Newsletter

56th Edition, February 2006

"...The next day after filling up with petrol and water plus reserves of both we attempted the Tan Tan to Assa piste across the desert, we got 35km outside Tan Tan on the road to M'sied and a horrendous sandstorm was blowing. We were down to 40kph on the road in 3rd gear. It got so bad that I could only see 2 metres in front and there was an extremely powerful headwind. We battled on for another 15km's hoping to get through this before turning back but there was no way we could ride off road in this. There was zero visibility, so we decided to head back up the road to Guelmim ready for the next day’s piste - Ait Herbil to Tafraoute in the Anti Atlas. Ourselves and all our gear is covered in fine dust... even inside my dry bag and that is designed for canoeing!"

Andrew Newton, UK, in Moroccan Sahara

55th Edition, August, 2005

"... By the time I reached the Chinese border, there were very few people to be seen outside in the freezing temperatures. The temperature drops to minus nineteen degrees in this part of the country. I was sliding around like someone learning how to ice skate on the road - which was now packed with ice. I was moving at a ‘furious’ speed of 15 km/ph. I had to take it very slowly because not only was the wind chill too harsh to be going fast, but the back wheel was not keeping traction and if I placed my feet on the ground for balancing they would just slide along with the icy road. I had ridden nearly 8 hours in this freezing cold to get to the Chinese border. I had to stay the night there after riding through the dark on dangerous icy roads. I suffered minor frostbite on my fingers. As a result, I could hardly move my hands to pull the brake and clutch. At one point I looked at my thermometer and it read -25 degrees..."
 

Chris Smith, Australia, on the Karakoram Highway in Pakistan

54th Edition, March April, 2005

"I saw it coming, a shear rock-face with a track climbing up it... at a 45-degree angle. That in itself was a pretty adventure, all sand and dust, but while turning onto it and opening the throttle in first gear I saw what I was really up for.... The trail was exactly one (small) car wide. The surface was bull-dust and big rocks scattered around everywhere.... and the side was, well at first only a few meters deep... but the further I drove upwards, the deeper it became (kind of logical) and halfway I did not dare to look to the side again since it was now at least a hundred meters deep. Hanging backwards on the handlebar, standing on the pegs I just 'went for it.' Avoiding the rocks was no option. Any course-correction would take me close to the edge, and I did not want to be close to the edge (I was close enough on the other side). Big rocks and small slides forced me more and more to the middle of the track... but I concentrated on the top, which was coming closer now and I prayed there would not be any down-traffic..."

Maarten Munnik, Netherlands, in Utah, USA

53rd Edition, January February, 2005

"Traveling the countryside, I love to spread my disease. While surrounded outside marketplaces, I select the shyest child, beckoning him near. Coaxing him closer to press his index finger on the starter button ignites his spirit as quickly as the Blue Beast fires alive. A few blips of the throttle and he is infected—a thrilled, little brown face with wide eyes ablaze now burns with motorcycle fever..."

Glen Heggstad, USA, in India

52nd Edition, October - December, 2004

"Dragons surrounded the camp, sleeping under buildings and trees. Rangers find them in the kitchen, toilet and offices if doors are left open. We were shown our room, led by a ranger carrying a long stick, forked at one end, which you are supposed to use to pin over the neck of any attacking dragon. They are so fast and so strong I doubted my ability to be able to defend myself but soon adopted the stick carrying approach for my own peace of mind. We made sure we drank less than usual in the afternoon so we didn't have to get up in the night, and kept our room door closed, as they can climb stairs..."

Richard Parkinson and Lisa Godfery, NZ, in Indonesia

51st Edition, August/September 2004

"As we entered the 180 degree corner the motor chugged slowly, straining to pull us up the steep grade. Just then a huge bus swept into the corner at impossibly high speed. The driver’s eyes widened as he saw us dead center in the road.

My brain seized. Because of the reversed foot controls on this ancient British design, I had managed to shift up into a higher gear, bring us to a near halt and drag down the engine to the edge of stalling. As the engine wheezed and made one last revolution, I realized my error and looked up.

The driver and I locked eyes. We both knew the physics.

He had five tons of fully loaded bus headed our way, complete with bags, packages and people clinging to the top. It was a tiny one lane road in the mountains. There were no shoulders. He could drive it off the cliff and kill every one of his passengers to save us, but that didn’t make much sense considering the number of people he had aboard. The math wasn’t in our favor. His eyes said, ‘Sorry, but I have no choice.’

It was going to be up to me..."

Douglas and Stephanie Hackney, USA, in Bhutan and India

50th Edition, June/July 2004

"I spent two weeks riding along the Chinese border on dirt tracks through many villages that had no electricity or running water. Chickens were constantly bouncing off the side of my bike and on one occasion, I even hit a large pig! Some areas were so rugged that I often underestimated the time needed to make it to my destination, and found myself bouncing over rocky roads at night with very limited vision, run off the road by trucks that used up the entire road and kicked up a thick cloud of dust in the process. Most of the guest houses looked like horse stalls with an outhouse 25 meters away and no shower even if you were brave enough. This was usually the only option, but at one dollar a night, who would complain?"

Daniel Todd, USA/Puerto Rico, RTW, in Thailand and Laos

49th Edition, April/May 2004

"I asked him, 'Well, what's up here in the north? ' He said, 'Thick jungle, red mud, hill tribes, remote villages where no one speaks French or English, the Ho Chi Minh Trail, Laos, China, mountains, and Cat Ba Island. It might be a bit risky, being out there alone and not knowing the bike, language or customs.' He hooked me with one word, risky. I slammed down the map, said 'Gimme one of those Minsks and point me west, out of town. I'm up to the challenge, I just want to know if the Minsk is?' Digby smiled at me like I was a newbie to the motorcycle adventure game, then said, 'Trust me mate, it'll do you right...'"

Greg Frazier, USA, in Vietnam

48th Edition, March 2004

"As the wind spun my bike around, the front wheel drove slap bang into Rachel's back wheel. I crashed. She looked around to see what had happened. She crashed. We crawled across the gravel, yelling enquiries as to each other's well being, the sound of the wind rendering our voices almost inaudible. With the bikes uprighted again, we attempted to decant the contents of my fuel can into our tanks, but to no avail. The wind sprayed the petrol into our faces, on to our clothes and all over the bikes. And then once again, straight off the Pacific Ocean, a howling beast of a gust slammed Rachel's bike to the dirt. Exhausted and aching, we lifted her bike from the ground for the second time and sure enough, another vicious blast howled across the plain, this time sending Rachel herself flying to the ground. 'We've got six hundred bleeding miles of this!' we shouted at each other above the roaring in our ears, laughing with adrenalin-fuelled hysteria."

Lois Pryce, UK, in Tierra del Fuego

47th Edition, December 2003

"Police in Argentinian Chaco, a massive flat dry expanse covering much of northern Argentina, Paraguay and Bolivia, presented the most blatant attempts at corruption that I have witnessed on my journey. The first tried to issue a 'multa' (fine) because I had no fire extinguisher. The second, not an hour later, demanded money because I had no white sheet. The sheet is used to cover you up after a fatal accident and is compulsory for motorcyclists! The third Argentine policeman gave up all pretense of a fine and resorted to outright begging after he saw that I was no easy target. I should have given him something for his straightforwardness."

Simon Milward, UK, around the world, in Argentina