August 24th, 2018.
Day 7.
I awoke after a very deep sleep at 5:20 a.m. local time.
First order of the morning was to download videos and photos from yesterday and then take a shower, after which I began packing and loading the bike in preparation for the day ahead.
My plan is to ride all the way from here to Needles, CA.
With packing accomplished, I fired up the bike and took note of the fact that it was 59’F (15’C).
With check-out procedures done away with, I pulled away from the Inn in search of fuel at 6:54 a.m. - direction Barstow, CA.
I went by the Grand Canyon Railway Station. I couldn’t miss it. It was directly on my route towards the highway I wanted to join.
Train rides are offered from here to the Canyon and back.
I made a mental note of maybe coming back here one day on a family trip to experience that.
7 miles (11km) beyond the town of Ash Fork, AZ, a sign announced the upcoming exit for Crookton Rd. (Old Route 66).
I took the exit. This was another of my “must-ride” roads on this trip.
If you are in this area, the riding experience is not to be missed.
The road took me through the highly popular Route 66 town of Seligman - one of the towns that literally put Route 66 on the map, much revitalized today and is a really great tourist attraction and on through Yampai towards Peach Springs and Truxton, Truxton being another of the wildly popular Route 66 must-see locales.
I pulled up at the Hackberry General Store and spent easily an hour looking at and admiring a lot of old technical and mechanical relics of days gone by that are on display here. A true time-capsule of automotive stuff and services of that day.
The road wound on with not too much else except for lovely scenery as I motored on towards the Hualapai Indian Reservation.
With railroad tracks running parallel to the road, I got “some of my kicks” running beside a diesel locomotive going in the same direction for several miles.
Arriving in Kingman, AZ another iconic town of Route 66, it was the last major town on the route before Atman, AZ.
Just outside of this town, the road was covered with quite a bit of very fine sand, carried here by the wind, covering almost everything and collecting on the edges of the road. This causes a narrowing of each of the opposing lanes of local traffic down here in the valley, before it winds its way through the mountains, becoming very steep in elevation in some parts.
This mountain road is narrow and has no guardrails so proceed with caution.
I had a “death-grip” on my handlebars all the way up!
Despite this though, it is an exhilarating ride to the top with magnificent views and great asphalt.
I stopped at the summit - Sitgreaves Pass, its highest point at 3,550 feet (1065 m) above sea level and looking backwards, was amazed at the grade of the road I just traveled along to get to this point. I could make it out along its route as it hugged the mountainside for almost as far as my eyes could see.
What a view!
If you’ve never seen a “black man” with white knuckles, you should have seen me/my hands!
After coming to a stop, I literally had to pry my right hand off the handlebar with my left hand that equally had poor blood flow to my fingers!
I can’t ever remember my hands being like this.
Talk about a “white-knuckle ride”!
With much less humidity at this time, it was very comfortable in the heat of the day. Enough to where I decided that a snack break was in order.
I found a rock to sit on and gazed out into the openness of the mountains and valleys I was surrounded by.
For this moment in time I was alone, feeling minuscule but thoroughly enjoying the experience of the moment.
Off in the distance, I could hear the echo of a Burros’ braying, emanating from “somewhere” out there in the mountains.
My next stop was to be the town of Oatman, AZ - an old silver mining town that died out when the resource was depleted during the 1800’s.
The Burros have roamed free since then and due to their contribution through assistance to the miners of those days, have been given protected status in this area to this day.
As such, they roam free, cannot be trapped, enclosed or domesticated and have the run of the town.
They love attention.
The descent of this road from the mountaintop was very thrilling as it wound its way along, dumping me into the middle of Oatman.
So with Burros roaming the streets, I joined the throng of tourists and spent all of about 20 minutes looking over and visiting this tiny little speck of a town that was bursting with so much color, character and history from it's glory days of the silver mining boom.
It is now a serious and typical tourist trap!
I moved on with my sights now firmly fixed on entering California.
So after running about 120 miles of Old Route 66 to this point, I got onto AZ 10 and ran due south along the lovely mountain road through the rest of the mountain range to arrive back on interstate 40.
The land was parched and dry. Down from the mountains now, I could feel the heat.
It was hot, I mean hot.
I looked down at the gauge on my instrument cluster.
It read 96’F (36’C).
I was ready to strip my riding gear!
Even I, this little kid having grown up in Africa, was feeling the heat! I needed to rehydrate and cool off a bit.
So I ducked into the first gas station/convenience store that I came to in California!
It had a Dairy Queen attached to it and it made absolute sense to me to take a break for something to eat and drink at this time.
Besides, the bike was thirsty too!
So after paying for my fuel and meal, with drink and hot dog in hand, I sat outdoors just beyond the entranceway and did some “people-watching” as I downed my meal and drink.
It felt good knowing that I had finally reached California.
From this point westwards, interstate 40 becomes the Needles Freeway.
I had adequate daylight/time so I decided to push on with the journey and motored my way all along till I got to Barstow, CA.
After trying a couple of motels along the way, which were all fully-booked, I finally found and checked into the California Inn.
So motoring to the rear of the establishment, I located my room, unpacked and went out in search of something to eat for dinner.
I found a Jack-In-The-Box across the street and returning to my room with the meal, made quick work of the chicken and fries.
I had not had a meal from this establishment since I was last in Laredo during the mid 1990’s.
It was mmm, mmm good!
As I downed the chicken, my drifted to the thought and fact that tomorrow, all things being equal, I would be on the pier at Santa Monica Beach - the western terminus of Route 66!
All too soon, I would have to begin my journey homewards.
After all, I wouldn’t be able to go any further west.
So after a good shower, returned phone calls and journal updates, it was lights out for me.
I had a great day ahead of me tomorrow.
My venerable ST had safely and efficiently carried me, my “homeboys” and luggage across an additional 355 mi (568 km) of a once-in-a-lifetime journey.

August 25th, 2018.
Day 8.
I awoke at 4:30 a.m. and began organizing and doing some laundry for the day.
I spent some time as well downloading yesterday’s videos and photos.
Having made it to Barstow yesterday, I opted to alter my GPX file with the changed route and re-downloaded it to the Zumo.
At breakfast time, I went up front and re-booked the room for an additional night since I planned to be back here after my visit to Santa Monica Pier and possibly Ventura, CA along a section of the Pacific Coast Highway (PCH).
It was a beautiful, 75’F (24’C) but hazy morning as I pulled out for the day around 9:15 a.m.
Highway 15 took me right to the edge of Los Angeles where I filtered onto CA 210, the outer loop and skirted my way through Pasadena and Glendale and onto Highway 101. Traffic was moving at a pace, which by other states was very brisk, but no problem at all for the ST to keep up with.
The biggest challenge was keeping my eyes open and being aware of what drivers around me were doing. There was pretty much no margin for error. Especially for someone like me who was "not from these parts", not having the feel of the mood and character of this locale.
I turned south onto highway 27, cut across Ventura Boulevard, into and through the Woodland Hills area.
At the highest point the view over Los Angeles was simply breathtaking! What a view!
As quickly as I approached the view, it was gone!
The road had climbed rapidly and dumped me into the Summit Valley and along Topanga Canyon Boulevard.
Even with quite a bit of congestion, the road wound around with exciting twists and turns, making for an enjoyable and thrilling ride.
I couldn’t help but notice how dry everything was around here, with respect to the vegetation and environment.
I wound along and all too soon came to the intersection of the Pacific Coast Highway.
Hanging a left, eastwards, I joined the flow of traffic that was seriously backed up bumper to bumper as far as I could see ahead of me.
It was hot! Stifling hot!
But I was right at the coast. Couldn’t be any closer than I already was, short of being in the water.
I glanced down at the temperature gauge. It reported that it was 109 ‘F (43’C).
I had no choice but to flow with the traffic, eyes peeled for a required parking spot, but to no avail. Everything was taken. Every parking area was full. This was getting frustrating now.
But I persevered for another few miles till I got to the Santa Monica Pier Beach itself and turned in to find a place to park the bike.
Well, after locating a spot, (I was lucky, someone was pulling out and away just as I turned in to the parking lot) I quickly de-garbed to try and cool down somewhat a little bit, and secured the bike in the parking spot after paying for 2 hours of parking time.
I made my way onto the boardwalk of the pier waited my turn to take a picture at the sign that signaled the end of the Route 66 Trail.
I then fought my way through the throng of crowds, and found my way out and down to the public area of the beach, stripped my riding boots off and immersed my feet into the relatively cooler waters of the Pacific Ocean.
It felt good to be here.
I had made it here. To the end of the trail where Route 66 goes no further!
I now gathered myself together and headed back to the bike with enough time to spare on my parking time limit, suited back up, despite the heat and spent about 20 minutes chatting with the person in the next parking spot who was surprised that I was “a man of faith”.
He was handing out leaflets/flyers to all he could encouraging all to embrace religion and good faith.
Wishing each other well, we went our separate ways.
I had reached my turn around point and now it was time to begin my journey back eastwards.
I joined the traffic again after fueling up in Mid-City and worked my way northwards from the coast towards Highway 210 along “The 405”.
I caught Ventura Boulevard after skirting around Beverly Hills and headed back towards my hotel in Barstow.
I went by the exit towards Mulholland Drive, but mingling with young Ninja riders who have so much they want to prove not being my thing, I opted to stay off that famed stretch of road.
Back in Barstow, I opted for Jack-in-the-box chicken dinner again.
Yeah, it’s that good (to me).
So with my early morning laundry put away, I set about charging all my batteries for my photographic gear, downloaded all data, reformatted all digital cards and prepared for my ride tomorrow.
I could not drink enough fluids this evening! I was so thirsty and dehydrated from today, but it had been an exhilarating one!

August 26th, 2018.
Day 9.
My destination for today - St. George, UT.
It sits right in the south-western corner of Utah and the GPS unit declares that it is a 275 mi (440 km) ride.
It was to be an un-exciting drive all the way there along interstate 15, with nothing much I had planned to see along the way.
The mountains ran right alongside the road for the whole distance from here to there.
In the town of Baker, I stopped by to see the worlds tallest thermometer! And oh, it was 95 ‘F (35’C). Driving past the town of Baker, you can’t miss it. It’s so tall you can see it a long way away.
Baker also happens to be the gateway to Death Valley - the region/area where the worlds hottest air temperature has ever been recorded!
Whew, no wonder it’s so hot in this area!
Leaving Baker, I settled onto interstate 15 again as it passed through mostly desert landscape with stunning scenery of its own.
I stopped at the Nevada state line for my obligatory picture and used the opportunity to rehydrate myself.
I was going through water at a good, healthy rate.
Crossing into Utah, I went through huge stone mountain ranges above 2000 feet (610 m), unbroken for about 9 miles (14 km).
Here, the wind gusts were severe, creating windy conditions that forced me to be extra cautious.
I made it into St. George, Utah late in the afternoon, found a hotel and checked in for the night.
The Black Bear Restaurant down the road came highly recommended for dinner and armed with directions from the Maitre ‘D, I found one of the best locations to experience sunset in this area.
I found my way there and climbed to the top of one of the rocks in the Red Cliff Preserve, just in time to watch the sun go down for the day.
How exquisite, the gorgeous natural colors ……….. the end of another blessed day.
I found my way back to the hotel, had dinner, went through my usual routine and called it a day.
All in all it had been another good riding day.
My bike was running very sweetly on non-ethanol fuel - why am I surprised?
I shouldn’t be.
It’s a Honda ST!


August 27th, 2018.
Day 10.
The plan was to be on the road at 7:00a.m. today.
I awoke at 7:00a.m.
Oh well, no sweat! I’ll deal with it.
My plan today had me heading for Zion, Bryce, Escalante and Capitol Reef National Parks, via Highway 12.
It was a beautiful morning here in St. George. 79’F (26’C) under a rich blue sky.
A Banana - to ward off cramps and some apple juice - to help flush out my kidneys, went down very well for breakfast.
I was ready for the day. Another one I had dreamed of for so long.
I caught highway 12 which turned eastwards which pointed me directly towards Zion National Park.
The road quality is excellent and the scenery is second to none.
My words can in no way aptly describe the park and I will not even attempt to find the words to begin describing it. I will leave my pictures help do that.
Even the camera does not do it justice! The sheer expanse and natural beauty of the area cannot be captured. It must be experienced!
But for what it’s worth, enjoy some of the photos in the album.
This repeated itself through Bryce, Escalante and Capitol Reef as well.
All I can say is that Highway 12 gave me the thrill of my life, especially as I crossed the highest part of the road along the spine of that particular high land mass/mountain, aptly named as the Hogsback!
Void of a road-shoulder, the drop from the spine along the side of the road was straight down! Easily for a thousand feet or two!
The wind blew across the road, making for treacherous conditions.
Out of apprehension/fear, and mistakenly so - contrary to all I thought I had learned and conditioned myself on how to properly and safely deal with a cross-wind situation like this, my reflexes and natural instinct made me stiffen and tighten my grip on the handlebars of the ST.
Instead, I should have relaxed my grip in order to not allow my body movements to be transferred as inputs to the ST's steering through my stiff arms
I had a "death-grip" on the handlebars!
Immediately realizing my mistake, I relaxed and smoothened out the ride, maintaining better control in the conditions I found myself in.
Those couple of seconds, which seemed like an eternity, turned into a "white-knuckle ride!
Ever seen a black man's knuckles turn white?
Well, if you had been with me you would definitely have witnessed that!
Despite this day’s attention-grabbing situation, the ride was glorious.
It should be on any serious Long Rider’s bucket list of must-ride roads in this country.
It is the epitome of “Canyon Carving” on a motorcycle. It does not get any better than this!
I rode highway 12 all day and at sundown I found myself 24 miles (38 km) from its end, where it meets Interstate 70.
A little before 7 in the evening, I entered the town of Green River, UT and found a motel to check in to.
Ray’s Tavern, although very well recommended for steak dinners, had just closed.
They were cleaning the grills as I walked in - too late to have them light up the grill for just one meal, so it was bed-without-dinner for the day.
So I had to fall on my emergency rations of beef jerky and water for dinner on this night.
I didn’t mind one single bit because if it was the price I had to pay for staying on Highway 12 from it’s start to it’s end, running through Zion, Bryce, Escalante and Capitol Reef, it was more than worth it!
I met up with other biker guests in the motel parking lot and chatted a while with them.
We exchanged stories of our journeys, where we were coming from and where we were heading, recommending roads and attractions to visit and see etc. Very pleasant and nice conversation right through their rounds of beer.
Wishing them all well and bidding them a good night, I turned in for the night.

August 28th, 2018.
Day 11.
Upon waking this morning, I began to feel that I was “unwinding”.
It was 6:30 a.m. when I awoke and I set about downloading the multitude of photos and videos from yesterdays’ ride.
10 straight days on the road and all the thrilling, wonderful and gorgeous miles I had laid down, had made my inner self start to slow down and really appreciate the wonder of nature and the vast diversity of natural beauty across this great country I now call home.
Out in this vast wilderness of the deserts of south-west America, I realized how minuscule I was in the grand scheme of natural and physical life.
What else could I take in (see) that would surpass my amazement and wonder of what I had experienced so far?
I didn’t think there would or could be much.
My photos alone gave me a glimpse into some of what I had not paid too much attention to the previous day.
The rock formations, the clear blue sky, the vivid colors of nature, all set in the vastness and openness of this land …………….
But as I was to learn, never second-guess nature!
Not being in any rush to get on the road and get the day started, I went about my preparations at a relatively leisurely pace than I always have done to this point in my travels/journeys.
As I finally headed out of town, I stopped at a Chevron station to fuel up and replenish my provisions and emergency rations for the days ahead.
I met a gentleman at the gas pumps/station heading in the opposite direction, to Fresno, CA after a ride out east to visit some of his friends.
We struck up conversation and spent the best part of an hour chatting and exchanging stories of our journeys.
We parted with a promise to keep in touch and meet again - Good Lord permitting.
So my planned route today was along Interstate 70 all the way to Denver, CO.
Interstate 70 took me through Vail Pass and above 10,000 Ft. (3048 m) in altitude.
Simply gorgeous.
The ST never even burped! Here is where I enjoyed and appreciated the benefits of a fuel-injected system/engine in comparison to the carbureted engines of older technology.
The “fuel mapping” is so much more accurate and reliable so as to not suffer any adverse engine performance.
As I went up in altitude, the ambient temperature plummeted. From 85’F (29’C) in the valley, to 57’F (14’C) at the summit and well beyond till the next valley beyond at 61’F (16’C).
Excellent road conditions, light traffic, lovely scenery and twists and curves thrown in for my enjoyment.
Wow! Is all I can say.
The “double-deck” design of the interstate along this route was purposely to minimize the impact to the natural terrain and to maintain the natural course and flow of the White River. This double-deck section ran all the way through the White River National Forest and the Arapahoe National Forest.
Simply gorgeous!
Having traveled many thousands of miles on America’s network of the interstate system, I can comfortably express my opinion and say that this is the best part of whole interstate system - Nation-wide!
BUT …………… I cannot say the same for the Colorado drivers.
This statement is based solely on my personal experiences and I find Colorado drivers horrible! - Selfish, aggressive and dangerous!
I also witnessed 2 extremely close accidents just in front of me and decided to get off the highway at that moment of time.
So, just as well, I found a Dairy Queen establishment which I patronized and used the opportunity to find a hotel for the night. One I found in Wheat Ridge, on the outskirts of Denver - A Super 8, an expensive one. Gosh, Colorado is pricy!

August 29th, 2018.
Day 12.
Having turned in relatively early yesterday, I wanted t make a long day of it today, so I was up at 5:30 a.m.
I wanted to try and make it to Kansas City, KS today.
This would not be my first time traveling across the State of Kansas. The last time I did, I had hoped it would be the last, not for any other reason, but for the fact that there's just a whole lot of nothing along the way.
Flat land and a long drawn out straight shot of a road through open fields!
I joined the morning rush hour traffic, guided by my trusty Zumo GPS unit and worked my way out back onto interstate 70, heading east.
I was back in urbanization. I just realized it. It just occurred to me!
Looking around, I began to feel angry and depressed!
I hate congestion!
I loved being out in the deserts and mountains.
Now I was back in civilization. That’s what some people call it.
I call it too many people in one place!
Well, it’s not in my control. All I do is deal with it!
As I sifted through my angry thoughts, I now began to look forward to the openness of the Kansas prairie land. It took a while to leave the congestion far behind.
As I got into the “nothingness”, the morning temperature plummeted and I had made a decision to stop and suit up. I reached for my balaclava. I needed it to ward off the cold frostiness off my face. For the next couple of hundred miles, the temperature stayed at 55’F (13’C).
I kept stopping a lot. I was tired, sometimes sleepy and realized that in order to generate some body heat I would do good to eat some food.
I exited the highway at the first chance I got. The “Golden Arches” of McDonalds were unmistakably present and I welcomed the opportunity.
I made it to Kansas City around 8:30 p.m. and Checked into an Econolodge in Overland Park.
Made phone calls to “my girls”, shared a few photos and began to settle down for the night after downing my Steak ’n Shake burger and salad from the establishment next door. It was really good. So good that I decided to get one in the morning for my on-the-road-meal tomorrow.
I checked my maps and decided to skip Chicago tomorrow. Nothing much to see between St. Louis and Chicago, IL except old dilapidated and restored buildings, and structures that have restricted access - Nothing really I can justify the extra time and mileage with at this stage of the journey.
So I made a decision to head straight for home from this point on.

August 30th, 2018.
Day 13.
I got a wake up call from my wife at 6:50 a.m. (local).
As I rose for the morning and began preparing myself for the day just ahead of breakfast, the rain came down!
Oh boy, did it come down!
A very heavy, strong storm!
I worked my way along the walkway to the reception/breakfast area of the motel and had breakfast anyway, and luckily caught the weather report on the TV that hung on the wall in the breakfast area
The weatherman forecast the rain lasting till 9:00 a.m. so I went back to my room and began packing up for the days’ ride. I used the time again to download photos and videos of the previous day.
I began the mental preparation for the last leg home.
“If I can do an all-day ride, I ought to be able to make it home by very late tonight or the wee hours of the morning”.
This works out to be an expected 800-mile (1280-km) run!
So at 9:41 a.m. with still a steady drizzle of rain, I put my “troupe” into their rain-sack, loaded up and set out into the 68’F (20’C), wet, grey, cloudy and drizzling rain, after picking up my Steak ’n Shake burger.
I was not leaving without that. No Sir!
I think this rainstorm was moving eastwards. It rained all the way from Kansas City, KS to St. Louis, MO and I had to shelter from the rain when I got to Columbia, MO.
The traffic congestion increased the closer I got to St. Louis and at a quarter to five in the afternoon, local time, under still cloudy skies, it got hot and very humid.
I needed to shed some of my protective rain gear.
I continued “pounding the pavement” all the way till sundown, when I was just passing through Greenup, IL and at this time I decided it would be safer and better to not ride all night long. I still had about 10 hours of riding to go!
Though I was not tired or fatigued, I exited the highway and checked into the same motel I had spent my first night of this trip in.
The smell of curry wafted through the air ………….
The proprietor recognized and remembered me.
It felt good! Somebody knew me waaaay out here, miles and miles from home!

August 31st, 2018.
Day 14.
I made another slow day of it.
I was relatively close to home.
I pounded the pavement the whole day today. Nothing special or exciting to make note of.
It had been a great trip! A trip of a lifetime!
I arrived home right at 6:00 p.m. safe and sound and said a prayer of thanks for my safe return.
With 61,582 miles registering on the odometer, I had journeyed 5,509 miles (8,814 km).
A lot of my teenage dreams had become reality.
I linked up with relatives and friends along the way.
I made a couple of new friends along the way, enjoyed lovely weather along the way, endured inclement weather along the way and more importantly I came back a changed person with my life in a new and different perspective.
My soul had been taken to a different place!