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

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

Thurs, 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...?

Then you want to read this newsletter!

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...?

Then you want to read this newsletter!

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!