Saturday, June 30, 2012

Impossible Hills, Killer Mountains, and Hail!


June 30, 2012
Today's drive was absolutely stunning. Leaving Monterrey going south I was surrounded on all sides for the majority of the trip by mountain peaks reaching high up into the clouds. At every turn I happily saw that instead of tunnels like home the roads here ran up and over the mountains. For most of the day I was surrounded with breathtaking sites and I know the pictures don't do it justice, but trust me when I say it was incredible.

After 3 long days of being on the road, today's sites couldn't have been more welcoming. By the time I pulled in Zacateras approaching the heart of Mexico I felt completely exhausted with the thought of turning around soon in my mind. For the first time I left as early as I had wanted and it paid off because my ride today was almost too cold for just a t-shirt and jeans underneath my armor. 7 hours later when I finally came to the city it was only just starting to get hot, but Mexico again proved that driving around in its cities is no easy feat and certainly not for gringos.

Again trying to use my google maps to point the way, I took wrong turn after wrong turn after wrong turn. Eventually I found myself at least a mile away from my destination with the only way to get back being a huge hill. I think Saphira was overheating in the stop-and-go/stand still traffic because when I tried to power up the hill she just didn't have it in her. After 3 more attempts only to stall each time I finally gave up and continued in the wrong direction looking for another way to get back. By this time I was my usual self when arriving at my destination: hot, exhausted, and ready to be done for the day but it would be another 30 minutes until I stumbled on to my hostel this time totally by mistake but what a happy mistake it was. As annoying as my delay was I couldn't have arrived at a better time. Less then 30 minutes later the skies let loose in a torrential down pour. Watching from my second floor balcony above the street I noticed that the rain strangely turned into hale. At first I thought my eyes were deceiving me so extending a hand I quickly learned from the stinging pea sized ice cubes that it was in fact hale. Now I just found out that it is the rainy season here so the rain and thunderstorms weren't surprising, only that it's the first I've seen them, but can hale really be normal here?

Speaking of hostels though, mine is absolutely perfect! For $8 a night I have a bed, kitchen, shower, breakfast, wifi, a balcony, and all the creature comforts I could hope for at that price. Just like the rest of the city of Zacateras the hostel is in an ancient 3 story house with little lighting, excellent wood work, and colorful Mexican style. The city of Zacateras similarly is known for being an ancient city. It's streets are primarily cobblestone, many only one way with cars jamming them from side to side. Unlike Monterrey though everyone here is much more peaceful. Cars genially allow me to cut in, don't seem to mind when I take too long looking at google maps, and an old man even came out of his shop today to help push my bike backwards up a hill due to me being stuck behind a parked car (the bikes heavy!)

Tomorrow promises to be an exciting day. The architecture, the people, and the many historical sites promise a great day of sight seeing. There’s even a cable car to give you a panoramic view high above the city and I've been told that it only costs around $2 so that's a must. The question now is will I stay here for two nights or more? How long will it be until I feel the need to continue further south back on my beast, only creating more of a distance to backtrack when my time in Mexico is up. I'm not sure, but after a refreshing shower, a nice chat with a local exp-pat, and this journal entry I think I'm ready for a walk.

Friday, June 29, 2012

Finally South of the Border!



June 29, 2012
Monterrey, Mexico

I finally made! And now after two PB&J tortillas, a thing of crackers, about a gallon of water, and a dip in the pool I finally feel human again. Don't get me wrong, today's journey wasn't bad by any means, but a few complications really made things difficult.

The alarm went off at 6:30am this morning and after pressing the snooze button a few times I finally got up and got going. One of the best things about riding a motorcycle is that it makes a great supplement for my usual half pot of coffee. Driving to a bridge 20 miles away after hearing how quick it was to pass there I realized my first mistake of the day while pulling up to the toll booth. While I had done my research and made the effort to get out to the right bridge I had unfortunately forgotten that with bridges come tolls. So after a quick U-turn to the amusement of all working that day I made the 20 mile drive back to an ATM. After all just like the previous day's drive there is absolutely nothing out there!

By the time I got back to the border I had already driven 67 miles and my day had only just begun. Crossing the border though was relatively easy. I knew what I had to do and with my broken Spanish the only difficulty was waiting in line while melting in the unconditioned rooms. About an hour later I was free and made my way happily into Mexico.

From what I saw of Mexico today, the northern border region is a lot like Texas' border region: a whole lot of nothin. I cruised for a while figuring out my way as I went following the simple signs for Monterrey and in no time beautifully peaked mountains started springing up and I knew I was getting close. To put it middly I was incredibly nervous about driving for the first time in Mexico not really knowing what to expect, but as the miles (or kilometers now) ticked by my comfort level.

Beyond overheated, tired, and drenched in sweat after arriving in the third biggest city in Mexico the fun began. Picture any movie you've seen of Mexican city streets. Basically the city chewed me up and spat me out. Its my firm belief that on the zig zagging criss crossy roads pilled high with heavy footed motorists Mexican drivers have as little idea of how to get to there destination as I do. They'd cut into lanes, try and crowd me out of my own, and basically move whenever and wherever they want freely whether I was in there way or not. To make things worse, after getting into the city the simplified signs so easy to follow before arriving quickly changed into a big blurring of incomprehensible directions. It honestly must have taken me at least 90 minutes to find my preferred hostel in a never ending saga of wrong turns and frustration. Even better after arriving at the big blue dot on my google maps app I then realized that the hostel had been closed down and no others had any vacancy. Unable to continue in the heat, hungry, and craving the idea of heading back for home I managed to find a super secret deal from travelocity.

For $50 US I got a room at the Comfort Inn including a pool, breakfast in the morning sure to rival my previous “Continental Breakfast” disappointments, and all the AC I can handle. Now I'm in a much better room, have figured out where I'm going tomorrow and are ready to relax! Unfortunately today was much more expensive then I had planned. I had known that Mexican highway had “high” tolls but just how high they were I only figured out after forking over $20 for one of them today. Anyway, I'll try and avoid them tomorrow but to my delight I'll be staying in a $10 per night hostel in the old city of Zacatecas. The plan is to stay there for a couple nights to conserve money, and finally see some of the sights Mexico has to offer. There is a church only 15 minutes from here, but in the nasty streets as dark approaches I think I've had enough sight seeing and missed turns for one day. 

Thursday, June 28, 2012

A classified day for the history books and 300 miles of nothing!


June 28, 2012
Laredo, TX

I've finally made my way to the border of Mexico and I'm now resting comfortably after a somewhat mild 300 mile drive. Now I know I said earlier that I'd try to be as honest as possible, but I'm afraid for now the incredulous atrocity that we'll simply refer to as “yesterday” for now will have to be considered classified. While I'd love to try and capture the insanity of the day and the high running emotions of everyone involved I just don't want to make a bad situation worse or cause anyone any embarrassment so for now I think I'm going to have to leave yesterdays entry blank. Hopefully some day I'll feel comfortable enough to share it but unfortunately that day is just not today.

Anyway! Tomorrow morning I will be finally doing the thing I've dreamed about for seemingly so long now: a border crossing by motorcycle. The plan is to get to the border early, cross easily and smoothly, and then make my way to the sleepy town of Saltilla. Honestly though I have no idea how this is going to work. Worst case scenario that I can imagine happening is the border guards asking for my NYS Drivers license which if you remember the fiasco in Louisiana you'd know I didn't have. I do have my temporary motorcycle license issued by New York State and valid for a whole 90 days, but as every single guard pointed out in the sweltering heat every friggin time I tried to enter told is that it does not actually have my name on it, only my NYS ID number so who knows really.

On top of that potential fiasco I have no idea how it will be driving in Mexico. I can't foresee it being too difficult or different from the other places I've been in Central America, but as I've noticed countless times already on my trip that anything unexpected that can happen normally does.

With that said I am incredibly confident in the remainder of my trip. Where I'll go and what I'll doing will be decided almost certainly at the last second. That's the thing about staying in hostels though. You're always hearing from the person next to you that you absolutely HAVE TO go here or try this... For the next two and a half weeks that's exactly what I plan on doing with as much style as possible.

While I have some basic destinations in mind (Mayan ruins, Mexico city to meet my contact, and a few beaches) I think at this point with such little time remaining in my trip before I have to turn around and head home I believe I will be staying only in Mexico. While my overall goal of the trip was to visit every country in central America I hadn't been to I just don't think there will be enough time to do it comfortably. On top of that, the further south I go the longer it will take to get back. Today I did a comfortable 300 miles that only got long near the end, but that was also on Texas' crazy fast back roads doing around 75mph. From here on in I'd like to shorten those distances to somewhere closer to 200 miles a day, at least until I turn around. And last but not least there is still some destinations in the US that I'd like to stop at like Memphis, and Nashville so I want to leave plenty of time to see those places too.

Like I said though, today's ride wasn't bad. I left at 8:30am, and although the temperature rose steadily to over 100 degrees, I didn't feel uncomfortable to well past 2:30 in the afternoon. The one strange thing about the ride though was the startling lack of any type of scenery, or after San Antonio the lack of anything! At the last town before Laredo I finally noticed the sign I had been looking for since I got to Texas: Last Services for [blank] miles. Today it was 60 and as I had already gone 40 and had a bike with a range of somewhere around 100 for some reason I decided to chance it. OK not for some reason: I finally took the time to rig up my extra 1 gallon spare tank so I knew that even if I did run out I could get there eventually. Turns out my gamble paid off though, because while the heat really got to me the last 100 miles, trying to guess whether I'd run out of gas or role in to the next station happily turned out to be a great tool for passing the time. Also, nothing made me feel more proud then arriving in Laredo still moving on my overheated Saphira and although some might find it foolish, I felt accomplished. And after going so fast with the last tank, I sincerely think that there could have only been a couple of drops of gasoline left but we made it!

Hopefully that feeling of accomplishment will continue on to tomorrow. If everything works out my next post should be coming to you from Mexico with more pictures than the whopping zero that I took today. Fingers crossed though!

Tuesday, June 26, 2012

Featuring Cacti, Cliff Jumping, and Payback for a Forgotten Kickstand.


June 26, 2012
Killeen Texas

It's late, I'm back in my favorite city Killeen, the laundries been done, and Ian and I have already begun reminiscing about the best parts of our trip together. Although we're still having a good time relaxing with a movie and some ps3 in his cell, things have gotten a little quieter between us with heavy thoughts of our pending departure on both of our minds. I've read before that when traveling solo its hard to meet up with someone else after you've gotten used to your own schedule and I found that to be completely true. While I was used to coming and going when I wanted its disrupts your balance to have someone’s desires and timetables thrown into the mix. But after over a week of being together I've really gotten used to having my brother on the back of my bike. With his backpack perched perfectly strapped down on my trunk and him pushing as far back in the seat as he can to give me a little extra (but still no wheres near enough) space his fun loving nature has made him a perfect rider . We have once again become comfortable traveling companions and now the only strange part tomorrow will be not having him back there. While I'm sure that we'll travel together again someday it will without a doubt be a sad departure tomorrow none of us are looking forward to because the way our lives have taken us we just don't get to see each other as much as we'd like. Hopefully on my return in a couple of weeks with any luck I'll at least be able to stop in for some crappy junk food and maybe even dunk him in the pool a few more times.

Yet as sad as our departure will be we really had an incredible last couple of days together. Yesterday we took the most incredibly scenic road to Inks Lake park where the sights were out of this world and the state park was the best one I have ever been to. At the swimming area expertly named The Devil's Watering Hole thrill seeking swimmers willing to jump at there own risks can chose between a 10, 15, and 35 foot cliff. Of course with me being the dangerous (read senseless) thrill seeker that I am, my first jump had to be from the highest ledge. While I enjoy doing these things that isn't to say that I'm not terrified of doing them and this time proved to be no different. Yes it was rush, yes it hurt a lot, and no I won't do it again for at least a few months but it was awesome...

Without a doubt I took more pictures yesterday on the road and in the park then I have on the whole trip. It was completely beautiful. After the park we had to stop and get some pics of the road so any curious readers can hopefully see what me and Ian got to see. I pulled off the road and upon seeing a long flat rock cropping decided to take Saphira off-roading for her first time on the trip. Parking in a spot shared only with cacti and both of us in awe, we took plenty of pictures of the gorgeously desert-esque scenery and even some of the local plant life.

After spotting one of the larger cacti, Ian stated that he had to touch it. Knowing the consequences of this fool hardy move I let him make his own choices and sure enough the rapid succession of expletives flew from his mouth. Laughing out loud I turned around to walk away before joining his colorful wording with some of my own. It turns out I had walked through some kind of burr brush and they had imbedded no less then 20 of the peas sized razor sharp burs into my feet (yep wearing flip flops and shorts). 10 minutes later after I had picked them all out by holding a rock in each hand to wedge them together (they're way to sharp to grab with your hands!) I was free and ready to ride. But after hopping on and beginning to back up my tendency to forget to return the kick-stand to its upright position finally caught up with me. Throwing off my balance by hitting a rock while slowly wheeling it backwards proved to be just enough to get Saphira leaning a little too far and like I said before when all of her 650 pounds start falling sideways there's really not a whole lot a rider can do.

Jumping off to keep my foot from being crushed and cursing my stupidity after the bike came to rest I told Ian to help me get her back upright before any of the cars driving by saw us. This was accomplished with an enormous amount of effort in the late afternoon sun and then we sheepishly set back out again on our merry way this time for another park right outside of Marble Falls.

While it was nothing like Inks Lake, it was nice to be able to swim again in the 100+ degree weather and check out another state park, but even better before parking we noticed we were right next to a brewery. Later, after departing the brewery with full bellies of pulled pork sandwiches, and two growlers full of their own custom brewed beer, the rest of the night became history. To my endless enjoyment Ian continued on with his romeo inspired pick-up move of leaving his phone number behind written on practically anything he could find with a little note saying “call me!” and a smiley face.

As we stumbled home I don't think we could have had a better day. 2 state parks, without a doubt the best drive I had made so far, and another great night out to top it off. I've had an incredible time with Ian, but as of 6:00am tomorrow morning he will be heading North by plane, and I'll be heading South to get as close to the border as I can in preparation for an early border crossing Thursday morning into Mexico.

Monday, June 25, 2012

Jumping fences, wrong turns, an interview, and Sonic!

Not ours... but close!

June 25, 2012
Marble Falls, Texas

For all those people who like to read about trying new food I can finally say I've had the experience I've been waiting for ever since I crossed some unknown boundary a thousand miles back or so. Now to most it may not seem like a lot, but to me going to Sonic with its 40 something drive up stalls and waitresses on roller skates has been a long time dream. Now I can finally check that one off the list too with a pleasantly full feeling in my stomach.

To give a little back story, where I live has direct TV with commercials from around the country not necessarily relevant to your own daily living. Normally I consider myself somewhat immune to commercials on TV, but one has caught my attention on numerous occasions. Sonic's commercials, for which we have no chains in New York that I know of are constantly being featured splashed with crazy looking hot dogs covered in all types of happiness piled precariously on top. Today with my breakfast sandwich, coffee, and tater-tots I finally saw my opportunity to try one of these delicious creations.

While the hotdog came out almost definitely microwaved due to its soggy texture, the mix of nacho cheese, guacamole, and jalapenos was even better then I could have ever imagined. While I'm not proud of myself for ordering one of these monstrosities for breakfast, without a doubt it was worth it. In fact the only strange part of the experience was when a woman pulled up to a drive in booth, and five minutes later they brought a child and strapped him in the back of the car. While I pointed out to my brother that I didn't realize children where now available in drive-throughs here, almost nothing about Texas can really surprise me anymore. I guess Ian's point that maybe they had just been watching him inside for his mother could conceivably make sense, but it sounds a little too simplified for me in a place where you can also walk into an establishment and opt to borrow a weapon normally used to fight insurgents. Besides, if you can order a monstrously loaded down hotdog with everything but common sense as a side for your coffee and breakfast, who knows what else you can order here...

Today me and Ian will be staying one more night in Marble Falls, Texas before heading back to Killeen to part ways. Yesterday we got to take an incredible route out of the Texas' capital city on highway 1 that was filled with huge winding rock faces, million dollar houses, lush green valleys, and breathtaking views that went on for miles at some of the peaks.

Now I'm hoping that anyone reading this isn't to familiar with Texas because if they were they'd without a doubt realize that Marble Falls is West of Austin, and not due North. Turns out for about 30 minutes we happily road in the glee of our surroundings unaware that we had gotten on the totally wrong road in the wrong temperatures for driving a motorcycle an extra hour. Stopping at the nearest McDonalds we grabbed a quick bite to eat (yeah we've been eating like champs!) drenched our shirts in ice cold water, and then finished up the amazing drive. I really had no idea of how nice the scenery in Texas was going to be and I can honestly say its been a pleasant surprise. Some roads like the one yesterday demonstrate how Texas' flat plains can lead to incredibly dramatic 9 mile views, and then other roads if it weren't for the road signs in English you could mistake your location for somewhere in Mexico.

Either way in a few short days I should be reporting on what Mexico roads really look like from my bike. While I will have no where's near the time I thought I'd have, I still have to at least try and make it to Mexico city before turning around and heading for home. My time in Texas with my brother has been priceless (especially for me!) because now that we're older and finally get along like true brothers should, we find ourselves normally separated by 10 or so states and about 1500 miles. And besides, adventures have still be around every corner, and continue to impress and astound me.

Two nights ago we had an incredible cookout with some new found friends at our extended stay hotel. It was a great night filled with a great jam session, tasty food, and maybe even clumsily hopping the fence of the pool due to the overbearing hotel's policy of locking said pool's fence before we were done drinking. When you look at it that, it really seems like the hotel's fault right and when they warn of cameras I'm pretty sure their lying. After all, I merrily offered to lock the pool up when we were done (both nights) but those suggestions sadly only fell on deaf ears.

Even better then our stumbling midnight swim, and another first for me, yesterday I got the chance to sit down with an incredibly talented musician from Austin and he took an hour of his time to try and explain the true heart of Austin and the music that grows from it. While I took pages of transcripts typing as quickly as I could, combing through that and fashioning it into something postable is surely going to be a challenge. So although the interview is done, I'm going to need some time to work on sharing it. Without a doubt Woodstock Jones is one of the truest most interesting characters I've met on my voyage , but his straight forward truths and feelings about being a musician are so inline with my own that I feel like its really important to get it out correctly. The post on the interview will be soon to follow hopefully today, but for now I have to head to the lakeside park Marble Falls is known for to try and escape the predicted triple digits weather approaching.

Saturday, June 23, 2012

Rock and Rollin in Austin!



June 23, 2012
Austin, Texas

To start today's post I had to get some tunes going and not surprisingly today’s choice (thanks to amazon's cloud player) was the Dave Matthew Band. Yet it wasn't just any random song today. Today I'm listening with a purpose to find some inspiration from the song “You might die trying.” For me personally this song has a very special meaning now. It always makes me think of my little brother and the years he's sacrificed in the name of his country by bravely signing up to join the Army. What impresses me though is the fact that he signed up not because he had hopes of going to war, proving anything to anyone, or the glory or the glamor that comes from being an American soldier. He did it solely with the purpose to get an education, to better himself, and to change the world and that's what makes him the most god damn bravest person I've ever met and thankfully I've had numerous chances to tell him this. “If you give you begin to live...” Perfection!

Anyway, in my time I've had a lot of drinks while watching musicians, had a few drinks with some outstanding musicians, been I've never had drinks while the musicians were playing standing next to me! However, last night that all changed at BD Riley's Irish Pub on 6th street in Austin. After rocking the crowd with its three piece fusion of blues, southern rock, and blinding electric guitar solos, the Eric Tessmer Band stepped up there game, and stepped off the small stage in the corner and moved out into the crowd while continuing on with a ridiculously long electric solo.

Now don't get me wrong, really good musicians don't normally need an added hook or “gimmick.” Great musicians should be able to put on a great show even if their standing in place the whole time, but a little movement never hurts. These guys, including the bassist and guitarist, took that to the next level by walking through the crowd while keeping a heavy blues jam going. Seeing their lead guitarist/vocalist doing an insane solo not a foot away is a whole new experience for me and being able to play (but no wheres near that good!) it couldn't have been cooler to be so close and actually get some idea of what the hell he was doing. It was awesome and other bands may do this as well, but I've never seen it before and it certainly led to a memorable performance. They even managed to take it as far as the bassist going outside to smoke his cigarette all the while continuing on with the song and never missing a beat.

Now to describe the overall feel of downtown Austin, especially 6th street is somewhat difficult. It's a lot like New Orleans in the vibe, the live music, and the sheer amount of people out and about drinking merrily, but its also totally different. Austin seems much more polished even maybe more established. The scene is epic with an entire street blocked off for the thousands of people out looking to hear some good music, dance, and have a good time. Many in the area actually believe that the Austin music scene is number 1 in the entire country and I suppose it is at least in its genre of Southern Rock, blues, and progressive rhythms all mixed up into one. It doesn't have the tap your foot beat of New Orleans, or the old feel of the french quarter, but it's got a hell of a lot of style.

To compliment our terrible twosome, last night I got to meet up with a friend I had met in New Orleans the week before from Israel. Despite my brothers drunken attempts to call him Jason, Jackson, Jarod, and Jacob, Jordan is a pretty cool traveler whose probably on his way to Las Vegas right now by plane. We met up at 6th street just like we had been long time friends, and in a posse of three we made the 6th street experience ours last night. Each place was crowded, dark, a little pricey, and we definitely left with only each others phone numbers (and some Burger King thanks to a gracious taxi), but like I said before it was epic.

Tonight should be fun though as well if not a little quieter. The people we've met who are staying here at the Extended Stay Deluxe have invited us to a good old fashion cookout. While me and Ian will surely continue the fight on how to make Bruschetta in our tiny kitchen, one thing is certain. It should be a lot of fun. Good people, great food, and tasty drinks: what could be better?

Friday, June 22, 2012

A Golf Cart, A Rented Armory, and a 22nd Birthday!!


The Bday boy holding either his rifle or his gun, I can't remember which is which...
June 22, 2012
Killeen, Texas

We will be finally leaving Killeen in a couple hours and I'm feeling almost giddy! Currently Ian is heading to his shop to make sure his leave papers are together and I'm... well writing about getting packed up. Anyway its coming and its going to be great!

Yesterday was my little brothers birthday so I tried to show him the best time I could in a city with no soul, one brother with no access to his money, and the other brother unable to drink (and recently single [I'll go back and delete Alicia's stupid name from the records and replace it with an incredibly immature name some day I'm sure]) due to a PT test in the morning. To me the decision was clear: vacate the city with great haste, find the closest shooting range, and in true macho style use the biggest guns we could rent to destroy as many patches of grass that we could find to celebrate! In true Texas Ranger style enter Weber's Gun Range. After some quick paperwork, a credit card (still not mine!), and a half-inquisitive “you know how to use these right?” we were on our way out to the range with a small arsenal in the back of our golf cart. For Ian he chose the bulky yet gentle 9mm, for me being the bigger guy out of the group the wildly powerful (and for some reason more compact) 1911 replica 45cal. Oh yeah, and lets not forget the Ar15 assault rifle as well...

Now like I previously said, I'm more a fan of control then gun play, but when offered the chance to target shoot when in Rome do as the Romans right? With great machoismo and pizzaz two hours later we sent a total of 280 rounds down range effectively peppering the dirt with toxic amounts of led. On the pistol range, we chose to fire so far away from the targets that we couldn't see whether we made our marks or not, and of course the AR15 had a reflex site sans the battery so we really couldn't tell where those rounds where going either but that wasn't really the point.

Each weapon had its own personal characteristic and how every roller coaster is different in their own special way, so were each of the weapons in our own little armory. While more accurate and tamed, the 9mm also had the incredible capability of hold 15 rounds. Because it did hold so many rounds, and it really didn't jump to much (and we really weren't going for accuracy!), the possibility of unloading all 15 in rapid succession left the user feeling like they were straight out of some cheesy action movie. On the other hand, every time I fired the 45cal I was scared that it would jump up out of my hands, hit me in the face, then hop in the golf cart and drive away. To say the least the punch it packed was incredible, and I felt exactly like I do when riding a motorcycle like mine while giving it full throttle: point it in the right direction, hope for the best, and try to hold on!

Last but certainly not least we came to the ar15 assault rifle with nervous jitters of joy passing over us in giggly juvenile waves. After all, where else can you walk into a store and ask to borrow something previously only seen before in movies!? After taking a quick lesson from my knowledgeable brother, we loaded up the 20(!!) round clip and let the crickets have it. Now don't get me wrong. The 9mm was loud, the 45 unquestionably louder, but every time we let loose one of the 5.56mm rifle rounds it was like a little piece of hell was crossing over. Taking lessons from Ian we tried the kneeling stance, the laying down stance, the sitting stance, and finally the empty-the-clip-as-soon-as-possible stance. To say the least in was nuts! And every time we reloaded I could only think about Jodi's brother key phrase “Send it!”

Sweating from the intense heat and the adrenaline coursing through our veins, with sadly gave them ludicrous weapons back and then headed back to Killeen. We swam in the “luxurious” pool filled with critters (we didn't have to worry though because the water was so murky we really couldn't tell what we were swimming in), we had dinner at Logan's Steak house per Ian's choice were we both got some juicy steaks and I again for the second year in a row got to embarrass him by having the waitresses sing to him, and then we made plans to go to Austin today all the while noting the incredible luxuries of my current hotel (a door that you didn't even have to prop to keep it open, outer doors that never locked making entry somewhat hands free I'm sure for only our upstanding neighbors, a TV that made false promises to waste our time with a ps3 but unfortunately had no way to turn it to the AUX channel, and carpet??). Now instead of writing about getting ready for Austin I should probably focus more on the execution of the process, but thankfully the next post will come from a new city, and now that Ian is off work, a new bunch of stories and hangovers to describe shortly.

On a side note the blog got an all time high of 54 page views in one day yesterday and I couldn't be happier with how things are going. So if you're reading this now you have my sincere thank you at making me feel appreciated in my efforts. Also, today should mark the day for the blog's 500th total page view, how exciting!? So again thank you!! 


 
 

Thursday, June 21, 2012

Sex, drugs, and rock and role?


June 21, 2012
Killeen, Texas

One way or another this will be my last post from this city and I couldn't be happier! My brother is done for the week tomorrow and the plan is to hit the road as soon as he's out. It should be  a rather interesting site to see transporting my gear, his gear, and himself all on my wee motorcycle but its all in the name of adventure travel right?

On a side note I'm currently trying to arrange a new perspective for the blog. Being a musician myself since I was 12 but always having a tough time finding dedicated musicians (except Michelle my beautiful and talented vocalist and co-writer for a brief period!) I now have the curious habit of going on to craigslist wherever I am to see whose looking for band mates. This time I found a guy named Woodstock Jones looking for a drummer, my preferred instrument currently. I used to do the whole singer songwriter thing but I was always too much of a perfectionist (and I guess not good enough to make myself happy!) to enjoy playing live shows as great as they were. My career in that department culminated in me recording a full length CD, playing all the instruments, writing all the music, and mastering it myself in Brockport while I was in college. It was an incredible experience of hundreds of hours of work, but I felt like after I was done I had said what I needed to say, written what I needed to write, and was happy with what I accomplished. Now I'm perfectly content to sit in the back and hammer on my drum set unafraid to slip up, just playing for myself and trying to have a good time.

So where does Woodstock Jones come into this? Well I found that he was looking for a drummer so I decided to try and contact him to interview him when I got to Austin about his music, and the legendary music scene that surrounds him. At this point I'm not sure what he's going to say; he could be too busy for me to get a chance to meet up with him, or he could be too creeped out by the completely random message to contact him. Either way Woodstock Jones has a great sound as is worth checking out here: http://www.facebook.com/woodstockjonesmusic/app_2405167945. He's got a hauntingly soulful voice, to the point cutting lyrics, and some great acoustic guitar riffs. Hopefully next post will be some good news about meeting up with him, and I've also managed to contact another adventure traveler in Austin with an epic blog, but we shall see...

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

My name is Matthew Brown and I have a delicious problem!


June 20, 2012
Killeen, Texas

I should probably be looking for a substance abuse check-in program right about now seeing as how I can't stop thinking about my last greatest fix: Maurice's Real Pit Bar-B-Que. I walked in to the place knowing I was leaving behind the gorgeous waitresses in skimpy clothing, the annoying neon signs guaranteeing mediocre food, and even better: the standard food made as quickly and cheaply as possible designed to get dinners in and out in no time flat. From the outside of Maurice's you know you're entering a dive, and as soon as you enter your feelings are confirmed as you can tell by the picture. A sign on the wall promises its loyal customers that “This is not a restaurant, it's an experience” and oh how right they are (holding back some tears now).

Asking the disheveled woman behind the counter (no waitresses here!) what was the best they had to offer without hesitation she pointed me to the BBQ brisket dinner. In my world of underprivileged BBQ'ing experience my favorite is the ribs surprisingly not on the menu, so I left my choice up to the woman who seemed to know best and crossed my fingers.

After getting our own sodas and finding a table the food eventually arrived on Styrofoam plates. “Let me get you some plastic utensils” the woman cheerfully told us only heightening our desire to find out what was so special about the food. In one word (PG13 PG13....) it was increible! I ordered the beef brisket with a side of mac and cheese and coleslaw. For anyone familiar with where I'm from we have the sacred Dinosaur Barbeque Pit and my favorite in Buffalo called Fat Bobs, both excellent places for Northerners trying to discover what southern BBQ is like. However, unfortunately at this point I have to say Maurice's was hands down better and I later found out why.

It turns out Maurice's had first opened shop up the road in 1950! So for the last 60 years the owners had been nothing except changing locations after a fire, and perfect their recipe and without a doubt it showed. Between the owners and their sons they had seemed to have met everyone famous as proven by the vast amount of pictures on the wall from the local sheriff of the town to Presidents Clinton and Obama.

I'm not going to sugar coat things either, in a few spots the brisket was a little dry, but its perfectly blended spicy hotness with its sugar sweet but not overpowering sauce made it one of those meals that our sounds of pleasure would have gotten us strange looks and probably shown to the door at any other place.

Halfway through the meal I noticed with a bit of curiosity that the woman had brought out some plain pieces of white bread and I got an idea. With bravado, hunger, and curiosity lighting the way I filled a piece of bread with all three ingredients: absolute perfection! It was like a perfected Southern style garbage plate but so much better. After finishing my plate finding myself unable to save some for lunch the next day I managed to finish my little brothers plate as well.

Perfection on a Styrofoam plate! That's the only way I can describe what I ate last night and all I can think about is getting more. While I've always known this to be true, finding the best food so many times requires travelers to get off the beaten path and step outside our comfort zones, but the rewards are memorable and worth it. All together both meals and drinks cost $20, and being a million times better then the $50 meal at the chain BBQ place I can't tell enough people: TRY MAURICE'S REAL PIT BAR-B-QUE!

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

Challenge excepted: Drowning or free food!







June 19, 2012
Killeen, Texas

Yesterday after waiting in a hotel with a closed pool, hot tub, and restaurant (remember I still don't have any access to my money) the day quickly turned into by far the greatest day I've spent in Texas. We finally got out of the sweltering heat of strips malls here in Killeen and went out to Belton lake maybe 20 miles outside of the city.

After stopping to pick up some beers we pulled into the park not 20 minutes later in search of a waterfall both my brother and his girlfriend had been to before. Pointing off in the distance to a small fishing boat Alicia informed me we'd have to walk around the cove to get to the spot maybe a mile away. My brother chose to carry the dog we'd picked up at Alicia's parents house because the poor guy wasn't even a foot tall and even walking in the shallow water was a big obstacle for him. The funniest part about this was even when the little guy was in my brothers arms out of the water, his primal instincts must have kicked in because you could still see him paddling the air. With Alicia carrying her shoes and phone, and me carrying my passport (for some stupid reason) and a six pack of beer (I know I know. A six pack for 3 people?? Let's just say my brothers a little new to the whole buying beer thing and math may not be his strong suit) we started off on our trek in the hot afternoon sun.

After about 20 minute of avoiding rocks, mud pits, and fatal flip flop destroying mistakes it occurred to me that I could lighten my load a little bit by minimizing the beers left in the bottle. With glee and a middle finger from my brother who was wadding waist deep in the sludge, I cracked open the first one of the Ziggen Bachs splattered with images of the Texan state and the actual word “Texas” written countless times on it to reassure Texans that they were in fact buying American beer.
In the hot sun, fighting with every step to keep my footing that first beer tasted excellent. Soon enough while still trekking along and congratulating myself on my ingenuity the first beer quickly turned into the fourth. Needless to say by the time we reached the water fall due to my dehydration and constant effort I was half in the bag, but feeling great and loving life.

The waterfall itself was strikingly beautiful cut in the side of the wide and also scenic lake. Although Niagara Falls it wasn't, the almost tropical foliage surrounding the chute and the 40 foot height of it still made it a picturesque spot to relax.

After finishing off our beers both me and my brother took the plunge and stood under the falls, enduring the brutal pounding on our heads of the quickly falling water. Then it was swimming in the lake and a great time was had by all, but especially myself! Alicia took some pictures on her phone so hopefully I'll be able to get those to post before I leave.

On the way back feeling much more sober then on arrival an idea struck me. It must have been a mile walk around the cove to get back to the parking lot, but to swim straight across couldn't have been more then half a mile. After telling him my idea, Ian with his usual grace and tact cheerfully informed me that if I didn't do it, he wouldn't be buying me dinner. For anyone who knows me two things generally always rule out common sense at the end of the day in my world: 1. A challenge and 2. The need to eat! After all, I had been on a swim team for 9 years in high school (I started early) that had been known across the county (don't confuse this with country) for crushing its competition.

So with onlooking eyes wide open I waded out, and with flip flops on hands I started the swim. At first I took a gentle pace knowing that if I tried to knock it off too quickly I'd cramp up and probably drowned with only my little brothers not so great swimming abilities to almost certainly guarantee a watery end. The only hard part of the swim was staying focused on the tree line I was aiming for, and not looking back to avoid the panic that would surely set in when I realized what I was actually trying to do. After all, I could clearly see people loading docks near my targeted destination, but unfortunately they were so far away I couldn't tell if they were male or female, and could almost guarantee that they couldn't hear me if I called for help.

Now for those reading this, you can probably guess that because I wrote this, ipso facto or whatever its called, I must have made it and of course I did. Overall it wasn't so bad and if anything made me sleep like a baby last night alone in the hotel. Challenge excepted and completed. The dinner I had at a local restaurant blessedly nothing like the huge chains found in Killeen never tasted so good. I got a delicious catfish Po'Boy and with the caso and chips it was a great meal. While free food is always great, food that you know you've earned couldn't taste better.

Unsure of what the rest of the day will be like today when my brother gets off work in a couple hours, I have to be content sitting in the cooling air conditioned hotel. Let's keep our fingers crossed that my new debit card will arrive Wednesday allowing me to leave for San Antonio in the last night in the states for a month. While working on my budget, it was a little difficult to keep my head up knowing I was about to pay some fees for crossing the border, but I have to remember that gas is around 15-20% cheaper as reported by my source in Mexico City, and that I can stay at a comfortable hostel in most places for around $10 per night. All I can say is that I truly cannot wait for the next part of my adventure to begin in Central America!


Sunday, June 17, 2012

Texas: Guns and Grasshoppers


June 17, 2012
Killeen, Texas

I feel terrible even thinking this but its getting a little difficult staying in one spot. After all being on a big adventure to me includes meeting new people, trying new foods, and getting myself into ever changing situations. On top of that its difficult writing an adventure travel blog when you're really not traveling. While I love spending time with my brother, certain complications including my lack of access to money among other things have arisen that has made our stay here in Killeen less then perfect.

On top of that we had to change hotels today due to the large number of soldiers currently meeting up with there families, but that right there is another obstacle. With everything going on in my life right now the last thing I'm interested in seeing is countless happy couples and families reuniting. Cold? Maybe, but I'm just trying to be honest here.

Yet with every challenge comes the opportunity to make the most out it and that's exactly what I'm trying to do. Last night I ran into an odd character. We swapped our adventurous travel stories to remote areas of the world, but at the end when I asked him what he did with a friendly smile and knowing gleam in his eye he replied “Well I work for the government so if I told ya I'd have to kill you.” Its hard to believe that he could truly be a secret operative or anything similar of the sort, because after all he looked a lot like the Dude, long hair in the back with a hippyish beard and short buzz cut on top. Who really knows though? I'm sure secret operative’s aren't given a James Bondish type of dress code, but I can really only speculate.

Anyway, while we were talking he told me about a local gun show, and being in Texas and struggling with questions of masculinity partly due to my male rider always present I thought why not? We went for the last thirty minutes, proving to the woman working the counter that the ATM did in fact work to buy our tickets, but maybe she just recognized that I wasn't the type? We handled various types of firearms in various types of extremely macho designs. While I'm not a huge fan of guns (more a fan of gun control) it really was pretty fun. When the announcement came that the show was ending I walked away with two favorites in mind: a revolver that took a shotgun shell, and a rifle that took pistol ammo. With those backwards picks in mind maybe the woman at the counter was right: I wasn't really the type to truly appreciate a gun show because after seeing an entire arsenal of effectively deadly weaponry I had managed to pick the only two odd balls out of the bunch. Still cool though...

While that was my adventure for the day I feel like something else happening here bears some discussion. It appears for two months out of every year Texas is struck with a plague of locusts. Okay maybe not locusts but grasshoppers. They are everywhere! In the bathrooms, in the parking lots, at the bar getting obnoxiously loud leaving lousy tips, basically anywhere you can imagine. Now I don't know what that says about Texas Biblicaly or anything, but I'll let you make your own assumptions.

While me and my brother are having a great time, the new hotel is ten times as nice for half the price, and we have some things planned coming up that should be fun. Doing as they do in Texas and in following suit with today's gun show extravaganza tomorrow we'll be trying to go to a gun range and then off to a lake to swim. It should be both relaxing and fun, but with every day I spend here I feel the always increasing urge to get back on the the open road.

Saturday, June 16, 2012

A little bit of sole sucking, but a lot a bit of fun!

June 16, 2012
Killeen, Texas

Yesterday I finished the first half of my adventure:  meeting up with my little brother who recently returned from his deployment in Afghanistan.  It was an excellent 5 hour drive from Houston only getting turned around once or twice.  The worst part of the leg was after stopping for gas another long distance biker told me to avoid route 35 at all costs as four men had just been killed on motorcycles due to its constant flow of heavy traffic and truckers.  Assuming I would be riding route 190 all the way to Killeen Texas I told him not to worry, details details details...  Not twenty minutes later after fueling up I saw the sign:  Fort Hood/ Killeen this way on of course route 35!

Trying to complete the dangerous part as quickly as possible twenty minutes later I noticed that I was no longer seeing signs for Fort Hood or Killeen.  Pulling over I found out with a quick smack to the forehead that I had gone the wrong way.  You for the last week I had been following nothing but South or West routes, so this days drive north threw me through a loop.  Now instead of getting through the dangerous traffic as quickly as possible, I had doubled the amount of time I'd spend on 35 instead.  Oh well...

The rest of the trip passed without any problems/accidents/burning scenes of smashed wreckage.  The scenery was incredible.  The wide open expanse of Texas is exactly what they appear to be from the movies.  Rustic burned out sleepy houses scattered freely between large areas of arid nothingness.  It was a great contrast to the lush swamplands of Louisianna and I couldn't believe I was only a couple hundred miles away from it.   I also couldn't help feeling like a little bit of lone cowboy perched atop my beast, riding through the picture perfect backdrop that could have been out of any western movie.

Holding back tears of joy I pulled into the parking lot (2 hours after I had expected to be there  [details details...]) happily revving my overheated tired engine, jumping off quickly, and embracing my brother.  It was great to finally see him again and if this time was anything like the last time we hung out in the casino near Syracuse, New York we'd again be in for a great time.

Now normally I don't struggle with any feelings of doubt about my manliness.  I feel somewhat confident in knowing that I am who I am.  Killeen Texas is one of the few places that have challenged that in almost every way imaginable.  Everywhere I turn there's military men/real cowboys with chiseled muscles and less the 5% body fat.  To make matters worse, because my brother has no license or car, to see the sights or to get food Ian has to ride on the back of my bike.  Now driving through the machismo soaked atmosphere with another man on the back of my bike (a bike that's no doubt almost twice as old as some of these guys and definitly one of the oldest vehicles on the roads down here) definitely has put a little bit of a chink in the armor, but no choice now but to soldier on (yeah I went there!).

On top of that, I think I'm safe in saying I've reached the first destination that I really don't like.  For anyone without a military person in the family I'll give you a brief run down.  Soldiers get paid a decent amount of money, but unlike civilians most have no way to spend it.  So when many return from deployment to come stay in cities close to their base like Killeen its an all out spend-as-much-as-you-can-fest, but who can blame them?  On the receiving end of that buisness arrangment, I feel as if Killeen is just there to make a quick buck.  There's dealerships, miles of strip mall after strip mall, and any store selling any product a person with enough cash could ever want.

One of the stores we went into today was a motorcycle dealership selling $15,000+ motorcycles, and no it wasn't a Harley dealership.  I truly felt as if I could see the faces of the employees light up as they looked over and saw two buzzed haircuts walking through the door no idea the disappointment they were in store for.  The first saleswoman approached us in less than 30 seconds offering to help us out or answer any of questions.  Unfortunatly after less then 30 seconds more she had already gleened that I was not in the Army (therefore not eligible for their deep discount), and that we were just "looking."  Not exagerating at all, she just literally backed away with an awkward smile on her face.  In the short amount of time we were there we were approached by at least 10 other sales reps all thinking they could smell blood in the water.  Little did they know that what they were smelling was simply me, 5 days after having access to laundry in South Carolina (thanks Danita!).  So unnaccostemed they were to someone not just pointing to one and passing over the cash the whole experience was... ackward.  Oh well.

Whats certain is that I won't let the feel of the city get me down.  I was born in Florida; nations capital of the strip mall.  Me and my brother are still going to have a great time (pool hall last night with cowboys [including one self proclaimed black cowboy: "betcha didn't know their were black cowboys here!" he told us] and who knows where tonight).  Until then R and R for both me and my brother, getting to meet his new girlfriend, and some delicious Mexican beer that I guess I'm the only one not to have tried before.  Cheers!

Thursday, June 14, 2012

Stuck with no money, no id, and no debit or credit cards in Louisiana

June 14th
Houston Texas

I'm less then 12 hours from meeting up with brother in Fort Hood who recently just got back from his first deployment in Afghanistan and I couldn't be more excited. It's currently 11:20pm, I've been on the road for almost 12 hours, have been torrentially soaked (my feet still look like prunes due to my leather boots lack of airflow), I managed to loose my wallet including all my cash, debit, and credit cards, but all in all I'm right where I wanted to be: Houston Texas.

Oh yes my wallet you ask? Chronicling the boneheaded things I've done so far (leaving the kick stand down on numerous embarrassing occasions, dropping my helmet/gloves/gas cap incessantly, running Saphira till her tanks were bone dry, stalling at busy intersections like it was my first time using a clutch) and of course burning my leg while stupidly where shorts, my latest feat of boneheadedness certainly seems to jump to the front of the line. While at a pit stop about 60 miles from the border of Texas I either: A. Left my money clip containing all my cards, most of my ID's (except my passport), and of course my money on the bench I was sitting at or B. Forgot to zip my jacket packet when I drove away depositing all of the above on I-10 at roughly 80 miles per hour. Either way, upon racing back at speeds I only thought would improve my chances of a happy ending all I found was nothing and a gas tank barely able to give 10 more miles. So I continued on with no clue of what I was going when I did run out of gas, and/or needed to find a place to sleep for the night.

Thankfully the next exit had a blessed Walmart. Say what you will about Walmart, but today it was a life saver. Upon entering I remembered they normally had money wiring abilities so after a quick call to my brother, mother, and father I had some fresh $20 bills in pocket. What I'm going to do about getting money after that runs out remains to be seen, but like before I'm too happy to be at my destination and too exhausted from getting here to really care. It can be fixed in the morning (hopefully)...

So in this sorry state with a laundry list of bloopers, its difficult to see why I'm so happy to be in my particular predicament. The truth of the matter is that it seems like forever since I last saw my little brother, and I'm still in awe at the incredible time I had in New Orleans.

Last night we made the trip from our hostel to the mythical Bourbon Street. By the time we arrived we had already finished the beer in the fridge and were well on our way to an epic night. I should have got a premonition of things to come when we stopped at the first bar and to save money (thrifty?) I bought the 3 for 1 beer special. There I was on a balcony overlooking one of the most lively streets in the entire US with three bottles of Budweiser to help me escape the heat (2 seconds later a staff member came out to yell at me for taking glass bottles on the balcony but I'll just skip over that part).

From there the night got wild. Their was live bands everywhere but without a doubt the highlight of the night was the local kids brass band. It was about 15 different trumpet, tuba, trombone, one sax and a drummer and it was amazing. The songs they played on the street corner attracted almost everyone in the vicinity with their mix of incredible blaring jazzy solos, and peppy Latin beats. At one point a car tried to drive by but in the throws of passion one man chose to instead of letting them pass, dance with the hood of the car. This only excited the crowd more and with the excitement of the crowd grew the passion of the musicians. To say the band and the entire surreal scene itself was amazing would be a total understatement; their was even a point in the night where my beer ran out, but I couldn't bring myself to leave and didn't seem to notice. The crowd was moving with the music, a woman was dancing suggestively with a cone, numerous onlookers were shouting with encouragement, and we were all having a blast.


After we left everything got a little blurry. We went from one club to the next, one great band on to another. At one point I made the fatal mistake of ordering a drink I believe most of the guide books warn about (my Swedish friend had one too so) and from then on we were as my friend Dean from Alfred puts it: “toasted.”

With the unforgettable night that I had, unfortunately came as it always does the unforgettable morning. I awoke at around 10:30 with the worst headache I could remember for years. It was so bad I thought I heard an infuriating alarm going off for ages and finally sat straight up in bed only to realize it was the gentle hum of the AC. Upon standing I found even less promising results as I'd seemed to have lost my ability to withstand light, and my balance. Not in any shape to be riding any numbers of wheels I set myself to the task of sobering up. I drank three jugs of water, took three different swims, ate breakfast and lunch (both PB&J's due to my enormous bar tab that I had accumulated) and had two things of BC powder (its a southern thing of crushed Tylenol and caffeine that you try to swallow and keep down with a glass of water). Three hours later I was packed and saying my goodbyes, sad to be leaving my new friends especially Krissy and Andres, but ready for the open road.

One thing that Krissy had said a day ago really stuck with me. I can't remember exactly what it was but I had been complaining about the difficulties of long distance motorcycle travels and she every so tactfully pointed out that I should probably change my attitude if I wanted any hopes of completing the adventures I had planned ahead of me. I guess I took that to heart because today's drive was incredible despite the difficulties. I drove through the Louisiana swamps and saw some great scenery, but even more important I was happy to be back on the road. All day Saphira seemed exuberant to be out and about again eating up the asphalt and the linking of us today in perfect harmony was undeniable. I realized I was no longer thinking about turning, I was just doing them, no longer worrying about stalling, just gently pulling away. All in all it was a great day. Tragedy struck, but like always my family came to the rescue.

Tomorrow I mark the completion of my second main objective for the trip and like I said before I couldn't be happier. I'll be spending numerous days with Ian and probably waiting for my new cards to arrive. As a bonus, looking at the odometer today I realized I had passed the 2000 mile mark on my trip. Not bad for a guy whose only had a motorcycle license for exactly a week to this day.

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

My first walk of shame...


June 12, 2013
New Orleans

By the time I rolled into New Orleans from my supposed “shortest” day of travel I was pissed. Nothing in the past 9 hours had seemed to go my way, and it certainly hadn't seemed like an “easy” leg in any real sense of the term. Looking back the next day its tough to figure out where to begin. I suppose the leg took a quick turn for the worse approaching my second fill up of the day.

Yesterday I found myself on interstate 10; a bustling 75+ mph highway designed purely for speed and rapid transit. Like so many have noticed my bike is not in fact equipped with a windshield so at those speeds I have to really lean forward on the bike to avoid the neck snappin winds. I suppose it must be pretty goofy to see a man on a old touring style bike, crouched low on the tank treating it more like a crotch-rocket, but its more out of necessity then style. Anyway I hit the hundred mile mark on my odometer and new it was time to fill up ASAP. At the last stop I had measured my fuel economy at 40 miles per gallon, my usual rate. So when I hit the hundred mile mark this time I figured I had at least 20 miles left despite the unusually low needle on the fuel gauge.

Trying to read the road signs on the highway blurring by, I'm pretty sure it said exit 5 for camping and exit 6 for gas so I accelerated on to the next exit in hopes of getting there sooner. The only problem was exit 6 never came. I kept going, trying not to get nervous as my gauge continued to rapidly drop off but I couldn't find this mythical exit 6. Taking the bike further on one tank then I had ever gone before I finally saw the exit and could just start to see the station. That was exactly when the trouble started. All of a sudden I lost almost all throttle having to crank it back all the way just to keep up speed. I suppose looking back Saphira did all that she could; at first she dropped down to 30 desperatly struggling to keep moving forward, held it for as long as she could and then with the clutch in came to a graceful parking spot on the roaring highway right next to the sign saying only a quarter mile to the gas station. Where my last bike practically shutoff if you weren't quick enough to change to the reserve tank Saphira held it together for as long as she could but unfortunately this time it simply wasn't enough.

Hoping off and cursing my unfortunate circumstances in the searing mid morning sun, I figured at least I could see the gas station and made the unfortunate walk of shame. Thankfully, motorists and other bikers are pretty sympathetic to travelers in need and I didn't even have to walk the short before a real southern boy, with cowboy killer cigarettes blazing, and southern rock pounding in the beaten Buick stopped and took me to the gas station. From there I paid for the smallest tank I could find and bought some oil just to be safe and made the walk back. Overall it couldn't have taken more then 45 minutes from sputter to moving out, but with the unforgiving heat of the barren highway and the embarrassing knowledge that I had run my dutiful workhourse out of gas my mood was in an all time low.

Getting tired of the endless view of 6 lane road and 18 wheelers going 10 mph slower then the speed limit soon after I made the choice to take route 90 and follow the coast for the rest of the trip. In comes Biloxy, Mississippi. It's like the Atlantic City of the gulf complete with casinos, streets packed with busy impatient swerving drivers on their cell phones, and evil stoplights seemingly designed to stop you every quarter mile to show you what you could be eating, or where you could be shopping. To say the least in a hundred degree temperatures stop and go traffic with full riding gear on is a brutal brain baking nightmare. I found myself cursing cars that even hesitated at green lights and knew the I couldn't continue at that pace in that heat.

The best part of the day's trip came shortly when I got to fully enjoy the benefits of riding along the coast. Coming to the first beach I saw with other people swimming, I pulled off and took a satisfying dip effectively cooling my nerves and putting me in a better mood. Unfortunately though by the time I got my gear back on and had pulled out I was sweltering hot again and the pleasure of the swim had faded before I even left the parking lot but it was still a nice stop.

The other memorable part of the day was before Biloxy rolling into a gas station for lunch and parking next to a harley being worked on a precarious character. He was a tatooed, leather skinned, shriveled older man with a peculiarly high pitched voice dressed in camo: not normally someone I'd associate with. But noticing that he was working on the bike I couldn't hold back and had to ask what was up. He happily told me that his pride and joy had been parked in Pensacola only a day ago, but had been sadistically submerged in a flooded out area for two days. It turns out the rains and flooding had stopped less than 24 hours before I rolled through and despite me coming prepared with my rain pants already on and the numerous texts and calls from family I stayed safe and dry. The happy fellow showed me the sludge that he had drained from every last plug on the bike that he could remove, but while I could still see my reflection in the bright chrome of the machine the sludge looked like a potentially fatal mix of what appeared to be oil and cement like mud.

The man told me that he was trying to get the bike back to his hometown in Texas, and from the sounds of it he didn't have a proverbial pot to piss in. Insurance had towed the bike a hundred miles or so but where the bike lay now was the extent of the towing companies radius, and potentially the machines final resting place. He also told me he hadn't eaten in two days so I offered him some of my PB&J and we shot the shit about our favorite traveling stories while he ran around calmly trying to secure clean oil and gas. You'd never guess from his high spirits that the one thing in his life that he cared about the most would most likely never see its home much less the next mile marker, and his optimism was uplifting. I pulled out shortly after sorry I couldn't help more and hopping the bike eventually found its spark and the man his way home. Looking at his story now, its hard to see why I can get so miserable with a little heat; at least my wheels were still rolling in the right direction, and the soothing purr of my 850cc four cylinder was still alive.

A couple hours later I rolled into New Orleans, quickly located my hostel and walked into paradise. Being an avid fan of hostels I'm always trying to explain why they're so amazing to people whose only encounters with hostels so far had been Quentin Tarantino and Eli Roth's nightmare, so I guess at this point I'll give it another shot. After only just finding my bunk and stowing my gear in my climate controlled frosty dorm (no “residence hall here!”) I walked outside to an instant offer of pool volleyball. In my sweaty disgusting state nothing could have sounded better, and withing a short hour I had lost 3 out of the 4 games, but had met at least 15 other avid adventures from anywhere from Australia to Poland and given some wholly refreshing ice cold beer.

The fun of the volleyball game continued into the night with copious amounts of beer, drinks, and other things, and a great time was had by all. One new found friend was hell bent on seeing a local “dive” bar to get an accurate feel for the locals, and after walking into an amazing beer garden of massive flat screen TVs, vine covered fencing and miles of white Christmas lights decoratively hung, I had to explain to the Frenchman that this was not in fact the true definition of a “dive bar.” We later filled the Aussie's desire to see a local bar. After numerous games of pool including my first shot of the night trying to impress an attractive blonde and self-proclaimed deckhand/bad-ass from Washington in which I managed to not only sink the cue ball, but also the 8 ball right away, and then a drawn out game of darts, we finally made our way back to the hostel. The night out continued on late into the night, all drinks were eventually polished off, and we all eventually found our way back into our beds.

Two nights before I was thankful for clean sheets, cold AC, and a pool at a budget breaking price of $77 a night, but last night I realized I had all of that and some great company at a fraction of the price. After all two nights here at the incredible India House are only costing me a total of 36 dollars, and for the fun had already that can't be beat. Couch surfing has been a nice new experience so far, but for the endless amount of travelers I've met already, hostels are still number one in my book. Now I need to go and soak my leg in the pool due to an unfortunate dismount and union between muffler and exposed skin; yeah I did that yesterday too...