Tom's Bicycle Tour of the US, Sept/Oct/Nov 05

I set off with fear and loathing, even though visiting Las Vegas wasn't on the agenda. In fact, I was so stricken with fear, I had my hair cut short, just in case I was unfortunate enough to be in a situation similar to that of Peter Fonda and Jack Nicholson in the final scene of 'Easy Rider'.
I did encounter a bizarre scene, leaving a National Park in North Carolina, on a dank and humid morning, where maybe 100 men, all armed, were standing on the roadside, like a guard of honour. I tried a laconic 'Gday' which was met with silence, so I peddled on through the forest, wondering if I would be mistaken for a deer (or whatever it was they were about to shoot. Maybe it was black men, or cyclists) in the fog. Dr Pierce's tonic was standing me in good stead. I certainly wasn't mistaken for a weak woman. Thank God I'd cut my hair.
I set off from Vancouver after prising my bike off the eager clutches of Alaskan Air (who somewhat distressingly have a picture bearing a striking resemblance to Bob Marley on their tail fins), and rode south along the west coast. One of my favourite books is 'Sometimes A Great Notion' by Ken Kesey (of 'One Flew Over The Cuckoo Nest' fame). It is set in Oregon, and the tale is underpinned by the rain, the rain, the never ceasing rain. So while in Oregon, very near where the story is set, it rained and rained and rained.
Highway 1, or 101, is heavily populated by the American equivalent to the Grey Nomad. Except that they drive what we would call a tourist coach, decked out as a mobile home, and towing their car behind. I did see one towing a Hummer. They would terrorise me on the road all day, then pull into campsites, put a patch of fake grass at the bottom of their stairs, and disappear inside, never to be seen again, until the next morning when they'd queue to empty their shit. Seeing me dressed like this, riding a bike, was as much beyond their comprehension as if I'd just landed from Mars.
Not withstanding the Winnebago onslaught, cycle touring on the West Coast is fairly straight forward. There are not many detours off the main highway, there are biker/hiker campsites every so often (usually a moderate day cycling apart, but it must be a bloody long walk) for a token fee, and small towns for restocking at regular intervals. I was surprised, however, at just how sparsely populated the north-west is.

I flew from San Francisco to Raleigh, North Carolina (chosen mostly because my trusty touring bike is a Raleigh) and set off north towards New York. I was on a timeline to meet up with Alison, Peter, Heather, Jack and Kate, who were all there to see Peter win the NY Marathon. 2005 was noteworthy in the USA as the year of 28 hurricanes, one of which (Katrina) wiped out New Orleans. I was there a little while after the event, but by no means after the hurricane season. (They are named alphabetically, so Katrina was the 11th of the season). As I crossed into Virginia, Hurricane Rita (named after our mother) was wreaking havoc in Florida. It then passed very quickly north along the coast, and settled off the coast of Boston. A long way away, admittedly, but by this stage an enormous storm which was pulling Arctic air from the north, and pushing it south. In US jargon, this was the first 'Nor-wester' of the season. For me it meant gale force head winds driving icy rain, all at about freezing point, or a degree or 2 above. It wasn't much fun, and worsened by difficult navigation. On the worst day, I was still riding late into the night just to get to somewhere, anywhere! I still think this was one of my worst days ever on a bike (very closely followed by a 46deg day in South Australia I'd rather forget). I was depressed and disillusioned, and truly wondered what I was doing. The next day was clear and cold. My spirits rose considerably.

As I approached New York, I rode through 4 mega-tropoli in 4 days, Washington, Baltimore, Philadelphia and New York. I'd ridden 3500km in total, through 10 states. And I made it in time to meet the family, and see Peter come second in the NY marathon. I don't know who won it. Don't really care.