Horizons Unlimited Motorcycle Travellers Ezine, for all the latest news from Travellers around the world, from Antarctica to Zanzibar!

90th Edition, November 2011

Tue, 29 Nov 2011 13:00:00 +0000

"From Isiolo to Moyale at the border to Ethiopia is one of the most challenging and feared roads by all travellers doing a Cape to Cairo trip due to a very bad gravel road and reports of bandits in the area. This stretch of 260 km gravel presented to us - rocks (many!), sandy patches, desolate desert scenes, even green valleys with trees, camels, donkeys, a jackal, bushbaby, mud and even some rain! The terrain is really harsh and we marvel at the fact that people can survive in this area. We managed to successfully complete this section in three days and the bikes survived the battering with only one flat tyre along the way. Nevertheless I was very relieved when we finally crossed the border into Ethiopia."

Tania and Francois Steyn, South Africa, in Kenya, 200cc Motomia road bikes,

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89th Edition, October 2011

Sat, 29 Oct 2011 13:00:00 +0000

"Three skiffs were nosed up to the bank, engines still running to keep them together and in place against the strong current. We unload all our gear, then Wade takes the plunge and rides down the muddy bank first. It takes 5 guys to man handle Smokey onto the boat. Half and hour later, Aialik and Kev's bike are tied down. We are ready to go! It doesn't look right. It doesn't feel right. The bike makes the boat look tiny, and how the centre of gravity is low enough to prevent capsizing neither Wade nor I have a clue. Our little boats gingerly pull off the bank. Everyone, including the drivers hold their breath. They are looking pale, palms sweaty. I am happy to see Wade's boat backing out first. As it floats off, everyone sucks in a long overdue lung full of air. We just might make it after all!"

Wade Stubbs and Philip Atkinson, Australia, crossing from Mexico to Guatemala by boat

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88th Edition, September 2011

Sun, 25 Sep 2011 13:00:00 +0000

"Honestly, we started to doubt whether we should go south into Mexico after all the warnings! Someone really asked us whether we would carry a gun on the bikes, and if not, we should definitely not drive into 'scary Mexico'! The prediction by most people was that we would be shot, raped, murdered and robbed within the first week. Now that we are in Mexico for just over six weeks, I think we owe the Mexican people, country and wonderful hospitality this story; this country is great and the people are even better! To whomever is in doubt: get your ass on the bike and drive up here!"

Daan Stehouwer and Mirjam van Immerzeel, Netherlands, in Mexico

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87th Edition, August 2011

Thu, 18 Aug 2011 13:00:00 +0000

"...Top tip for anyone travelling to Cairo: Do as the locals do, and let Allah guide you through the maelstrom. Alternatively, leave your bike at home. I'd heard all the stories, but had taken them with a pinch of salt. But the locals are maniacs - I've never seen such poor driving. As long as your horn works, you have a right to the smallest of gaps. Even if your car doesn't look big enough for the space, you have to fill it, otherwise someone else will. The badly-maintained pick-ups that act as buses, and the minibuses, coaches and lorries are seemingly all out to kill you, and even if there are only two lanes painted on the road, it doesn't really mean two, it means four, and sometimes five if there's enough space. And the horn isn't used aggressively in general, it's more of an 'I'm here' beep, or an 'I'm coming through' indication. And just because you're on the correct side of the road doesn't mean you won't meet someone coming the opposite way straight towards you, just because it's quicker for him to get where he wants to go. The only rule is that there are no rules. Learn that and you'll be fine."

Bob and Sheila Oldfield, UK, in Egypt

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86th Edition, Winter 2011

Sat, 05 Mar 2011 13:00:00 +0000

"Not that I wanted it to happen, but it simply had to - just too long time since my last stunt. I must say, it was a thrill and still is riding down those gravel roads! Feel the bike sliding from side to side when the rear tyre is about to pass its limit and grip on the gravel, while a sky of dust is raising behind me as long as the eye can see. I would kill myself if I had a 990 Adventure! Bump and there I lay in the curve with the bike next to me, it all went so fast... It means work in Santiago. In fact I was thinking about having an accident that morning when I got out of the bag."

Mick Hoy, Denmark, in Chile

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85th Edition, Oct/Nov 2010

Sat, 13 Nov 2010 13:00:00 +0000

"I was on America's loneliest road (route 50) heading across the Nevada desert in the middle of a thunder storm. I was by far the tallest (and only metallic) object in the desert. A sitting target for a bolt of lightning. And then it happened, a huge crack of thunder and then I saw a streak of lightning off to my right. I was stone cold petrified. I heard another roll of thunder. A few seconds later two bolts of lightning. One some way off to my left and the second much closer. It cracked right across the sky ahead of me and right across the road from my right to left. I actually ducked down on the bike (as if that was going to make any difference). Should I speed up? Slow down? Get off the bike and lie down in the middle of the desert???"

Dom Giles, UK, in Nevada

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84th Edition, Sep 2010

Sun, 03 Oct 2010 13:00:00 +0000

"We come upon our biggest and deepest water crossing on this trip. Mike tests the depth of the water first to determine the best route to take. Then he confirms with the locals that we are heading in the right direction. The locals watch with great interest as Mike starts the crossing. We did not realize how far the motorcycles were submerged in the water until watching the video. Luckily the motorcycle does not suck in water or stall."

Mike and Ruby, Canada, in Mongolia

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83rd Edition, Jul/Aug 2010

Mon, 06 Sep 2010 17:00:00 +0000

"Leaving Magadan, my first day on the dirt roads, incredible people living a really rough life who housed us for the night...We rode last night until Midnight... really pushing my limits.. Exhausted both mentally and physically from the rough roads, but we got there.. I get slower as I get more tired.. and poor Walter is very very patient with me.. he will deserve a medal if I can make it to Irkutsk ;-) He is a really good teacher, and I have learned so much riding in the last 2 days."

Sherri Jo Wilkins, Australia/USA, in Siberia

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82nd Edition, May/June 2010

Mon, 05 Jul 2010 17:00:00 +0000

"We were feeling pretty spooked when we went into Guatemala. Everybody we'd met so far regaled us with tales of violence. Checking it out on the internet only added to our concern. The US government website lists in detail over a hundred serious armed robbery and assaults on US citizens alone over the last year, the last being a couple of weeks back - all in the areas we planned to visit... In the morning we woke up to find hundreds of big bikes in the church plaza, so we loaded up and joined them and were immediately surrounded by bikers chatting and taking our photos. My attention was caught by the sight of four burly, shaven-headed, heavily tattooed bikers, heads bowed as they and their bikes were blessed by a diminutive priest. However, something told me not to get my own camera out at this point..."

Sheonagh Ravensdale and Pat Thomson, UK, in Guatemala

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81st Edition, April 2010

Fri, 30 Apr 2010 17:00:00 +0000

"I spent my last night at The Outpost in Arusha, and early the following morning, set off for Kenya. It was raining again, and I debated whether or not I should get my rain gear out, but decided against it. It seemed that the rain was just part of a few isolated showers that would clear up north of the town... I spent the first half hour trying to extricate myself from this frontier town, and by the time I finally got onto the A104, the Garmin Girl and I had 'had a few words' and were no longer on speaking terms. She had taken me on what seemed like a tour of the entire town. down dirt tracks, through areas that were awash in mud and puddles of dirty water and around just about every traffic circle in Arusha. In exasperation, I finally resorted to ignoring her altogether and asked directions from half a dozen people, before managing to point the Big Fella in the general direction of the Kenyan border."

Ronnie Borrageiro, South Africa, in Tanzania

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80th Edition, March 2010

Tue, 30 Mar 2010 17:00:00 +0000

"We had read about the fierce wind speeds and the difficulties that they bring, whether you are on a BMW GS or a Suzuki DR 350, but until you are actually in it you cannot appreciate the difficulties it is going to bring. Even without the wind it is not an easy ride, the ripio is extremely bad in places. I think we were travelling in wind speeds of over 160 Kmh at points, struggling to keep the bike upright with absolutely no shelter from the unforgiving wind."

Kev and Lorraine Hatchett, UK, on Ruta Cuarenta in Argentina

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79th Edition, February 2010

Sun, 28 Feb 2010 17:00:00 +0000

"On two sides there were railings, but passengers had put down mattresses on the other side of them directly on the edge of the deck overhanging the waters of the lake below. Floor space was so rare that the largest pieces I could find would just about accomodate a single foot. To stand with two feet together was pretty well impossible. And there were still passengers trying unsuccessfully to do that, carrying bags as well. Shortly after midnight an authoritative-looking man entered our lounge and screamed orders in Arabic, waving his hands all around, exhorting everyone to get off the floors, sit on the seats properly, as others were still stranded on the few one-foot-sized pieces of empty floor that remained outside. He grabbed the life jackets that had been strewn around the floor as makeshift mattresses, stuffing them furiously back into their lockers. Then peace broke out and an interesting night continued..."

Ken Thomas, UK, on the ferry from Egypt to Wadi Haifa, Sudan

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78th Edition, January 2010

Sun, 31 Jan 2010 17:00:00 +0000

"It was time for the bike. Entering the covered cargo hold the stench was a little strong to say the least. Damage to the fairing revealed the bike had been moved from its original position and dropped at some point, just a little paint though. Hands appeared from all directions. A hand on the back box meant they helped unload thus entitling them to payment. Carol did her best to keep them away from the bike as I wheeled through the throngs of people with the horn and siren screaming for clear passage. Reaching the end of the boat two planks were positioned and I quickly disembarked leaving our helpers on the boat. During the drama 'assisting hands' that were on the bike almost pushed me off the board, and I screamed at them to leave the bike alone."

Ken and Carol Duval, Australia, in Brazil

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77th Edition, December 2009

Thu, 31 Dec 2009 17:00:00 +0000

"It had been raining through the night, not a lot but not a little, so the road that I had enjoyed cruising in on had now turned into South America's longest skating rink, It wasn't that it was rough, it was that it was as slippery as hell, you could hardly stand up on the bloody thing, much less ride a heavy motorcycle on it. That fifteen kilometres took us two hours with just about everyone taking a fall, it was a bad start to the day. Nine o'clock that night we all arrived in Medellin safe and sound if a little wet, the Medellin boys had got us there in one piece... I never take for granted the extraordinary effort that bikers will go to to look after their own, it makes me proud to be part of this small band of brothers."

Frank Butler, Papua New Guinea, in Colombia

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76th Edition, November 2009

Sun, 29 Nov 2009 17:00:00 +0000

"My heart sank when I saw what lay ahead. This little river was daunting to say the least. Huge trucks were crossing regularly, the water coming up to the tops of their wheels. The water level was as high as my saddle, and the current was fairly strong, the last thing I wanted was for the engine to stall and the bike to go over and get carried off by the river! There was a group of 8 or 9 Kuna men at the banks of the river, and after a little haggling, gesticulating and laughing, they agreed to lift the Harley into one of their canoes and walk it across the river to the other side. ...Gingerly, I rode the bike down the mud banks and in to the river until it was alongside the canoe that was barely as wide as the bike. With a few grunts and plenty of huffing and puffing, together we managed to lift the rear of the bike onto the canoe, and then hefted the front end in too..."

Daniel Shell, UK, in Colombia

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75th Edition, October 2009

Wed, 17 Oct 2009 17:00:00 +0000

"So off we go, getting darker as we start the 100 mile ride to the only reasonably sized village on this route. To kick things off, we're instantly confronted with a large wooden bridge that looks like it collapsed a long while back. I should be wiser after all the previous river crossings, instead I head straight in without first walking through to find a sensible route. It's deep, and more importantly, the current is strong, I'm lucky to make it to the far bank without incident. Simon isn't as lucky, falling in the deep water. We wrestle the overloaded KTM upright, and a Kamaz 6 wheel drive truck takes pity on us, leading a shallower route across the rest of the river. Again Simon falls in a deep section close to the bank. It can be hard work fighting against the current to right these heavy overland bikes."

Gabriel Bolton, UK, on the Road of Bones, Siberia

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74th Edition, August 2009

Wed, 26 Aug 2009 17:00:00 GMT

"We are in the middle of the drug growing area, but we don't have any problems. Everybody is just so surprised to see a sidecar, something they have never seen before. The Lonely Planet says this is a no go area, but we think that is wrong, we don't feel unsafe here at all, but the roads are in unbelievably bad condition, not able to transport back packers easily. Andy impresses me by riding the bike over a very small and damaged wooden bridge. He does that again when we have to take a ferry, which is made of two big canoes and planks. The tracks are still stony and if I was a banana I would have ended up as a milk shake."

Andy Berwick and Maya Vermeer, in Peru

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73rd Edition, June 2009

Tue, 30 June 2009 17:00:00 GMT

"Eventually the tunnel of terror loomed up before us, I had been pre-warned about this, it's an Iranian constructed four mile pitch-black flooded tunnel with deep potholes and a delightful carbon-monoxide atmosphere. At least it meant we didn't have to go all the way to the top of the mountain in the snow again. Within 50 yards we had lurched into a very deep pothole that soaked us and I almost dropped Thelma, I think it was only the thought of trying to pick up Thelma in 2 foot deep filthy water in the inky blackness that enabled me to desperately keep her upright."

Tiffany Coates, UK, in Tajikistan

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72nd Edition, May 2009

Wed, 26 May 2009 17:00:00 GMT

"The foliage alongside the road was dense. A six-inch earthen berm edged the right side of the piste, meaning no escape path. Suddenly, on the wrong side of the curve, aiming squarely at me, came a hard-cornering log truck. I slammed on both brakes. The front tire skidded on the gravelly piste and put my Suzuki down in an instant. I leapt off. Prone on the triangulated sliver of piste between the truck's path and the edge of the road, I watched in slow-motion horror as a white Mercedes 3340 cab bore down upon me with the purposeful malice of a tank. I could see the malignant black tire on the driver's side churning inexorably towards me. The leering grille on the front of the cab. Its implacable silver Mercedes logo. The huge cloud of dust churned up by the truck's passage. The sound and the fury of the awful machine..."

Mark Hammond, USA, in Gabon

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71st Edition, March 2009

Wed, 31 March 2009 17:00:00 GMT

"The road soon turns into a dirt road. When I ask for the way at a national park toll gate people look at me strangely. I don't take the hint. I get to a fork in the road and make mistake number two: I choose one direction. A few metres further there is a farmer and I make mistake number three: instead of asking 'which way to Phu Joe?' I ask 'is this the way?' to which in Asia there is only one possible reply: Yes. Now the track is proper 4x4 stuff, going through a big mud hole, but without too much trouble. Then I face a major obstacle: a large ford. Now I make the final mistake: Not wanting to go back and the ford not looking too bad I try to cross. It turns out to be knee-deep with a decent current, holes and large boulders in the water. I get about to the middle until I drop the bike. The right pannier goes under and fills with water. I manage to get most of the other luggage off the bike more or less dry and get the bike up. A quick try confirms my worst fears: the starter can't turn the engine, full of water. It takes 4 people from a nearby village to push the bike back out, I pitch my tent for the night in the jungle..."

Peter Hendricks, Germany, in Malaysia

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70th Edition, October 2008

Wed, 29 Oct 2008 17:00:00 GMT

"From the first day on in Laos we're in love with this beautiful and so unspoiled country. During the stretch to Luang Namtha we encounter no more than 10 vehicles - we're passing through villages with bamboo houses on stilts, the children are screaming and waving at us and all kind of animals walking in herds along the new asphalt band. As soon as we stop, we're surrounded by curious kids, their parents observing us rather from a distance. With no electricity, no running water and no means of personal transportation, there must be a different definition of happiness in the mountains of northern Laos... and we've seldom seen so many happy faces!"

Darius and Jane Skrzypiec, RTW, in Laos

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69th Edition, August 2008

Mon, 25 Aug 2008 17:00:00 GMT

"I woke up at 5:30 am, covered in ants, and felt very eager to leave the hotel. I packed my bags and arrived at the 'ferry terminal' at 6:30 am only to find out that the only operating ferry had already left. The other ferry was out of service. Instead, I was offered a place for my bike and myself on what looked like a big canoe. I wasn't at all happy about crossing the river in that thing, but the Colombians seemed like they knew what they were doing so I thought, why not. I found a seat in the canoe and managed to convince myself that this was a good idea. I was actually beginning to look forward to this little adventure but the joyful anticipation disappeared rather quickly when I realised that they kept letting passengers and motorcycles onto the canoe until we were 60 passengers, 10 motorcycles, and a lot of luggage. When the canoe left the dock, several passengers were shouting 'There's too much weight!' but nobody in charge of the boat listened..."

Annette Birkmann, Denmark, in Colombia

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68th Edition, June 2008

Sun, 29 June 2008 17:00:00 GMT

"With 20 liters of extra fuel in water jugs, some pasta and water we set off to Bolivia. What we should have also taken with us was a new battery, since mine failed and we had to push start the bike every time we stopped. At about 15,000 ft the cold wind picked up and the sandy, dusty, rutted road started, we both had some serious swerves and almost fell off in the first hundred feet. Than we got the hang of it more or less and made it to some beautiful hot springs. It was definitely the worst road I have ridden and it really took it out of me, standing up most of the way in fear. The three ladies were very sweet and laid out some 16 blankets on the floor for us to sleep under, gave us coca leaves to chew on to keep the altitude headaches away, and cooked us some food. All the tours finally left around 5 and we had the hot springs all to ourselves, with the longest shooting star we had ever seen."

Brad and Jolanta Glabek, USA, in Bolivia

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67th Edition, March 2008

Mon, 17 March 2008 17:00:00 GMT

"I was really surprised by the good roads in Iran and above all of the kindness and friendliness of its population. The mosques of Esfahan were the most beautiful of the trip and Persepolis sent me back to the ancient Persian times. The bazaars in Baluchistan Quetta were a real human zoo, full of Pashtuns, Afghans, and Baluchies with their daring glances and turbans. The Karakoram Highway in north Pakistan gave the best glimpses of some of the highest snowy mountains of the Himalayas. I finally reached India after five months and 20000 kms of roads. The highlight of my journey has been the unbelievable Leh-Manali road in Ladakh. No doubt, the most beautiful road in the world riding a motorbike. The astonishing almost moon landscape, at more than 4000 m altitude, of the Himalayan chain with the highest pass of the world at 5600 m. The craziness of Delhi's traffic and the Rajput palaces of Rajasthan and some elephants and holy cows to be avoided all the way on the messy roads of India."

Pablo Alvarez, Spain, in Iran, Pakistan and India

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66th Edition, December 2007

Tue, 25 December 2007 17:00:00 GMT

"We finally found the real Africa. The journey from Wadi Halfa to Dongola, our favorite, through some of the toughest riding we had done, 420km of washboard gravel roads to sand and more sand. The scenery makes up for all the exhausting hours of standing up and trying not to crash in the sand. Every so often one gets a glimpse of the Nile. Each village unique, the Sudanese people very welcoming and all smiles. Camping under the stars by the Nile, having the local farmer come for a visit with his wife and child in the middle of the night, is something that we will never forget."

Ruby and Mike, Canada, in Sudan

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65th Edition, November 2007

Sun, 18 November 2007 17:00:00 GMT

"We hadn't planned to cross the border that evening, and indeed at one point we pulled over hoping to bush camp for the night, but as everywhere was either fields of crops or near to villages, we were a bit dubious. So we pressed on, assuming that we could find somewhere to sleep at the border town of Gallabat. No such luck. Not that it mattered! The border was still open, even at 5:30pm. So, with some help from a fixer whose assistance we didn't need or want, we got through the Sudanese customs, crossed a bridge (no barriers, sign posts or anything), and arrived in Ethiopia! It was the least difficult border crossing I've ever experienced. The customs official sat outside on his plastic chair, waved various papers about at his minions, who ran about sorting them out, while we drank cold pepsi and made small talk with him about our bikes. It couldn't have been further from our experiences elsewhere in Sudan, and set a nice tone for our departure."

Cathy and Glyn Riley, UK, Bristol to Cape Town, in Kenya and Sudan

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64th Edition, September 2007

Thu, 4 October 2007 17:00:00 GMT

"Vwaza has a big elephant population, but the rangers at the gate were happy for us to ride the 1km to the campsite, so because they were relaxed, so were we and we rode into the camp and chose our spot next to some bushes. Still sitting on the bikes, a little boy crept over to us and whispered 'be careful', then shot back to hide behind his Dad's 4x4. Following his wide eyed gaze we saw a herd of elephants munching on the bushes about 2 metres away from us! Paul got off his bike and backed away behind a tree, but I just sat there staring. It wasn't until he said in a low, stern voice 'Zoe, get off your bike you idiot', that I followed suit! When a bull came out of nowhere from behind us, I chose to sit on a picnic bench for protection, while Stanford, the campsite manager, crawled underneath trying to hide and this time Paul just hauled me out of the way!"

Paul and Zoe Jenkins, South Africa, in Malawi

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63nd Edition, July 2007

Sun, 29 July 2007 17:00:00 GMT

"Motoring into the darkness, I also realise that my rear suspension is too hard. Set up for a load or two people, my weight doesn't load the spring enough and I bounce over every bump while I lose traction every time I accelerate. The constant vibration passes through to my kidneys feeling a lot like a 'stitch' when you exercise harder than your body can handle. After 10 minutes the pain subsides and I start to climb, sliding and bouncing over the washboard of the gravel switchbacks torn up by previous trucks. I climb, I climb, and I climb further. The oncoming trucks are ruthless, blinding me with their high-beam and forcing me to the edge of an invisible precipice. The buses are worse, not even slowing. Every time I meet another vehicle, dust blinds me and I must hold my breath and look for any opportunity to pass..."

Josh Forde, New Zealand, in Bolivia

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62nd Edition, March 2007

Sun, 25 March 2007 17:00:00 GMT

"Route finding was proving problematic; there were few road signs, and what had survived had mostly been shot to bits. Late one dark, rainy afternoon, I was riding along what had once been a tarmac road, and came upon an unexpected fork in the route. The left fork showed the broken remains of the tarmac leading off into a forest; the right fork appeared to be a bumpy, potholed dirt track, but was currently under a foot of fast-flowing water. I paused and deliberated, unsure which option to choose. There was no-one around to ask, but I could see tyre tracks coming out from the river. On the other hand the remains of the tarmac suggested the route of the old road, and this fork was also marked with official-looking red and white painted concrete posts. This looked the most promising, so I set off hopefully, bumping over the smashed-up blacktop. But after a few hundred yards, I don't know why, but I just had a hunch I had chosen the wrong way. I decided to turn round and go back to the junction and think again. I swung a wide U-turn through the trees and around one of the concrete posts. Out of the corner of my eye I saw there was some faded writing on the post, and more ominously, a skull and cross bones. I stopped to take a closer look. I gulped as I read the words, DANGER! MINES. My hunch had been right - I had just ridden into a minefield..."

Lois Pryce, UK, in Angola

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61st Edition, January 2007

Sun, 14 Jan 2007 17:00:00 GMT

"At one point we go to overtake two trucks and get pushed off the road into the soft sand, the bike is out of control (tank slapping), all I can think is 'this is going to hurt'. Skill powers on and somehow we remain upright. His remarkably cool comment is, 'I don't think I'll do that again'.

There was only one section near Nushki where we thought things were a bit dodgy with the kids throwing rocks and a couple of cars swerving towards us to frighten us, and people screaming at us. We also passed a motorcycle, where the pillion was carrying a shotgun.

Around the next corner we come across three army trucks and about 100 soldiers who seemed to be scouring the area, guns at the ready. It was at this point I was really looking forward to getting to Quetta. We have since learned that most other travellers had an armed escort through this area."

John and Alanna Skillington, UK, in Pakistan

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60th Edition, December 2006

Mon, 4 Dec 2006 17:00:00 GMT

"I am so proud of my dad. This trip is certainly not for the faint of heart. His friends think he's crazy. He's absolutely killing it. I have seen him maneuver his bike up and down steep grades of washboard gravel and sand and even through washed out river crossings. I've seen him weave in and around potholes the size of craters on the moon. I've watched him negotiate heavy crosswinds and rain while cornering sharp turns. Part Ricky Carmichael and part Valentino Rossi. I always have a watchful eye on him through my little side mirrors and he's always right there every step of the way with that headlight brightly beaming, right on my ass. I admire his spirit of adventure and hope that I will carry that through when I'm in my 60's and beyond."

Ryan Martin, Canada, Panama to Canada, in Mexico

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59th Edition, October 2006

Mon, 23 Oct 2006 17:00:00 GMT

"Leh to Manali is 500km, it took us 3 days to do this - the road is THAT bad, the bike battled everything from flash flooded rivers to desert roads to very hairy and narrow mountain roads with not much room to move when passing suicide mission trucks and coaches. Its a long way down with no barriers to protect you. They call it a road, but its really just big rocks and stones punctuated with the occasional bit of tarmac...

Brian Coles and Anne-Sofie Hennings, UK, in the Himalayas

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58th Edition, August 2006

Mon, 21 Aug 2006 17:00:00 GMT

"The sand is tough, tough, tough when you and your machine weigh over 400kg... did I mention that? Most of the drops are harmless and don't hurt - I don't think we got the bikes over 45km/h today - 3rd gear? maybe once or twice. Of course just when I do get a flat run, the ground leaves me - literally a cleft about 50cm across and the same down, concentration lapse and I hit it - hard. I'm thrown over and clear, but I land on my fist against my chest and I know I've hurt myself (a few days later in Novosibirsk I have it x-rayed - fractured ribs). I'm sore but more concerned about the bike... Literally not a mark, I was worried about damaging the forks, but she's fine. Also my boots have saved my legs twice today as they got caught under the panniers when I fall, panniers are suffering, bit lopsided but replaceable - legs aren't!

Kevin Maher, Ireland, in Mongolia

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57th Edition, June 2006

Sat, 3 Jun 2006 22:00:00 GMT

"Erm, do you think this is such a good idea?" I'm usually the cautious one but with a bit of bravado I didn't really feel I said "Nah, no worries mate, she'll be right" (or something like that). And so off we went, and yes, the sand was soft. Hame managed to get half a tonne of big red machine onto the ferry while I watched. This is him coming back, on the way there I was too busy watching in case he needed a push to take pics.

Hamish Oag and Emma Myatt

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56th Edition, February 2006

Sat, 4 Feb 2006 21:00:00 GMT

...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 days 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

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55th Edition, August 2005

Sat, 6 Aug 2005 20:00:00 GMT

... 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, RTW, on the Karakoram Highway in Pakistan

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54th Edition, March - April 2005

Sat, 7 May 2005 22:00:00 GMT

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

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53rd Edition, January - February 2005

Sat, 26 Feb 2005 14:00:00 GMT

We had been warned the road was bad... It is the major road connecting Nigeria and the Cameroon, but it was just mud, really, really slippery, deep, red mud. We had 60 kms to cover to get to the first major town, Mamfe, and it took the whole day. Imagine a giant Digger gone mad, carving huge craters and ridges randomly into the mud, and you won't be far wrong. We have often read about 'holes as big as a lorry', but never really understood - now we do! At some of the worst spots, local villagers had carved neat little diversions through the thick rainforest, which they were more than happy for us to use for a small fee. I am pleased to say that I only fell off the bike once the whole way and that was because Paul pushed me into a ditch - accidentally of course!

Zoe and Paul Jenkins, in Cameroon

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52nd Edition, October - December 2004

Sun, 12 Dec 2004 23:00:00 GMT

After lunch I noticed a good deal of smoke coming from the area we had our camp set up. I assumed it was some kind of burn off but to our horror we discovered that it was a bush fire raging out of control. I was in a state of panic and rode the wheels off my bike to the first roadblock where we babbled at the dumbstruck police officer until he let us pass. We rode straight through the next roadblock and headlong into an inferno. The flames were leaping across the road and making a rapid path for our tent and everything we possessed. We scrambled up the path to our cliff side campsite, stuffed everything into the tent and ran for our lives.

Dody Crewe and Phil Austin, Australia, in Greece

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51st Edition, August/September 2004

Wed, 08 Sep 2004 08:00:00 GMT

"Ruts, constant gravel, sand, rocks the size of small houses and a pass at 4853 m's where I had to push a wee while. We made it though. The landscape was incredible also. Sometimes the road was actually quite good though, for a record breaking 40k or something like that. When this was the case it was incredible. Impossible switchbacks clinging to the mountainside, Indians giving me gringo jibes and snowcapped, massive, vegetation-clad mountains all around. It was nice. Sometimes, in fact twice, the road twisted down from a height of above 4000 metres 50 kilometres straight down to under 2000 metres. This was a lesson in what to wear because I was freezing in the morning and baking when it was time to eat that bread and butter that was probably melting by now." "
Rupert Wilson-Young, UK, Alaska to Tierra del Fuego, in Peru, Yamaha Vino 49cc,

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50th Edition, June/July 2004

Fri, 23 Jul 2004 08:00:00 GMT

"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, Puerto Rico, in Laos

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49th Edition, April/May 2004

Mon, 24 May 2004 08:00:00 GMT

"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

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48th Edition, March 2004

Sat, 13 Mar 2004 08:00:00 GMT

"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

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47th Edition, December 2003

Thu, 01 Jan 2004 04:36:44 GMT

Are you a TRAVELLER? Are you interested in running blockades in Bolivia, altitude obsession, lunar landscapes in Iceland, car chases on frozen lakes, Brighty in Bollywood, riding up waterfalls, Florence of Arabia in a boil-in-bag, white sheet fines in Argentina, manic riding in Pakistan, blood feuds in Peshawar, riding on marbles on the edge of a cliff, the Bomb Disposal Department in Islamabad, and much more...?

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46th Edition, September 2003

Tue, 02 Sep 2003 03:42:49 GMT

Are you a TRAVELLER? Are you interested in motorcycle luge, dodgem-trucks in India, the three gossips, paved rivers in Mexico, wild west in Dawson City, the ultimate fish story, sandpits of Bolivia, the HOG parade, AK47 attacks, Mad Dogs of Manila, close encounters with buffalo, motorcycle cattle mustering, Arctic wildfires, and much more...?

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45th Edition, July / August 2003

Mon, 11 Aug 2003 00:49:49 GMT

Are you a TRAVELLER? Are you interested in Dodge City without the sheriff, dead bikes in the desert, ankle chains and guards with shotguns, martinis and massage in Addis Ababa, whips and screams in San Francisco, love in Durango, monster bugs, sleeping with hippos, chased by bears, Bob Cat dancing, cowboys on dirt bikes, pumping a foot operated push-scooter from Alaska to Ushuaia, dengue fever in Laos, and much more...?

Then you want to read this newsletter!