in 11hrs 50mins (numerous muffin and juice stops again)

Total distance - 4,267 miles

There was a light breeze pushing me along the early, smooth and quiet miles during which I veered with glee into the mist of the morning sprinklers until mile 10 when my first cycling 'prey' since Albuquerque, 1,500 miles ago turned onto the road a few hundred yards ahead. This guy looked serious, but catchable at a push, which he was after a couple of tough miles. I think he (Steve) felt less surprised and hurt when I explained just how far I'd ridden to get into his
slipstream. We raced along, my legs burning, until I thankfully turned off the highway 98 to take the bridge across the unpronounceable Choctawhatchee Bay (I think I spent about the next 10 miles trying work it out and am still probably wrong).

I turned onto highway 20, the sign read 116 miles to Tallahassee, I was looking at going well beyond that. So then, I switched off.....out of self preservation I had to. A few times during the early miles up to that sign I'd momentarily thought about what I was looking at attempting in day and I actually couldn't quite cope with the scale of it. So, for the next five hours up til I stopped at another garage after 115 miles I put myself in an almost trance, just staring at the road, turning the pedals and not thinking. Take me back to those roads and I'm sure I wouldn't recognize any of them. However, I was snapped out of the trance as I sat looking round the garage. This place looks familiar, I was thinking to myself - an awful lot like the garage where Top Gear had their infamous decorated cars incident. It probably wasn't, but I was dressed in Lycra, was not 'from round there' so wasn't sticking around to investigate.

It was well above 90F, and had been since the early morning. The air was still with the promised tailwind having seemingly wilted in the early morning heat and, try as I might, I couldn't get back into my trance.

70, 60.
50. 47.
45.
42.

39.

Tortuous.

35,
30,

Straight, flat, dull roads
20,

19.5
18.7

'why hasn't it clouded over? It was forecast to cloud over'

15,
11.

Hellish

9, 7

'why do you do these things to yourself Fraser?'

6.4, 5.1, 4.8, 4, 2, traffic lights, junction

Mo, tel

When I finally collapsed gasping into the room just after 7pm the Weather Channel was showing 89F, but with a heat index (i.e. Humidity adjusted) of 97F, even at that late hour. I literally staggered into the Italian restaurant next door to refuel on a infusion of pasta and celebrate my achievement.

She was polite and very apologetic
'Sorry but we can't sell beer on a Sunday'

'Ah cr@p!

PART 2

Day 72, Stage 49 - Perry to Silver Springs
125 miles in 8hrs 40mins (muffins & juice again and the first packet of salt & vinegar crisps I've seen all trip - a joyous moment)
Total distance - 4,392 miles
I was tired, but not as much as I expected to be. Thankfully it was to be a shorter day today with a mere 120+ miles and a tailwind forecast again. Yeah, a short day I was telling myself. Nope, I didn't really believe it. The first 40 miles into Cross City were memorable only for my first sight of one of the ferrel pigs you lot in Seattle were warning me about.

Another 20 miles on a converted railway track (see pic) gave me about my only shade of the two days and took me to the halfway point for the day. Here I accidentally purchased my second bottle of diet juice of the whole trip (the first error had been just three hours earlier).

I pressed on, the NW'erly tailwind hadn't arrived and was threatening to turn into a NNE'erly. I was struggling and craving salt so you can only imagine my joy when the tiny garage I stopped in next had a large bag salt & vinegar crisps on the shelf. I instantly opened the bag, scrunched the bag to a pulp, and almost drank the dry salty chips. It was enough to get me to painful last 20 miles to the Silver Springs Campsite.

20 hrs 30 mins in the saddle over two days posting a total of 314 miles. The sand was well and truly marked...and the gnawing had stopped...

...But, little did I know it, the toughest challenge had just begun.

I was showered, the tent was pitched my dinner was cooked and eaten. I was going to sleep, lots. The mosquitoes were out and while they were easily the worst I've experienced, they weren't a patch on a normal midge-filled night in the Highlands of Scotland. They were getting worse so I retreated into the tent, zipped it up, and then torture began. The tent isn't the best for condensation and letting in fresh air but in the 85F saturated air, with my metabolism running a touch below a nuclear furnace, it was absolutely suffocating - I think I know what it's like to be a boil in the bag meal. The sweat was pouring off me and within 15 mins, there was a sizable pool of water collected along the edge of the tent. Opening the zip to let in 'fresh' air, just let in a cloud of bugs to feast off me. For the first time since the first hot day out of Ferndale, California, I was facing something that I wasn't sure I could get through. This was tougher than anything I'd faced all trip. No, seriously!

I poured the water out the tent semi-chuckling at the old sleeping-hand-in-lukewarm-water trick that I knew I was going to play on my self if I wasn't careful. I couldn't take it so I dressed and paced around outside for about an hour waving the mozzies away, then realised I'd stopped sweating. Totally stopped sweating - not good. So I poured litres of water over and into me then tried again to sleep. Melted again. Paced around again, listening to the drone of the small creatures in the forest and the occasional crash and grunt of some of the bigger ones. Then I heard the snort of something that sounded very big - I definitely wasn't sleeping, especially as I'd not taken any real 'bear care' in cooking and storing my food as I'd not realised I was anywhere near their territory. A quick check on the web and I found I was. I'd ditched the bear spray in Arizona so was suddenly very worried. Perhaps a hasty move

The temperature slowly dropped and I finally passed out at 5am before waking before 9am as the sun began to cook me in my little green nylon bubble.

The rat was no more.

Effing bears here, I've just discovered

Sent from my iPhone

Too humid - iPhone screen playing up

125 miles doNe rest tomorrow proper post then

Sent from my iPhone

Turning the nitrous switch to 'on'

So much in sports is all about statistics and records so, no photo today, little in the way of words, I'm just going to let the numbers below do the talking - and they're going to have to cause I ain't got any energy left to.

Day 71, Stage 48 - Destin to Perry
189 miles in 11hrs 50 mins
Total distance - 4,267 miles

Feed me!

Day 70 - Relaxation day
I'm off for a massage then out to the beach but before I do I thought I'd post this 'cure' I found for my Tourette's during the 'dull' day in Eastern Arizona.

State, of play

Day 69, Stage 47 - Mobile to Destin
122 miles in 8hrs 45mins (just muffin, juice and water stops again)
Total distance - 4,078 miles
I didn't realise how much I'd missed being beside the water until I saw Mobile Bay yesterday. So, with the forecast being for a tasty tailwind I had drawn up a new route last night to take me down and along the Gulf coast.

The day started off with a far-from-picturesque few miles through the Mobile dockyards, breathing copious amounts of oil fumes as I looped north to take the bridge over the bay (a certain Mark Beaumont kindly checked out the route for me last year and discovered the other main routes across the bay on the maps are tunnels). Moored in the middle of the bay is the US Alabama which I stopped to take a pic of, but then quickly got going again as I caught site of a large pair of reptilian eyes and nostrils in the water ahead of me - my first, and I hope last, gator of the trip. The wind had already arrived and I sped along the road a mere 3ft above the water
(though the gps was saying 93ft) until reaching Spanish Fort on the far side of the bay. By then the sweat was already pouring off me as the temperature and humidity were continuing to climb. Thankfully, the wind was more cooling than I expected as the miles ticked up to hit 4,000 around the village of Seminole before the next, more meaningful milestone a few miles later as I left the Alabamians behind (Alabammers would be a considerably more fun name!) and crossed the state line into Florida emblazoned with an enormous grin - that 'home-straight' feeling is certainly beginning to grow.

A loop round Pensecola took me to a nervy four mile bridge crossing to Gulf Breeze which was certainly living up to it's name. Thankfully the breeze was blowing almost straight along the coast, precisely the way I was going. Here I made one of the best decisions of the trip as,
rather than continue on the Highway 98, I took the 399 onto the Santa Rosa Island sand bar. This was an awesome smooth, ultra-fast, quiet road which the pic only partially captures. It was the light that was perhaps most impressive as the sun reflecting off the narrow band of white sand stretching out miles ahead gave the sky a delicate but definite glow where I was heading. I even enjoyed the continual dive-bombing that the local sea-birds were doing to me as I raced past (well, I enjoyed their diving, I was less keen on the 'bombing' they were doing). One of the most surreal things about this place was the broken bits of tarmac scattered around the beach from the last time a storm surge engulfed this place. And in a way that added to the beauty of the place. While I'd seen plenty of places where the ocean was eating away at the coast on my way down the Pacific Highway, there was at least the knowledge that all that will happen there with the advancing waters of global warming is that another few dozen yards of land will fall into the ocean, still leaving a cliff, or headland of some sort. However, down here, with nothing much more than 20ft above the sea, it's all just going to vanish.

Unfortunately this road then ran out sending me back onto the Highway 98, which is apparently known round here as the 'Red Road', and that ain't because of the political hue of the Florida Panhandle which it passes through. I'll be leaving it very soon along the next stage.

Arriving in Destin I headed for the Henderson campsite only to pass the 'twice voted the US' best state campsite' sign - It was full so have ended up in one of the local hotels.

Its so appealing here I've changed my plans to take a rest day here which is much required after today's long, hot day.

Welcome to my world

Straight & Narrow

Day 68, Stage 46 - Hattiesburg to Mobile
98 miles in 6hrs 10mins (just muffins & juice stops again)
Total distance - 3,956 miles
So much for the early start I'd planned this morning to beat the heat. I had no real right to be tired today after yesterday's short stage but I definitely was so the 6.15 alarm was switched off, and again, and again until I finally surfaced at 8.30 to get on the road at 9.15. It was already hot but I'd pumped up the tyres last night to rock-like pressures and the wind was essentially behind me. While things weren't likely to be easy, they should at least be quick.

And they were, helped yet again by the playlist of tunes I've programmed into the iPhone. In hindsight I perhaps shouldn't have put all up tempo tracks on playlist as, no matter how much I tell myself to take it easy, I can't help but pedal that little bit faster when the next tune comes on.

As for the scenery today, beside spotting the sign in the pic (which I was delighted to see, though perhaps not the wording), I honestly could have been cycling past 50 miles of fields filled with cancanning cows and I wouldn't have noticed as for most of the day I had to be totally focussed on riding along a narrow 6"-18" strip of grey between the 3" drop at the edge of the tarmac and the rutted grooves ground into the road at the side of the lanes. Mentally an extremely tiring ride. Things got even worse the minute the road crossed the state line into Alabama as the four lanes went down to two - I just pedalled on and hoped all the way down to Mobile docks and the rather ugly, but beatiful sight to me of no land on the horizon as I reached the Gulf of Mexico.

In the absence of seeing anything to write about today I thought I'd briefly write about the weather. I'd heard so many horror stories about the heat and humidity here I'd been quite worried. It was another 90F day and while the conditions are draining, I have to say I'm finding the cycling a lot more bearable than the ultra-dry heat of the east-coast desert stages.

One last point to ponder. How are people from Alabama known? Are they Alabammers, or is that just bin laden and his crew?

Take a look down the railtrack, from Miami to Canada (well almost)

Day 67, Stage 45 - Prentiss to Hattiesburg
43 miles in 3hrs 15 mins (only picture stops)
Total distance - 3,858 miles
A delightfully short stage today down the dead quiet converted old railway line into Hattiesburg with only a tortoise, some llama, donkeys and a couple of ostriches for company. If anything it was perhaps too short as it turned out to be mighty difficult to motivate myself for such a short trip but the lure of finding a laundry managed to drive me on.

Managed to track down a bike shop here (the Hattiesburg Bicycle Center) who very kindly retrued the rear wheel for free. Very much appreciated.

Looking forward to an early start tomorrow and a near on 100 mile run back to be beside water again as I head down the road to the Gulf of Mexico.

It's a sign...

Day 66, Stage 44 - Vicksburg to Prentiss
102 miles in 7hrs 50mins (incl. just muffins and juice stops once again)
Total distance - 3,815 miles
...all I was thinking was 'No it's not. Can I please get going?' I was being tag-teamed but more on that later.

Even when I set off at just after nine this morning the air already had a warm viscous feel to it. Not unpleasant but enough to mean that really pushing it was out the question.

Things weren't just physically draining but there was the mental drain of the logging trucks again, especially given the lack of any shoulder lane here which really wasn't fun. The bike was also worrying me as well as I wasn't entirely convinced the new rear wheel was the best built piece of kit. And after a pitiful 30 miles my fears were confirmed as it had already started to develop a slight wobble and by the time I stopped for muffins after 40 miles it was stuffed necessitating a lengthy rebuild. This time it wasn't Tourette's - for a very brief moment I was actually angry. I'm of the view that anger isn't a very useful emotion so I decided to channel it into aggression that I was going to take out on the pedals of the bike, driving them round and me down the the road. Which I did as I continued on repeatedly checking my mirror for what was on it's way down the road. But when I looked back ahead this time, while it was a straight road I was heading straight off it at 20 mph. My years of cycling have taught me that the best course of action is don't turn, don't panic and hit the brakes slowly. It was a heck of a rough ride but I came to a dusty and bumpy stop still on the bike which was surprisingly unscathed. I sheepishly got back on the tarmac which was a fantastically quick surface as it had recently been resurfaced. A few miles down the road I was held up at a one mile stretch that was down to one lane due to it being resurfaced. I was let through by the flagman at my end, but so was the traffic at the other end. Now I've unintentionally played chicken with a van many years ago. However, this time I could see it coming so I switched across into the tarred lane and cycled through the gloop which was slow-going but not half as slow-going as when the coating of tar on my tyres picked up a layer of stones, a lot of which are still there.

But it was the next one-lane section where the tragicomedy for the day unfolded. I was stopped by the flagman so was chatting to him when his colleague pulled up in a pickup.

"Have you seen a deer like this size before?" He asked waving a picture of him with a mounted stag's head.

A proud hunting man, I obviously reasoned. Fair enough. I'll be on my way soon enough once the flagman turns the sign.

"Tell me. Do you know Jesus?" He then asked. And, out of either amusement or Christian duty his friend wasn't turning that sign.

Don't get me wrong. He was a perfectly nice, well-meaning bloke but the, what felt like well over five minutes before the sign was finally turned was up there as one of the most mentally tortuous moments of the trip.

Bite, lip, resist, fish, barrel. Don't Fraser, just don't.

I didn't. Even despite the astonishingly misguided interpretation of the big bang theory that he gave. As I stood there I was half listening to him but also half listening to the tunes coming out of my unplugged earphones, desperately hoping that the next song it skipped to wasn't the Depeche Mode classic, 'Blasphemous Rumours'. As I finally rode on I was very nervously looking over my shoulder just on the slim chance he was going to try to prove his "are you ready to face god if you're run over on the rest of your cycle trip?" point.

On the topic of misguided messages. I spotted this one a couple of days ago outside one church. I was ending myself when I cycled past it.

I arrived in Monticello which I didn't much like the look of so decided to push on to clock up another century to the start of the Longleaf cycle track at Prentiss.

One small issue is that, with all the running around yesterday to get the new wheel, I didn't have time to do any laundry, and despite much searching I haven't been able to find one tonight. 'highly aromatic' is probably the best way to describe my room tonight.

M I S S I S S I'm a bit P'd off

Day 65 - Reflection day
Not much, but the triple century was the last real 'little' cycling milestone that I'd set myself on the trip so to have worked so hard at it only for the bike to stop me short has made for a slight air of disappointment today. Still, trying to stay positive I managed to get a new wheel today in Jackson so I'm all set to go tomorrow morning and I also just found out that there's a 40+ mile cycle track that I'll be able to take on Wednesday which is something to look forward to.

The bike fixing has meant that I've had very little time today to see the town here which is a real shame as it looks an interesting part of the world with the ominous vast dark bulk of the Mississippi slowing gliding through and past the banks on which are filled with relics from the US Civil War (worringly some of the locals apparently still refer to it as 'the war of northern aggression'). All this is mixed together in the hot and oppressively humid air which is still almost too warm as I sitting out on the veranda of the excellent Bell of the Bends B&B having watched the sunset over the river and now listening to nature's white noise as the air fills with the calls of seemingly millions of unseen creatures.

Man vs Bike: 2-0 to me

Day 64, Stage 43 - Farmerville to Delhi
70 miles in 5hrs 25mins (incl. a few muffin stops and a couple of
miles of pushing)
Total Distance - 3,713 miles (yesterday's total was 10 too high)
It was in the bag. I felt considerably better this morning than yesterday. Still very sore but that 'Friday feeling' of it being the last stage before a rest day was going to get me through the day. The only thing that could stop me clocking up the triple century was some major mechanical issue, I thought as I rolled out across the bridge into the already warm and humid morning air. No, don't think that Fraser, I told myself. A slight headwind and the last of the rolling hills before hitting the flats of the delta plains made for a slowish start but after 35 miles I was muffined up and all set to rejoin the interstate for the 65 mile run onto Vicksburg on the east bank of the Mississippi. I'd barely got started though when the twang of metal fatigue rang through the air. A spoke finally going I assumed as, I'll be honest, I'd been quite amazed that said spokes had held up quite so well given the abuse I'd been putting them through, particularly in light of the numerous spoke breakages and wheel rebuilds the old machine had on the way down the pacific coast. So I'd expected these new lighter weight wheels to spit out spokes for fun, hence the large quantities of spares I was carrying. I jumped off the bike to survey the damage. The spokes were all ok but when I set off again there was a definite wobble. Surely not another frame. Nope, it was fine, but as you can see from the pic, the hub was far from so as those star bits should be attached to that round bit. Cr@p! I was sixty miles from Vicksburg, and six miles from the nearest exit. Could I still ride it though? Only three and a half of the six bits were broken so I might as well try. What was the worst that could happen? Well the other bits could suddenly shear off sending me headlong in front of a truck. So, I figured I might as well try. And I could ride it albeit not on the interstate as a state trooper stopped to inform me. It was five miles to the nearest small town on the side road so I rode on. It was now down to two out of four and the next town was a further 16 miles away. If you don't at least try you're bound to fail, I thought. It managed another 15 miles of gentle riding with me standing putting as much weight as possible of the front wheel before number five snapped. There was no point in carrying on on the one remaining as it was bound to fail in a few miles. There was no sign of any of the pickup trucks stopping that I tried to hitch a lift from as I pushed into the town of Delhi and reluctantly, but out of necessity, called a taxi to take me the final 35 miles of the stage out of Louisiana and across the Mississippi into state number twelve

The bad news didn't stop there though as the bike shop that I thought was here isn't any more. As a result I've got a number of options but the most appealing is looking to hire a car tomorrow and run into Jackson to try and pick up a new wheel there.

But on the bright side, I was due a rest day here and much, much more importantly it ain't 'dry' here, cause I need a drink.

Take me to your dealer

Day 63, Stage 42 - Hope to Farmerville
114 miles in 9hrs 40mins (incl. just several snack and juice stops)
Total Distance - 3,653 miles
I think I considerably underestimated the state of Arkansas - both how pleasantly scenic it would be but also how hilly that scenery would be. Not major hills at all but seemingly endless of those short 30-50ft rolling hills that are probably mostly too small to have registered on the mapping software I used when planning the trip. Much tougher than I expected.

I felt ok this morning, not great but I figured I'd feel better once I got the pedals spinning. But after about 10 miles things didn't improve, if anything they'd got worse and I was back to that feeling of heavy eyelids. The decline continued over the next few miles so I decided it was time for chemical stimulants for only the second time on the trip. Given the only other time I succumbed to caffeine was on the stage into Ferndale when I ended up violently sick I wasn't keen on taking this option but, today, drugs were 'necessary'. Therefore, a can of Red Bull would be purchased at the next shop I passed. And then started my search for a 'dealer' of said beverage. However there was nothing. Not a lack of Red Bull, a lack of shops. None until I reached the village of, eh, Village, after 50 miles. I was tired, hungry and for the first time since the 'dull' day through Eastern Arizona, I was worrying about whether I had enough daylight to get me where I was planning on going. Still, I was moving onto a more major road for the next 20+ miles into El Dorado so I expected a faster road. But it was anything but as the shoulder lane was rough, filled with gravel and slow. Halfway along I stopped to chat with a group of local cyclists - the first cyclists I've seen since leaving Albuquerque 1,000 miles ago! I pressed on past the city of El Dorado, sipping on Red Bull as I went onto yet another state line as I crossed into Louisiana and finally onto the city of Farmerville just before seven.

Now I just need to get some sleep then do it all again tomorrow as I try for a hat-trick of century rides.

I believe in a place called Hope

Day 62, Stage 41- Mena to Hope
110 miles in 8hrs 30mins (incl. two punctures but only a brief few
muffin stops)
Total Distance - 3,529 miles
It hadn't been a bad dream, it had really happened. I still couldn't believe it when I finally woke this morning. No beer! Understandably, I was happy to be moving on this morning, albeit a couple of hours later than planned - yesterday had obviously tired me out more than I thought.

It was near perfect conditions as I set out; around 25C with no wind and not a cloud in the sky, and things essentially stayed that way all day. Things weren't quite as quick as I was expecting as the stages was filled with a lot more 50-100ft climb/descent stints than I'd expected. It also included one totally unexpected wall-like 200ft climb into Umpire that almost became the first hill all trip to get me off my bike and pushing. But, with a struggle, I made it. Scenery-wise, it was just like being back in Washington again with quiet roads winding through trees, lots of trees, and where there's trees there's logging trucks. Lots of logging trucks.

The trees gave way to lush dairy pasture in the latter miles, which then gave way to caravans - thousands and thousands and thousands of FEMA caravans and mobile homes just outside Hope. Quite a surreal sight.

I finally arrived in Hope around six and headed straight for the various Bill Clinton houses and sights dotted around town. Love him or hate him you can't help but be amazed and inspired that he got where he did given how and where things started for him.

On a different topic, I was delighted to switch on the Weather Channel to discover that, after four weeks of chasing shadows, the Vortex 2 team today finally got themselves a major tornado to track. I think I must have been the only person watching for the past few weeks who's been wishing for them not to have anything to chase. But, now I'm out The Alley I'm more than happy if it all goes funnel-shaped.

Need to get myself some sleep now, I'm afraid, as another 110+ mile day on the cards...with a slight headwind...and 90F.

King of the Roads?

Day 61, Stage 40 - Talihina to Mena
64 miles in 7hrs 10 mins (with only snack stops)
Total Distance - 3,419miles
Today basically started well, then got better and better.

Firstly, apologies for the investment chat in the next bit but its been an important 'hobby' for me while I've been on the road. As with so many weekdays on the trip I awoke early and couldn't resist checking up on my Bloomberg app. to see how the little hedge fund (and I mean little!) that I've been keeping going since just before I left was doing. After two of it's poorest days in quite some time on Tues & Wed I was a touch worried. Today, though, was a very good day, taking it up through the 50% return on invested capital since it was 'founded' at the end of Feb (and for the finance folk amongst you, that's not just from playing the market rally as it's been broadly market neutral on a beta-adjusted basis - though, obviously cause it's been working it's become a bit net long so the long Sanofi position got trimmed down today - and yes, that's yet another Sanofi trade I've made money on Messers Gestrin and Baker). Excited and delighted I couldn't get back to sleep, especially given the stage that lay ahead.

Now back to the cycling - As I set off at nine, the clouds looked thicker than I expected, especially over the ridge I was heading for. Before leaving Talihina I got confirmed what I'd heard - there was no food or even water stops all the way along the stage until a dozen miles short of Mena. As a result the panniers were promptly filled with large quantities of juice, water and snacks making the bike the heaviest it's been since the 'death' stage out of Vegas to Kingman. But I was in no rush what-so-ever. Today way about enjoying the journey on what was to be my last day of big climbing for the trip with over 5,000ft vs the average 1,000ft days that lie ahead into Miami. I slowly covered the 9 miles to the start of the Talimena Scenic Byway and paused for a moment to take a few pics beside the 'Warning: Gradients of 13% Next 21 Miles' sign. This was going to be a challenging but fun day.

The road promptly went steeply upwards and I more than happily ground the gears round realizing that I was, perhaps strangely, really enjoying it. The road was empty with the first traffic I saw being a coyote trotting along a hundred yards up ahead. Then, a matter of seconds later, a roadrunner shot across the concrete into the trees. Couldn't have scripted it better. That was my only company for the first hour or so until I reached the first summit of the ridge when I was passed by two bikers just as the road dropped away as steeply as it had gone up which made for a 35-40mph two mile chase of the motorised wheels. I guessed they must have been surprised to see me still in their mirrors at the end of the descent and, when I bumped into them hours later, they confirmed they had been. That first taste of the ultra fast, steep and winding downhills had definitely been at the borderline of control and at the top of every descent for the rest of the day I had a feeling if nervous anticipation about what was down round the next corner, and more importantly, whether I could make it round it.

And this was the story of the day; insanely steep, but just ridable climbs (such as the pic), mad descents and a rolling road through the trees along the ridge complete with the pleasantly overwhelming aroma of the newly cut verge. The regular viewpoints dealt up spectacular views despite the still overcast skies and poor visibility. I was absolutely loving it and coasted along just enjoying the ride, in as little a rush as I've been all trip. More than once I found myself briefly wanting a puncture so the day would continue on for longer. The near solitude continued for hours as I looked on to see the vast expanse of trees with only what looked like the occasional brush stroke of grey through it that was the road ahead.

After five delightful hours I cycled across the state line out of Oklahoma into the tenth state of my trip, Arkansas before zipping down into the town of Mena

I was even asking myself the question; Is this the best road of the trip? I have to say it's definitely up there. And I imagine that on a cool, crisp early autumn morning when the colours on the endless views of trees are turning I think it would be top of my list. Somewhere that, without hesitation, I'd definitely come back to, but know that, in reality, I almost certainly won't. If you're ever in the area, though, take the detour.

On a different subject, though, I've just discovered I've made a gargantuan error in my planning. Having done my laundry and with three consecutive century days lying ahead I decided it was time to unleash the buffet ninja in me once more and just hope I don't have another 'Lemond moment' tomorrow. I walked into the Chinese restaurant and took a seat....

Waitress "Can I get you a drink sir?"
Me "Yes, a beer please"
Waitress "ah, what was that sir?"
Me "Just a beer of some sort please"
This brought nervous laughter from said waitress followed by "Eh, this is a dry county, sir"

Stunned, silence; feather, knock down

And I thought I'd been speechless when I saw the Grand Canyon! I know I was going slowly today but didn't realise I'd been going 'backwards'. I honestly didn't know that anywhere left in the civilised world that was 'dry'. I thought that whole experiment was pretty convincingly proved to be a failure about 80 years ago. All of a sudden I'm very suspicious of this place. And let's be honest we know why it's dry, and in my book any belief system that results in you not being able to have a beer is seriously suspect.

Looks like tomorrow I shall be setting off in search of an Ice Cold in Arkansas.

A beautiful day under skies of gray

Day 60, Stage 39 - Holdenville to Talihina
101 miles in 6hrs 50mins (incl. one non-Subway footlong sub - a poor imitation)
Total Distance - 3,355 miles
It was a restless night last night as the thunderstorms that started at 9pm continued to roll around til at least 4am depositing copious quantities of rain which wasn't falling quietly. The rain was still coming down heavily at 6am so I checked the radar loop on Weather Channel which suggested it would likely move on in an hour-or-so, but was being followed by another band of rain about 50 miles behind. I went back to sleep with the idea being to set off into the wedge of dryness when it passed overhead - if this plan worked I figured I'd have the right to feel suitably pleased with myself all day.

Setting off just before nine I could see the rain falling way up the road ahead and the clouds behind me looked like they weren't keen on staying airborne. But I was dry and I stayed that way through the first 25 miles through lush, damp green tree-lined fields. I pedalled on happily smug then realised that the cows in the field I'd just passed were all lying down, as were those in the next field, and the one after that. The dark clouds had almost caught me and the cows knew what was coming. But the road was turning to take me across and away from the rain if I was lucky (and fast enough). I was both and reached McAlester around noon where the inferior sub was consumed. The road then rolled on through more of the same green and pleasant land under heavy skies the morning had taken me through.

All day I had to continually avoid the innumerable armadillo remains yet again today but thankfully I actually saw some live wildlife crossing the road today including a deer, a tortoise (which I suspect may not have stayed live for much longer) and then, very much to my surprise and shock, a tarantula - or at least an enormous hairy spider, and another, and another. Four of the 10-12cm arachnids over the 60-80mile period.

The town of Talihina arrived after 96 miles just before 4pm as the light drizzle started falling so I sought out somewhere to stay. This proved more difficult than I expected. The first motel had the 'No Vacancies' sign up despite having only a couple of cars outside the ~15 rooms. So I decided to follow the 'downtown B&B' sign which took me down a road and out the town. Next option was the worrying looking place advertising rooms and showers on a mildew-coated sign. 'Ring the bell' it said on the door pointing to the two bits of painted wire. I knocked on the door then opened it expecting to find a front desk of some sort, but found a front room of some sort. I retreated quickly conscious of the fact that around these parts of the world they shoot first and ask questions later. With the gps suggesting the nearest place was some 19 miles away I decided to chance to luck and head further out of town and thankfully stumbled upon the Lazy R Inn almost an hour after I'd first rolled into town.

Forecast looking ideal for tomorrow's short-but-tough jaunt up and along the Talimena Scenic Drive - a stage I've been really looking forward to since I first drew up the plans for the trip.

And as for today's picture. It's just the humour of a biking scientist - apologies.

Stormschasing

Day 59, Stage 38 - Oklahoma City to Holdenville
86 miles in 6hrs 10mins (incl. only one quick bagel stop)
Total Distance - 3,254 miles
Mixed feelings this morning as I woke in time for another very early start. While I was delighted to be getting back on my way, especially on a route away from the interstate, I was more than a little worried by the weather forecast for today. A cold front was to move in today and the computerized voice from the Weather Channel last night had been going over in my mind warning of scattered thunderstorms, some with severe winds and hail. Now the definition of 'severe' in this part of the world is somewhat different from the UK - severe rain = several inches fin a couple of hours, severe winds = possible tornadoes and severe hail = golf ball to baseball sized. I was definitely nervous, especially when I set off just before seven and could see I was in the middle of a vast horseshoe of menacing looking clouds. There was nothing to do but pedal and hope. After about an hour the horseshoe had been left behind but one arm had curved round to move between me and the rising sun. The rain started to lightly drizzle down and I was expecting to get wet. Then, to my surprise, shards of sunlight started to cut through the cloud and quickly carved it out the sky. Looking round I guessed I had at least another couple of hours of dryness. So I pressed on, fighting, with the Garmin gps as I went - piece of ******* junk that it is. The clouds then started to gather ominously again, but this time the road turned to take me south-east into the sunshine instead of the wall of dark grey that headed off north. To make it even better, the headwind that I was expecting to strengthen during the day began to wane giving me a more than pleasant run into Holdenville. To be honest, I hadn't had particularly high expectations for the scenery on this part of the trip but it turned out much better than I expected - not it any way stunning but nice, lush, green, gently rolling, quiet roads.

Then came my dilema for the day. It was 1pm and I had just over 80 miles chalked up. I felt good and wanted to carry on for a few more hours. However, the next town of note was almost 50 miles down the road. While the skies looked good I couldn't be sure they'd stay that way for the 3-4 hours I'd need. So I reluctantly called an 'early' end to the day. And when the thunderstorm rolled in two hours later as I was devouring my last slice of pizza, I was pleased I had.

Speaking of good decisions, I was chuckling to myself about the sign in the pic. as does a storm shelter not become a septic tank as a tornado passes overhead?

Looking ahead for the rest of this leg I've got a tough five days tentatively pencilled in as I try to squeeze what was six stages into five taking me down to Vicksburg on the Mississippi. As a result I'm looking at hopefully doing centuries in four out of the next five stages, with the remaining day being a +5,000ft climbing day - tough. Good news is the weather is looking pretty good for the next week - warm, but with the exception of tomorrow, dry. And the best weather news is that tomorrow will take me out of the 'Vortex 2' tornado hunt region (the Weather Channel has blanket coverage of this V2 project), which I'm assuming is the area in which said spinning things are most likely to occur.

One other quick point is I've got to give a special mention to the folks at the Wheeler Dealer bike shop in Oklahoma City who took delivery of my broken Cannondale yesterday and gave me a lot of help in stripping it down and getting the parts boxed up and to the Post Office. Thanks again and best of luck with the expansion into the new shop folks.

I'm considerably less grateful to the assistant in the PO who told me I couldn't send then package cause it was 1" over the 108" (length + girth) size limit, especially as her colleague had already measured it at 107". Some vicious slashing and re-taping got it below the limit (even further) so it should be arriving back in Balerno in a couple of weeks.

Snack time

Day 58 - Waiting for FedEx
...so nothing to do round here but eat.

Nice weather, except for ducks

Day 57 - The 'burbs
90F, dry with a 20mph southerly has been ideal weather for a day of refuelling (though not for the little, lonely feathered creature in the pic). And I've been refuelling considerably with as much food as possible. Speaking of bulking up, I finally found a set of scales for the first time since I set off and I'm down 7kg (1stone) to bang on 14 stone. I must be honest, I'd have thought it would have been down a bit more than that. None-the-less it's the lightest I've been in about 10 years and the 7kg doesn't take account of the fat-to-muscle weight transfer that's bound to have happened. As an aside, my BMI is now a fraction under 25, meaning I'm just below being classified 'overweight', apparently. Does the BMI scale really have a shred of credibility left? Hmm, I think not.

Pedalling up the off ramp

Day 56, Stage 37 - Weatherford to Oklahoma City
66 miles in 4hrs 35mins (incl. half a foot of Sub and muffin stop)
Total Distance - 3,168 miles
I'm tired.

Some 560 miles in six days has left me even more in need of a rest that this little feline I passed on the way to dinner this evening.

Mentally it was definitely a much tougher day than the stats suggest as I had an ongoing battle to stop myself from switching off early, thinking this 900 miles along and on the interstate was at an end. It was, finally, after a fast 45 miles as I took the exit ramp off the I40, almost four weeks since I first passed the start of it way back in Barstow, California.

Meanwhile, I'm sure the humble armadillo must be becoming an endangered species in these parts as there were even more of the poor critters squashed on the road today leading to a disturbing aroma of death to linger in the hot and humid air. It's an unpleasant enough smell at the best of times but when your gasping for breath pushing the pedals round...yeah, you can imagine.

I've managed to track down the bike shop where my broken machine should have been but, alas it's still in the FedEx depot here in Oklahoma City, due to get delivered on Monday which means two days rest here - which I was planning. However, it's two days out in the northern suburbs - which I wasn't planning.

Still, I'm sure I'll find some place where I can sit in the sun.

Oklahoma!

Day 55, Stage 36 - Shamrock to Weatherford
101 miles in 7hrs 5mins (incl. two short snack stops)
Total Distance - 3,102 miles
(Damn mail just crashed when I was about to send this so apologies for the short blog today).

It was another day of flat roads under blue skies with the temperature just the right side of too hot.

I was 170 miles from Oklahoma city when I set off from Shamrock early this morning and I was thinking that, if the wind turned my way, then I might just be able to get there in one long stint.

The first two hours to my morning pizza at Sayre, after 36 miles, went well bringing me into Oklahoma, the ninth state of the trip. Here I stumbled across the sculpture in the pic. Apparently it represents 'the spirit of the wild west'. And who says the Americans can't do art?! The next stop was the 'official' Route 66 museum at Elk City (as opposed to the dozen-or-so unofficial ones I've seen along the road). Here I bought what, I've just realised, is my first trinket of the trip; a Route 66 wristband - it's all about the weight.

As I left Elk City I realised the wind had turned, but had turned the wrong way as it was a NE'erly and I was heading east. Ok City was not going to happen so I continued a forgettable 40miles down the interstate to stop next to the legendary, but frankly disappointing, Lucille's diner (the 'mother of the mother road').

In the meantime, armadillo has come from nowhere to top the unofficial roadkill tally that I've been mentally keeping. The list is something like; 1) armadillo, 2) cat, 3) skunk, 4) snake, 5) coyote, 6) tortoise, 7) deer, 8) squirrel, 9) dog . Well, I did say things have been a bit boring as of late!

Forecast looking good for tomorrow's short 65 mile stint into OC where my broken Cannondale should be waiting for me in one if the local bike shops to see if it can be warrantied. Here's hoping.

Plain Sailing

Day 54, Stage 35 - Amarillo to Shamrock
91 miles in 6hrs 10mins (incl. two muffin, Nesquik & Doritos stops)
Total Distance - 3,001 miles (I think, network stuffed again so can't check yesterday's total)
It's flat round here. Very, very flat.

It turned out that yesterday's six hour sprint had left me more tired this morning than I thought I'd be (though it might also have had something to do with that extra stein of the local brew).

Conditions were perfect (25C, clear skies and only a light northerly wind) as I set out at 10.30 with no real idea where I was going to finish tonight. It was just going to be one of those days of spinning the pedals, seeing how I felt and how far I got.

There really was absolutely nothing of note for pretty much the whole day on a practically straight road. Just the occasional little windpump, numerous vast grain stores, and cows, cows and more cows. Not an unpleasant part of the world at all, especially given the weather, but not exactly inspiring either.

Today's stage also saw my altitude descent of recent days continue as I dropped a further 1,200ft to 2,300ft into the thicker air by the time I stopped in the town of Shamrock, 10 miles short of the Oklahoma state line. And the air's thicker in more ways than one as the humidity is notably creeping up. It's at a fairly pleasant level now compared to the harsh, desiccating high desert air but it's likely to be the next big challenge I'll face as I head off further into the deep south in a few days.

With little else of note today I thought I'd briefly touch on the campervan culture here. The size of some of these machines are really astonishing and I reckon nothing else I've seen symbolizes the stereotype of American over-consumption as these things. While I'm used to seeing them now, it took me at least a month before I stopped thinking they were tour buses coming along the road until I saw the boat/golf buggy, 4x4 being towed along on the back. What I still haven't got used to, though, are some of the names for these vehicles; Explorer - fine, Dolphin - a bit weird, but ok, and of course Winnebago. However, 'Cougar' is a little puzzling but not half as worrying as 'Prowler' or, worse still, 'Intruder'. Or is it just in my mind that those are disturbing?

Mr Kaye got it wrong

Day 53, Stage 34 - San Jon to Amarillo
102 miles in 6hrs 59mins (incl. pancakes at halfway house)
Total Distance - 2,910 miles
It wasn't til about 40 miles down the road today that it dawned on me that what had woken me at five this morning had been someone trying to get into my motel room. With no car parked outside the guy walking around the car park looking in the bins had, obviously, also been trying the room doors. Well, the noise had woken me only 5 mins before my alarm was due to go off as I got up in time to set off at 6.06am in the hope of reaching Amarillo, 95 miles down the road, before 1pm when the Man U vs Barca game was kicking off. It was a big ask but I was feeling confident (about the trip, not the game).

After three hours on the road, having crossed into Texas, I took the slip road off into Adrian in search of the numerically-significant mid-point cafe where today's pic was taken. The best pancakes of the trip (and possibly even best welcome) set me up well for the 50 miles into Amarillo. This stint was quicker than I thought it would be as, for the first time all trip, the wind forecast was wrong in my favour being NNW instead of the forecast NNE. While it sounds a trivial difference, as I was heading due east it was enough to add a significant few mph to my speed.

I hit the east of Amarillo after 82 miles at 11.50, in plenty of time to find a motel before the game started. And then the problems started - after 8 miles and 40 mins of cycling round the downtown city centre and I hadn't seen a single motel/hotel and only a handful of bars. Now I challenge anyone to show me a town where you can travel that far without finding suitable, or any, lodging. More like 'Show me the way IN Amarillo', Peter. I decided to head for the legendary Big Texan inn on the far side of town, home of the '72oz eat it all and get it for free' steak. I finally found it just after one and it was showing the football, though I now wish it hadn't been. I opted for the 21oz steak which was more than ample for me but I'm about to pop back in for dinner and watch the challengers take on the beast (there's a webcam of it as well which is actually more compulsive viewing than it sounds).

There's a reality tv film crew here at the restaurant filming a Route 66 roadtrip mockumentary. It's been amusing talking to the tv crew telling them that I'm cycling most of what they're filming.

One very good point raised on the menu here though - who the hell tried the first mountain oyster?

Meanwhile, I'm feeling good and the weather, wind and topography are all looking promising for tomorrow. I've got that calm excited feeling I had on the beach at Santa Monica again.

66, a highway speaks...

Day 52, Stage - Santa Rosa to San Jon
84 miles in 5hrs 35mins (no punctures and only a v. quick food stop)
Total Distance - 2,808 miles
With a cold front due in this afternoon bringing with it some likely significant storms there was no way I was letting sleep win the argument as the alarm went off at 6am this morning. Last night the folk on the Weather Channel had even been getting excited that their 'TorCon' readings were going to be climbing from their recent unusual lows. Now I had no idea what 'TorCon' was until I got here, but I know now, it's tornadic conditions, and given it's the height of tornado season and I'm just about to go into 'The Alley', it's something I really need to know. So at 7.30 I set off with only the faintest clouds on the horizon from where the front was coming in.

Despite expecting to spend most if the day on the interstate I was delighted to find that Route 66 was in a good enough state to ride along for well over half of today's 80 miles. While it's undoubtedly a driving road rather than a cycling one, I'm actually finding it an interesting and fairly emotive road to be on. So many of the places that are still open on it try, desperately to cling to the nostalgia of the 50's good times of motoring. However, the really striking thing to me is just how much utter desolation can be seen at so many of the small communities (even some of the bigger towns) along the way that the interstate now avoids. Lots of these places have just been wiped out, completely abandoned, leaving only silent, crumbling walls, such as the place in the pic. It's not hard to understand why, though, given that on one of the stretches of 66 I was on today I rode along for 15 miles without a single car passing me in either direction. I guess that, in a way, it also shows what's partly great about this country - people don't linger around waiting and hoping for things to get better, they get up, go somewhere else and try and make things better for themselves. A very admirable attitude.

As I trundled along the last two miles into San Jon (speaking of dying towns) it was only one o'clock and the temptation to continue on twenty miles or so further down the road was definitely there. The clouds were gathering but the storms were still some way behind me, though. A piece of dried grass blew up into the air just off to my left ...

...then it was suddenly joined by much bigger bits of vegetation and they started spinning, fast around me. I slammed on the brakes and jumped off the bike which was getting buffeted violently under me. For one brief moment I panicked as it dawned on me that I'd been closely watching every storm and cloud around me but not the one right above me. I very nervously looked up with a horrible feeling that I was about to see a grey finger of cloud coming out the sky pointing at me. Thankfully not, and I watched the rotating collection of plant life move on into a field. It had made my mind up for me - I was finding a motel there and then! And as I sit here listening to the wind, rain and thunder getting stronger, I'm delighted I did. However the storms are playing havoc with the tv reception so I've currently got the choice of some shopping channels, God Channels or The Cattle Channel. I didn't appreciate how much there was to know about our bovine friends.

Looking to tomorrow, another early start tomorrow in the hope of finishing in time to watch the Champions League final at 1 o'clock.

iPhone still stuffed at the moment so no signal or wifi working. Hence
the delaying in posting these.

Bridging the gap

Day 51, Stage 32 - Albuquerque to Santa Rosa
114 miles in 6hrs 35 mins (incl. guess, what? Yup, another foot of Subway and one slow puncture at the end of the day)
Total distance - 2,724 miles
Well, I'm back on track, in more ways than one.

Last night I was both nervous and excited ahead of this stage. Nervous principally because there appeared to be nothing on the route between Clines Corner at the 50 mile mark and Santa Rosa at over 110 miles. But there was excitement as well as the forecast was looking perfect - dry, 25C, and with a tailwind. The topography also looked good on my last day of big climbs before hitting the flat open expanses of Texas and Oklahoma with a 2,000ft climb in the early miles before a gradual, +2000ft descent over the last 60 miles.

Yet again, sleep won the argument with the alarm this morning so the day started two hours later than I'd planned. I set off in the sunshine, filled with muffins on the 2,000ft climb up to just over 7,000ft again, savouring the moment as I knew it would be the last time on the trip I would be up at these altitudes in the thin air. The route then took me quickly down into Motiarty where I turned onto what, on the map at least, looked like a near enough dead straight 75 mile stretch of interstate - a stint I hadn't been looking forward to. It turned out to be a lot more interesting than it looked, but still only one photo moment today (that's only 4 in 450 miles!)

Heading out along this straight, on the climb up to Clines, I saw my first bit of tumbleweed which skipped across the highway and came worryingly close to lodging in my back spokes. At Clines, yet another Subway was consumed. I've lost count of how many that is now.

Knowing it was all downhill from there and with the wind at my back I was trying to estimate how long I thought it would take me to cover the 58 miles into Santa Rosa. It was twenty past one so I thought, optimistically, just before five would be good going. Wrong again Fraser. The first hour took me 24.5 miles down the road, and I just kept pushing along. After an hour and a half I realised that a sub two-hour half century could be on the cards if I upped the pace. It was a struggle, especially when the back tyre started squirming on it's way down (very slowly) again. It would survive though, and the 50 miles clocked over at 1hr 57mins 24secs. Now admittedly that was with a 10 mph tailwind and a descent of 1,800ft, so not a 'true' half-century time but it was also on a fully-laden machine, so I'm taking it.

I arrived into Santa Rosa at 3.30pm and, after a near on two week 'detour' because of my broken bike, I've finally bridged the gap and rejoined my original route.

Speaking of bridges, and in the absence of anything worth snapping today, here's a pic from the Natural Bridges National Park I visited last week. It's big - those are fully grown trees underneath it.

Coasting along under your own steam

...and just briefly following on on the Lemond story yesterday, I
stumbled across this forum. Definitely one for cyclists with a
schoolboy sense of humour.
Me? it had me near ending myself.

http://www.bikeforums.net/archive/index.php/t-40291.html.

Rest day Subway

Day 50 - Rest day
Just discovered there's an even bigger option than the Footlong Subway
sandwiches.

Delighted.

If you pedal without rhythm, you won't attract the worm

Day 49, Stage 31 - Grants to Albuquerque
83 miles in 7hrs 45mins (incl. no food stops, 2 punctures and one unplanned cow-herding detour)
With it being the memorial day holiday weekend over here I thought it best I set off bright and early this morning in case the motels all filled up. So, at 6.30am my alarm went off, and then went off, until half an hour later when it went off again, then off. This cycle continued until 9.20am when I finally dragged myself out of bed still exhausted and really feeling the muscular effects from pushing into the headwind all yesterday. I finally set out onto Route 66 at 10.30 bathed in sunshine but with ominous clouds gathering around.

It was a real struggle to keep my eyes open in those early miles but after a few miles the road began to wind and roll and the scenery began to actually be worth looking at for the first time since leaving Flagstaff on Wednesday. In fact it was really quite interesting as the road went along a bed of a broken and twisted lava field.

Then, in the distance I could see the clouds begin to fall to earth. Little did I know it but the fun for the day had begun. Unlike the past three days when the road had frequently turned to send me straight into the path of storms today I could see that, judging by the wind and road direction, if I was fast enough I could avoid these ones. And I'm not talking about a sprint of a mile or two. This marvellous game continued driving me on for some thirty miles almost non-stop, during which time I had the fun dilemma of either stopping for breakfast or staying dry. I chose dry and was repeatedly spurred on by looking round to see the road I'd just come along be engulfed in sheets of grey.

Though one irritation during this chase came when I passed a 40 miles to Albuquerque sign, then 6 miles later I caught sight of a sign on the interstate boldly stating 'Albuquerque 40 miles'. Not particularly amused. Now six miles may be a fairly trivial distance in a car but on a bike that sort of difference matters.

Then the day all got a bit farcically comical as all of a sudden I realised that I was in serious danger of having an incident similar to Greg Lemond's infamous Tour de France moment. And I'm not talking about his 8 second victory over Laurent Fignon, it's probably his next most well known Tour moment. I won't elaborate here but suffice to say no-one wanted to ride behind him after it. Basically while last night's buffet had disappeared remarkably quickly it was now making a bid to reappear at an even quicker rate. The gps showed a reasonable sized settlement a couple of miles up the road and I figured I'd be able to make it that far. I did, but once there I found it was an Indian reservation that was not particularly keen on encouraging outsiders with a sign asking 'No Cameras. No tape recording. No filming', I think even something like 'Please do not speak to the residents unless necessary'. I respected every one of those requests but perhaps didn't quite respect the surrounding environment as I pedalled down a dead quiet road seeking a secluded spot. I found one, with about 8 seconds to spare.

I got back on the bike and with the appropriate pill out the first aid kit having been consumed and continued down the 'road' which then deteriorated into a near dust track lined with cattle who didn't seem to take too well to my presence running en masse down the road ahead of me for half a mile. Rather than continue down this track I figured trying to join the interstate would be the best option so I decided to head up the the next road the gps was showing. This one was even worse, just a rough dirt track (see pic). Still, it gave me a chance to test out how good a cyclocross bike the new machine is. Not too bad actually. Then, the surface deteriorated further into a strange, dry but sticky mud which collected on the tyres, spun round under the mudguards to jam the wheels. Pedalling through this was near impossible as I became, quite literally, stuck in the mud. After frequent stops to unclog things I eventually made the steep climb up the embankment onto the interstate, probably much to the bemusement of those passing. It was a great smooth road surface and I sped along until I realised why it was so good as the roadworks signs appeared and the two lanes plus an 8ft wide shoulder lane for me quickly became one lane and about a 16"-20" lane for me. The traffic, including the trucks persistently droned past at about 50 while I pedalled straight on furiously; mercifully grateful for the fact that the handling of the new bike is about as quick as to make the erosion of the pyramids seem like it's happening at pace so staying on that narrow strip of grey was a lot easier and less stressful than it sounds. Still, there was a definite sigh of relief when 'my lane' reappeared after some 6 miles.

With 30 miles to go I could see another large storm was breaking just behind me to my right - this one would be with me until the end of the day as I went through the a fantastic game of cat and mouse with it as the light rain would just catch me on the long climbs but I'd be able to speed on and punch through into dryness on the descents. I'd managed to build up a good lead ahead of the final long climb but then came my first puncture. A pretty manic quick tube change and I was off on a lactic-acid-burn-filled 'sprint' up the remainder of the climb and onto the long, downhill run into Albuquerque. My lead was down to almost nothing but I felt confident in victory, until puncture two came along. Another rapid change was just not quick enough as the rain began to fall meaningfully as I was putting the wheel back in the frame. To be honest, I didn't really mind, I felt that the storm had earned the right to rain on me. Then, what had been a wall of rain only minutes previously suddenly stopped after only a couple of miles. My rain gear could just as well have stayed in the bag, but I didn't care either way.

It was a fast descent into the city of Albuquerque and through the Downtown district where I planned to stay for the night. However, I saw little in the way of what looked civilised civilisation to me so I pressed on up the hill towards the university district which looks like it's a good place for tomorrow's rest day, particularly cause I found another microbrewery just nearby.

...and if you're wondering about the title - Dune - I am in the desert after all.