Day 9

A lightly overcast day to begin with.  I knew there was a high chance of rain, so I was for once sensible enough to put my rain gear on before it started.  North on Highway 101.  A very picturesque road - trees, hills and stuff.  It is called the Pacific Highway, but you don't see the sea very often as the road is a couple of miles inland, mainly.  I had no particular aim today, just to enjoy a nice road.  My back bothers me far less on roads where I am doing something.  I am sure the long boring roads of the west were the problem.  Just stuck in the same position for hours.  It was a good job I wasn't in a hurry since it was slow going.  Lots of little townships to go through, some quite quaint.  It is obvious why the Oregon coast is a popular holiday destination.

I got 50 miles done before the first rain started, but it was quite gentle.  That meant it wasn't much fun to stop and take photos, but here are some I took at a lookout point.

And this is the extraordinary bridge that spans the Columbia River estuary.

Over the bridge and into Washington, my 49th state visited.  It may have been partly the dismal weather, but this did not look as affluent as Oregon.  I'd done 150 miles in the rain and thought it was time to stop as it was now heavy.  Aberdeen had looked a likely spot.  Oh dear.  I may have seen it on a bad day, but if a town can be the equivalent of a down and out, this looked like it.  I didn't even see a motel, let alone one I would want to stay in.  It was teeming down now, but I had no option but to go the 60 miles to Olympia, home of the eponymous beer I presume.

It actually stopped raining a few miles out and I found a Super 8 motel easily enough.  Glad to get into the dry.  Unfortunately my luggage isn't as waterproof as it claims to be.  There's a surprise.  Not too wet inside, but enough to make me think I need to do something to improve the waterproofing.  The top is OK since rain doesn't land on it when the bike is moving.  It is road spray that is thrown up and soaks it from underneath.  Memorial Day tomorrow, so hardware stores will be shut.  I will scrounge some rubbish bags from the motel to do a temporary job.  There is a laundry in the motel, so I took the opportunity to wash my stuff and then shove all the damp stuff in the drier.  I have the heater on full in my room and the window open to try to dry the luggage.

Fortunately I have a lot of poly bags with me, so I will simply wrap everything before I pack.  Need to study the map for tomorrow.  Looks like I might be in Canada.  As Irene said, the real journey starts here.  Everything else, while good to do, has been a bit of a prelude to the Canadian bit.

Day 8

Morning dawned, and it was dry - just.  I wanted to get to the dealers as soon as they opened, so was on the road just before 7.  They call this country the high desert, and that describes it well.  Empty, except for the very occasional dwelling - what do these people do!?!  There is nothing but flat gritty soil and what I presume is sage.  It looked even bleaker under leaden skies.  It always looked brighter just ahead, but I never got to it.  I even saw a patch of sunshine in the distance, but I may have been hallucinating as I never reached it.  The road was virtually straight the whole way.  I filled up with petrol in Burns and next put my foot on the ground 132 miles later at a red light in Bend.  I don't think I have ever travelled so far without having to stop for anything.  There wan't much traffic around of course.  That is one of the joys of being off the Interstate and back on country roads.  They are so quiet and that means none of the turbulence you get from other vehicles.  You get used to the constant buffeting on the motorways, but it is great when it is absent.

It was so cold.  I had my warmest gloves (Jill will know the ones I mean), but after about 15 mins I was feeling it through even them.  When I got to Bend at 9 it was 42F/5C, so presumably it was colder out of town.  Maybe these early starts aren't such a good idea in northern climes.

The dealer was open and he could deal with my problem.  He didn't plug tyres, so I could get a tube put in or buy a new tyre.  I could have hunted round for someone to plug it, but that didn't appeal in a strange town.  I could even have carried on as it was.  That is not as daft as it sounds.  The nail was firmly in and not leaking.  I have no idea how long it had been there.  I could have picked it up just after the tyre was fitted and driven 2,000 miles with it.  Knowing it is there, however, is a heavy burden to carry for 3,000 miles.  I didn't like the tube idea as another nail would burst the tube and all the air would escape from the current hole, so no period of grace to get to a garage.  In the end I just got the new tyre.  That is the second time this year I've had a new tyre ruined - expensive.  At least now I know that the tyre will last till Alaska, nails permitting.

If you have ever wondered about the need for service reception staff in a repair shop, let me assure you that they are essential.  The mechanic was on his own and kept getting interupted with queries, customers and other nuisances.  I was there for 3.5 hours for a job that should have taken an hour tops.  He changed the oil for me while he was at it, so apart from examining tyres and any bits that might come loose, I should be set till Anchorage.

When I emerged the sun was out.  What a difference.  Also, the country changed as I left Bend as I headed into the Cascades mountains which were snow-capped in the distance.  It felt as if I were in another country.  I was soon into resort areas with prosperous looking tourists everywhere.  Cars were streaming in from the west.  Apart from the pockets of Salt Lake City and Moab it feels like my journey from Arkansas onwards has been through a subsistence culture, with people struggling to wrest a living from the land.  I can well understand why folks in these parts feel that the metroplitan elites in Washington do not represent them.  Their concerns are much more immediate and stark and the issues that preoccupy politicians often must seem totally alien.  It's tough being an American in the sticks.

The Cascades were lovely, but as we got higher it got mistier and chillier.  There was still plenty of snow lying on the higher reaches.  It was nice to ride roads that were not just straight.  The only picture of the day I'm afraid is this one taken once I was down the west side of the mountains:

The plain on the west side is very fertile farmland, totally unlike the experience of the last few days.  Then another set of hills and down to the Pacific coast

Day 7

I've been watching a lot of the weather channel.  It has been very wet and cold in the North West.  A couple I spoke to who have come down from Oregon had 3 days of rain.  It is a misty morning with spots of rain.  46F/8C.  I set off and as expected get rained on for the first hour or so.  Very Scottish on-off rain.  I took these at a coffee stop in a small town.  Could be the Highlands.

After Twin Falls it begins to brighten and is quite nice by the time I get to Boise.  The countryside continues to be bleak.  High desert I guess you would call it.  There was a sign coming into Idaho that said "Transportation of Invasive Species Forbidden".  Seems sensible, but I bet the Native Americans wish they had thought of it a while ago.

Into Oregon, my 48th State visited.  It is much the same as Idaho to start with:

  As I climb more it gets hillier and there are rivers about.  Still very bleak though with virtually no trees as you can see:

At least the hills are a bit more picturesque than the plains, though they do bring rainclouds and the occasional rain.  It flattens out again as I near Burns.  There is water lying everywhere, evidence of the amount of rain they have had.  I subsequently learn though that this road is often flooded at this time of year with snow melt.  I am staying in an original 1959 motel.  Most of the old motels are gone, decrepit, or derelict, but this one has been maintained beautifully.  (The Silver Spur.  Google it.)  It makes a nice change:

I have gained an hour as I am now in the Pacific time zone, so it only 3 o'clock when I arrive after about 350 miles.  This is time for relaxation and a walk downtown.  Not much of it, though and deserted:

It wasn't long till I was back.  I was checking over the bike and I found a nail in my rear tyre.  I don't know if it is all the way through, but I don't intend to pull it out to find out.  Fortunately dealers are open on Saturday, so I should be able to get it repaired in Bend.  A nervous 130 miles I fear.  Not a happy camper, so I'll finish now before Irene accuses me of being grumpy again.

Day 6

54 degrees F.  That's just over 12 C.  I am pleased that I brought my textile jacket and trousers.  Liners were zipped in this morning; neck warmer on; warm gloves.  I am fine with that.  It is a comfortable way to ride and I don't feel cold at that temperature.  I'm just wondering how cold it will be as I go further north, as I don't have too many more layers I can add.

 I've noticed a whine as I ride - not me, the bike, so last night I found a couple of Yamaha dealers en route and plugged them into the sat nav.  That would be my route and task for today.  Doesn't technology make life easy in some ways.  Instead of a few minutes on the internet that would have taken ages with a phone book and maps.

The first couple of hours were more of the same as yesterday, but I did go through a very nice small town, which looks just like we expect American small towns to look:

I arrived at the first dealer and he took the bike to look at immediately, drove it round the car park, took the calipers off and cleaned them, and said he thought everything was fine.  No charge!

However, I still had the whine, so I called at the next one as well.  He too took it out, but couldn't hear the noise.  It's not surprising really.  Bikes make so many different noises you can't tell what a strange bike should sound like.  He took the wheel off and checked the bearings and balance and couldn't find anything.  He was putting it back together when he found that the axle was bowed.  Had I hit anything?  A heavy bump on a railroad crossing was all, but maybe that did it.  I remember thinking at the time that I hoped I hadn't broken anything.  No part in stock, so he went away to see if he had anything that would do.  I was just getting up the courage to ask them to take one off a new bike, when he came back and told me he would take one off a new bike - $37.  Great.  By the time he was finished I had been there nearly two hours, so I was expecting a bill for about $200 - $75 an hour labour.  Final bill was $78 total.  Makes the gougers at Panama City Beach look even worse.  Anyway, I was delighted and left thinking how good it is to be in touch with your bike and notice little changes that could be bad signs.

The whine is still there.

At least I know that the front end is absolutely fine and I don't have to worry about it collapsing.  I'll just keep an ear on the whine.

By this time I was in Salt Lake City and it was still 54 degrees, but the sum was coming out and it was going to warm up.  There is still snow on the mountains here.  I stopped for lunch just north of SLC and took this:

  North of SLC the land was more lush and flat and farming appeared again.  It then began to rise and become hilly, but very bare hills with no trees till you emerge on a high plain which feels like you are at the top of the world.  Desolate.  These three pictures were taken from the hard shoulder of the I84, east north and south views:

I've tried to avoid interstates, but not been anal about it.  In this case there is no real alternative route, and as you can see, it's not very busy.

The high plains continued into Idaho, summitting at 5,600 feet.  I stopped for petrol at the ominously named Snowville, but there was only one motel, so I thought I'd just go a little further.  About 10 miles down the road I could see the rain clouds moving around.  My steady 60-70 mph which is what I had been doing all day, became 80-90mph.  The trouble is you don't know if you are going to outrun one cloud and end up in the middle of another you would have missed.  I got the odd spit, but that was it.  I then rode into a section where the rain had already fallen.  You could smell the new rain, and the temperature plummeted.  It was so cold.  I could see the end of the rain clouds and blue sky ahead when the rain finally got me, and I was in a contra flow, so couldn't safely stop.  It didn't last long and I soon reached Burley and a choice of motels.  A brand new Super 8 just beside the motorway was good enough for me.  It was more expensive than I would have liked, but it would have had to be a lot more expensive to get me back on the bike.  I wanted a hot shower.

The receptionist told me to park my bike under the porch as it would probably rain again, and if I needed rags to dry it off in the morning, just ask.  Mmmm, just like service in Britain.

There is a nice traditional diner across the road, so I dined there.  How many restaurants have beef stew on the menu and when it comes it is clearly home made?  The owner lady then said she had a piece of sponge cake going spare did I want it.  Yes please.  No charge.  Another good day for little kindnesses.

The weather reports are not too great for the North West.  A weather system is hanging there, bringing rain and thunderstorms, so progress may be slower over the next few days, as there is no point in riding if the rain is heavy.  Showers are OK, but not prolonged rain, unless I have to.  The screen on the bike is so high that visibility is quite poor in the rain, and it is very hard to look over it.  At least I was not in Colorado today when hailstorms brought traffic to a halt.  It wasn't just that they were huge, but they fell for so long that there were several inches of them on the ground.  Tomorrow looks like being a day of showers rather than rain, after thundrstorms tonight.  So, I might be all right.

Day 5

Isn't it cool in the mountains, or at least the high plains?  It was OK just walking about loading up the bike and stuff, but as soon as I was riding I felt it cold.  Had to get out my warmest gloves.  It warmed up eventually, but not till about 10.  I was soon into Arizona, crossing the Navajo Nation to get to Monument Valley.  I stopped beside a settlement and took these pictures:

 I don't know if the barbed wire is to keep people in or out, but it is an awful environment to live in.  There was no sign of any source of employment, so I have no idea what people do.  There were lots of little settlements like this, but usually smaller.  All of them consisted of trailers or prefabricated houses.  They must be freezing in winter.  There is deep snow in these parts for a long time, so it must be a fairly grinding existence.

I was going to take no more photos till I got to Monument Valley, but I rounded a corner and saw  this:

so I took some more as well:

I rode more than 400 miles today and it was all through land like this.  It is quite staggering in its grandeur.  Just an amazing part of the world to go through.

I stopped in Kayenta, which Graham had warned me was a dump.  He was right, but it is just sympromatic of an economically very depressed part of the country.  As I stood in the car park having a drink I was approached 3 times by different guys on the make.  Maybe as well as looking a senior, I look gullible, but I think it is just that they will take their chance with any stranger.  There were also a surprising number of people walking, or hitching, in the middle of nowhere.  I think life is very tough in these parts, especially if you are Native American.

I thought about downloading some pics from Google image, but decided to stop and take a couple of Monument Valley.

I suggest you Google it to get some decent idea of the majesty of the place.

My plan was to stop in Moab and have an early finish.  There is something very comforting about a place you know even a little, so I was looking forward to mooching around the town at my leisure. Allan and I had spent three days there last year.  However, Moab is the centre for yuppie activity holidays and there were no motel rooms available, unless I wanted to pay $189 for a double Queen room.  So, I got on my bike and headed on to Green River, which was much the same, but I did finally get an OK room at the Knight Inn, and their internet connection works, so I am now up to date with all my commitments.

I have done 2,200 miles so far, so am more than a third of the way there.  However, I always knew the lower 48 would be straightforward and probably quick.  I am pleased that I will have time to take it easy through Canada.  I am sure the roads in the north will not lend themselves to the sort of travelling I have been able to do over the last 5 days.  Anyway, I've travelled most of the journey so far before.  Oregon onwards is new, so I may dawdle a bit more.

Day 4

Made use of my late start and had a lie in till 7.  Then thought I had better clean some of the bugs off my windscreen as visibility is getting a bit poor.  I am surprised at how few there are.  In France a day’s riding has the windscreen covered, but 3 days here and it is not as bad.  I thought there would have been plenty of insect life in the steamy south.  There is quite a variety of road-kill.   Armadillos seem to predominate.  In this heat they go off quite quickly and the smell can be overpowering when you pass them.  The joys of motorcycling.  Keeping in touch with the environment.

The visit to the dealers was straightforward, though I had hoped he might have had some different handlebars I could try.  No matter.  I’ll just get used to it, or grin and bear it.  It is a relief to have new tyres.  The front was OK and might have made it to Alaska, but the back was worn right down in the centre.  They should last to Alaska, but I hear the Alaskan Highway is very sore on tyres, so we will see.  I am hoping that the mainly highway riding will be gentle on them, but the bike is loaded quite heavily, so that won’t help.

Got on my way just before 11, so 5 hours later than normal.  Just decided to see how far I felt like going.  The day started well - a nice overcast sky with no sun to warm me up.  Here’s a couple of pictures taken just outside Lubbock to show how flat and featureless it is.

Finally left Texas and entered New Mexico, which is just the same really, at least to start with.  I gained an hour as it is in the Mountain Time zone.  The farmland quickly turned to rough grazing which then turned to just rough.  I was on Federal Highway 84, but it was just a two lane road, passing through a few small towns hanging on grimly to survival.  There is no doubt that making a living is hard in the outer reaches of the US.  Going through the Dakotas, Montana, Wyoming and West Virginia last year brought home to Allan and me how poor much of the states is. Generally the south (or along the roads I have travelled)  has appeared reasonably prosperous, or if poor, well maintained.  New Mexico is  one of the less well-maintained states.  If driving through Colorado is like driving through Surbiton, then driving through New Mexico is like driving through Peckham.  So I wasn’t too upset about taking the interstate through most of it.  It is only a 4 lane highway, not even as good as 82 was in Mississippi, and you see as much from it, just don’t have to go through the towns.

I40 follows much of the same route as the old Route 66, but, of course, bypasses towns.  When I first travelled it in 1971 it was very new and some townships were displeased that the new road would deprive them of income from passing motorists.  As a result when you came to the boundary of some towns the interstate was blocked off and there was a diversion through the town.  Local government in action.  I don’t know how the Federal government resolved it, but they are not there now.

Here’s a couple of pictures taken from a rest area. 

Big sky, far horizons, and that damned wind.  It is much more pleasant riding today.  Even though the clouds disappeared and there was bright sun, there is no humidity.  I think it was the humidity which took such a toll of me earlier.  I decided just to keep going for Gallup as it will mean an easy run to Moab through Monument Valley tomorrow.  I noticed it getting quite cool round about 6 o‘clock, which I was a bit surprised about.  Then I saw the sign announcing that I was crossing the Continental Divide at an elevation of 7,250 feet.  No wonder it was cool.  All that flat land I had been travelling over had been ever so slightly tilted, so I had climbed constantly.  I am now truly in the West, though for my money the topography of the West began when leaving Wichita Falls.

I ended up on “Historic Route 66” in Gallup.  Historic it may be, decrepit it certainly is.  It looks like the end of someone’s American Dream with cheap motels, crummy restaurants and failed businesses, not to mention the railway running alongside.  I had the choice of staying on the bike when I’d had enough, having ridden 480 miles today, or making the best of a bad job.  There was a reasonable looking Super 8 Motel, so I just booked in.  Clean and convenient, so good enough.  I asked how much it was for a room, and the guy said, “The senior’s rate is..”  Oh well.  I walked past a couple of failed businesses and Native Americans raddled with alcohol to one of the crummy restaurants where I had an OK T-bone, poor baked potato and tasteless sweet corn.  Sometimes I wish I had a car.

Got back to do some emailing and stuff, only to find that the wifi, which was one of the main reasons for opting for this place - rather than the palace down the road which has an advertised rate of $19.95!! - is not working.  Typed this in Word and will give you a double ration tomorrow.  Hope you don’t miss your fix too much.

Day 3

Got on the road just as it was beginning to get light.  A nice morning with mist hanging over the fields and cool.  Once I got out of the city the road reverted to two lanes.  Not a problem though as it had a 70mph speed limit and everyone seemed happy to drive on the hard shoulder to let me (or anyone else) pass.  Quite a change from Florida where the outside lane is treated as an optional driving lane, and people will not move over.  Usually too engrossed in a mobile phone conversation to notice others.  The only way past is the inside, which I hate doing, but is not illegal here.  Anyway, road discipline in Texas was good and the road was great because it was so empty.  Still similar country to the previous days, with lots of farms.  I passed through several one horse towns which were quaint or decrepit depending on your point of view.  I took some pictures of this bigger one which had a town square.  The others just had the equivalent of one side of the square as their mainstreets.:

I stopped at an IHOP for breakfast.  I don't think the menu has changed since we used to go there nearly 20 years ago.

The countryside, which apart from the Mississippi Delta had been much the same since I left Florida changed after I left Wichita Falls.  The sky is huge, and the horizons are so far away that they are indistinct.  Much flatter country, but rough, and even more empty.  Fabulous biking country, except not too many bends.

I had been thinking of leaving about 100 miles to do in the morning as I am not due at the dealer's until 9am, but decided that I might as well crack on.  The weather had been kind to me.  I think it was nearly as hot, but not so humid.  Also, there was quite a lot of cloud, so that reduced the direct sunlight, which is the real problem I think.  The cloud brought its own issues though as I apprehensively watched thunderheads forming and tried to race past them.  I got caught a couple of times, but only very briefly.  There is loads of water lying.  The drainage ditches are full or overflowing, so they have obviously been getting the forecast thunderstorms.  I'm just glad I didn't.

It's just as well I did decide to carry on, as there was nowhere to stay.  I almost needed my reserve petrol can already.  I turned into the town of Guthrie and here was their petrol station:

And there was no motel either.

The last 60 miles or so to Lubbock were almost totally flat - crops again, not cattle.  You may remember in Dallas (the TV series) how the wind always seemed to be blowing at Southfork, well it does.  There is a terrible wind.  It is constant and strong.  Not pleasant on a bike, though the Yamaha is heavy enough that it doesn't budge.

Lubbock is a huge sprawling urban mess.  I will get my tyres fitted and then get the hell out.  I've decided that a motorcycle is not the way to sightsee, so my focus now is just the journey.

Despite covering 530 miles I was in Lubbock and looking for a motel by 4.  I'm learning that the most important feature of a motel is location.  A lot of the new ones are built next to motorway exits, which is handy.  There is nothing nearby though.  It's OK to get back into a car to go and get something to eat, but when I have washed off the road grime and cooled down, the last thing I want to do is get back in my gear and on a bike to go eat.  Wimp I may be, but enough is enough.  So, it is important that there is a steakhouse nearby (and that it is open and relatively quiet).  I did OK tonight, but more by luck than judgement.  It's not the best of areas, which is suggested by the number of pawn shops around, and confirmed at the supermarket across the road, where any ready made food which can be purchased with food stamps carries a sticker to that effect.  I had a nice little steak in the motel cafe and it was fine.

I am enjoying Andrew Marr's book.  He has a very informal style for a history book, and he is flippant rather than deliberative, but he has keen insights and doesn't pull punches.  It is nice to see an intelligent perspective on a time I lived through but was too young/naive to understand.

I've got a lie in tomorrow as I don't need to leave here till about 8:30, so I will go and enjoy my book.

Day 2

Not a great night's sleep after going to bed just after 9, but it was the alarm that wakened me at 5.  I left at first light into a lovely morning with a blood red sun hovering behind me in my mirrors.  It actually felt cool at times, but never uncomfortably so.  The road was empty - a 4 lane divided highway with just me on it for most of the time.  Here's a couple of pictures showing the road before and behind me.

As you can see the highway is so divided by a wide median that you can't see the other carriageway.

I stopped for breakfast after about 80 miles and it was still quiet everywhere.  Mississippi continued to be green and lush with a fair number of trees, so very familiar.  That stops about 50 miles from the River with the start of the Delta.  It's not a delta as we know it at the coast, but that is what it is called.  It is very productive farmland and stretches for miles with no hills at all.  This photo tries, but fails, to show it.

This is, of course, the birthplace of the blues, and there were signs to all sorts of places that feature in its history - Clarksdale, Greenville, Vicksburg, and Highway 61 starts down here, winding up the length of the Mississippi.  I wanted to take a picture of the river, but I crossed by an old bridge with no stopping place.  It is an awesome sight, so I will cheat and put in a couple of pictures Allan and I took on our trip last year.

I went into Greenville to see the "Historic Downtown".  Hmm.  Here are some pictures:

It was only after I had taken these that I realised it is Sunday, and that might explain why it is so quiet.  I don't think so though.  There are lots of Mississippi towns which are trying to restore their downtowns.  I've been to Natchez and Hannibal and they try hard, but the truth is it has been abandoned and all around it is dereliction.  It is not enough to do up some buildings and hope that will do.  The economic raison d'etre has gone, so unless something substantial is substituted it will just wither again.  I think it is all part of the willingness of Americans to walk away from something that isn't working and just leave it.  You can see abandoned businesses everywhere.  The worst I've seen was Cairo on the Mississippi where the whole of downtown was just abandoned and a new modern one started a couple of blocks away.  Again, the pictures are from last year.

There are loads more pictures showing the same thing.  It was a lot more convenient taking pictures when there were two of us.  I have to stop, get gloves off, etc. I'll do my best though.

I carried on into Arkansas, and the flat Delta land continued for a long time.  I think the politics of roads must be even more peculiar in the US than in France.  All the way through Mississippi the Federal Highway 82, which I am following to Lubbock, was a four lane divided highway with almost no one on it.  In Arkansas it is a two lane blacktop zig-zagging through the countryside.  It is still pretty empty and it was great to ride as it went through lovely countryside as the trees and hills appeared again.  Another set of before and behind pictures:

I crossed almost all of Arkansas and stopped after about 375 miles in Texarkana.  My bum got sore today.  I was hoping to avoid that.  Also my back got stiff.  It is a peculiarity of motrcycle manufacturers that for 90% of people the handlebars are too low and/or too far forward.  If I were keeping this bike I would fit handlebar risers as I have done with my others, but I won't be so I won't.  They do the same thing with rear view mirrors.  Normally all you can see in them is your upper arm until you fit extenders to put them further out.  The V-Star, however, has some of the best mirrors I've seen on a bike.  They are quite small, teardrop shape.  They give a very clear image and a good view.

Stopping more often would be a good remedy for the stiffness and soreness, but this heat makes that a pain.  If you stop, you can't walk about as you just sweat up.  I'll need to look for a Mall to stop at and walk around in the air conditioning.  The forecast around here is for the 90s.  I am hoping that when I reach Utah it will begin to cool down as I will start to go north, but that is 4 days away.  The only way round it I see is to start early and keep going until it gets too warm.

I've just been to try to get dinner, but the nice steakhouse near the motel doesn't open on a Sunday.  McDonalds, Whataburger, Popeye or KFC don't work for me, this evening at least.  I have the choice of a Subway or walking down to Walmart and picking something up there.  I think that is the best option, but I'll wait till the sun goes down a bit.  I'll read some Andrew Marr in the meantime.