Around The World In 80 Waves

I have borrowed this aerial shot of the Hoover dam and the equally impressive bypass road which was opened in 2010, both of which span the Black Canyon of the Colorado River. It really shows what a staggering feat of engineering it is, and perhaps why so many lives were lost during it’s contruction in the 1930s. There is enough concrete in the dam to construct a 4 foot wide path around the Earth at the Equator, and it is as thick as two footballs pitches measured end-to-end at its base.

I arrive in the middle of the night on my way back from the Grand Canyon and am expecting it to be closed to the general public. However before the bypass was opened it used to be part of the main road travelling east to west with traffic travelling along the top of the dam itself, and that road is still open even if it is strictly monitored by the local police.

The dam was built to supply drinking water to the local area and generate cheap electricity for the south west of the USA. It is still vital for these purposes and a terrorist target as a consequence, which means both myself and the car have to be checked out by the guards before I am allowed to cross the dam.

Apart from the police cars watching my every move from both sides of the dam there is nobody else there and it is eerily quiet. Again it is like something out of a science fiction movie but fabulous to experience it on my own.

The Grand Canyon is considered one of the natural wonders of the world but the route to its northern rim is more than 6 hours drive from Las Vegas and to the southern rim is 5 hours so I head off reasonably early to ensure I get there. However make a mental note for future reference if crossing terrain like this which includes a desert it is probably a good idea to put some fuel in the car! I am cruising down the road and get well past Boulder City and the Hoover Dam before taking notice of the beeping car which has cried wolf one too many times but is now at the bottom of the red on the fuel guage. Oops!

At a lay by I pull in to see if I can beg some fuel from anybody, but there is none to be had. I have to plow on and spend 20 miles holding my breath, somehow crawling in to the next petrol station over the border in Arizona. I cannot believe the little green surf machine made it. Whilst filling up I meet an Indian Couple (of the Mumbai variety) there who tell me there is another place to view the canyon at the western end, but it entails driving 30 miles across dirt roads, which is where they are heading. Immediately I am up for it and challenge them and their Chevy Malibu to a race because we are both headed the same way.

Our mini Cannonball Run contiunues to the Indian Reservation (of the Hualapai tribe variety) where we can gain access to the Grand Canyon. The road is like this and is a bit of a nightmare following somebody over the loose rocks, ruts, corrugated road surface and hairpin bends that make up the stretch in the Mt Wilson Wilderess Area.

You kind of get your eye in after a while and start getting comfortable tail sliding the car around corners, but sadly I come second because they are able to go far more mental in their rental than I am willing to abuse my VW. I still have a long way to go with this car and want it to make it all the way there.

The Grand Canyon does not disappoint, and is easily way more impresive than the bright lights of Vegas. The Hualapai tribe are in the process of developing this bit of their land to try and bring more wealth into their community and have recently spent a staggering $30m on this skywalk building to attract visitors. The piece you see to the right of the building is a walkway which projects out over the canyon’s edge and there is nothing between its glass bottomed floor and the canyon some 4,500 feet below, which is nearly 1.5 times the height of Snowdon

That sounded like fun but because my Harley dream is not going to happen this time around I opt for the helicopter and river rides through the canyon instead. I cant believe my luck when I am asked if I will take the front seat because nobody else wants to sit there. The pilot knows his stuff and is yanking and banking through the epic scenery. Way better than any thrill ride. Just Awesome. I am a complete numbnuts and despite having two cameras on me decide only to take the gopro and it’s spare battery, only to find both batteries are flat once airborne!

I manage to wring out a few shots from what little juice there is left, but am grateful to the Australian family who have already passed on this shot of me on the Colorado river at the bottom of canyon.

 The canyon really is awesome and nothing I say will do it justice. It is 220 miles of scenery like this. Absolutely breathtaking.

I stick around until just before sunset, marvelling at the way the light changes the view before realising that I have to get back across that dirt road, which will be an absolute nightmare in the dark so I hop in the car and head for the sunset.

Herbie fashion am thrashing through the desert while there is a little light left. It may not be fastest anybody has ever driven down that road, but I am certain it will be the fastest time posted in a Beetle. It is so much fun with the back end sliding around on every corner on the loose surface. I perfect my drift racing technique weaving through loose rocks, and adding photography into the equation is just and added bonus.

I know I went quite quickly but am particularly impressed to see that my efforts have resulted in me travelling back in time ‘Back to the Future’ style even if my car is certainly no Delorean and I am not even sure it will do 88mph!

I actually get to the outskirts of Vegas a day earlier than expected, but to save on a bit of cash I decide to spend a night in the car. When I wake up at 4am with my teeth chattering and the thermometer in the car registering -5C I relise that might have been a mistake! The heated seats and the fan heaters soon sort me out, and after a healthy diner breakfast I check into my hotel that is a block back from Las Vegas Boulevard, which is known as the Strip.

My hotel room has fridge, kettle, two kingsize beds, cable TV, Quick wi-fi and a private bathroom including a bath and only cost £25 a night, so why I didn’t check in a day early I cant say. I treat myself to my first proper soak in about four weeks, because I simply have not had access to a private bathroom, a bath tub or hot water in abundance. Showers are great but this is heaven!

After settling in to my home for the next week I catch up on blog admin and do some shopping for some of the things I will need here an later on my travels. However Vegas is really all about the action at night and the bright lights that go with that so I cant wait to get out and check the strip out. It is possibly the worst place in the world to ba an astronomer because of all the light pollution. You can see the town from about 50 miles away!

It is all very amusing and I do my usual thing of starting at one end of town and walking through checking out everything on the way. It seems hard to believe that less than a hundred years ago only 35 people lived here.

I have never been a huge gambler after learning my lesson from pumping far too much of my hard earned paper round salary into the Golden Goose amusement arcade on Llandudno Pier, and Las Vegas is really only that on steroids. A vast and bewildering array of different ways and themes under which casinos have every intention of making you part with your hard earned money.

Despite statistical probability being overwhelmingly in the casino’s favour I am still willing to chance a few quid and have a lot of fun, as well as enjoying a skinfull of free drinks, as I slowly fritter away the $60 I allow myself playing blackjack and roulette in the Excalibur pictured here.

However looking around at all the other people throwing their cash away with all their might I think there must be some residual effect from the nuclear tests that were undertaken here in the 40s and 50s, which affects peoples ability to think clearly. It is staggering by today’s standards that hotel guests regularly used to come out of the casinos to marvel at the mushroom clouds racing up into the night sky a little way down the valley!

It probably says something about me that of all the places I visit I am most impressed by the Harley Davidson Cafe which has a number of classic Bikes circulating the restaurant suspended from a giant conveyor belt on the ceiling.

It has been a long held ambition of mine to get hold of a Harley and take it for a huge blat across the desert, but outside of the hours between 10am and 4pm, when it is about 60C, it is properly baltic here at the moment and there is ice all over the place. As a consequence I think that dream will have to wait for another time, but it might be a good thing if my own experience were to be anything like Evel Knievel’s on his Harley when trying to jump the fountains at Caesar’s Palace in the 1970s (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kYGGCVE2lKY). He broke almost every bone in his body.

I forgot to mention this place I had seen on my way into town. I think a resident of here might possibly be the highest scrabble score ever!

I pass San Dimas on the way South. Home of Bill S, Preston ESQ. and Ted Theodore Logan but am disappointed not to spot Waterloop anywhere in sight. Bogus!

I keep having issues filling up the car. To do so at the pump requires a Zip code associated with my card, which clearly I do not have. This results in me repeatedly having to go to the cashier and from the pump repeatedly like a yo-yo. Each time you get to the cashier they want to know how much I am putting in which is a question I cant answer because I want to fill up. Such is the extent of petrol pump crime here nobody is trusted. The only solution is to go in and leave my wallet and passport with the cashier, fill up and then go in and settle up, which is getting tiresome.

The Mojave desert between LA and Las Vegas is stunning, but also massive. It is like driving from London to Manchester and only seeing two towns which are smaller than somewhere like Brighton along the way. I know Area 51 is somewhere nearby but as yet have not seen any UFOs. I cross the Providence mountains, which are higher than Snowdon but the little green surf machine is running well and seems to take everything in its stride

Now this isn’t the first time I have crossed a desert with surfboards on the roof of my car and my thoughts are currently with Daou and his family in Mali, all of whom were unbelievably kind to me after I managed to miss my flight from Bamako airport despite arriving three hours early for the plane. (Only me!) They took a grumpy raving white bloke who was ranting about mosquitos and poisonous spiders in the middle of the night under their wing and gave me food, water and a roof over my head when they really had nothing to give. I truly hope that they and all those dear to them are not at risk from the military action currently blitzing their country. Even the Tuareg seperatists in the north of the country who started action against the Malian government nine months ago do not want the radical Islamists who are trying to manipulate their claim for the land which they have roamed for thousands of years to remain in the country. I hope the international community can resolve this one as soon as possible.

I have one more night in the hostel in Santa Barbara before hitting the road to Nevada, but seriously consider leaving early and sleeping in the car despite having paid in advance.
I am all for dancing to your own beat, but even by hostel standards there are few too many people who are not playing with a full deck of cards in this establishment.
It is a shame because apart from its electrical system the hostel is fantastic. All the ‘normal’ people keep being scared off by the questionable interactions of some the other patrons. It appears you do get what you pay for.
I seek the solace of a local bar after being weird’d out one too many times and only return when I think I won’t have to deal with giggling schizophrenics who throw all their possessions around the dorm room before asking me to add up a receipt for them, the random babbling of people who are incapable of making a pot noodle by themselves (I seriously had to explain how a kettle works today!) or the people who would be a close second to an ameoba in the people skills department.

I go looking for waves this morning but it is flat everywhere. There really is no point in even putting my wetsuit on. I am a tad tempted watching all the people skating round on longboard skateboards to have a go at that instead, but the chunk of my right elbow which will never again be part of my right arm reminds me that it would probably be a bad idea.

It is a pity, but there was bound to be a flat spell or two on this trip. I head back to the hostel and go for a run along the sea front in Santa Barbara in the sunshine. It could be worse.

After freshening up I check out the forecast for some of the major breaks south of here:

http://magicseaweed.com/Rincon-Point-Surf-Report/272/

http://magicseaweed.com/Malibu-First-Point-Surf-Report/279/

http://magicseaweed.com/Huntington-Pier-Surf-Report/286/

http://magicseaweed.com/Trestles-Surf-Report/291/

It is worse than I thought. No waves for a week! What am I going to do with myself?

Clearly the only sensible thing to do is load up the little green surf machine and drive the 500 or so miles to Las Vegas to see what mischief I can find there. Wooo-hooo! Anybody else want to come and play in Sin City for a week?

Now where did I put my rhinestone jumpsuit?

I am hungry for Wave 17 but the swell is dying all the time, and the situation is exaggerated by the Channel Islands that you can see on the horizon here, which are located about 20 miles off the coast. They block most of the lovely Pacific waves from getting to the mainland near Santa Barbara.

I go on safari to try and find somewhere else to surf, even backtracking along the coast where the beaches are a bit more exposed but there is nothing on offer in the afternoon.

Eventually I find Refugio State Park which is beautiful and I have the place practically to myself. As you can see the sea is as good as flat so I reach for my Uke and enjoy making as much noise as I like with it without disturbing anybody as the sun goes down over the headland. As Eric Morecombe once said, “All the right notes but not necessarily in the right order.”

The forecast for tomorrow isnt looking good either so it may give me the excuse I need to go and see a movie. I havent seen one since the flight back from Hawaii and as a film junkie I’m going cold turkey. I might treat myself to the Hobbit tomorrow, but for tonight it is Saturday so it must be Beer o’clock.

I get up early to beat the crowds and head to the beach listening to the local Santa Barbara rock station The Surf 106.3 which seems perfect for the day’s adventures. I opt for this break. As I paddle out there are just two girls in the water, called Sarah and Morgan who are studying at University College of Santa Barbara. We soon get chatting and it gets me thinking of my good friend Sarah Morgan back home. (Hi!) You will also note the results of my dry-hair-paddle out because the waves are weak, small and infrequent.

However the place reminds me of the point the guys are surfing in Big Wednesday, and I love surfing here. It even comes complete with it’s own grafitti’d shack on the beach. The beach is located is next to the University’s primary residential area where all the fraternity houses and such like are located. A cormorant type of diving bird pops up next to me giving me the usual fright and making sure that the chain remains unbroken. I swear they are all in on it.

Despite the naffness of the swell, there is not a breath of wind, so the waist high waves which are maybe a bit more on the sets are super super clean. I’ve got the GoPro with me and this is probably the shot of the day. I catch loads and was actually spoilt for choice on which picture to post for this break.

This one of me taken as I belly board in at the end of the session will give you some idea of how stoked I was. It was a really fun session and I say goodbye to the girls and get out of the water just as the crowds turn up.

I walk into the hostel I have found in Santa Barabara and am amused to find that half the pople I was hanging out in Santa Cruz with are here already. Once settled I go out for some beers with them but it isn’t a late night.

I wake up early the next morning and immediately bump into a lovely Swedish lady called Rebecca who has just flown in from Malmo and we get chatting straight away. Keen to impress with evidence of my travels I reach for my laptop and plug it into the power socket. The lights go out, there is a massive flash and I get a huge electric shock which in the process melts the prongs of my power adaptor. Now I look like Eddie Munster most mornings anyway but I swear I looked just like this bloke, having blown the fuses on the whole building. Thankfully I haven’t maimed myself and as you can tell by all the updates I have posted today my laptop seems to be ok too. However it was shocking, really shocking! 

When I point out that there is an issue with their electrics I can tell that the hostel are more concerned that I may be about to start litigation than they are about my well being. Such is life in the USA