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.

It's all downhill from here :)

Day 48, Stage 30 - Gallup to Grants
68 miles in 8hrs 45mins (incl. another Subway stop, one food stop where the pic was taken and NO PUNCTURES!!!)
Total distance - 2,521 miles
After yesterday's hellishly frustrating and boring day, surely today couldn't be any worse.

Well, to start with it did try. Having 'lost' an hour having crossed into New Mexico and with fixing the punctured tubes this morning it wasn't until shortly before 11am that I set out on the wet roads in full wet kit again. After yesterday's wind forecast having turned out to be a NNE headwind instead of the SSW forecast tailwind I was hoping that today's might be wrong as well and not be delivering the 5-10mph SE headwind that was forecast. It was wrong again, probably nearer 15mph but definitely SE'erly. I was very wet even after only 7 miles when I stopped for a morning Subway. Thankfully the rain eased up during that time but when I got back outside I realised I was cold. It was only 10C excluding the wind-chill. I thought this was meant to be the desert and am beginning to think I may have been a bit premature in sending home so much of my warm weather kit last week. The relentless headwind combined with a gradual 800ft climb on rough road surfaces made for a painfully slow 30 miles up to the continental divide - taking me nigh on 4 hours. Crossing this 'tipping point' gave me a real lift, which I was really in need of given the past few days. Then came the 'descent' which felt like anything but with the wind continuing to claw at me and the final 8 miles were a full out 12mph 'sprint' to get to the motel before the the downpour that was racing towards me reached it. I made it by only a couple of minutes, but my legs are paying for it now.

As for the scenery today, it was a touch better than yesterday but I think I've only taken about 3 or 4 pictures since I left Flagstaff on Wednesday and I now understand why the US Government chose Los Alamos for doing so much of it's nuclear testing. I also think that they, perhaps, should have used a bigger bomb.

Regarding the new bike, I did get your comment, Pete, asking about it. Well It's a Specialized Tricross Comp. I'll give a more detailed review once I've done a few more miles on it but my first impressions are - I really miss my Cannondale!

On a brighter note I was ecstatic to see a large 'Asian Buffet' sign next to the motel. $9.95 for eat all you can which was just what I needed. Now I may have looked fairly slim and healthy when I walked in but little did they know my capacity for the stealthy destruction of the buffet bar. I am The Ninja Buffet Eater!

Dragging me down

Day 47, Stage 29 - Holbrook to Gallup
92 miles in 9hrs 45 mins (incl. a new record 4 punctures and one power
cut delayed lunch)
Total distance - 2,453 miles
Dull, dull, dull, dull, dull, puncture, dull, dull, rain, dull, dull, another puncture, dull, dull, power cut closing Subway shop, another rainstorm, cafe also closed for same reason, wet, dull, not another effing puncture, dull, dull, windy, dull, that tyre is bl00dy going flat again, dull, dull, dead coyote, dull, dull, cool a gopher-like creature, dull, dull, the state line, not quite so dull, rain again, chased by mangey dogs, that mileage sign was obviously wrong, dull and wet, finally arrived, very mediocre dinner.

I've done enough endurance events to know that it's not unusual to go through low points during them. But today's real low, 25 miles in (from which I've still not recovered), when I stopped to put my full rain gear on and realised that both wheels were well on their way down left me seriously contemplating either just sitting by the side of the road or riding on and potentially taking the train on to miss out this puncture-filled interstate hell through a frankly depressing part of the world, in my view.

There's a big ongoing discussion over here as to where to send the Gitmo detainees if Obama gets his way and closes it. I say send them to Eastern Arizona, though it could well be classified as torture. I am never, ever going to come back here and, you're probably not surprised to hear there was absolutely nothing worth taking a pic of today so, on the topic of crossing state lines, here's a snap from Monday's visit to the Four Corners site.

Oh, and you may have noticed that the tag line at the top of the blog has been changed, thanks to Mr Slater and also Bill who read my article in the Currie & Balerno News for pointing this out.

Trying to finish on some sort of a bright spot, I've just realised that, today I went through the halfway mark for the revised trip.

Riding with devils

Day 46, Stage 28 - Flagstaff to Holbrook
94 miles in 7hrs 45mins (incl. 3 punctures, another 12" of Subway and some unplanned, self-inflicted resistance training)
Total Distance - 2,361 miles
After a week of an enforced break it was time to load up the new bike, get on the road again and hope both it and I held together.

It was a pleasant sunny 20C when I set out towards this morning's puncture which was particularly early and explosive as after only 8 miles the rear wheel let go. Once fixed I turned down the ramp to rejoin the I40 interstate which is to be my home for next, I hate to think how long but I reckon about 1,000 miles. Now I'm sure any sports psychologist will tell me that's completely the wrong attitude to start this leg of the journey with but when the guidebook has one of the highlights of today's stage being a billboard of a jackrabbit then you can probably understand why I not exactly looking forward to this part.

The sky rapidly started to cloud over and I could see the storms breaking out all around me. I knew it was a matter of time before I needed my rain jacket for the first time since I left Oregon and around 35 miles I could see my luck was about to run out as I looked down the road to see a storm had developed ahead of me. And this was no ordinary storm as the clouds were the same shade of orange as I'd seen at Mexican Hat on Monday. I was on my way to a meeting with a duststorm. As I got closer I realised that the streaks in the sky weren't just rain going downwards. The storm front was filled with about four or five mini-tornados, or dust devils as I think they're know in this part of the world. They weren't small either reaching some hundreds of feet onto the sky. Two of them stood out, one disturbingly large one off a quarter of a mile or so to the left of the highway and the tallest and next biggest off to the right. As I got closer the one to the left was clearly heading off away from me, the other one, however, was neither moving left nor right, it was just getting bigger.

Despite having never seen one of these before, like many people, I have a strange attraction to these cyclonic entities but it's coupled with a healthy dose respect, and fear. As I rode on, it continued to get bigger and closer. About 100 yards away, with the bike having sail-like aerodynamics the respect and fear took over and, a touch reluctantly, I eased on the brakes and stopped to watch the towering, rapidly spinning column of dust dance for a moment on the verge about 20 yards away from me before vanishing as it moved across the road only to become visible again moving away on the other side. Utterly captivating.

The wall of chocking dust then engulfed me and I struggled on badly through gusty winds and minimal visibility (probably only around 20 metres) for the next few miles. During this time I looked down to see the back wheel squirming around on the tarmac. Puncture number two had arrived. Actually somewhat thankful I turned off the road to fix it only to discover that the back brake had been on since puncture number one 30+ miles ago. I had thought it had been a bit of a slog since then!

The dust settled I set off again on to Winslow where I stopped at Subway for 'breakfast at 1.30pm after 57 miles' (there had been absolutely nothing for the past 40 miles).

The road continued dry to just short of Joseph city where I realised I was about to be engulfed by a pretty meaningful rainstorm, and worse still, the rear tyre was squirming around again on it's way to flat number three. The rain arrived en masse, the temperature dropped to only 12C and my toys and pram became disassociated by quite some distance. Then the Tourettes came back (I'm beginning to worry a bit about it's frequency)

I arrived very wet in Holbrook to find the surreal Wigwam Motel shown in the pic. along with two machines both with punctured rear wheels.

My biking Haj

Day 43 to 45 - Flagstaff to Moab and back
Approx. 750 miles in the car to do 12 miles on the bike over 4 hours
Apologies for the infrequent blogging but the past three days have been all about me being on a once-in-a-lifetime pilgrimage to go anticlockwise round a lump of sacred rock along with fellow believers. My trip to the holy land of mountain biking that is The Slickrock Trail at Moab, Utah has been completed, and I am a believer.

With my new machine being prepared I picked myself up a hire car and set off northwards (not east) with a long trip ahead but a very definite purpose to reach my destination. However, it wasn't all about arriving though, as I would be travelling through numerous sights along the way including the legendary Monument Valley.

The 170 miles up to the Valley went through a chillingly harsh, hot and desolate desert landscape in which the most notable event was being stopped by the locally sheriff - I honestly didn't see the sign! He either believed me or didn't want the trouble of filling out a ticket for someone from out the country so I proceeded on until I caught my first sight in the distance of the towering monoliths of rock. It really is a weird, weird place. At least with the Grand Canyon it's possible to fathom an explanation for how it formed, but this place just doesn't seem to make sense neither geologically nor gravitationally. Still, as impressive as it was, I must admit that it was one of those sights of which I've probably seen far too many perfect pictures in glossy tourist magazines, and in guides, and on TV for it to really have that much of an impact. So I pressed on, ever so slightly disappointed.

The next 170ish miles to Moab were far from disappointing, though, as the route passed through and around unexpected geological gem after geological gem from the sublime beauty of the Natural Bridges National Park to the wonderfully ridiculous stone that is Mexican Hat to the downright insanity that is the gravel hairpin climb on Highway 261 somehow taking the road up the seemingly sheer cliff to look down on the Valley of the Gods. Now there's a place to be.

I think that having been brought up in Scotland I'm so used to scenery being rounded and smoothed by millenia of wind, rain and ice that, as a result the huge, dry, angular rocks around here are such a contrast to what I'm used to I find them fascinating.

I finally arrived in Moab seeking out a motel located directly across the road from both the bike shop and the microbrewery. An above average motel but absolutely perfect place.

The next morning I set off with hired bike to grace the hallowed ground where I proceeded to get all of 15 yards down the trail before being dumped unceremoniously off the back of the bike on the first sharp climb. Not the graceful beginning I was hoping for. Still, I didn't care, I was grinning like a fool and didn't stop doing so all the way round in the 95F heat with the sun glaring off the pink rocks.

The track itself is a twisting, undulating roller coaster along unfeasibly grippy rock causing the unclimbable not to be so and rendering slopes ridable that would normally send you down sideways straight to the bottom. And in this place the bottom can be several tens of feet below. 'Experienced riders' only it says on the sign, and rightly so. The route is marked out with road-like white dashes on the rock which you might be able to make out on the pic. If there's a bigger high you can get from chasing white lines then I don't know it. So, is it the best mountain bike track I've ever been on? In all honesty probably not, Glentress and the Corrieyairack Pass both beat it in my book, but this place is about so much more than just the quality of the trail. It's about a magazine article I read over 15 years ago announcing this place to the world and knowing then I wanted to ride it someday. After all, is St Andrews the best golf course ever? Or is Monaco the best Grand Prix track? They're probably not but is there anywhere else you'd rather drive or drive.

On the route back I took a rather long detour to stop in at the Four Corners monument, the only place in the US where the borders of four states meet (and yes, I did check on a map cause I didn't believe it either). Then, having been not entirely blown away by Monument Valley on the way up I decided to give it another chance so set off in the hope of seeing it in the sunset. As I approached Mexican Hat I noticed that the cloud low on the horizon to the south was not a type or colour I've seen before. As I drove further towards it I hoped and then realised what it was, it was a duststorm, heading my way. Then just as I realised the near-setting sun emerged from below the low cloud spectacularly illuminating the approaching wall of sand. I practically crashed the car off the side of the road such was my desire to get out and watch the event unfolding and I stood transfixed in my socks and cycling gear. Who knows what the locals must have thought. As the combination of dust and darkness engulfed the Monuments I sped down the road to home for the night which saw me settle down on a campsite in the middle of The Valley to be awoken this morning by the eerie yet enchanting howls and barks of the village dogs echoing endlessly off the towering cliff walls. I left the Valley for a second time, though this time with not a grain of disappointment.

Looking to tomorrow, I've just picked up the new machine and all looks well for now though I'm not entirely convinced the wheels will survive with what I'm about to put them through.

Here's hoping though.

Plan B

Day 42 - I have a cunning plan

With my mother leaving to head up to Monument Valley it was a day of looking round bike shops for me. Everyone I spoke to was more than a touch shocked that I'd managed to break the frame, especially a Cannondale. Alas all were agreed that it's toast so it was a case of new bike which I think I've managed to source from Absolute Bikes here in Flagstaff. Rather than rush the guys to get the bike ready quickly I've decided to hired a car up to Moab to go cycling there, coming back down to Flagstaff to set off on Wednesday.

In the meantime, this break has given me a spare moment to actually get round to replying to all the many messages that I've been very grateful to receive over the past few weeks. They've all been much appreciated.

Angus - thanks again for all your help at the start in Seattle. Was that really only six weeks ago?
Brent - you'd have loved this trip as there's an awful lot of fascinating bird life to be seen on it. All ornithological, of course!
Clarky - get that machine in your hallway dusted off and out on the streets then we can set up a VJ Capital bike racing team once I'm back sponsored by the profits of the various VJC enterprises.
Col - I'm thinking I might consider cycling to the Hearts European matches given third place is secured. Happy days.
Dave H - yeah, Dave, you hear that, European football trips. Still, guess you can console yourself with the fact I'm buying you several kegs of beer given your team's promotion into some lower league.
Dave L - this new bike I'm getting has strange things called drop bars. Am I in danger of turning to the dark side of cycling?
Donna - just on from your comment about the headwind on the way the Everest base camp. Did you hear anything about a guy called Goran Kropp and his Himalayan adventure when you were there by any chance? That guy surely had the best (and toughest) cycling expedition ever having cycled from Sweden to Everest Base camp with, if I remember right, about 100kg of bike+kit. He then proceeded to climb Everest solo. Leaves me feeling like a complete amateur.
Grahame - just one request, please, no more puns.
Grant - real shame you couldn't make it over here. You'll need to head over sometime in the future for some hiking in the Canyon
Inzer - you did ask what I think about on the bike for 8-12 hours a day. Pretty simple really, for the first half it was about 'what's hurting the most? And how do I move to ease the pain?' while lately it's been a mixture of 'how do I stay awake', and 'just how much hotter is it going to get?'. Three simple questions but they've probably kept me occupied for over half the miles.
James - believe me, for a few minutes your 'pack up the bike' suggestion was very tempting.
John & Joan - thanks for the message. It's a shame blogs weren't up and running when Lynn did her mammoth trip.
Kenny - I managed to see the HK sevens pics on Facebook. Congrats, you easily beat Clarky in terms of looking ridiculous.
Lynn - thanks very much for the sponsorship. I took your advice and took a trip to Pier 39 in San Fran - great food and a comical collection of sealions.
Pete - thanks for all the tips and advice in the early weeks. Was great to have a second opinion there to keep me in check. Hope you enjoyed your holiday. Now get yourself training for the Corrie!
Philippa - keep doing those laps on the Isle of Dogs route. Trust me cycling is more fun than working.
Sandra - I hope Grahame isn't causing too much trouble while the rest of us are away
Sloany - is VJ Capital Sports Betting running a book on me finishing this trip? If so what are the odds?
Sara - trust me, Highway 1 is a lot more painful on a bike than it looks to be in a car. I think you had the right idea.
Sarah - was nice to meet you at Treebones as well. Hope you're not rushing to get a job. And the Big Sur pics look great by the way.
Simon - any chance you can tell that lot next door to get a move on and initiate on the mid-caps? I've been long one co. for weeks awaiting them to come out with a buy rating on it.
Sue - hey don't knock it, Victoria Park is a start. By the way, you wouldn't believe how much time I've spent in the saddle wishing I was sitting in the beer garden of the Captain Kidd with a chilled ale.
Wayne & Stacey J - once again just to say I really appreciated you putting me up in Seattle. That easier and less stressful start to the whole trip has probably been the difference to me finishing one or two of the stages on the way here. Oh, and do you do deliveries for your Jack Daniels spaghetti? Please!
Wayne S - hope your coping with being out numbered by the Parkers once again.

I think and hope that's everyone but I'm really, really sorry if I missed you out (and there have been a few anonymous comments as well).

Thanks again
Fraser