Day One : Los Angeles - Cathedral City, Palm Springs

I wake up nervous, it's as simple as that. But I was really really ready....

I had been anxious to hit the road but admittedly nervous, I felt focused at the same time and my aunt noticed a difference in my energy and mood. We had a delicious breakfast which included fresh fruit, cold cut meats and minced turkey military style meal. It is unofficially known as 'SOS' or 'Shit on a shingle' which doesn't sound great but it was really tasty. We listened to a radio broadcast featuring Russel Simmons (of RUN DMC) speak of his new book about meditation, it was really cool hearing an OG talk about meditation and 'calming the mind', later I would be told by a fascinating hippy that every day I ride my bike a few hundred miles, I am meditating. Over the radio we also heard a news bulletin of another school shooting in America.

After breakfast, my aunt waved me off from her lawn as I really gave my bike horn a test run. My uncle escorted me off Corning Street and towards Interstate 10, east bound. We went in convoy, for about 15 miles or so, after which he rolled down his window, ushered me passed him, gave me the thumbs up, a few beeps were exchanged, I overtook and saw him as he faded amongst the traffic behind me, where he pulled off a sliproad. I was on my own. After another 5 miles of calm, I am asking myself aloud, 'What are you doing? Why are you doing this? WHAT HAVE YOU GOTTEN YOURSELF INTO?'; 20 miles down, 5,480 to go, and now I am committed.

Like when I ride at home in Ireland, I will find myself talking to myself, singing to myself, giving out about something, making up rhymes, predicting a conversation, gasping in awe-inspiration or my personal favourite, mimicking the sound of my bike's engine; like one would when they were a young child - 'vrrrrooooOOOOM,vrrrrroooOOOOOOmmmmMMMM!!!'. I don't know why but it is highly entertaining doing this when you're actually on a motorbike. I've since consulted other motorists about this simple pleasure and it turns out I'm not alone.



I concentrate on the road and acknowledged my surroundings, endless interstate, four lanes wide for at least an hour leaving LA, heavy traffic, 18 wheelers, everything going at different speeds, interchanging lanes brainlessly in their giant metal rolling shells. My bike is fairly big, the biggest I've ever owned in fact but it is dwarfed beside these pickups and SUVs. I don't even know what my mileage is on a tank of 'gas'. I run onto my reserve tank at 100 miles and pull in to fill up, knowing where your tank will run into reserve is important, I don't know how much I'd get out of my reserve and in a way I didn't want to find out. I would only use my reserve tank twice over the 5,500 miles. It was at this first stop that I realized that not only do Americans not use the word 'petrol', they often have no idea what the word means.

I continued on towards Palm Springs and I ride about 20 miles passed my first destination so added just less than an unnecessary hour to my first day on the road. Palm Springs which is 200km from LA consists of 5 cities, one of them being Cathedral City. It contains both  THE poorest and THE richest housing estates in the whole of the United States (as per my host). They are side by side. Palm Springs boasts landscape perfection, carefully manicured by minorities living in the area. My couchsurfing host Myron was a gent. He welcomed me into his beautiful AIR-CONDITIONED home where I did some interneting primarily to let my aunt and uncle know I survived my first day. LA was hot but heading in land, it would be unbearable for days on end.... 

Myron suggested I could visit the Palm Springs Aerial Tram-way. Not just for a good view and something to do but to cool off at the higher altitude. It was either that, or go to Joshua Tree Ntl Park which was over 50miles in the direction I'd be going tomorrow. So I decide on the tram-way and a cooler climate for the afternoon. On the way there I rode on the wrong side of the road and also turned down a one way street, rookie. I made it to the mountain foothill and got the cable-car up to the much cooler altitude of San Jacinto peak. Palm Springs was roasting, as would be all of Arizona and New Mexico. I came back down the mountain before sunset and drove back to Cathedral City and pulled into the soft shoulder to take some photos of the sun setting behind the San Jacinto which I had just been up. I got some ok shots of my newly purchased bike and then got back on to head back. Myron's place was just around the corner and we had planned on eating a meal together so I was eager to get back.

As I tried to pull out I instantly realized I was stuck in the sand, in my efforts to escape I sank my bike further into the soft sand so my exhaust is now sitting on the sand and my wheels are well and truly burried. I didn't know how literal 'Soft Shoulder' was but I do in fact remember seeing the sign. Only 4 minutes later a fire truck came passed and noticed me in trouble. The truck pulled in 50 yards ahead of my bike, put on it's lights and in convoy, four firemen jog down the road to assist me. I explain to them that I'm Irish, on holidays on this bike and I intend on riding to the North-East coast of America, and that this was my first day. They laughed audibly and non-verbally thought I was an idiot, as did I. They lifted the bike while I rode it onto the road. I tried to give them dollars for some beers but they insisted they wouldn't take it. 

I was starting to worry about the success of this trip. I got back to Myron, we went for wings and beer, came back for jacuzzi, bottles of beer and lots of tequila and riveting conversation. We had a typical conversation about religion, our beliefs etc but he focused on different aspects of religion primarily the matter of acceptance and some clever educational tools for religion. He shared his uncles tequila with me and also used his uncles shot glasses. Glasses had never been used before. Both the tequila and the glasses were beautiful. His uncle had passed away a few months previous and we drank in his honour after toasting in Spanish.

Stuck

Myron was one of the first people to ask why I was doing this motorcycle ride across America and I explained to him it was just a holiday, or a vacation (as I'd learn to call it), but that I was still looking for purpose and reason. I explained to him my fears and worries having already been rescued by the fire department on day one. He advised that everyday should have it's own lesson, this would develop the purpose of my trip. Amidst our conversation, the lessons of Day 1 would include;

-Go to theater more (a hobby of Myron's)
-Drink better tequila, slower (a hobby of Myron's)
-Avoid soft shoulders
-Stay on the right side of the road
-Go down one way streets the right way
-Confirm membership with Naturist Ireland...