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01-09-2007

The small cold dribble of rain water that had accumulated on my helmet, had now found it’s way inside my jacket collar and was now running down my neck to my shoulders and slowly trickling to the small of my back. This minor distraction was only slightly marring my excitement concerning getting back into the USA. It didn’t matter that we’d been in the States already. In my mind any border crossings were linked with the idea of new countries, new adventures new possibilities.

We’d been stuck in traffic now, inching forward a few yards every so often for over an hour. I’d even managed to take off my sodden gloves and with the helmet lodged on my head had managed to tuck into the sandwiches Mo had made us for the trip. Passengers in cars looked on mildly bemused.

45 minutes later and we were at the front of the line and Lisa and I were being directed to the small booth infront where our documents would get their first check. Much like Mexico we were then directed over to the inspection area, where we’d leave the bikes and walk our passports into the immigration hall to get the required stamps. Our day was about to turn to complete ‘crap’!

Stern looking officials manned desks to our left, right and ahead. A blasé wave of the hand from the official to our left directed us straight on. We took our place in line behind the man in a green beret and a brown paper bag.

I had a bad feeling. American friends had already warned us to be ready for hassles. The small moustached man behind the counter dismissed his last victim and, with his eyes planted firmly on his desk, waived us expectantly forward, knowing we’d obey. I was already smiling and doing best to put him at his ease. ‘May my wife and I present our documents together’ I asked. ‘No’ came the barked response. ‘ You are travelling on separate passports’ he continued with a curl of his lip. ‘Get back behind the line’ he hissed. You ‘fucker’ I thought. Had anyone else spoken to my wife with the distain this man had used I’d have hit him. Yeah…that’s not going to work for us here!?”**”

‘Passport’ he snorted! With finger prints read and passport handed over, things weren’t going to get better. He was flipping through the pages of my passport with a look on his face that suggested I’d somehow scrawled some kind of mystical martian text over the pages and then sprayed them all with skunk love juice, for no other reason than to frustrate and embarass him. It wasn’t that this gent probably handn’t got laid this morning but more likely that he'never' had.

Instintively…I knew…we weren’t going to be…friends!!!!

What is the purpose of your visit to the United States of America? ‘Toursim’ I replied as politely as I could. ‘NO’ he snapped! In my head I thought…’YES’. ‘I’m sorry’ I asked in my best English and slightly confused voice. Things were really about to go down hill.

He pulled out the dates of our original entry to the USA and subsequent departure to Canada 3-4 weeks ago. ‘Why do you want a visa’? he asked angrily. OK, now I was confused. I already had a visa and it was on the page he was looking at. I tried to explain my confusion in a way that wouldn’t come across like I was being smart or trying to undermine his obvious shakey security.

After ten minutes of the same question being repeated here came the punch to the gut. ‘I can not allow you in to the United States of America’ he stated, making eye contact with me for the first time in about ten minutes. I waited for the gag line. None came. I think I blurted…’excuse me’??? ‘You were in the United States of America for the maximum of 6-months…your visa has expired’ I thought to myself...'Why the hell can’t you just say USA, when you talk'! We all know what it stands for..What point are you trying to make by saying the whole thing, over and over and over again? My face was still smiling, eyes wide open and a picture of cooperation.

I did my best to explain that yes, we had been in the States for 6-months but had then left the USA to travel in Canada for 3-4 weeks, and now we were wishing to re-enter the USA to contine our travels. This schmuck was just looking for aggro, he’d already verbally slapped me for including the phrases ‘us’ and ‘we’ in my replies because as he stated…’ I have no interest in hearing about anyone else you are travelling with. I’m only dealing with you’!!!!

At this point it was getting harder to keep that look of cooperation on my face. I’d already prepared a number of printed documents in Canada to substanciate our verbal information regarding our travels. I tried to hand over our press release, a letter from the UK embassy and our documentation from Guinness World Records, all of which he pyhsically brushed aside, stating it was all irrelevant. I was dumbfounded. How could it be irrelevant? I was simply provding additional information to substanciate our purpose of entry to the USA. I was doing my best to explain my confusion as to his stand-point. Everytime I opened my mouth to speak he’d simply talk over me in the dissmisive and arrogant manner we’d seen so many times before at borders. Strange though, mentally, I was better able tolerate this kind of abuse from an un-educated, half starved, never-paid soldier in some God forsaken part of worn torn Mauritania than I was able to from the idiot I was now dealing with. What was his excuse?

There was nothing else going on here other than a man on a power trip. If absolute power corrupts then it really does corrupt absolutely. There was no effort made on his part to listen to anything I said. I was getting nowhere and running out of options and patience. My cooperative stance wasn’t working. He wasn’t letting me in. It was time to change tact, I had nothing to loose. I was now talking over him, explaining the world records and reconfirming what we’d been told by his own collegues when we entered from the south and had asked pointedly about our visas and renewing them. We’d been told that we needed to leave the USA and resubmit our passports and visa for re-entry and another 6-months period.

What I was now being told was all new. This official’s stance was that after our 6-months was up, US polcy demanded that we return to our country of origin, prior to re-entering the USA. In all of our travels neither Lisa or I have ever heard of any country stipulating which country foreign visitors have to leave to. I needed to understand more. ‘Country of Origin’ did that mean our original country of origin…the UK?, or did it mean returning to the country from which we had originally entered the USA?, because for us that would have been Mexico. The very fact that I was asking this question was clearly infuriating our bad tempered and frustrated moustached fiend. We’d now been going around in circles with this little dance for an hour and a half. Bizarely, Lisa had dealt with the next available immigration officer, handed over her passport, explained our travels and had been stamped back into the USA for another 6-months with a pat on the back and safe travel wishes.

My immigration guy had now left me, without notice, walked across the office to the officer dealing with Lisa, barked at his collegue and then simply taken Lisa’s passport back. Based on the look of the face of the immigration officer that had dealt with Lisa he was as surprised as we were. ‘What the hell is going on here’!!!

There was no getting around this guy, he wasn’t budging. We wouldn’t be allowed into the USA and we would have to fly back to the UK?? Our journey was over. Our trip was over. Guinness World Records…gone. Bollox to that. My head was spinning. A different thousand thoughts were running through my head and then it struck me. I’m not letting this happen. If we can traverse the Sahara, half the known world and survive a broken neck in the Amazon then why should we ‘choose’ to let this idiot stop us.

With my second wind caught and my head down I re-enterd negotiations. That’s what all this really was. This wasn’t us trying to sneak by USA immigration or trying to somehow cheat our way into the USA, this was about our confrontation with one man. One man stood in our way.

An hour later and we weren’t budging. The same argument and rebuttles had been given by all parties and we were still dancing. I had an advantage. I knew I simply wasn’t going to give in. He didn’t.

30 minutes later and the official had conceded he’d talk with his supervisor. Personally I didn’t care if he needed to talk to God. With another 20 minutes abscence he returned.

He had decided that he was ‘GOING TO DO A US A HUGE FAVOUR’ (that’s a quote) and allow us into the USA. If we heard that from his lips once we then heard it another 50 times. ‘I don’t have to do this’, he barked again. This we would also hear adnausuim! Something had changed and that something was pretty obvious. Somebody higher up the food chain had clearly ‘told him’ to relax and was forcing him to change his position.

Another 15 minutes later and with both passports stamped and cleared we were finally leaving the immigration hall and breathing for the first time in a few hours.

Even the customs guys who’d inspected the bikes quizzed us as to why we’d been so long. We were exhausted.

The steel grey clouds and now pouring rain would keep us cold all the way to Seattle and Touratech USA’s offices, where we’d spend the night.

What a day!......Welcome to the USof A!
02-09-2007

We’d made our way through the late afternoon traffic and followed the directions and GPS tracks past Seattles airport and had pulled up at Touratechs US office last night. With a few phone calls made we’d managed to get hold of Chris (one fo the staff), got our self sorted for the night and grabbed a bite to eat at one of the cool bike bars 15 blocks down the road from the offices.

With yesterday’s nonsense behind us and the TT offices closed for the weekend we set out on foot to explore Seattle. Yeah….30 minutes later and we were still walking. It was a little further than we’d first thought. The skyscrapers and glass clad building of Seattles skyline that we’d seen on postcards and movies was all around us. We milled around shops, glad to have left our bulky riding gear and helmets back at TT.

The World famous Seattle fish market was a must see. A hive of cramped and bustling sellers, each vying for your attention throw fish 15 feet from one seller to the next, shouting and chanting as they throw. Those slippery little suckers can’t be the easiest things to catch. The madness of the whole thing had us grinning from ear to ear.

The cramped quarters of the market and the heaving throng of the crowd just added to the excitement. Fresh fruit sellers laid out their wares next to market stands selling bundles of the most beautiful bouquets of fresh cut flowers which fragranced the air.

By late afternoon we’d stopped for a break and down by the docks had snagged a table and ordered a cold beer each. We needed to head back. Weary legs and tired feet were robbing us of more time in seattle. There was no way we were walking back and so with a taxi hailed we made our way back out towards TT.

03-09-2007
Today is Monday – but it’s a holiday day. So cant start any of our jobs until tomorrow.
04-09-2007
We’d had more than a few conversations with the likes of Jeremy, Kimmo and Chris about the state of our very used camping gear, in particular our carry bags, cooking gear, mattresses and so on. It seemed more than fortuitous when scanning through our emails this morning we came across a cc’d email from Jim down at Rawhyde Adventures to Tim over at Cascade Desgins. Jim had made a great introduction on our behalf and Tim had replied that we should contact him. Cascade Designs are the US importer and distributor for MSR, Thermarest, Seal Line bags and a host of other outdoor kit manufacturers.

We excitedly googled their Seattle address…no way! This was getting better by the moment; they are 6 blocks around the corner from Touratech. With hurried phonecalls made to Tim, we’d arranged to ride around mid-day. Tim had sounded like a nice guy, interested in our ride and genuinely wanted to support us. Truth be told, we were going to be overwhelmed by his generosity.

By 12pm we’d found an empty parking space in front of Cascades offices, parked the bikes and signed in the guest register. A young member of staff was leading us through a maze of grey corridors to the office door that read ‘President – Military Division’. Tim was inside and welcomed us like old friends.

With coffee in hand we enjoyed Tim’s easy company and swapped stories, good and bad of how we’d reached the USA. We were still unsure exactly what Tim was offering? On the phone he’d been very relaxed and I’d not wanted to ask him directly what kind of support he felt we deserved. Maybe a small discount, maybe a little more.

With a few of our issues explained, Tims response was nothing short of amazing. “Look, whatever you need we have and you’re more than welcome to it…we have something in the region of $12 million of stock in our warehouse, why don’t I walk you through it and you can just pull out whatever you need”.

Lisa looked at me, I looked back at her, we both looked back at Tim and then remembered to close our mouths. Tim was sat back in his chair, sipping coffee and smiling.

5-minutes later and we were following Tim through the factory where the MSR stoves are assembled. Past the factory and out side we were following on to the warehouse.

Oh good lord this was crazy, we were like kids in a candy store and Tim knew it. We must have spent over an hour with Tim just walking around and pulling down items from the seemingly endless shelves. Although we’d seen many of the products before in the countless outdoor gear shops we visited around the World,we’d never seen this amount of range. In stores you’d see 2 may be 3 of a products variable, you know, size, shape, colour. Here, well, the thermarest section alone took a chunk of the warehouse. 10 difrerent designs, each one covering mens and womens shapes, a million different colours and then of course there were all the Thermarest extras; bags, seat conversions and so on.

And so it continued. Before we left Tims company we had new MSR Dragonfly Multi fuel stoves, MSR camp cook gear, MSR Fuel bottles, and stove rest. Two new Thermarest mattresses and compression bags would also be leaving with us. The New Seal Line waterproof bags Tim had supplied would ensure that our gear would stay dry for a few more years.

Our heads were swimming. Back at Tim’s office we excitedly mumbled thank you’s as best we could and posed for photos with the bikes back out at the front of the offices.

With our new swag stuffed into panniers and strapped down we blapped the engines and headed back down the street we arrived on before taking a left and riding back to the Touratech offices.

So, again…Tim we are truly in your debt…Thank you for your trust and support.
07-09-2007
Presentation Day!!!

Yeah, to be honest we were nervous…

We’d got an early start at the Touratech offices. The new powerpoint presentation looks good but I still wasn’t happy. I wanted it to come across as more dynamic with a little more texture. Like most things we do it’s all learnt on the fly and by mid moring I was getting frustrated at my own efforts. I’d found some forgotten video from both our Amazon trials , where I was speaking to the camera describing what had happened only 5 days after the accident and 2 ½ weeks before getting to hospital. Man, I looked a mess. There was also the footage we’d taken after Lisa’s nasty fall high in Bolivias Altiplano.

Try as I might the video editing wasn’t going well and getting it into Powerpoint was getting messy.

I’d done my best to perch myself out of everyones way in the small kitchen area. Kimmo, Jeremy and the boys and been in and out most of the morning as they organized food, wine and seating for this evening.

Every now and again we’d allow ourselves to get excited. Only a few years ago, we’d been thumbing our way through the TT catalogue in awe of thier kit, and imagining all the possibilties our adventure had waiting ahead for us. It feels so surreal to now find our own pictures inside that very same catalogue and here we are running a presentation at the USA offices, with people turning up to listen to our hard earned stories. Part of us half expect for someone to tap us on the shoulder and say something like…”Oh sorry, yeah, the evening show is all off and we need those sponsored items back…there’s been a bit of a mistake…we thought you were someone else”. We think to ourselves…any minute now this will come to an end and they’ll suddenly realize that it’s just us! Just a married couple riding motorbikes a bit further than most. Then they’ll look at themselves and wonder what all the fuss was about.

…well until then we were going to enjoy every moment of it, the attention, the experience and the thrill of being able to share with new friends what for us had been the most incredible time of our lives.

By mid afternoon common sense had got the better of me and I’d called a halt to the video idea, I was getting nowhere. With the projector and screen arrived we could get our first dry run and at least check that our trusty little laptop would communicate with the projector. Bingo, first time! Lisa flashed me a big grin as our photos hit the big screen for the first time. Even the audio I’d embedded a few days ago was blarring out brilliantly. Some 20 minutes later and we’d adjusted the height and screen levels, contrast and colour and things were looking good. A steady flow of customers had come and gone away with newly purchased tickets in hand.

The small knot of nerves was growing in the pit of my stomach. We’d decied to run the whole thing on the fly. No rehersals, no pre planned gags…nothing. We wanted to come across as genuine. Sure we want to be professional and we’re desperate to entertain and maybe even inspire, a little, but we really don’t want to let down Touratech and we’ve figured that pretending to be something we’re not isn’t going to work. This whole experience is another part of our journey. Everything else we do is by the seats of our pants and adhok, why should this be any different. We’ll just run with and see where it takes us.

By early evening the show room bikes that had taken centre stage in the offices had been moved aside and ours installed in their place and the seating was going up quickly. We’d nervously received the news that 15 tickets had been sold at the beginning of the week. We’d hoped for 30. We figured that 30 people who’d never met us giving up their precious time to hear us talk was no small thing.

Jeremy flew past me en-route to the warehouse. “Simon, has Kimmo given you the numbers”? He yelled half disappearing around the corner into the next room. “No not yet”, I yelled back hoping to sound upbeat. Jeremy’s head stuck back around the door, he grinned and continued…”well so far it’s past 100 and we’ll probably get a few more turning up on the door.

Shit…that’s a lot! The “oh, I’m sorry we thought you were someone else idea ran through my head again”, and I did my best to forget it. Lisa’s face lit up at the news. Tonight was going to be a good. The roar of half a dozen bikes turning up at the same time announced the first guests were arriving. Jill was already at the door and welcoming guest as she punched their tickets. With the first few guests through the door Lisa and I physically relaxed for the first time in a week thinking to ourselves “well at least someone showed up”. No point worrying now…about anything! We’ll have a couple fo drinks, have a few laughs, try our damdest to describe our experiences as best we can and just enjoy the whole experience for what it is.

7:30pm rolled around pretty quick and before we knew it there was standing room only and the food, drink and conversation was in full flow. There was already a good atmosphere building. With an energetic introduction from Tom made, we were on. The two hours were a blur.

Norway, Russia, Europe, Africa, South and Central America and came and went as we did our best to recount the highlights and of course the not so high. The audience was great and laughed in all the right places and noticibly cringed as we rolled through photos depicting our ordeal in the Amazon. With 30 minutes of questions and answers at the end we eventually wrapped things up around 10:30pm.

The night was done yet…we were on a high. Petra Hilleberg of Hilleberg tents (the tent that we have been using for the past 4 and a half years as our home) had accpeted an offer to attend the show and we’d had a great chance to meet up and talk. That conversation went well on into the morning as we sipped and eventually slurped beers at one of the local bars.

A good day!!!
 
 
 
The next installment in the USA click here
 
 
 
 
click on the pics for
bigger images
 
At last reaching the TT USA head office
...yeah it shouldn't take too long to walk in to town?
an hour later and we're still walking
gettig caught up in the madness of the market
wonderful sights and smells
 
kept seeing these signs and still have no idea what they were warning about
 
Chris from TTat homedoing something???
chris and Tom (owner) hoisting Ramona's bike up high
 
 
Lisa with our Dietmar (motorcycle traveller) who we saw last in Salta Argentina.
Tinkerbelle looks at home in the TT office :-)
Jill from TT was on door duty and there's a good chance that Danno has just made a wonderfully innapropriate proposition....but you can tell Jill's thinking about it :-)
Kimmo getting ready for a good night, he was on bar duty
bloody hell there's a lot of them
 
 
 
Lisa to talking with Petra Hilleberg
 
Jeremy (TT Preseident) in full flow