Good night's sleep and brekky, then following Saurus (that's Roger by the way) into Santa Monica to returnhu Big Soph and Manfred to Eagle Riders. All ok apart from the Eagle office in Santa Monica being closed. Note on door saying "Sorry, we're closed for Memorial Day. Return bikes to LAX (airport)." We just made it back to Woogs' and Saurus' place in time for a party thrown in.
My impression of Malibu is a beachfront with substantial properties here and there, below a large group of dessicated hills, wth the occasional palace perched on the top or round the sides, to grab views of the boundless Pacific. Woogs' and Saurus' place is on the side of a hill high up, and beautiful inside and out, with a wide balcony overlooking the ocean through palms. It is open plan and a wander from one distinct area to another, but without doors.Before the guests started to arrive Saurus had time to describe his neighbours in their distant habitats.
"Over there's the house of Nicole Scherzinge (a famous singer I hadn't heard of).That's Laird Hamilton's place (No.1 Surfer in the world). That place on the far corner of the mountain is where Glen Campbell lives. Unfortunately he now has Alzheimer's, so he doesn't go out much. Over there (Roger pointed to a large spread on the left about 3/4 mile away) is Axel Rose." Axel Rose, I asked, isn't he the Rock Musician who performs on stage in his underpants? Roger wasn't sure but told me that when Axel practises, the house shakes and he has to raise his voice in the kitchen. On another occasion Saurus pointed out other near neighbours on the Pacific Coast Highway (the PCH, aka our old friend H101): the pads of Cher, Mel Gibson, bruce Willis, Barbara Streissand.... the list is endless.
So, the party. Enormous fun with wine flowing like the Yosemite Falls. Again. I met some neighbours, well one or two. It turns out that with the exception of Woogs and Saurus, they don't know anyone else in the neighbourhood - except by repute - either. Was this an obsession with privacy, a fear of strangers or some kind of weird bi-product of affluence - an indifference to local people and issues?
I suggested to Bruce Ochmanek, a film producer who lived down the road, that Axel Rose might be lonely: why didn't we drop in on him that evening and talk about good old England? Bruce was certain that it was a bad idea. Axel, if he was at home, and he probably wasn't, would send a flunky to the door instructed to "Tell them NO". It would be a wasted effort.
After the party my mind was looking back at the days spent on the road. I had my note book with me and these are some of the things I jotted down that managed to get through the Censor
Roads
Fast dual carriageway freeways, or huge interstates, or in contrast slender, windy ribbons with the carriageway divided by double yellow lines. There are variable speed limits around towns and in cities, as well as some country roads, that are generally observed by Californians.We saw why this may be as a CHIP patrolman was doling out speed tickets to a man who could have been exceeding the speed limit by as little as 3mph, and required to cough up hundreds of dollars.
Americans do not like roundabouts. Instead they have four-way junctions with traffic lights at which all cars NSE or W have to stop. We worked out that it was basicallly first come, first served, but in practice it was a courtesy examination. After you. No, after you.
We drove many mountain areas where the roads were narrow and sometimes curved round tightly, this way and that continuously. It was not unusual to come across a sqiggly bend sign with the legend beneath, 'for 40 miles'. Over my intercom, I would predictably hear J make some sort of rejoicing noise, whereas for Big Soph and I, the words, 'interesting times ahead' were more apt. On such stretches, the roads requiring any maximum speed info were marked with a numerical warning. Every now and then I misjudged the curve and Big Soph would end up on the wrong side of the road, fortunately with no evil consequences.
The Yanks
Whether it was WA, OR or Calif, our cousins across the pond were without exception counteous, welcoming and as helpful as they could be. This was particularly important to a couple of travellers in a strange land often short of needed information on routes, addresses or accommodation. The other day I was standing by the roadside at a gas station looking at a map. A hispanic Californian middle-aged lady mistook my frowning concentration for bemusment, approached me and told me where I was, the name of the road and how far it was to San Francisco. We had just driven from SF but never mind. There is a wonderful sense of hospitality in the air. The ancient Greek God Xenia is alive and well and living on the west coast of the USA.
The Bikes
J's BMW was, I think, everything he hoped it would be in terms of performance and reliability. He didn't complain about discomfort over long distances, although I suspect that the bike is not designed for the distances we were doing every day. Whereas Big Soph, with a capacity of about 1700cc (or an exact 103 cubic inches) was a heavy, well sprung touring bike built for long hauls and predominantly main roads. Her six gears were well differentiated and very useful for controlling speeds on steep descents, reducing the need for braking. She couldn't lean too far over on steep bends without scraping some of her undercarriage ( elicting much praise from J). A solid, reliable touring bike with good torque at low revs and as thirsty as a car.
Sent from Samsung Mobile
No comments:
Post a Comment