Washington

Our first foray across the border in the US stalled literally at the border. Ordered to turn off our engine whilst talking to the border security official we were unable to turn it back on when told to park up and go inside the office. Battery problems continued we realised. Our friends at Canadian Tire charged the battery which sent us on our way but the following day it was drained again – something was clearly wrong. After adopting the conspicuously innocent smiles of people with nothing to hide we convinced the second border official to allow us into the country despite not having return flights booked.  He questioned whether we had jobs waiting for us when we got home – Emma said she had an offer to return to her old job which was true but she had turned it down – I said I didn’t have anything which was definitely true. “What reason do you have to returning to the UK then?” he asked me. Well, considering I had just told him that Emma was going back to work in the UK I felt it prudent to inform him that I wanted to live with my wife and would find that difficult if I was working illegally picking fruit in the US. He let us in.

After another stop at an auto-parts store for a new battery and after Emma ‘honked for peace’ in Bellingham we set off into the wilderness of the North Cascade Mountains. Arriving after dark we pulled into an area reserved for camping next to Baker Lake. The rain became absolutely relentless – part of the romance of sleeping in a campervan has to be the sound of rain on the roof but I was concerned that we hadn’t purchased an inflatable van opting for the standard land-only model. The rain continued in the morning and would continue for almost the entirety of our visit to Washington and Oregon. No stranger to rain I didn’t mind this at first but towards the south of Oregon I could swear that my soul was wet. We headed into Seattle the next day, heavens still open. Dragging a camper into a city does limit you a little. We opted to stay at a B&B on the outskirts and bus into the centre. The B&B was less B&B and more ‘this is my spare room’. It was fine though and did the trick. The van stalled again as we tried to squeeze the van up the incredibly steep driveway. Unfortunately we were half on the drive, half on the narrow road and pretty much ruled out two way traffic. The jump starter didn’t help us either – I hadn’t had time to fully charge it before leaving so it just couldn’t get us going. Looking like a beached whale my heart started to pound a little and wasn’t assisted by the little Chinese man staring at us out the window. He obviously didn’t fancy helping. Rather fortunately through the cloud of stress I recalled that we had a second ‘house’ battery in the back of the van for powering the lights and features of the van. I disconnected this and daisy-chained it to the power pack and starter battery and managed to get us going. The years I had spent jump starting and fooling around with problematic motorcycles had paid off and we got the van up the slope, much to the nonchalance of our Chinese observer.

I think it was the stress of the van problems but Seattle kind of washed over me. We saw Pikes Place market which, by all accounts, is my idea of hell but I was determined to let Emma enjoy it. I’ve never quite understood the appeal of walking round market places with no intention of buying something. To me it is like browsing the frozen food section at Tesco, utterly depressing. To add to this there are a thousand tourists seemingly attempting to wear the same clothes as you, such is their proximity. A respite was found in Pikes Brew Pub who managed to sooth my anxieties with a float of taster beers, most of which were very enjoyable. A short visit to a whiskey bar to establish my adoration for a certain Michter’s Bourbon and a pop of the head into Shorty’s dive bar finished our evening of drinking. Back to the bus stop we went but not before buying two of the most disgusting microwaved burritos from 7-eleven. They were truly foul and for that reason also hilarious. Sure good food is great but I find the serving of diarrhoea to be incredibly amusing, even if Emma wasn’t so pleased. She still finished it though.

Pushing on from Seattle we visited Mt Rainier – an epic experience – before breaking down again just after nightfall on the edge of Yakima, a nothing town in the middle of nowhere. After signing up to AAA, being towed to a garage and spending the night locked in a yard my ‘vanxiety’ was well and truly back. A further small fortune spent the following morning we drove through the rather arid countryside past a town called Goldendale whose weather provided a delightful respite from the rain. Then we broke down again. Oh god I began to love sitting by the side of the road. We called the AAA who informed us it would be a good 3 hours before our rescue. I had tried jumping the van but to no avail. Giving it another hour I managed to get it going and we made our own way to Goldendale Exhaust, a delightful family run garage in the middle of wherethefuckamI, Washington. At least these guys seemed to actually give a shit. They replaced the alternator and the starter motor which explained why we kept losing power and couldn’t start it with 3 batteries. Having pieced the puzzle together I realised that the van just didn’t generate enough electricity to power anything but the basic electrics of the van. This meant no wipers, no fans and no lights. Later on I’d wire the house battery into the engine loop so we could power these things when we needed to but ultimately we were on crutches. I didn’t care though, the fact I knew what was wrong and what I had to do to get us moving took a weight off my mind. Whilst the guys at Goldendale Exhaust had their hands in our van I took to quizzing their young daughter about local life. Aged around 13 she had never heard of London, England or perhaps even Europe. She hung out at her grandma’s on holidays such as today (spring break) when she wasn’t at the garage. I asked about her friends and she insisted she had some but there seemed to be very few other people here of her age. Her diamante cowgirl boots and belt were an indicator that she knew exactly who she was and wanted to be and you could practically smell the pride when she showed me her first place quad bike trophy sitting next to her brother’s second place trophy. We briefly talked about guns and her related talents there but a glare from her mother who was working the reception desk told me that this was no place to question the merits and faults of the second amendment.

We drove down towards the Columbia River Gorge and spent the night at a free ‘campsite’, campsite being the chosen word to describe the forest turning circle in the middle of nowhere. That night we managed to kill a mouse we had named Chad-Allen who was tearing up our insulation. God rest his soul.

The next day we would cross the Bridge of the Gods and into Oregon. We spent a total of 5 days in Washington, not nearly enough to experience the state as we wanted to but we would visit it again on our way back north when, hopefully, the sun would be shining more often.

Enjoying the view from the Pacific Coast Highway.

Emma trying her first ever oyster, and yes it was delicious.

Colourful tulips lining the halls of Pike Market, Seattle.

Spot the happy apple.

Reflections in Seattle's high rises.

Playing Pinball at Shorty's, Seattle.

Lunch break at Mount Rainier.

Apparently lucky to see the top of the mountain which is usually covered by cloud.

The Van from Van

Four movies is all the flight from Gatwick to Vancouver took. Four movies and a large portion of time with my head in Emma’s lap feeling extraordinarily light headed and sick. Perhaps being a budget airline meant that Air Transat scrimped on the cabin pressurisation system, perhaps I’m just a pussy but either way it was a crap way to start the trip. Starting the trip – when does a trip actually start? This is something Emma and I debated in the run up to our departure. Perhaps it started the moment we quit work, the moment we closed the flat door for the last time on leaving Highgate or the moment we left our belongings in Swansea and headed for Gatwick.  I had spent the morning before our departure from Swansea bombing it around the Gower on my motorbike. Knowing I wasn’t going to get to ride it for 5 months made the experience exhilarating. That and the roads in the Welsh countryside are far superior for riding a café racer around at breakneck speeds than the roads of London. Maybe the joy I experienced now was because it was the start of the journey?  I wasn’t sure about any of these moments truly signifying the start of the trip, namely because we had one big job to do before we could actually set off on our adventure – finding a van*. 

Flying high over the Rocky Mountains.

Entering the totem pole infested arrivals hall of Vancouver International Airport I felt nauseous from anxiety about finding a van. Perhaps it was more the aforementioned lack of oxygen or the trepidation of arriving in the country without a return flight, I’m not sure but I was certain the trip hadn’t started yet.

Anita, Emma’s family friend, came and met us at the airport. She kindly ferried us to her home in North Vancouver where we would base ourselves for a couple of days whilst we found our feet. The next morning we set out to the local insurance brokers to confirm that our particulars were in order before we spent loads of money on a vehicle. Everything seeming in order we set out for Dan’s Mechanical, apparently the only RV dealership in the city of Vancouver. Prior to us leaving I took a quick look on Craigslist for any motorhomes for sale in the Vancouver area. I noticed an advert for a ridiculous looking off-white ’78 Dodge campervan with red and yellow styling and the words SECURITY emblazoned across the back, front and sides of the vehicle. I popped an email across to the owner thinking we could come back to that if we didn’t see anything we liked at Dan’s.

Dan. Dan of Dan’s Mechanical. Dan whose vehicles I pondered over for months in the run up to starting our trip. Dan the miserably obese proprietor of the shadiest establishment since Trotter’s Independent Traders. It was raining that day so Dan was loathe to leave his office and show us around the vehicles. I say office, I mean room full of shit with computer in the corner. Initially I couldn’t tell whether he was joking about not wanting to show us around but I quickly came to realise that Dan didn’t do humour, Dan did broken vehicles that even the trashiest of trailer trash wouldn’t accommodate. 

Not wishing to give our hard earned money to someone who didn’t actually want it we left Dan’s and went to stand outside a Starbucks so as to use their free wifi. Things didn’t look great at that point. We had hoped for the security of purchasing a van from a dealership but there were no other dealers within 100 miles that we knew of. A ding from my phone told me I had an email back from the owner of the security van. She was free this evening if we fancied a look. With no other options we trekked over to Kitsilano on the south side of Vancouver. Both Emma and I fell in love with the security van at first sight. After an extensive tour of the vehicle by Anika we whopped out a wad of notes and wrapped up the deal there and then. After a tedious hour in the insurance brokers down the road we had our very own security van. The Security name apparently stems from the company which used to do the camper conversions back in the 70’s and nothing to do with any kind of private army, which is a shame. 

Our new baby called Security.

That 70s toffee coloured interior.

Home for the next few months.

Emma drove us back to Anita’s after we had driven the wrong way down the road and the battery had died on us. Great start. Anika came to the rescue and jumped us to get us on our way but not before offering to pay for a new battery. The first thing we would do the next day would be to get the van a full inspection and stock up on necessities for the trip.

The friendly folks at Canadian Tire did their best to take $850 of my money but we managed to peg that down to $200 after I cut through the bull shit. The van was fine they said so after an oil change and the purchase of a jump starter and a steering wheel lock (could double as a sort of baton for fighting bears I thought) we were set.

*Van noun – home on four wheels, preferably with an engine and somewhere to piss.

Tour countdown - three days

After a very tense day watching seven hours of back to back rugby, I definitely needed a break and created a little map showing a rough (very rough!) route of our journey. 

After flying into Vancouver and sorting out our mode of transportation/home on wheels, we will be heading south pretty quickly down the west coast into the south west states, soaking up that beautiful sunshine. Then, back up through middle America and looping into Canada again when the weather is a little bit more to my liking. 

We have both finished work now and officially unemployed. I have to say it doesn't feel real yet - lot's of packing and moving to do beforehand, and then the fun can begin. 

Emma

 

Another good place to start - by Luke

To me, blogging has always seemed to be the reserve of middle-aged people with a high regard of their own opinions. That’s an opinion I used to highly regard until I decided to write part of this blog. Why? So that I can amuse myself by telling stories and flirting with language that expresses my crass real life humour without offending my Grandma who may or may not read this (she witnessed my use of the c-word once and I still cringe to this day).

What am I going to talk about? Stuff I like or hate with limited ground for the in-between such as pottery or basket weaving. I’d love to document the bikes and bikers I come across but taking unsolicited pictures of the Angels is a great way to end up in hospital and hospitals occupy the in-between area I just mentioned.

I’m going to drink beer in some of the best craft beer states of America. I am pretty good at it at the moment but I think there is always room for improvement. I’ll let you know what passes my lips and whether it occupies the like, don’t like or in-between areas of my palate. So devoted will I be to this exercise that I won’t be taking notes whilst consuming – drink-blogging is both dangerous and perilously boring – but I will update post-consumption, working on the assumption that if I am hungover I must have had a good time ergo, good beer.

I reckon we will be out and about a lot given that we will be living in a box on wheels so I shall be posting about our experience of living on the road and the places we visit. The aim is to wing it as much as possible, not because we are irresponsible but because we like the adventure of shit going wrong. Well, I do. My previous trips have been punctuated by disasters such as melted suitcases, trashed luggage, ripped pants, wrong trains and very ugly women – they were all excellent (the adventures, not the women).

I want to take a journey which is the envy of others. I want to wake up in some beautiful places and enjoy the fact that I am not getting up to trundle on my motorbike through the grey drizzle of London to a mediocre job and eat mediocre porridge whilst writing the day’s plans on my mediocre pad of paper with my mediocre pencil.

What do I expect to find? Quiet open spaces, epic landscapes, snow-peaked mountains looming over desert plateaus, endless forests and glass lakes teeming with wildlife. Equally I hope to find sticky dive bars with grungey backing tracks, cheap free-poured booze and lively locals with stories to tell.

Most of all I want to experience life’s ups and downs with the woman I love and the freedom to choose our own timetables, routes, cowboy hats, how we like our eggs and beer, especially beer.

Planning "must-dos" in Oregon.

A good place to start - by Emma

The first blog post is usually a bit sick – a bit like an awkward introduction where one goes in for a kiss on the cheek and the other goes in for a handshake. I’ll forgo the embarrassment and cut to the chase…

Hello! We are Emma & Luke and following our desires to bum around in a van all summer. We’re planning to road trip approximately 8000 miles around the western side of the US and Canada. The one way ticket from London to Vancouver is booked! We will be jetting off on Tuesday 24th March and then there’s no looking back from there.

We have a rough route we’ll be driving and areas we want to experience (more on that to come), but the biggest “what if” at the moment is what vehicle will we use to do it in.

Plan A) Buy a van, rather than rent (renting would have meant tripling our already tight budget = no thanks) and then sell it on again before we go back to the UK.
Plan B) Rent a car, live in cheap motels & buy a tent for all that lovely National Park living.

Thus, we are quitting jobs, saying goodbye to our lovely little flat in North London and saying adios to a comfortable life. We’ve raised the funds through various means. We got married in June and were very, very lucky to be given money that we are basing this trip on. I’ve sold about a half of my wardrobe on eBay, Luke has sold his tools, tax rebates in our favour have come through the post, and we’ve done a couple hard slog ‘poverty months’ e.g forgoing beer, my beloved shade of bottle blond, and not dinning out – my favourite luxury! However, I have to admit, it’s been a very good exercise to know how little one needs to still live a very happy life and not to feel trapped by…“stuff.”

So why are we doing this? For me, it was twofold. Firstly, it was about escaping the monotony of work. Suddenly you’re brain dead come 5pm, and before you know it, you’re watching The One Show and laughing along with Alex Jones. You’re living for the weekends and the five days of the week are forever lost. And this is coming from someone who doesn’t hate their job.

Secondly, it’s an itch I can’t scratch. I have thought about getting away from it daily, and the desire been there for a while, but actually getting the guts to do it has been challenging. I thank Luke for the push who’s made me now into a doer, not a dreamer. This trip is not only a chance to see a new places and meet new people, but a chance to reflect. Maybe we’re having a quarter life crisis? Best quarter life crisis I’ll ever have.