Pedaling Panther : June 2017

40 miles after ditching my bear spray with my mate Traavis in Vancouver, Canada, I hit the United States border. The crossing was a small rural border and apart from having to give the immigration officer a geography lesson to explain that it was geographically possible to leave the United States by cycling overland to Mexico, it was a pretty easy affair. Not knowing quite what to expect when I crossed into Donald Trumps America first nation, I was pleasantly surprised to arrive in the evergreen state of Washington, and yes, it was extremely green. The geography had changed from large pine trees in Canada to country roads through flat farmland with mountains on one side. I headed south passed the humongous white peak of Mt Baker towards Seattle.

Mt Baker

Seattle, despite its reputation for miserable British weather, was basking in glorious sun. I was put up by a good travel mate by the name of Kru, who I had me 13 years ago on my first ever backpacking trip in Ecuador. Kru, an American citizen of Indian decent looked like Mike Tyson and since first meeting him had spent 90% of his life travelling the planet.... Of which he has covered 90%. His list of countries includes the dodgy likes Somalia and the Western Sahara. For years I've never know what Kru does to be able to travel for the last 20 years without working, though I finally got it out of him....investing in Seattle Real Estate, some savvy shares and being so shit hot at computers your company allows you to work remotely for months on end was the answer.

Me & Kru - Seattle

From Seattle I headed west to the Washington coast before dropping down into Oregon. The weather turned and I left behind the sun for more grey and changeable weather. This didn't bother me as Californian sun was fast approaching on the horizon. Oregon was a stunning coastline and arguably the best of the United States, the road went high on top of cliff's, weaved through redwood trees so big you could drive a car through and at times ran right along the shoreline as huge waves crashed in. The number one coast road runs the whole length of the west coast. I had been camping in all sorts of random places, nestled away out of sight in forests, on cliff tops, farmers fields, among vine yards, next to light houses in national parks after they had closed at night, the US was generally pretty good for finding a place to pitch a tent, though a bit of grass on a private campsite was 40 bucks....not gonna happen! One of my best camps, after discovering the rip off price of private campsites was in the boss's hut of a waste refuse site.

Luxury lodge on a waste disposal site in the forest

Sounds glamorous I know. But my little hut surrounded by forest came equipped with leather seats a table and chairs and kitchen..well a bench for my stove. I ensured an early start the next morning, he may have seen the humour in it, but council site boss man might not have appreciated me taking over his wooden hut. After all my efforts to find roadside camp spots and not having showered since leaving my mates house in Seattle, what I had not realised is that throughout the whole of Oregon were government hiker/biker camp's with hot showers for people walking or cycling the coastline for 5 bucks! This is the price I pay for trying to fly by the seat of my pants everywhere and refusing to research anything!

Stunning Oregon Coast

Despite all the stick they get, especially with the new madman in charge, the America people were super nice to me. The generosity I had experienced in Canada continued. Even when I thought the young lad was trying to sweeten me up for a big tip by giving me 4 free refills of lemonade and being suspiciously over curious into my trip, I was amazed when on going to pay he handed me a load of free cookies for the road and said the meal was on the house! Among countless other acts of generosity I encountered include the bloke drinking vino on his balcony who shouted out to me as I cycled past. He came downstairs for a chat and gave me a 20 dollar bottle of red wine, cheese, crackers the lot. I ended up not being able to find anywhere to camp that night with it being a wealthy area of second homes all along the coastline, but was so tempted to enjoy the bottle of red I pitched up in someones garden smack bang on the coastline just before sunset. First wine in months and it tasted incredible.

Free bottle of wine and great sea views from my tent...location is someones garden

San Francisco was the next big city I hit after crossing over from Oregon to California. The number one coast road was closed as I approached San Francisco which left me with a detour climb over the mountains before heading for the Golden Gate bridge. I tried to makeup for lost time by taking the 6 lane freeway towards the bridge until the oncoming police car turned his blues on and shouted "Get off the Freeway!!" at me. The central reservation prevented him from turning around and chasing me so I considered ignoring him but the very small adult part of my brain told me that would be unwise. I eventually crossed a mist covered Golden Gate bridge, the city limit,just before dark.

Leaving San Fran with much clearer skies

South of San Fran, the number one had fallen into the sea and will be shut for years, though this did not concern me, I had business matters in Fresno! Well, Panther Exotic Imports were back in business after it's last blunder (I'll come to that later) I had found a little gem of a 1968 Porsche 912 at a bargain price in old mans Jaguar Green on a website. I had wired the seller a deposit and was determined to blow the remainder of my life savings and more on this little gamble. The seller seemed genuine and told me to use the "walking route" suggested by maps on my phone (I had a US Sim card huge thanks to my friend Kru) as this would take me on a much quieter route to his home in Fresno, 170 miles inland. Well he was right about the quiet route, the bloke had put me on a dirt track through the wild west where I ended up having to wade through a river and not seeing civilisation for 2 days! Daytime temperatures soured as I headed inland and trailer parks littered the road approaching Fresno. I was starting to worry if this was the area to be buying a classic car from though things soon changed to a wealthy US suburban area. The detour was well worth it,the car looked even better in the flesh and if things seem as good as I think they seem......... there should be a healthy profit margin!...I won't shout too loud yet as its still in his possession and so is my money! But if it doesn't go horribly wrong will hopefully be picked up by the shipping company next week and put in a container bound for sunny England!

Dusty road inland to Fresno

Turning up in style to purchase the 912

Happy with the little green car I headed south to rejoin the coastline just north of LA,which meant crossing back over the mountains,which run all the way from Alaska to the tip of South America.

Farmers field camp

Approaching LA the coastline changed from the the green rocky hilly land of Oregon to flatter big white sandy beaches with cycle paths going right through the middle. Camping spots were becoming more difficult to find. I found myself riding into the dark about 80 miles from LA when I thought I'd found the perfect camp spot in a field just off the main road. After using my torch to pitch I hit the hay. When I awoke I found my tent soaking wet from the sprinklers in the field and surrounded by Mexican farm workers. They all said hello and acted like it was normal for me to be camping in the farmers field! Nearing LA I passed through some incredible beaches and filthy rich areas such as Malibu, though people weren't stuck up as I thought they might. I chatted to a couple of blokes on mountain bikes at a supermarket who were very keen to chat. One looked like Richard Branston and was the editor of a surf magazine, the other was the neighbour of the bloke from Coldplay and was off to see him in concert in the UK. Just like my neighbourhood back in London.

Staying with Lich - San Pedro, LA

LA was the chance to catch up with another friend, Lich, a Vietnamese American I had met in a hostel in Rome 2 years ago. I had come at a bad time, Lich was having a career change from a Librarian to become a Police security guard. To show discipline they had to start at 4:30am which meant setting his 7 alarm clocks, no joke, for 2:30am and doing a carpool to work with others on the course. I had arrived mid week and not only did he have punishment homework at night, he had just been blasted in the face with a pepper spray and I was sleeping on the floor of his bedroom in his house share..which the landlord was not happy about! Whilst Lich was being blasted in the face with pepper spray... I had business to attend to! That blunder I spoke of earlier refers to when I went for broke putting all my eggs in one basket to import a bright yellow Ferrari (the one from Magnum) from a LA dealer 18 months ago. I've learnt a lot of lessons from buying that car...and luckily managed to trade my way out of it since, but what I had paid top dollar for was a "lemon" of a yellow Ferrari!

I knew there was little chance of getting anything out of the cowboy Beverly Hills Car Club, but since I was going passed the door was determined to at least give them hell! They had sold me a car which they claimed was "mechanically sound" and they had apparently test driven. When the yellow Ferrari arrived home it certainly looked fast, but after my father had spend an hour helping me try to get the thing started, it made more bangs and explosion's than a New Years Day firework display, spat out oil and water and fired flames out of the exhaust! It was my biggest and most expensive gamble yet importing a car and I could have cried.

I sat there calmly at first explaining all this to the Armenian sales manager, Armond. Though when he tried treating me like a mug and began making standard BS responses such as; it could have got damaged in transport, we can sit here all day arguing about it and I'm sorry there's nothing i can do....I saw red! Some of my one liners included:
"I've got all the time in the world mate. I'm off work for a year (putting my feet up) I said...you ain't gonna get much work done as I'm sitting here till you sort it mate"

On refusing to call his boss I eyeballed him, told him he had no integrity or spine, called him a pussy and questioned whether he was afraid of his boss and repeated the words "call him!" for 10 minutes. I explained that the difference was that of being honest and being a complete bullshitter, which he was. The car couldn't possibly have been driven, there wasn't even a belt on the water pump! At least the sales guy responsible for that sale had a bit about him and admitted he wrongly sold me that car as being mechanically sound.

Going into battle on my bicycle @ the Beverly Hills Car Club

By this point I had been in the office with Armond and the other sales guy for around 3.5 hours, there attempt of threatening to get the police to remove me wasn't having any effect. I explained time and time again I didn't give a flying "f" what there policy was and I wasn't going anywhere until the admitted they were wrong and gave me a token cash gesture to apologise.
My persistence eventually paid off and I got 400 Buck's cash and a drive in a similar Ferrari from one of the Mexican mechanics who worked there, who took great joy in ragging the Ferrari 308 around the block. In the end I don't think Armond and his mate were bad guys and there hands may have been somewhat tied, though I won't be buying another can from the Beverly Hills Car Club in a hurry!

From LA, a day and a half ride saw me pass beautiful San Diago and to the Mexican Border! Tijuana lied just the other side of a huge metal wall and giant Mexican flags could be seen blowing in the wind as I approached. I had enjoyed the states, but was massively excited to be crossing into Mexico. As I neared the border my phone stopped working but I managed to find a sign which said "Mexico Cycle path". The path continued for a whole 50 yards before being terminated into a fence and dumping ground

I decided to opt for the highway which said Mexico only no turnaround, no pedestrians or bicycles. It soon became clear it was not for bicycles, it led to 5 lanes of barriers which had plate recognition for car's. The Mexican immigration officer came who came running over found it amusing! He directed me to a colleague who took me through a few sets of doors and told me to walk over the pedestrian foot bridge. Expecting to find myself in a cue to show my passport... I found myself at a taxi rank in Mexico! I hadn't even shown my passport to anyone let alone had it stamped. Benvenuto to Mexico!

I've never crossed a border and seen such dramatic changes so quickly. Glass covered the road, streets were full of life and colour, the language was obviously different, it even smelt differently.... though that was probably the smell of poo from there useless stone age decrepit sewage system! Most would say it looked dodgy, but for me it had character. Tijuana was a no-go city just a couple of years back famous for horrific drug gang related murders. It made San Diego look very sterile. It felt like the adventure was just beginning and I all of a sudden felt very alive. I took a " b" line for Tijuana playa by getting on a 3 line highway which literally followed the huge iron wall all the way over the mountains and into the ocean....literally! (See below pic). It was quite a sight. Reminiscent of the Berlin wall or Gaza strip...well from pictures I've seen of it at least.

Tijuana Playa - The wall disappearing into the Ocean in the background
...beyond the wall is a deserted beach

The response of the police motorbike as he passed me by on the car only highway was a big thumbs up..a far cry from being pulled over for doing a red light in the US just a few miles back! More of Mexico in the next blog chapter, though in brief my first night in Tijuana was spend in a hostel right by the beach, a stones throw from the us border, yet it may as well have been 10,000 miles away. The hostel,the only one in Tijuana was complete with weed smoking area,tattoo studio and was combined with a jujitsu club where cagefighters trained. My mate Lich drove down from LA to catch up with me for a night on the town....which ended in a trip to his favourite place.... a lawless strip complete where there were drills with dildos attached to be used by the public...yes really! Mileage so far is 4500 miles from Alaska and just under 9000 in total inculding the Delhi to Laos leg.