Visalia hotel gone bust... the guys are on the street

After the breathless thrills of Death Valley, surely nothing could come even close. Lone Pine to Visalia sounds like a nice day out in the country to me. You know, the kind of ride when those usually annoying blue rinse Sunday drivers tootle along at 25mph but you're in such a happy mood that you resist any unpleasant urges and enjoy the view... well for a mile at most. Yet again we encountered wonderful mountain roads, the run down from the snow topped Mount Whitney hills to the beautiful Lake Isabella to the orange groves in 80 degree heat as we approached Visalia which for somewhere I've never heard of is a cracking place. The company who planned the tour for us have done a great job but even they could not foresee that our hotel for the night would be closed, furniture pile up in the lobby, the pool drained and a numerous final demand letters piling up in the mail box. Fortunately, Google came to the rescue and within a few minutes we were esconsed in a far more preferable hotel down the road... opposite a pub. Wednesday night must go down as one of the most memorable of the trip. Upon spying my somewhat now overworn Derby County shirt, we were approached by two guys who live here who used to live in of all places Alvaston. The words 'small' and 'world' came to mind. We also conversed with some of the locals who seem to know more about English football than Tony Matthews (that's not really saying much, i know) but their enthusiasm was unbounded. Rumour has it that there may also be video evidence of a certain member of our party dancing... nothing odd about that you may think until you know who it is. Anyway, after another Chris & Tony sing Queen karaoke which more or less emptied the pub we staggered home. Once again, the locals made us very welcome and we leave Visalia with a very favourable impression.

Two days on the bikes to go, mixed emotions as it's been a fab trip but we're missing y'all. Terry, make sure the Pedigree is good for Sunday.