Grumpy Old Men On Bikes

The man with the world's hairiest earlobes was back on 'duty' this morning (his duties being to screw everything up).  I'm guessing he also makes the coffee that is served at breakfast because it was awful. The hotel had tried to hold then release payments so many times that they had hit the maximum transactions per day limit that Nat West imposes, rendering all means of payment impotent.  They eventually allowed Dom to leave, saying they will charge the cards again after midnight UK time.....probably this will then re-trigger exactly the same problem.   Our penultimate riding passed uneventfully until check-in when, you've guessed it, another screw-up.  This time the hotel could only find 11 of our 14 reservations.  My nerves really can't take much more of this!!  My usual patient, tactful and diplomatic people skills paid of and after an hour of screaming, shouting and swearing, 3 more rooms were conjured into existence. Luckily that was

We are starting to entertain the very remote possibility that we will make it to the Mexican border! It continues to be an uphill struggle with mechanical and logistical challenges but we battle on. On Tuesday night our hotel was several miles from restaurants so we cleared a few seats in the van and sent out the simplest of instructions......form yourselves into a group of 6 and another of 7, decide whether you want to go to the harbour or downtown and pick a time.  What could possibly go wrong?  We had groups of 4, groups where most wanted the harbour but others wanted downtown, both groups wanting the same time...........I finally got off duty at 9pm, another 14 hour day! Yesterday we rode down through Malibu, Santa Monica and Venice Beach, the latter portion on a superb bike path through the beach.  Despite some heavy traffic in Malibu everyone enjoyed the day and we all arrived in Redondo Beach in high spirits.  Despite an already very high bar in terms of hotel in

Won't Stop Running/Golden Brown The 24-hour dysentery that has been working through the group has now reached me.  Bugger. Invisible  When making any on-line transaction in Merica is necessary to provide a telephone number and a valid zip code.  If paying by credit card this must match the zip code the card is registered to.  There is absolutely no provision for anyone without a US phone number and a card registered to a US address.  It's like non-Mericans don't exist or, maybe, just aren't worth bothering about. Some hotels and supermarkets have devices to scan photo-id. You've guessed it....these only recognise US driving licences.  For hotels you have to piss off and find your passport and in stores you have to wait while the manager is called to authorise the purchase.   We should retaliate and only serve Mericans in the UK if they can correctly pronounce Leicester Square. Wonderful Copenhagen Today we have ridden

Usually, when I don't blog for a couple of days, it means either things are so madly busy that I don't have time or that things are going so smoothly that there is nothing to say.  Inexplicably it has been the latter. We have completed our detour around Big Sur and are now back 'on course' in Aroyo Grande.  Yesterday was a tough hilly day and this morning a couple of the group were suffering the after effects of overnight food poisoning; you will seldom see a much less enthusiastic departure than I witnessed in Paso Robles.  Only 1 rider elected for 30 miles in the VOS* and the rest got their miles done like troopers. Dom and I were considerably more upbeat this morning as it should be the last requiring breakfast served out of the rooms.  We have been operating 3 sets of breakfast kit but have now consolidated down to 1 (just in case) and given the surplus to the maid.  This is the first concrete sign that we are on the home straight. Over the 12

After the wild birthday celebrations last night it was time to start our 2.5 day detour around the Big Sur road closure   Ou r route tries to make the best of a difficult situation but is far from ideal.  A 20 mile inland drag on a busy road with little shoulder eventually improved to quiet backroads through vinyards and general agriculture while the temperature built and built.  The high on the coast is forecast to be 18 degrees today but in King City, where we are, it is 35.  I had occasionally wondered where all the hispanic  workers live and it turns out the answer is King City.  The town is way off the tourist trail but nicely laid out, clean and presentable.  Interestingly, there is no sign of people sleeping rough and there is a sense of civic pride that is conspicuously absent in many Merican towns.  Those bloody Mexicans, coming over here working hard and keeping their towns nice! Dom and I have decided to get back together.  We had a spare room in the hotel bu

Happy Birthday It is Dom's birthday today and as a special treat the group got together and agreed not to get lost, fall off, break down, catch fire or get arrested.  He was very grateful. Ocean Drive Because of a landslip south of Big Sur we are on an inland detour for the next couple of days and this means missing out on the fabulous '17 mile drive' from Monterrey, past Pebble Beach golf course to Carmel (where Clint Eastwood was once mayor).  A few of our larger-testicalled riders went and did it today as an extra outing after reaching our hotel in Marina.  Dom took pity on them and bused them back from Carmel but it was a good effort.  Naturally they were all plucky Brits. Strawberry Fields Forever  We have been cycling though agricultural land.  This is mass-scale farming of fruit and salad crops and pretty unattractive.  The major crop is strawberries and the fields are full of immigrant workers doing back-breaking work.  Here and t

Yesterday was a funny sort of day.  All but 2 of our customers rode into SF the previous night so they could have a full rest day in the city.  In the morning we just had to chaperone the dregs into town and we were 'off-duty' by about 1pm.  I sold a kidney and purchased secure overnight parking for the van (80 bucks since you ask) then retired to our cell (it is SF...what do you expect for £250/night?) while Dom went off to play tourist.  I spent a couple of hours exploring all the room amenities: bar of soap, cup,  coat hanger; then thought 'sod it' and cracked a cold one.   More cold ones followed, then I remembered we had a hot date.  A past customer, who both Dom and I have separately met on past trips, lives in San Fran and we had arranged to meet him for beers at 17:30.  Stephen Honda follows this blog so thanks for the beer and the conversation Stephen! Today they all rode out of San Francisco.....or rather 14 did and 2 announced they were do

While dealing with the daily fires (metaphorical and literal) we have always been quietly worrying about the day into San Francisco. Why? Well......it is a 100 mile day when some people can't manage 70, it involves 3 hotels in 2 locations  15 miles apart and the main hotel has no reception, instead relying on an app-based system to issue door entry codes. What could possibly go wrong? Given our poor track record in imagining the unimaginable we didn't even bother to brainstorm the many doomsday scenarios.  Instead, we just dived into the day.  Dom bused a couple of slackers forward 50 miles while I rode with a couple more until it was their turn for a lift in the van.  We then joined up to launch our assault on the San Francisco hotel system and, bugger me, everything worked.....well nearly anyway.   It was still a long day as the last riders didn't arrive until 6:30 it was after 7 when we were  safely back in our hotel (in Sausalito on the northern si

It's OK, we aren't dead; we have just had a day with no WiFi followed by a day with no bedrooms.  I appreciate that this blog is becoming a bit rep etitive but so is my life.  Anyway, here goes: We left the Arcata Ramada (whose catch line is 'we have no more fucks to give') for a lovely day riding into the giant Redwood forest.  Our destination was Redcrest, with a population of only about 50 but home to a small 'resort'* that could accommodate our group. *You are probably imagining a swanky complex with pools, sun loungers and uniformed waiters delivering margaritas but you are wrong.  Imagine sheds (they call them cabins but are fooling nobody) with beds and you are much closer to the mark but they are in the heart of the forest and people enjoy staying there. On Thursday we headed for Leggett and the start of Highway 1.  We have stayed here before and it is quirky (translation 'a bit shite') but there is nowhere else within 20 mi

Leading a tour down the US West Coast isn't the worst way to spend 4 weeks and it has many compensations.  The weather is lovely, the scenery is off the scale and you get to drink magnificent craft beers and eat well.  Putting out the odd fire and springing pillocks from jail is all part of the sport. BUT, and it is a big but (you get a lot of big butts in Merica), the daily hotel check-in is absolutely the worst thing.  Regardless of how carefully you have checked the reservations there is a clenching of the buttocks as you approach reception.  Today the first contact was good....they had all 15 rooms and cats were allowed.....but they weren't ready.  No problem, I was 30 minutes early.  30 minutes later.....still no rooms.  Cyclists were arriving; hot, tired grumpy cyclists.  The receptionist had run out of fucks to give several years ago.  I asked to see the manager.  Out walked a thing that was once the manger but was now a barrel of lard with a head.  We exchan

Puppet on a String* Apart from supervising the usual bike fettling & cleaning we did nothing with our rest day but rest.  After some vigorous inspecting the inside of our eyelids we finally had a burst of energy and walked the 50 yds to the shore for few photos and to wriggle our toes in the Specific. *work it out for yourself Waiting Tables Although we have mostly been eating in our rooms there was an excellent steak restaurant near our hotel so we both had a bath and put on our least dirty pants and went out for diner.  The steaks were superb, though expensive, and we had a decent clam  chowder and a passable bottle of merlot.  All was good apart from the waiter who was just weird.  He communicated entirely using just the phrases 'awesome', 'absolutely' and 'you got it' (which isn't even grammatically  correct).  This was annoying but he also looked like he had escaped from a nearby loony bin.  This is probably the point t

Call Me Mericans have silly names, often assembled from non-name words.  Take the manager of our hotel who calls himself Houston Hatfield.  Clearly NOT a name.   Imagine calling yourself Birmingham Chipping Norton....you would, deservedly, be bullied at school. And as for Otis Spunkmeyer..... Fast Car Our day to Gold Beach passed with only one minor brush with the emergency services.   I got a garbled message from one of the group and set off to see what the problem was but, in doing so, managed to attract the attention of a local squad car who wanted me to explain my hurry.  It is a pity he didn't say 'where's the fire?' because I could have replied 'room 112 Shelton Inn..but don't worry, its out now'.  I was polite and res pectful and he told me to sod off, only more slowly. Californication I particularly like it when the song connects to the blog in multiple ways: 1/ after our rest day today we are heading

Forgive me father, it is 2 days since my my last  confession.   We are fast establishing a routine whereby it is 10pm when bad shit happens.  No fires on Friday night but, instead, a call to say that one of our group had been arrested after clipping a car while trying to cycle back to the motel pissed. I have carefully checked my job description and freeing drunk dickheads from jail definitely isn't mentioned.  I don't even think it reasonably falls into 'and any other duties as may be required'.  Never-the-less we headed down to the police station, signed a form taking responsibility for his behaviour  and got him released.    On Saturday morning he was up late with a sore head and a sheepish expression. Each day we try and guess what the worst problem will be but I think we lack the necessary ambition to get even close. Saturday was the start of the long Labor Day weekend and we were cycling through the Oregon Dunes Recreational Area. 

A collection of banging tunes: Wishing I was Lucky I am abs olutely convinced that I get more than my share of wet days when it comes to riding sweep and yesterday was a case i n point.  Things dried out by noon but it was a soggy day.   PS:  Just occasionally I find a blog title where both the song AND artist fits.  These are moments of wonderous beauty. It's a Mystery Our van size is fixed.  The luggage volume is fixed.  Yet, when the van is fully loaded, the remaining space varies enormously each day.  Sometimes we can barely close the door and sometimes there is so much space that we think we haven't loaded all the bags.   Leaving on Jet Plane On our trip is Bob.  Bob is an adorable old boy who is nudging 84.  Although he has finished each day's ride it has been becoming apparent that, after an illustrious cycling history, this is a trip too far for him.  Today, while wobbling up a hill, he swerved out into the traffic and g