some things never change Chris...10 years on and your still stuck in a Rut

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Of all the pictures I have seen of people at the TDF sign yours is the best so far! Did you have hair when you did the original trip, and was the BMW the reason for losing it?
We both need to have serious words with Dazzer about his pictures or steal his camera!

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'He who laughs last, was too slow to get the joke'
Never confuse the map with the journey.

Ch 1: UK, Germany, France: And He’s off: Last mail from home

A month late and many £££s over budget

Well there it is. Tomorrow at 9.21am I'm due to hop on the Eurostar at Folkestone and head south on the first leg of my Round the World motorcycle journey. (Actually it's visiting some friends in Paris and then stopping off at my parents in Germany to do a full service on the bike and try to prise a visa out of the Sudanese Embassy in Bonn.)

I'm only about a month late and many £££s over budget. I'll fill you in later on the gory details of my own ineptitude, first dealings with African bureaucracy and general frustrations with silly problems and the resulting inertia.


Travelling ages you

Later… Lenin, Trotsky, Fitzgerald and Hemingway
Am presently drinking a glass of red wine and writing this sitting outside 'La Closerie des Lilas' in Paris. This is a cafe where Lenin, Trotsky, Fitzgerald and Hemingway hung out. 'Our Ernie' (if I may call him that!?) used to sit here in the mornings and write. He rewrote 'The Sun also Rises' here. Having myself read 'A Moveable Feast', an autobiographical account of his time in Paris in the 1920s, quite a few pages of which being set just here, I feel quite honoured to be able to tap away on my Psion palmtop myself. All I need to do now is humm 'Parisian Walkways' by Phil Lynott and I will have totally lost the plot.

This morning I wandered around the Arab Quarter and visited Jim, Yves, Edith and Oscar etc. at the Pere Lachaise bone yard. There was even a rainstorm, which caused me to sing 'Riders on the Storm', but I stopped because I knew Mr M would be turning in his grave.

Mmmh, this wine does taste really good!
Anyway, I think I'm digressing slightly. As you may have gathered, I've arrived safely in Paris at Curly and Megan's yesterday, having had 3 hours sleep the night before (because I was packing until 3 in the morning - nothing like leaving everything until the last minute) and a rather uneventful journey. Considering my sleep deprivation, I was rather surprised to be so awake. Probably something to do with euphoria and adrenaline.


Too much junk

You should try it some time: Leave a month late because you and others can't get their act together and finally arrive at a friends' house in Paris to welcoming faces and good food and wine. No wonder my mood was like this.
This is being written in a Street Cafe (rather than an Internet Cafe) because I managed to connect the Psion to a local Paris Compuserve internet number. Just as well, considering the hassle and expense experienced, paying for and setting this machine up. I'd be very surprised if it works this well throughout my whole trip.

Tomorrow it's off to the Deutschland to see my parents, do a service on the bike and hopefully (!) acquire a Sudanese visa (wish me luck!). Then it's tout droit au direction du sud, with a little stop off chez mes cousins Steven et Elizabeth in Lyon.

Later still… Without a Sudanese visa
I trust you are all well and watered. After a week in Germany chez mes parents doing up the bike, you find me in Lyon visiting Cousin Steven and Elizabeth and generally enjoying the comfortable life as only the French can.


Even the drunks have class

The bike is in top shape and the new needle jets in the carbs mean that the oil companies' share prices will soon be dropping as I'm now no longer propping them up. The 800 clicks from my parent's house, via Bonn (to pick up my passport - without a Sudanese visa!) to Lyon, trundling along at 110kmh, were shall we say 'rather boring'.

Foreign policy initiatives
Oh yes, visas. I have learnt a new rule of diplomacy. When somebody asks you for a visa, you say 'yes'. Then, 6 to 8 weeks later when nothing has materialised (as you have receive no authorisation from Khartoum), you offer to give the person concerned their money back! That way you never say 'no'. Easy really. All you do is muck people about.


Rural Alps

British and American citizen's visa applications are referred to Khartoum. This may have something to do with a certain bit of American imperialist gunboat diplomacy when Tony's bedfellow Bill sent bombers to Sudan the other month. So, in some ways you can understand the Sudanese viewpoint. Anyway, 3 cheers for Tony's, Bill's and Monica's foreign policy initiatives! Mine's a Havana.

I'll have to see locally (Turkey, Syria, Jordan) what avenues there are to reach Kenya. Possibly Saudi Arabia, Yemen and by boat to Djibouti, fly over the area, on verra.

I'm sending this email from Steven's phone socket. This might be the last time my Psion works for a while. Hopefully not, but Internet cafes are also possible, so not all is lost. Hang loose for now and please write!


PS. Went mountain biking today (VTT en francais). Somebody suggested I ride a pushbike around the world. No way! Up hill is plain hard work and down hill nothing but dangerous!

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Chris ..we told you to get the brakes serviced before you got to Tierra del Fuego.....you were lucky that sign was there to stop you

Flog rugs to foreign punters
You know all the stuff about the 'long winding road' leading to the goal etc; well I've arrived! I want to become a carpet salesman here in Istanbul! Yes it's true...I'm going to stay to flog rugs to foreign punters. Nothing like pulling the rug over their eyes or even out of their flies, or whatever! It feels so good to be sending this report from Istanbul, especially when I think that if I were still in England, the winter would be starting to set in.

The ride down from my parent's house near Duesseldorf via Bonn to pick up my passport (sans Sudanese visa) to Lyon was as boring as it was uneventful. I got 650km out of the tank, which is about 6 litres per 100km or 40 mpg in old money. This is what it should be. 3 cheers for the new needles in the carburettors!


Fishseller

Lyon was excellent as usual. Steven, Elizabeth and their friends were very laid back. I did have an adventure with the right hand HT lead falling out of the ignition coil. Before I checked properly, I had the carb apart because I thought it was defective. The bike had started and was running (albeit on 1 cylinder). So, Brighty, do you checks... fuel, spark, electrics etc before you start to dismantle the bike for 2 1/2 hours on the side of the road!

Interpol are also hot on my tail
On Tuesday, I set off for Perugia in Italy. I had some grief at a tollbooth where they wouldn't accept my credit card, even though it was acceptable in the booth next-door. I got a thing to pay at the post office. I may have forgotten to pay, so now Interpol are also hot on my tail. A couple of days later I drove via Assisi to Ancona for the ferry to Iguemenetsa in Greece.


Greek chapel

Here's Brighty's next hot tip: never arrive early for a ferry in Italy. I got there at noon for a 3.30pm boat which ended up leaving at 5.30pm, with me being the last vehicle on. I can't describe the pleasure derived from standing in the midday sun breathing in diesel fumes for 5 hours. I won't mention the nice bloke running around blowing his whistle rather loudly next to my ear.

The roads in Greece are excellent for an enduro bike. Windy tarmac, gravel, dirt and mud (more of that later!) The first day I made it to Kalambaka, site of the Meteora Monasteries. These were built on huge pinnacles of rock for protection from attackers.


Metiora

Not to worry
I thought I had a problem with the bike, with the rear bevel/ driveshaft making a slight clicking noise when you spin the back wheel slowly. I asked several BMW mechanics en route to and also in Istanbul of their opinion. All said not to worry, and one chap in Thessaloniki said it was probably caused by the fact the oil was hotter/ thinner through high outside temperatures and lots of miles per day. Let's hope there is no problem as the shaft has only done 6000 km from new.

I headed North and then East around Mt Olympus. Some top biking roads. Here follows the next lesson for all you budding overlanders:

Scenario: You're riding on tarmac, then gravel, then dirt, when ahead in a dip next to a big tree you see some mud and water. Do you
1. Stop, look and drive through slowly?
2. Ride round the side?
3. Leave your brain on the trans-Adriatic ferry and accelerate toward the water?


After the splash

You've guessed it! The answer is NOT 3! The reason for this is: The front wheel slips and the bike and rider lands in the mud. The right side of the bike is completely caked in brown cement-like mud and the rider is doing his best to look like an abominable mudman! His sense of humour may also be failing as there is fuel running out everywhere and he can't pick up the bike without removing the spare tyres strapped on the panniers.

Hermann the German
The following day I drove as far as I could up Mt Olympus. The 8-hour hike to the summit was too much after the previous day's exertions. There was too much cloud anyway! I did meet two Germans (one of whom was called Hermann) who live in Greece riding a 1940s 250 single and a 1950s 500 twin Beemers respectively.


Underwater statue

My overall view of Greece was that the roads are great for biking, the women fat and/ or ugly and everybody is German or speaks German.


The border between Europe and Asia

The border crossing into Turkey was quite hassle free, but involved lots of bits of paper. I managed to get insurance ('sigorta' in Turkish) in the first big town. It was a real adventure finding somebody who spoke English to help me. A pleasant woman helped me out and I got a year's (they couldn't do 3 weeks) third party insurance for US$10!


Blue Mosque


The drive into Istanbul was absolutely mad. Evening rush hour with cars everywhere. At times it seemed like 99.9% of the road surface was covered by a vehicle.

I've spent the last couple of days chilling, seeing the sights and doing bike stuff, including meeting up with some very pleasant Turkish bikers. Yesterday I drove to the Jordanian Consulate to apply for a visa. Totally mind-blowing. In most Western cities there is some sort of order to road travel, so a bike swerving in and out of the traffic is quite unusual. Here everything, bus, car, bike, cart, scooter, animal, beggar, pedestrian etc etc is jockeying for space. Somehow everybody gets to where they are going without too much agitation. All you have to do is assert yourself on the road. Indecision spells disaster. When in Istanbul, do as the...


Spices

Istanbul is a city of 15 million people and all are on the move all the time. Most are gracious and friendly (even the carpet salesmen!) The food is great, the Mosques a bit noisy at 5 am and fuel is the same price as the UK. About a dollar a litre. I put 42 litres (for 655km) into my 43 litre tank yesterday. Now I'm poor!


Catching dinner

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Chapter 3. The sea rushes in

Here’s the 3rd instalment. More words and pictures can be viewed here: Round the World TBSdotCom

On the Road again
It's only been a couple of weeks since my last ramblings, but with Syria (where the internet is banned) and Jordan (an unknown internet entity) I don't know when I'll next be able to write.



“The sea rushes in and seems to stop just before my feet. Wave upon thunderous, mysterious wave. Captain Moon lurks in the background, casting his long white shadow across the black ocean. In the distance, a flicker of light. Is it a ship or maybe a lighthouse helping seafarers home, across on the other shore of the Bay of Marmaris? The pebbles rustle against one another, gossiping about the days events.”



So, I was sitting at the gate of the campsite, literally only 5 metres from the waves jingling over the pebbles. The light above me gave the moon a hand to illuminate the keyboard of my Psion. Taking a cynical view one might assume I'm doing a very bad Eric Cantona impression, but it's just the way it is. After six days, I finally escape the clutch that Istanbul had over me. On the Road again. (Isn't that the name of a song?)



I headed west and the south towards the Aegean coast, first stop Galipoli on the Dardenelles. The road along the Bay of Marmaris for about 50 clicks included some magnificent gravel and dirt. (Well it was for me, a boy wet behind the ears in the off-road riding fraternity!). A few little hamlets clung to the hillside. They reminded me of Nepal in the Himalayas. The blue salt liquidy stuff ensured I wasn’t too confused. A complete contrast to the cosmopolitan bustle that is Istanbul only 70km to the east.



The Empire's foreign policy
The World War One battlefields, cemeteries and memorials of Galipoli were sobering. What a senseless, pointless massacre. In places the opposing trenches were 8 (eight) metres apart! Barbaric. 3 cheers for the Empire's foreign policy and its “Greatest Briton”. I think not!

The detour to Troy was a mistake. Nothing to see and a naff looking imitation of a wooden horse.

While I remember... I hope I don't speak too soon, but Turkish dogs seem friendlier than Greek dogs. In the past 3 weeks not one has attempted to chase my bike or chew my leg.



After visiting the ruins of Pergamon (where my Paris Underground 'Carte Orange' ID masqueraded as a student card and got me in for free) the road passed very smelly Izmir and led to Ephesus.



Life of Brian
At 9am, the huge 24 000 people capacity amphitheatre was still empty. Then the fat, old, badly-dressed (guesses as to their nationality on a postcard) brigade arrived. They still couldn't spoil the magnificence of the place. Walking along the long cobbled, pillar lined passageways, I kept on trying to imagine what it would have been like to stroll through there 2000 years ago. The only images that came into my head were from Monty Python's 'Life of Brian'! (and I was also wearing sandals!)



All the fuel prices displayed on the roadside service stations are complete acts of fiction. All pumps charged the same price: the equivalent of US$1 per litre (whatever the exchange rate that day might be). I handed over 19 million Turkish smakeroonies for 40 litres. I dearly hope Syria is cheaper.



I left an uncrowded, naff and decidedly bad taste Oludeniz and tried to cross the mountains via a track I spotted on my O.S. map. 15km up (to a dead end and 15 clicks back down), fully loaded, over some very rocky piste. Hardly a wobble. A short while later, there was a rather large 'wobble'. More like a hopefully never to be repeated complete wipe-out.



Going up (!) hill on a smooth road round a right hand curve. The usual: lean bike, sit straight, steer out of corner and hey presto.... completely lost it. the bike ended on its left (!) side pointing down (!) hill with fuel gushing everywhere. I can only figure that the back end went right, the front left and most of the impact was taken by the left side of my pannier box. Its whole bottom is buckled. On this day I learned that hot bitumen without any gravel in it is quite slippy. Don't worry I won't forget this one in a long while! I was very lucky to be only a shaken and only the pannier had to be straightened a little. Maybe somebody was with me, keeping an eye out for me.



The very pleasant Cas campsite had people on it, whose nationality I am also forbidden to mention. All the deck chairs were taken! Nobody lying on them, just covered in their towels, while the sat at the bar and talked loudly. It's great pretending to only speak English. I met a Swiss cyclist (of the pushbike variety) who had spent the last 7 months riding from Hong Kong en route to Egypt. Mad pal, stark raving mad!



Ancient mariners
In Olympos I stayed in a tree house. Very mellow and relaxing. I even got some rock climbing in, care of a couple of Turkish climbers from Istanbul. With a top rope I climbed a sea cliff route, about Severe 4c. The highlight however, was walking up to Chimaera, to see flames burning on the hillside. There seems to be natural gas under the surface, which seeps through to the surface to burn away merrily. There were about 10 different flames ranging from a couple of inches to 2 feet high. Ancient mariners used this as a sighting beacon/ type of lighthouse long before they were invented. As I looked beyond the frames there was more light. Stars in their millions. The Milky Way formed a huge white band across the sky. I have never seen so many stars, as that night.



Yesterday I rose early in order to reach Cappadocia. The 600km were over ever changing terrain. First winding coastal road past disgusting high rise tourist monstrosities to Antalya, then north and inland up into harsh rocky pine tree strewn areas and finally 200 clicks straight on and east from Konya across endless desert savannah to Cappadocia. I did manage to talk my way out of a 11.3 million lire (US$25) speeding ticket (121 kmh in a 99 zone) The 'didn't know, no money, I'm a stupid tourist with a daft grin' trick worked, but I don't want to push my luck again.



Cappadocia is seriously different from anywhere you'll see in the world. There are fantastic rock formations where people carved whole cities into the volcanic rock. I even took the liberty to ride around them (only a bit, mind) on the bike.

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