Today is Ben’s birthday.
Happy Birthday Ben!!
James does nearly all the driving. We pass through remote, remote settlements with populations of a few hundreds.
We cross over into Nevada and start the drive of a lifetime down Highway 447. The weather is cold and the visibility is perfect. Nevada is a big place and we can see for hundreds of miles. We come across 7 Golden Eagles dining on dead coyote. They eventually lumber into the sky like fully loaded Lancaster bombers. 7 Golden Eagles taking off just yards in front of you into the crystal blue above snowy desert is a good thing to see.
A Highway Patrol truck pulls us over. It is one of the very few vehicles we have seen. I look into the wing mirror and my body thrills to the sight of two highway patrolmen in cowboy hats and sunglasses striding towards the truck unclasping the catches on the holsters of their 357 Magnums. Oh! USA!
“Are there any weapons in the vehicle, guns, knives?”
“Driving license and registration.”
“ Sir, you were driving at 75mph in a 55mph zone. This is a violation in the State of Nevada.’
Of course the truck does not have registration nor is it insured. We are busted!
“Where are you from Sir?”
“Scotland! Why Sir, so am I.” This is the cop on my side. The other one is doing the official stuff with James who was unlucky enough to be driving at the time.
“ Yep, my family used to live in the castle of Dunbar. Always wanted to go to Europe and see where my folks are from.” We chat amiably about the history of emigration, the best bird watching spots down the road and Burning Man, which takes places on the Black Rock flat just a few miles away.
Finally the official patrolman says, ”This time you guys are just getting warnings for the speeding and no registration but I will have to write you up for the other offence. Travel safe guys.”
So, I guess James will get a citation and fine but they could have been way meaner. Somehow it is almost worth it to have been a performer in one of the great USA movie scenes.
We turn off at Pyramid Lake and take a back track down to the lakeshore.
We swoop back through Reno and over the Sierras. We stop in Auburn for a burger.
” I’ ll have a Juicy Jack 3/4 pound triple with cheese combo, please.”
The woman in front of me turns around, with a big grin and thumbs up sign she says, “Way to go, Brother!”
Check out this boring video of GoPro shots going through Nevada. I wish I had had the nerve to swing the camera around whilst we were being busted. There is some good footage at the end of us swooping back over the new Bay Bridge into the city.
We have 3 motorcycles and a scooter but if that was not enough manliness we now borrow Topher truck. We need it as James and I are headed upcountry to check out migrating geese and spot Bald-Headed Eagles. The idea is to visit 3 major goose spots or bumps;
The Sacramento National Wildlife Refuge
http://www.cawatchablewildlife.org/viewsite.php?site=180&display=q&gm=y
Tule Lake
http://www.fws.gov/refuge/tule_lake/
Modoc National Wildlife Refuge
http://www.fws.gov/refuge/modoc/
Over the Bay Bridge, up 80 onto 505 and finally 5 – lighting out for the territories. As we get to the Sacramento reserve, which is just South of Willows, the sunset sky is full of thousands of geese winging it back to the lakes to roost, having spent the day feeding in various fast food restaurants. It is a fabulous sight.
After a quick visit to the lakes, we hole up in a Motel and seek out steak restaurant. “Hey Swede, burn me a thick one.” I cry on entering. It is New Years Eve. James and I are in bed by 10:30.
2015 starts as we mean it to go on; with great vigor. We are up at 6:00 and back at the bird-watching lakes to see the dawn come up over the flocks of Snow Geese.

I am writing this in Osaka airport so do not have my book with me to identify this hawk. Later – the learned Zandra correctly identifies this as a Red Shouldered Hawk
After slaking our lust all morning, we head the truck northeast past Mont Shasta, which is a very fine mountain, to Lake Tule to take in the thousands of Geese and hundreds of Bald Eagles that hang out there.
This is remote California. Wide open country of forest and hill. We come across 3 Golden Eagles chowing down on road kill by the side of the road. They are big, magnificent birds that allow us to approach very close before flapping off indolently.
As we approach Lake Tule we notice lots of white stuff that I have not seen much of during my now 4 years in Okinawa. When we get to the lake we notice that it is totally frozen over and of course all the geese and Bald Eagles have gone somewhere else. Hmmm, should have thought about that.
Are we dismayed? No! The scenery is so magnificent, we are just a few miles from Oregon, everyone drives a truck, to want more would be pure greed.
We drive truck to Alturas to find somewhere to stay and end up in the Hacienda Motel. When asked about restaurants, the motel man says, “ Well, I could cook you up some red potatoes and I got some beans I just made and biscuits of course. We got any of that chicken left honey? Yep ,we could serve it up with chicken.” We rudely turn down his offer fearing that he would engage us in conversation. James and I are lonesome cowboys.
It is the 1st of January. It is minus 14 centigrade. The town, such as it is, is closed. We finally find a Subway and buy big USA sandwiches stuffed with beef and salad and onions and olives and pickles. You buy Subway sandwiches by length, either 6 inches or 1 foot. Back in the hotel we turn up the heat, drink beer, eat our sandwiches, and watch TV about a Pawn Shop. We are invaded by a great sense of contentment.
Next day after a stonking bacon eggs hash browns, English muffin and gallons of coffee we drive out to the final destination.
This is the big one, the Modoc County Nature Reserve, renowned for its over-abundance of wildfowl, geese and Bald Eagles. Of course we know that it is a futile gesture as it is tremendously cold, earth is hard as iron and water like a stone. The lakes are solid; the wild geese have flown.
We head off into Nevada with a slight sense of disappointment but a huge sense of elation of having visited these incredible winter landscapes. This is the US of the cowboy and what’s more you can buy a house with an acre for $70,000. I think I will come back here, buy a house and gun and work as a volunteer ranger in one of the National Parks.
So, where the boys ,and occasionally I, live in San Francisco is 2 blocks over from Haight Street. It is where we go for food,drink, shoe repair and stuff. Haight of course gained fame in the late 60’s as the epicentre of the hippy movement. It is true that Jimi Hendrix gave a free concert just in front of our house on the Panhandle. Anyway,Haight has retained some of the hippy stuff but has also gained lots of fascinating little shops and bars and coffee shops and stuff. There are lots of homeless, who by and large are harmless homeless, who just want to sell weed in peace. Most of them have Pit Bull Terriers, a breed of dog that has a very poor reputation in Europe, whereas here they all seem very cuddly.
We drink in the Golden Cane, a bar that has been there since 1910, which is a very long time around these parts. It is rough, friendly, serves liquor, many cheap beers and no food. The bartenders are big older guys who despite their conviviality refrain from the, “Hi my name is Mindy and I am your server.” style.

Forget the dinners. Now it is just drinks. I think this sign dates to a more elegant period of the Golden Cane’s life.
The Pork Store is where we have breakfast. It is also an old place.
Here is a short movie of James and I going to pick up his boot.
So, Ben like James has two motorcycles. Well, in fact he has one scooter and one motorcycle – both are Yamahas. The scooter is a 125 automatic clutch deal whereby you twist the throttle and off she goes. I used her a lot last time I was in San Francisco and she gained my total respect. However now she is sick. Who can blame her as Ben has run off with a sassy motorcycle called a Naked Rider! Poor, honest, faithful, if a bit plain, the scooter is abandoned. Hell, why should she run?
When I get in, I recommend that Ben has a serious talk with the scooter, offers a total makeover and promises to ride her more often. She agrees.
The hot number that has entered Ben’s motorcycle world is stubby, 4 cylindered, needs warming up but once ready really zaps.
We get a call from the Spa saying that the scooter is her old self again and ready to rock.

We go to the Spa but James and I take he seats in the truck so Ben lies down in the flatbed and ponders his new life with the scooter. I think he will sell her down the river.
And so it goes.
I get up and stroll through the Panhandle park to the Central Cafe for my morning coffee and Bagel.
James and I then set out on the two KLRs. It is the best day that there has ever been er weather-wise and come to think it more or less every other wise. We have two objectives; to pay homage to the Tamalpais High School where Tupac went to school and to drive up the coast to Point Reyes to take a tramp.
One bike is the sensational, almost brand new, open-pipe monster and the other is the broken framed but faithful one. Both go like hell and we take turns.
We memorably storm across the Golden Gate. Check out this Oscar candidate for best Go Pro of riding over the Golden Gate.
We then terrorize Sausalito before heading off to Mill Valley to have breakfast.
Having laid Gold, Frankincense and Myrrh at the gates of Tamalpais High School we head off over Mount Tam to Stinson Beach.
Winding mountain road flanked by huge redwoods, through which the blue, blue sky is downdropping, to the accompaniment of raucous “Blappa, blappa,blappa, bang, bang!” of James’ custom exhaust system. Then up the coast to Point Reyes.
We look for mushrooms and birds.
We drive back down the coast with the sun going down over the ocean. We recross the bridge, zoom through town and home for a nice cup of tea. A truly glorious day.
A truck backed into James’ Kawasaki and amongst other stuff, fractured the frame. The truck insurance came good and offered him a whole pile of loot. Concurrently I got a cheque from the California Tax folks. Yes, it was a rebate for over 6000 bucks for overcharges incurred during a massive tax snarl up engendered during the exodus from France in 2010. Tidings of great joy.
James and I go to Wells Fargo to cash it in.
Anyway James has tracked down a 2013 Kawasaki KLR650 in Monterey. We go down to station on the broken bike, James hops off and I am set loose in San Francisco on a 650 with a broken frame on the most beautiful day. What could be better?

Bobby! Should I take ’em to the bridge?
(Go Ahead!)
Take ’em on to the bridge!
(Take em to the bridge!)
Should I take ’em to the bridge?
(Yeah!)
Take ’em to the bridge?
(Go Ahead!)
Hit me now!
The KLR650 is a single cylinder machine and as far as I can see is the world’s best motorcycle. For blapping around the hills of the city there is certainly nothing to beat her. She has great torque and in more or less any gear you just open the throttle and she goes “Thwacka,thwacka, braaaaaaa!” and you are launched off in a sort of catapultish way.
James gets home late at night after a freezing drive up from Monterey. The new bike is incredible, jet black and gleaming in the streetlights. He says,”Try it.” I say “I don’t have a helmet.” He says “So don’t get caught.” The new bike has special custom exhaust that makes a lot of noise. I surge of into the night and blast around the Panhandle block. Wow, I am young and free!
What fun.
After a late night festive session of root canal fun with my friend Mori sensei on Christmas Eve, I awake on Christmas Day and prepare myself for a marathon celebration of the birth of Sweet Baby Jesus. I take my morning tea on the roof overlooking the East China Sea. It is warm enough to do so only in a towel.
It is a normal working day and as I ride the cab to the airport I reflect on how restive it is not having been bombarded with festive stuff for weeks. It is now a beautiful day and I board the Tokyo flight after a Soba lunch in jeans and Tshirt.
We cruise up to Tokyo whilst I listen to Decline and Fall on my IPad.
I spend just enough time in the lounge at Narita to get gently soporific.
Trundle across the Pacific through the night watching stuff on the IPad. The plane had no screens but an app,which gave you access to a trillion movies etc on your computer, tablet, or shoe by means of onboard wireless.
I am amongst the first to immigration. It takes 3 minutes to get through. My bag appears instantly and 15 minutes after touchdown I am in a cab hurtling down 101 into the heart of the city. The weather is glorious. I love air travel.
It is 11:00 on Christmas Day. We go for coffee, we exchange presents, we go to a bar, we drink amazing Californian beer, James cooks lamb with roasted roots, we are festive. Long live Sweet Baby Jesus, I sure enough worshipped his birth long time this year.
When in pairs, the left shisa traditionally has a closed mouth, the right one an open mouth. The open mouth wards off evil spirits, and the closed mouth keeps good spirits in.
So Ben made a shisa, with some instruction from the amazing Yamada sensei, the first time he came to Okinawa. It had an open mouth thus it kept bad spirits away. However I did not have a shisa to keep good spirits in. This is entirely consistent with the wreck of Dileas. There was such joy but it slipped away because there was no shisa to retain it.
Ha ha, now I begin a new era of happiness and joy. I have the second shisa!
Ben spend a couple of days with Yamada sensei during his visit in August and made the second shisa. It is beautifully done. It dried in Yamada’s workshop and once ready he glazed it and fired it in the mighty nobori-gama.
I went to pick it up today. Miwako is going to have her second baby tomorrow! I think she should wait for Xmas day.
Thanks Ben!
No more happiness and joy can escape from Tigh na Mara. Time to buy another boat!
I don’t care if y’all want to look at this but here are some birds that I saw today.