Boogity, boogity, boogity...

As I opened the door to my room I couldn’t believe I had finally made it.  No, I’m not talking about the 27 hours it had taken me from the time I left my previous hotel in Honolulu, I am talking about making it to Australia at all.  It is a place that I had wanted to visit for years - literally - but I had always been put off by the huge distance and the offensive travel time.  But here I was.  I dropped my bag on the floor, went for a quick walk around town, then came back and turned on the TV to be greeted by a newsreader who introduced himself as Bazza.  It may not have felt like it when I arrived in Sydney - wearing shorts, t-shirt and flip flops - to learn that it was just 7 degrees, but I had arrived in Oz alright.It is now 24 hours later and I’ve had chance to have a more-extensive look around the place.  Don’t get me wrong, I loved my time in Canada and the States, but I reckon I’m really gonna like it here.  I reckon I’m gonna like it a lot.

There is a proper public transport system and there are pedestrians on the street.  People will smile and greet each-other as they walk or stop in cafes which sell sandwiches which feature proper cheese and French bread, quote the prices including tax and who pay enough that the wait-staff don’t demand tips.  As you walk along the street you can stop at small independent shops which sell healthy food in sensible size servings.

You drive your Saab, Renault, VW or Peugeot on the road rather than on the pavement and the other drivers will slow down and let you into the traffic flow then give you a ‘no worries’ nod when you wave to thank them.  The police patrol on foot or on horse-back rather than in cars and they don’t bust pedestrians for jaywalking when they dare to cross the street. 

You find buildings of all ages, many constructed of brick; hotels with stairs rather than elevators and windows which open instead of having air conditioning rattling away as you try to sleep, there are proper pubs within walking distance and even a curry house.  I feel at home here already. And, as an added bonus; it’s sunny too.  You don’t get that back in the ‘old-country’ all that often.

I guess it’s good news that I like the place - given I’m here for the next three months!  In a couple of days I join up with a three-week tour up the west coast and through the Kimblerley region before leaving Australia for a bit when we reach Darwin.  I’m flying to Malaysia for a few days before heading south to Singapore for the Grand Prix.  After that it is back to Australia before doing the more traditional east coast route.  I can’t wait!

Landing at Honolulu proved to be an exciting proposition.  With Pearl Harbor to the right and an Air Force base to the right, our approach was more akin to a military plane arriving in a warzone than a commercial passenger jet landing at a holiday destination.  Maintaining altitude until the last moment we then descended rapidly, banked sharply to the right, and went for it.   With people holding their breath and bags falling from the overhead locker as we bounced down the runway we had arrived.   I’m not altogether sure that it all went to plan but we arrived in one piece so no point complaining!

I collected my bag and made my way outside to collect my car - which, I was very excited to discover, was a Subaru Impreza - before heading off downtown.  If my landing at the airport had left me with a smile on my face then my arrival in downtown Waikiki left me grinning from ear to ear.  After the Big Island and Maui, the rows of high rise hotels, bars, restaurants and supermarkets of Waikiki were a huge excitement.

I checked in to the Holiday Inn using some of the Priority Club points that I’d gained over the past few years and spent the rest of the evening catching up on the outside world by tuning in to the BBC News channel on the TV and replying to my email.  I was in heaven!  The following day I moved across town to the Aqua Aloha Hotel.  I’d chosen the Aloha based purely on cost - around 70 bucks a night - but was delighted to arrive and discover that it was in fact a fine hotel with luxurious rooms and a fine view across Waikiki from my balcony.  I spent the rest of the day hanging out and chilling around Waikiki Beach before enjoying a couple of drinks and an early night. 

Much as I was enjoying the conveniences of Honolulu, there was no getting away from the fact that it was all a bit Disney: all a bit false.  With all the beautiful people chilling out on the beach in the day - and partying in town at night - it was somehow incongruous that, just miles away, lay Pearl Harbor.  I really couldn’t pass up the opportunity to visit whilst I was in the neighbourhood so I took the short drive down Interstate H-1 straight after breakfast.  (Did I miss something here - surely an Interstate is a route which links two states?!)  

Now, as an Englishman, you might think that I wouldn’t be moved by a visit to Pearl Harbor - I certainly didn’t think I would be - but it’s impossible to visit and not be.  Pearl Harbor itself is huge and there are a number of ‘attractions’ but I was heading to the best known of them all: the USS Arizona Memorial which is operated by the National Park Service.  It’s a popular destination so you must be prepared to arrive early or wait patiently (up to three hours at the busiest times) for your turn to visit the 184ft long memorial which spans the mid-portion of the battleship which now lies submerged in Battleship Row off Ford Island.

When you arrive you are handed a numbered ticket and, whilst you wait your turn, you can enjoy a self-guided audio tour, visit the museum and talk to survivors of that fateful day, 67 years ago.  When your tour is called you will be ushered in to the theatre where you first receive a brief introduction by a National Park Service ranger, followed by a 23-minute documentary film on the Pearl Harbor attack.  Immediately after the film you board a Navy-operated boat which shuttles you across the harbour.  It is hard to imagine the noise and violence of that day as you step from the boat and step in to the silence of the memorial which straddles the final resting place of most of the 1,177 crewmen who lost their lives on December 7, 1941.  

I didn’t linger on the Memorial for long - I felt really uneasy and couldn’t wait to get back on the boat.   Arriving back at the visitor center I decided that, rather than visit any of the other sites, I would rather spend the rest of the day doing something a little more light-hearted.  First I headed off to check out the west of the island, where I spent a couple of hours sat on a remote and quiet beach.

I then headed east and drove the spectacular road along the east coast before heading back to Waikiki once again.  It was time to pack my bag once again: tomorrow I will be heading off on the long trek to Australia!

Arriving on the Island of Maui just before lunch I decided to forego the undoubted delights of nearby Kahului and head straight out to the small town of Pa’ia; just along the coast.  The Big Island isn’t the only Island in the state of Hawaii to have a National Park and I‘d booked myself on to a tour to Haleakala National Park the following morning to watch the sun rise from the top of the 10,023ft high volcano before making my way back down again on a mountain bike.  I quickly found the office of Maui Sunriders - where we were instructed to meet at 3am the following morning - and was reassured to discover the guys in the shop were friendly and helpful. Pa’ia started off as a plantation town but soon went into decline before word got out to the international surfing community about the potential of nearby beaches.  It is now world-renowned as the ‘Surf Capital of the World’ and there is a real buzz around the place.  I spent some time checking out the town and, I have to say, I liked Pa’ia a lot.

Afterwards I decided to take the opportunity to drive the 68-mile Hana Highway which was an awe-inspiring experience.  People rave about the Pacific Coast Highway through Big Sur and, having driven that route just days before, I was in the perfect position to compare the two: let me tell you that the route through what locals refer to as ‘the jungle’ is a hundred times more spectacular.  No matter what you class as important in a good drive - be it challenging switchbacks, interesting places along the way, fantastic scenery or good roadside food - you will not be disappointed.

I’d learned that the town of Kahului boasted two hotels and a hostel but, with me needing to be in Pa’ia at 3am, I decided one more night in the car was on the cards.  I found a suitable side road near the beach and settled in for the few hours sleep that were available to me but soon discovered that a Camry is nowhere near as comfortable as the one in the Sebring but, before there was time to worry about it, my alarm went off to wake me again! 

I made my way back to the Maui Sunriders shop where I met up with our tour guide, Remi.  One-by-one the other people on the tour arrived and, after filling out the obligatory disclaimers (at least one person a year is killed on the descent), we climbed aboard the van and headed off towards Haleakala.  As we drove we received an amusing commentary which kept us all awake but, just to be sure, I necked a can of Red Bull!

We soon arrived at the entrance to the national park and started the ascent to the summit.  The road from Paia to the summit took us from sea level to 10,023ft in just 37 miles - the greatest elevation rise in the shortest distance to be found anywhere in the world - so there were switchback galore and a couple of the passengers in the van looked a little off-colour by the time that we reached the summit.  But reach the summit we did and, having swept through the parking lot, Remi announced that we weren’t gonna stop and drove us back out again. We all looked at each other - we’dnot come this far to just turn around - but, of course, we weren’t gonna be doing that.  He just had a better location in mind: as he announced as we arrived at the Kalahaku Overlook, ‘Haleakala’s best-kept secret’.

It was still only 5am and there was an hour to go until sunrise.  Most of us had arrived in shorts and t-shirts but, feeling rather clever with myself, I had worn two t-shirts and a jacket.  Thirty seconds outside of the van and it was blindingly obvious that this wasn’t gonna be enough to keep the bitter screaming wind from the bones.  I had waterproofs in my bag so I pulled those on, and added a pair of gloves for good measure, and found myself a wall to hide behind in a vain attempt to keep out of the wind whilst we awaited the sun. 

Thankfully, as it always does, it finally appeared on the horizon and, having each snapped a few photos, we made a dash for the van which was sat waiting for us with the engine running and the heater cranked up to max.  When we reached the park boundary we pulled over and were each issued with a mountain bike on which we would return to the shop.  We had the bike for the entire day if we wanted it but I couldn’t help but speed down the switchbacks as fast as I could.  On one curve I ran out of brakes (and skill!) and was lucky not to tonk the Armco but, miraculously, I covered the 26-miles back to the shop in around 90 minutes.

Having returned the bike, and driven back to the park for a proper look around, I decided that a nice relaxed day was in order so I headed back into Kahului to find a hotel for the night.  I bowled up to the first hotel and requested a room but was given the news that they were full up so I made my way to the other hotel in town only to discover they had no vacancies either.  I had been looking forward to a bit of luxury for the rest of the day so I disappointedly made my way across town to the thoroughly iffy looking hostel.   Hardly able to keep my eyes open through lack of sleep, I was shocked to hear that same reply.  The entire town was full-up! 

Not for the first time since I arrived on the islands I had no idea what to do or where to go but, rather than get stressed about it, I just kept in mind that old saying that everything happens for a reason and headed off towards the resort town of Lahaina where I hoped to find accommodation.  When I arrived it became apparent that, whilst there were plenty of hotels, they didn’t accept walk-in customers!  Frustrated, I headed out of town.   After a couple of miles, as I passed a particularly beautiful looking beach, I decided to pull over to contemplate the situation.  A couple of hours later, after a refreshing swim in the warm ocean, I felt a lot happier and more with it.  I decided to push on and see what happened.

I’d heard that the route looping round the western end of the island was worth a drive out so I headed off in that direction.   Several hours later I was back in Kahului and ready for sleep.  Not wanting to spend another night in the car I decided to head for the only campground that I had seen on the island - back, once again, at the national park.  It seemed to take an age to make my way through the rush-hour traffic and out to the park but I finally made it; only to discover that it was full and I was sleeping in the car once again!  After a long and tiring day I slept for a full 12 hours before the pitter-patter of rain on the roof finally woke me up.

I still had half a day to kill before my flight on to Honolulu so I headed back up to the summit area of the national park in an attempt to get a photograph across the crater - my attempt yesterday had been thwarted by heavy cloud - but, to my surprise, I found myself in the middle of a cycle race.  Having driven from Pa’ia up to the summit of Haleakala twice in two days - each time it took 1½ hours to climb the 10,023ft - I was amazed to discover that once a year there is a race along the same tortuous route.  The competitors must be insane!  

Once I left the park I drove to the south of the island and took the other road to Hana.  That really is one route you’ll not find in any tourist guide and it would be a really really bad idea to mention it to your car rental company should you decide to ignore all the signs and go for it!

For the first time in over three months I awoke outside of North America.   Unfortunately my preconceived image of waking up in a luxury hotel overlooking a beautiful beach proved to be hopelessly inaccurate: it was 1.30am, I was in the passenger seat of my rental car and I was being woken from my less than peaceful slumber by someone banging on the window.  Unsure whether I was about to be robbed or asked to move on by the police I rolled down the window.  It turned out that it was a guy who lived nearby and who had walked up from his house to make sure I was okay.   “Apart from the lack of hotels, I’m fine”, I replied.  ”Ah, you’ll get used to that”, he replied, before wishing me well and wandering back to the comfort of his house.

I didn’t sleep for long and, at first light the next morning, I was wide awake.  It wasn’t so much that the Hotel Sebring was uncomfortable - on the contrary, it was actually pretty good - but I had things on my mind.  When I’d arrived last night I’d discovered that the baggage handlers had somehow managed to squash my bag and cause the contents of my shampoo bottle to cover its contents.  It had been too dark to do anything about it at the time so it was high on my to-do list for the morning.

After a quick stop at the smallest grocery store I’d seen for some time I headed south towards the town of Volcano and the Hawaiian Volcanoes National Park.  I had planned to stop of en route at the black sand beach of Punaluu Beach but, spotting a sign for Ka Lae, I couldn’t resist turning off the main road, passing the Pakini Nui Wind Farms and visiting the area otherwise known as South Point.  It’s a fitting name as, despite what the good folks of Key West will tell you, it is actually the southernmost Point in the whole of the United States.   It is also the first place that the Polynesians - having miraculously navigated thousands of miles across open ocean - first came ashore all those years ago.  Ka Lae, to this day, is incredibly barren - you can only imagine what was going through the minds of those sailors.

After making the planned stop at Punaluu Beach, and a spot of lunch, I arrived at the Hawaiian Volcanoes National Park.  The first port of call when visiting a national park should always be the visitor center and, upon my arrival, I discovered that there was a ranger-led walk down into the Kilauea Caldera about to leave.  I quickly changed into my walking boots, filled my water bottle and tagged on to the back of the group as it headed off across the parking lot and through the lobby of Volcano House.  On my way into the park I had tuned into the park radio service and had been disappointed to hear how a large portion of the Crater Rim Drive had been closed due to the volcano emitting large amounts of sulphur dioxide but I hadn’t appreciated what exactly this meant.  As we stepped out onto the back deck of the hotel it soon became very obvious!  On the morning of March 12^th there was a huge rumble - the first eruption in the Halema’u ma’u Crater since 1924 - and a huge vent, or fumerole, had opened up.  There was now a spectacular cloud of gases billowing skyward and I couldn’t wait to descend into the crater to see it from ground level.

I’d expecting the hike to be one to get the blood pumping but it didn’t work out that way - it was actually very educational and extremely interesting - and I was disappointed when we arrived back at the visitor center three hours later having barely broken into a sweat.   By now I wanted to see more of the park so, after watching the movie in the visitor center, I headed off to drive as much of Crater Rim Drive as I could.  Reaching the ‘road closed’ barricade, I turned the car around and headed out instead on the 18.3-mile long Chain Of Craters Road; passing by numerous craters, lava tubes and petroglyphs.  It descends from 4,000ft to sea-level in spectacular style over its final few miles before abruptly dead-ending where a lava flow blocked the road in 2004.  You can stop your car at the lava field and take a short hike to get a view of the vent at Pu’u O’o… seven miles away.  A better view of the vent can be obtained by leaving the park and driving an hour and a half to the other side of the lava field at Kaipana - from there you can see the lava actually pouring into the ocean after dark.  Guess where I was heading next?

I had hoped to find some camping out near the viewing point at the end of route 130 but, having checked out a number of state parks and beaches in the area, I was becoming aware that I was running out of time if I was to see the sun set, so I gave up in my quest and headed off towards the viewing area instead.  Worrying about where to sleep would have to wait until later.  As I’d been advised I drove around numerous ‘road closed’ and ‘authorised vehicles only’ signs, along a bumpy road chiselled out of the lava field (past a number of cars with nervous looking drivers who had pulled over, unsure if they were in the right place), before finally arriving at a fast-filling parking lot.  I grabbed my torch, water bottle, jacket and camera and headed off in the direction of the crowd.  The walk across the lava to the viewing area was a little tricky but I made it out without breaking my ankle which, as you would agree if you’d seen the route we had to take, was actually a bit of an achievement!  All of these efforts to get here were adding to the palpable sense of anticipation in the air and, unsure of exactly what to expect, people were excitedly chatting away with those around them.

All of the chat stopped as the sun disappeared into the ocean in a beautiful sunset.  It was quickly replaced with ooh’s and aah’s as it got darker and the lava flow in the distance slowly became visible.  It wasn’t a constant flow - you can’t even get to see that anymore as the authorities have closed off access - rather a regular explosion of light and colour as the hot lava poured through tubes and hit the cool ocean water below.  It was an absolutely breathtaking sight and most people spent an hour or so transfixed by the spectacle before making their way slowly back across the lava field to their cars.  If anyone had thought the hike tricky in the daylight, they wanna try it in the darkness of a moonless evening!

Still with no idea where I would spend the evening I headed back to the Kulanaokuaiki Campground back in the national park.  It was a long way off my route but, with the advice of one of the rangers, “it’s a lawless area, out there”, ringing in my ears, I didn’t fancy sleeping in my car near the lava field.  And, besides, there were rumours of hot showers belonging to the cabins at Namakenipaio.  I arrived at the campground around 1am to discover that I was the only person there - probably the only person for many miles - and that it was free of charge to camp there.  I was tired and really couldn’t be bothered to put up my tent so, safe in the newly found knowledge of just how comfortable the passenger seat of a Sebring can be, I crashed out in the car once again, amazed by the absolute silence around me and brilliance of the stars above as I drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

The following morning, having confirmed the existence of those rather lovely showers, I headed out of the park once again.  I stopped at Hilo for gas but it didn’t seem to be a fantastic place to stop so I pressed on northwards along the scenic Hamakua Coast.  After a short detour inland to see the waterfalls at Akaka Falls State Park, I returned to the coast to visit the memorial at Laupahoehoe Point.  It was there that, following an earthquake in the Aleutian Islands, a deadly tsunami swept in and wiped out almost an entire school as the students sat on the beach waiting for school to start. 

The idea was to head out to Hapuna Beach where I had been told there were cabins available to rent but there was still plenty of hours left in the day so I decided to turn right at Waimea and go explore the mountains.  Almost immediately the weather changed as I climbed up into the clouds.  It was quite surreal - from the tropical scene along the coast to what resembled England in winter in a matter of minutes.  By the time I reached Hapuna Beach it was still only 5pm and, not liking the look of the much-vaunted cabins all that much, I decided to press on again.  I should have known better but I was convinced there had to be a hotel available somewhere on this island and I was determined to find it after two-nights of slumming it in the car.  Of course, despite searching high and low, there was nowhere to be found along the Kohala Coast.   The whole situation was becoming quite ludicrous and, after so long in Canada and the States, it was quite a shock to the system. 

There was nothing else to do but sleep in the car again but, as I drove around looking for a suitable place to park up for the night, the miracle that I had been hoping for happened when I stumbled across Inada’s Kona Hotel.  It may have been bright pink and very, very, very basic but, at 30 bucks a night, it was perfect. 

The following morning I had a short drive to the airport for my flight to Kahului on the neighbouring island of Maui.  After three nights without proper accommodation I was looking forward to a change of scene and looked forward to arriving in Kahului and discovering row upon row of hotel!

I really should have been more on-form - I was catching a flight to Vegas of all places, after all - but for whatever reason I really wasn’t having a good morning.  Maybe it was the 5am alarm call or maybe it was the pouring rain that drenched me as I made my way to the airport, maybe it was just the time of the month?  I am not sure, but then, if I understood how the human mind worked, I guess I’d be a shrink.  Thankfully Bellingham Airport was more reminiscent of Blackbushe than Heathrow so it took mere moments to check-in and clear security and I was soon sitting in the luxurious portakabin that the really-rather-classy Allegiant Air had kindly laid on as their waiting area.  It reminded me more of a bus depot than an airport but I guess it did everything that it needed to do.  I really do love the simplicity of these small airports.

Unfortunately Las Vegas Airport was anything but small and it certainly wasn’t a simple process to reclaim my bag - something not helped when it was sent to the wrong carousel - and collect my rental car.  For the first time in a month I found myself climbing back behind the wheel and hitting the highway again.  Fortunately I didn’t hit anything else and I was soon wobbling my way down the road to a nearby Walmart to resupply myself with camping supplies.  I managed to pick up a new tent, kit to cook with and a cooler (along with food to fill the cooler) and had change from 100 bucks.  People may knock Walmart - myself included - but you really can’t knock their prices.

I’d planned to spend the night camping at the Red Rock Canyon State Park but, on arrival, discovered that the campground was closed due to the heat so instead spent some time exploring the place (and trying to reacclimatise to the 104 degrees temperature) before climbing back into the car and heading to the aptly named Valley of Fire State Park which was located 50 searingly-hot miles to the north of The Strip.  I loved both parks, not to mention the improvement in weather since I’d left Bellingham, but I still had a downer on.  I set myself up on the campground within the park - one of the most remarkable places that I’ve ever camped - and, whilst I watched the sun set over the red rocks, I had a quiet word with myself.  By the time morning came around, I’d finally kicked the downer into touch: like I say, if I knew how the human mind worked…

Zion National Park was my next destination and, having taken a final, early-morning, look around Valley of Fire, I headed off on a leisurely drive up Interstate 15.  I had been to Zion once previously and knew exactly where I wanted to stay - the Zion Canyon Campground in Springdale - so I was pleased to arrive and find they could accommodate me for a couple of nights.  More than that they gave me a nice site on the riverbank so there was a cooling breeze.  Once again the power of the Euro hit home as I introduced myself to the guys on neighbouring sites - of the four groups that I spoke to, two groups were French, one were Germans and another were Italians.  I’m sure that someday the Dollar is gonna get stronger again but, for the time being, the tourist industry in the US is doing very well out of us, thank-you very much!

I’d decided to tackle the infamous Angels Landing Trail so I was, once again, awake far too early.  It’s not so much the (not inconsiderable) elevation gain which has gained it it’s infamy; rather the narrow ledges you must clamber along and the huge drop-offs to each side.  As the signs cheerfully point out as you start up the last ½ mile of the trail, ‘falls from this trail have resulted in death’, so you best hold on tightly to the provided chains!  I headed up as early as I could (a 530am alarm call was dictated by the time of the first shuttle bus into the canyon) to avoid as much of the direct sunlight as possible.  It proved to be a wise decision, not so much for avoiding the sun, but for avoiding the crowds.  It really is ‘one-at-a-time’ near the end of the trail and, as I made my way back down, the crowds were getting heavier and heavier.   It really would have been an absolute nightmare to get stuck behind a crowd of nervous hikers on that trail.

By the time that I made it back to the bottom of the trail  it was still only 10am so I filled the morning with a couple of other hikes and then spent the rest of the day chilling out in the sun on the campground as a reward for my efforts!  It had been a good day but, as two Trek America vans rolled onto the campground to join the two already there, I couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of them.  I went over for a chat but this made me feel even more jealous so I wandered into town for a change of scene - only to find another two Trek America vans checking-in at a motel!  At this point I had to laugh and it slowly dawned on me that it wasn’t Trek poking fun at me - it was just proof that I was back on the tourist trail.  Those ‘glory days’ of the solitude of The Dempster were now nothing but a fading memory.

Early the next morning (sense a trend developing here?), I packed away my tent and set off through the park towards the Mt Carmel Tunnel and out towards my next destination: Bryce Canyon National Park.   It proved to be a beautiful drive through a very scenic area of the park but my memory from my last visit was of a long drive out to the park boundary, so I resisted the urge to stop for too many photos.  It was with some surprise that I arrived quickly at Mt Carmel Junction - I guess we must have stopped more often than I remembered last time around!

Shortly after passing through Red Canyon, I pulled in to a gas station for a cold drink and got chatting to a Suntrek tour leader whilst I was there.  He told me how, when they visit Bryce, they always stay on a campground just outside the park.  Always happy to listen to the advice of someone who should know I took him up on his advice and followed him to the Rubys Inn Campground where I set up camp before heading down to the park.  I decided to go for a big hike and it felt good to get the blood flowing again but, despite the initial feeling of awe towards the park, I soon found myself feeling that old desire to press on to the next destination.  I stuck with it until sunset but, after a look around the nearby town area, I decided the next day would be a lazy day.

After a welcome lie-in, I headed off along the spectacular Route 12 towards Capitol Reef National Park where I found myself driving through some absolutely breathtaking scenery.  I stopped numerous times for photos before I found myself instinctively turning off the main road and on to the Hell’s Backbone Road.  I’d heard that it was a fun detour to my destination but I knew little more than that.  It sure was fun and, having got to the other end, I decided to turn round and do the return run!  60 miles later I was back where I had started but the time had allowed me to practice my rally driving skills once again.  With dust and dirt covering the entire car I pulled in to a gas station…  “Rental car?” enquired the clerk, “gotta love a rental car…”  Indeed!

Capitol Reef, it turned out, didn’t really ‘do’ it for me and, having explored the park both in the car and on foot, I headed off around lunchtime the following day.  I had no idea of where I was heading other than I was to be in Vegas in just over 24 hours.  As I passed Cedar City I spotted a sign advertising rooms in a local Travelodge for $33.95 and, although it was only 3pm, I pulled-in and spent the rest of the day eating McDonalds, watching movies and updating the photos on my website.  Just to make sure that I got my money’s worth I didn’t leave the following morning until 11am.  It really was one of those perfectly-timed interludes.

I had one final stop before I returned to Las Vegas and that was at the Kolob Canyon area of Zion National Park,   After the near-pandemonium around the main Zion Canyon area, it was a very pleasant surprise to discover how quiet it was at Kolob and I spent four very enjoyable hours out there checking out a couple of hikes.  I really don’t understand why it isn’t more popular so, the next time that you find yourself driving along Interstate 15, make sure you find time to stop for a few hours! 

I arrived at Mark and Megan’s house in Vegas bang on 5pm as agreed and, as if to mark the occasion, the weather gods had laid on a summer storm to cool down the high temperatures a little.  Mark had kindly been out and picked up a six-pack of Alaskan Amber which went down a treat and soon got me in the party spirit.  Several bottles of wine later it was time for bed.  Whilst it was fun, it probably wasn’t the greatest idea I’d ever had as I had a long drive ahead of me the following morning.

I left Vegas, after a lovely breakfast, around 11am and headed off towards the Limekiln State Park on the Monterey Peninsula.  The previous evening we’d devised a route which saw me head out through Death Valley before heading south to Bakersfield via Trona, Ridgecrest and the shores of Lake Isabelle; out to the coast on route 58 and then up the coast to the state park.  We estimated it would take 8-9 hours but we were, unfortunately, a little cavalier in our estimates and, despite my best efforts to make up time on the challenging route 58 (including one memorable occasion where I pushed a little too much and very nearly put the car into a ditch when I crested a hill in a lurid four-wheel drift!), it wasn’t until 10.30pm that I finally arrived at my destination… only to find the gate to the campground locked for the night!  Unsure what to do, I resigned myself to sleeping in the car for the night but, just as I was unrolling my sleeping bag, another camper arrived armed with the code for the gate and let me in.  I’ve never been so pleased to crawl into my tent as I was that evening.

The following morning I was awake early - too early - I’d forgotten about the time zone shift the previous day.  The plan for the day was to head up to Laguna Seca Raceway which was about 50 miles to the north.  I’d been looking forward to the drive as it took me along the spectacular Pacific Coast Highway, right through Big Sur, but the whole area was shrouded in fog.  I was disappointed but maybe it was a good thing as it hid the damage from the recent fires even though the stench of charred forest still hung in the air.  It also saw to it that, despite it being a Sunday, there was a total lack of Sunday Drivers to slow down my arrival at the circuit.

I arrived nice and early and took the opportunity to beat the crowds into the extensive paddock.  After some time admiring the machinery and chatting with some of the drivers I decided it was time to head out to the track to check out what had drawn me to the venue in the first place: the infamous turn eight, otherwise known as The Corkscrew.  Motorsport is a mix of spectacle and pantomime with the odd bit of tragedy thrown in.  The Corkscrew has seen it all: Alex Zanardi’s audacious last-lap pass on Bryan Herta for victory in the 1996 CART race - and the entertaining post-race drama from the American - being eclipsed by the tragic loss of Gonzalo Rodriguez three-years later.  As I stood there, contemplating, I glanced sideways and did a double-take at the guy stood next to me.  It was none other than Zanardi’s former F1 teammate, Johnny Herbert.  I think it is fair to say that Johnny had always been a  bit of a hero to me whilst I was growing up so it was a pleasure to discover that he was exactly the same in person as he had always come across on TV: a real nice guy.  Which is a lot more than can be said for Bobby Rahal and Michael Andretti who were hanging around the paddock and whose attitude couldn’t have been any further removed.   

At the end of the day I made my way south back to Limekiln State Park and was pleased to discover that the fog had cleared, allowing me to enjoy the scenery and get a few photos.  I woke on Monday morning in the knowledge that, although I was still in the country for a couple more days, I’d now done everything that I’d planned to before I left home…it was now time to slow down and relax.  I did some hiking in the park and then headed south, stopping often along the way, before calling it a day mid-afternoon when I reached the Quality Inn at Buelton.  When I visited the western USA in 2006 we had spent the first evening of the trip there so it somehow seemed fitting that I should spend the last night of this trip there.  And, besides, it was cheap!!

Tuesday morning came and, 111 days after it had begun, it was finally time to draw my North American odyssey to a close.  I wanted to head down to the Home Depot Center - home of the LA Galaxy - in Los Angeles to pick myself up a team shirt but getting there turned in to a bit of a race against tome after I spent longer than planned checking out the truly terrible ‘Danish replica village’ of Solvang. 

I got my shirt and made my flight but, as I sat on the plane and watched the US disappear from sight beneath me, I couldn’t help but smile.  The last couple of days - national parks, far too much alcohol, a change from 120 degrees to 57 in a matter of hours, some motorsport, scenic drives, tacky tourist draws and, more than anything, that last-minute race against time - could have been a scale model of the previous 3½ months.  It had been a fantastic experience but the time had definitely arrived to move on and experience something different - Hawaii, Australia, New Zealand, Singapore, Malaysia, Hong Kong, Dubai and Egypt will certainly offer that opportunity.  Bring it on!