by Gary Inman

Day 13: Las Vegas, NV to Grand Canyon, AZ

It was unusual, but good not to wake up in Las Vegas with a hangover. The schedule allowed a rare late start, but most of the 14 bikes had left the car park, but the time I carried my bags to the Super Tenéré at 10am.

I rolled out of the car park with Alex and Jenny, the honeymooners, on their KTM Adventure and Stuart and Jim, both also riding Yamaha Super Tenérés. Despite having six, eight or ten lane roads, Vegas is often choked with traffic and the law that stops bikes from filtering through slow or stationary traffic seemed both cruel and pointless.

Eventually we escaped and hit the highway towards Hoover Dam. The art deco edifice is impressive, but the water level of the lake backing up to it gives fuel to the stories I’d heard about the problems this area is going to have if it doesn’t reduce its water consumption.

Back on the bikes we headed further into Arizona and took our first taste of the Route 66. I wasn’t that excited about riding on Route 66 and even my low expectations weren’t reached. The fading and peeling shells of the failed businesses were more intriguing than the kitsch tourist traps selling Made in China Americana to French tourists.

The late start, the regulars stops and the long lunch meant our group of four were still riding to the Grand Canton campsite as dusk fell. In England, it wouldn’t be a problem. But here, in the forested wilds on Utah, I was getting nervous. I’d been warned a dozen times about the wildlife emerging from the woods and colliding with bikers. Sure enough, ten miles from the campsite a huge elk starts to cross the road and Stuart and I thunder up on pair of 1200cc Yamaha. It looks directly into my eyes, rears up on its hind legs and turns to run back into the woods.

Gary is riding from New York to California and back to New York with www.nicksanders.com

by Gary Inman

Day 11: Santa Cruz, CA to Ridgecrest, CA
Day 12: Ridgecrest, CA to Las Vegas, NV

Santa Cruz, famous for the eponymous skateboard and bicycle brand, had some of the counter-culture vibe I was craving. I met a photographer friend who used to live near the town and was back visiting relatives and we visited a bar full of roller derby girls. One day wasn’t enough, but waking to a shroud of Pacific fog made leaving town that little bit easier. I rode another 200 miles on the legendary, but busy Pacific Coast Highway before turning inland for a thrash into the baked interior of California.

We were supposed to be camping in Yosemite National Park but an outbreak of a killer virus had been traced to lodges in the camp, so we detoured to a night in the unmemorable town of Ridgecrest and an Italian meal no Italian person would recognise.

Death Valley was on many riders must see list. It’s another desert with another opportunistic gift shop in the middle of a great big nowhere. The Yamaha’s temperature gauge reached 40˚C at Badwater, the lowest point in the USA, 282ft (85.5m) below sea level. I’m glad I took the liner out of my Gator Evo jacket.

Gary is riding from New York to California and back to New York with www.nicksanders.com

by Gary Inman

Day 9: Salt Lake City, UT to Sparks, NV
Day 10: Sparks, NC, to Santa Cruz, CA

We’re out of Salt Lake City at the crack of dawn. Every day is a 650km now. The route passes the Great Salt Lake and directly east till we skirt Bonneville Salt Flats. I’ve been to this historic, evocative place twice before, when the cars and bikes are here to have their necks wrung, so I don’t need to turn off to investigate it today. Rather than continue on the boring Interstate for the rest of the day, I turn off at Wendover, the nearest town to the Salt Flats and head on a loop down Highway 50. This road was given the title ‘America’s Loneliest Road’ a few years ago. I don’t know if it was intentional, but it was great marketing for the towns along it, because, it seems, motorcyclists immediately wanted to tour the lonesome route. So, on this Saturday morning, it was busy with all kinds of bikes. And hot. Hotter than hell. Lone cyclists torture themselves along it this morning. And a couple on a tandem, with legs the colour of roast beef. The towns are spread as much as 160km (100 miles) apart on this route, and it runs through a high altitude desert. It’s not easy riding a motorcycle along it, I can’t imagine wanted to pedal a cycle through it. After a night in a two-bit casino town, I leave for the coast and a stunning ride up the Interstate 80, surely America’s most beautiful motorway. It climbs into the pine-covered mountains of Donner Memorial Park, where a group of 19th Centurty pioneers, travelling from Missouri to California were trapped by the snow (if you fancy some grim reading, google ‘Donner party’).

When the road begins to dip to the coast, a Sunday drive of hot rods and kustoms share the freeway.

We continue done to Marin county and exculsive Sausalito directly to the north of the Golden Gate Bridge and San Francisco. I’ve ridden from Atlantic to Pacific. The first half of the trip is over. Or it will be after 60 miles of the Pacific Coast Highway. Now it’s time to start heading east.

Gary is riding from New York to California and back to New York with www.nicksanders.com