Trip around Europe.
 

Day 1. I chose the BMW G650x Country because it's an awesome and reliable little bike and after Europe I need to have something capable of anything for a more heavy duty bout of abuse. I had to make numerous upgrades to make it work because no bike is perfect so, off the top of my head here is a rough list of extras...

Hagon progressive front springs
Wilbers rear shock
HID spotlights (cheap Halfords shell with cheap Ebay HID units forced in with a hammer)
Off-road only high-powered headlight bulb
LED sidelight
Radiator guard (home made)
Accessory socket (Marine standard and proper sized)
Puig Screen (Aprillia Pegaso screen modified to fit)
Dirtbagz rear bags (lightweight, waterproof, come with nice frames which protect the rear end)
GPR Exhaust (no Cat, helps her breath a little better)
Airbox modifications. (plastic shield carefully removed and carelessly thrown into next doors garden)
K&N air filter
Auxiliary fuel tank. Gel-seat (fitted to stop the torture of the standard unit but only really dials it down a bit)
Tool-tube fitted. (it holds tools in a tube.)
Stebel Magnum air-horn (loud and annoying so I use it a lot)
LED indicators (never burn out and look better)
Garmin sat-nav. (better than Tom-Tom)
Auxiliary fuel bottles (two extra litres of spare fuel... just in case)
Gold DID X-ring chain and Steel sprockets (virtually indestructible and pretty too if you like chains)
Stainless steel bolts (everywhere. Tougher than standard and only three sizes used means I have to carry less tools)
Headlight hanger (Custom made and demonstrates a triumph of ignorance over being smart enough to know better. The new unit is 3mm alloy, far tougher than standard and is big enough to hold the twin HID ballasts. Also strong enough to support the screen.)
Sump guard (quality German item and a big improvement to the plastic baking tray that comes as standard)
Alloy side panel (I had some leftover alloy)
Oxford temperature guage. (Slightly less accurate than smelling your own armpits to determine the temperature)
Touratech rear luggage rack (had to be slightly modified to fit the seat)
Headlight guard (acrylic disc. Home-made. Rubbish)
High-level mudguard (does nothing but look good.)
Aprillia Pegaso Mirrors. (They fit the standard thread and are much tougher than the BMW ones)
Iridium spark plugs (slight improvement over standard)
New number plate hanger (the standard one just sucks)

My brother rode down to Dover with me so we stopped for a coffee and I missed my boat by a few minutes which cost an extra £10. Not ideal. I was aiming to ride to Nancy in France by this evening and crack on to Milan tomorrow to meet my other half around 9.30 when her plane get in. We're going semi-aimlessly touring about.
I met another couple of bikers on the boat, top couple on their way to Amsterdam so the crossing was a lot less boring than I feared. I started putting the address into my Garmin GPS and the bloody thing was having none of it. I bought a map on the boat and figured I'd keep trying. In the end I figured it was impossible to navigate in the normal way abroad so used the other mode to head out to Nancy. It took me right round Calais and back to the port. Another hour lost. I got some help from some English locals which, to be honest I didn't ask for or want but in the end I sussed out a route and got myself going. I followed it and took a brief pause to check the map and sure enough it was guiding me about a hundred miles out of my way. In the end I resorted to heading to Paris and following signs but there weren't any so by 11pm I figured it was time to give up on the hotel and find somewhere else which I did, in the end. It cost a lot more that way but I booked in at 1pm and I was knackered and needing badly to get my head down. The bike never missed a beat but is a lean-burn engine so she tends to run very hot so she needs an occasional rest just as badly as I do.
So tomorrow I have a lot of time to make up and the weather looks to be turning against me. I literally didn't have time to take pictures today and that was a shame because some of the roads were just brilliant.

It's a great feeling to wake up in a strange town and throw open the curtain after turning up at the dead of night. This is a nice little town with a great view from the hotel window. Paris was a real dive, grafitti and rubbish everywhere but it's not typical of France so far. The GPS is lousy but it did show me some lovely country lanes. Looking forward to hitting the road again today. To break with tradition I might eat something today....

Did you make it to Milan on time????

Well yesterday was a nightmare but today was worse. I started esterday just outside of Paris and had to get to milan by 9.30. It was possible but let's be fair, it was never going to happen. I had some firm words with the GPS and we came to an understanding, it seemed to be fairly ok following major highways and I needed to use them to make up for the massive lost time the day before. With that in mind I set off for Troyes. It all went wrong straight away when the GPS warned me of an imminent turn off in 1.3km and then told me I had missed my turning. So I decided to let the pink arrow point me in the right direction and just head off into the countryside. I'm glad I did, the French countryside is amazing. It's like England only bigger, cleaner and just... nicer. The roads were well maintained, people are friendly and the driving standard was good. Paris was none of those things but then all major cities suffer from the rot of over-population. I made it to Troyes eventually and plotted my way on to Mulhouse. With my success at Guestimation-navigation I was spurred on. This next leg was going to be a tough call so I stopped for a sandwich, filled my tank and headed off. A big guy cleaning the car-park at Lidls came over for a chat. It was an odd chat but we both established that we spoke almost nothing of the same language but he still seemed intent to chat about it. The low point was when my camera made a break for it and crashed out onto the road. I went back for it and luckily enough it was ok... then a van went over and after that... not so much.
By the time I was outside Mulhouse exhaustion was taking hold. I was aching all over but the scenery was keeping it worth doing and I was making reasonable time. I stopped at a petrol station, topped her up and made some new notes on my piece of scrap paper which has become my prefered method of navigation. I had a chocolate milkshake and bought more water. The sugar helped to perk me up. I usually dont eat sugar so it does have an effect on me. On getting under way I felt ok. The saddle was killing me and that was refitted with a gel comfort-pack. In standard trim it would have flayed the flash from my arse-bones by now. Now it was just slowly sapping the will to live. I can go on without that.
Once you cross the Swiss border you have to wonder what just happened. I followed the signs and as you get closer you start to notice that a lot of German drivers start to appear on the roads. They are not as friendly or as well mannered as the French. French bikers rule. Every one waves, every single one. I was dead impressed.
I approached another toll. Went through without having to pay and then realised I had actually crossed the border. 2 checkpoint so far and nobody has looked at my passport.
Suddenly everything was different. The lazy, laid back friendlness was gone, the archetecture, cars, everything was different. It was an instant difference, like switching on a light. Switzerland was, at first very nice but then the ghost of a mountain appears shyly in the distance. Just a vague sillouette poking through the mirky light, still as white as the cloud with the edge of a shadow cast on the face but no mistaking this is something imposing and with a real presence a puny Human could never aspire to. Slowly the mountain becomes real as i barrel along watching my milage, my guidance arrow and the conditions on the road while this thing bears down on me as if nothing I thought was important really matters in the wake of this reality of nature. Suddenly you're surrounded by them, mountains everywhere, tall and austere with a fearsome beauty carved from the elemental force of nature. There are elegant and subtle wooden and red-brick structures everwhere but they are in harmony with the surroundings, living in the shadow of these giants like humanity is permitted to exist in its tiny, insignificant way so long as the planet permits it. It's humbling to see the sheer scale of this and it was like driving for 5 hours through a picture postcard. I had to quicken the pace, I didn't take any breaks as I was fighting to outrun the sunset. Eventually I couldn't but I outran the weather, clouds and greyness came and passed as I travelled across countries. That was fun to see.
Every time you pass through a tunnel you seem to go higher. It was a daunting experience for someone with a genuine dislike of heights and not knowing what to expect was unsettling but in the end the height is only enough to reveal glimpses of the spectacle of man trying to carve an existence in this inhospitable landscape. It was a truly memorable time and I'm glad I did it, even though it was hard. The weather cooled too. One minute my BMW jacket was fully vented and the next I was having to seal it against the dropping temperatures. Another memorable but difficult part was a tunnel over 10 miles in length around Gotthard. After the growing cold the heat and stifling conditions were making my throat tight and made difficult conditions outright dangerous. After you finally exit it's like walking out of the shower into a cold room but that was still very welcome.
Eventually it became warmer and villages became towns but by then my speed had crept up and my patience was waning. It was dark by now and I still had a lot of ground to cover. The Italian border had one officer waving everyone through without exception and I was in Italy. Three countries in one day.
Italian driving standards are poor. Everyone drives as fast as they can and their skills do not match their enthusiasm. Entering MIlan finally I was hot, tired and ready for bed. I had to meet my partner by 9.30 and it was already around 11.30. I finally found the airport and stopped at a random hotel to ask for directions. I had a feeling that there would be some disaster so on checking my phone I found a message telling me that my partner had missed her flight. I swapped texts while asking for directions to the hotel and found out that, in fact the hotel and airport were not in milan but 88km back in the direction i had just come. I also found out I had left my HID lights on and the battery was drained and the bike wouldn't start.
All part of the adventure.
I was lucky enogh to find decent people to help out and was presented with a set of jump leads. I stripped the HID power leads which were directly connected to the battery and she fired straight away. I left her running while I packed the gear and she was fine. You make these mistakes when you're so tired, I guess. I headed back out to the main road and found signs to this other airport and headed off. My tools headed off in a different direction.
By the time I stopped twice more for directions I found the hotel. My number plate was smashed. I had fitted a Motrax unit which shook itself to peices and wrecked both new Oxford tail indicators at £30 a pair. I thought it would be easier than making one myself... wrong. I bodged it back on and the rear is now made of cable ties, insulating tape and yellow bungie cords.
Today... well my other half turned up on a morning flight and it was revealed our second night was in Milan central. That meant a mad dash back to check out and 5 hours of following plain wrong directions to find this hotel... which is nice but lousy too. Milan is not a nice place. The fashionable facade is typical Italian thinking. The whole country is built on style over function. There is a typically low quality to everything, they want it to look nice and be bright and pretty but don't care about anything else. Italian cars and bikes are built on this principal but it's everywhere. The people too... Everything is polished and all done for show but get talking to them and they just can't do anything. Even guide you to a street 100 yards away. We met and chatted with a Portugese group who were looking for directions and saw others looking blankly at maps. The city, likewise is a stylish facade thrown haphazardly over a crumbling infastructure of aging decaying buildings and tired workers who just do not care. These are just initial impressions, of course.
We found it using my partners I-phone much to my dismay.

:thumbup1:Looks like an adventure....:rockon:Keep up your trip...!:clap:

Thank you. I don't have a choice really, we're stuck here. Ok, we don't much like Italy but we like being here. We went out for food and my partner declared, "I want Pizza." She is Asian and speaks in definite terms and makes it sound like we have no choice. The world will end if Pizza is not fed directly into the moan-hole as fast as possible. I thought it best not to tempt fate so decided to get her fed. Anyway, we're in Italy (delicious food that's as healthy as chewing glass, see my previous comments). Actually, on an aside there is no obesity here, unlike my hometown, London. People are very, very healthy. My brother would love it, many MILFs. Lots of women with impressive bodies who turn around and it looks like their face is melting off.
So anyway... food, we went looking. nothing but graffitti and closed down business (like London). I got eyeballed by every man as we walked by. I don't know if it's down to the mixed race but that was actually my impression. Lots of Chinese people here and they're not seemingly well integrated. We found one Pizza, Self service... Now I didn't fancy making my own Pizza as I was so tired that if someone had given me a sheet of paper I would have slept under it. It was run by Asians. Traditional Italian food made by Asians. She thought it was great, "We're taking over your world..." She told me. It's a good job she's pretty or she'd be walking home.
In the end we only found one Pizza place and it was just a dingy takeaway. The food was good, no doubt about that but it wasn't what we've gone to all this trouble for.
Tomorrow we head to France. The rain is in hard tonight. It's meant to be dry tomorrow followed by more storms and the storms take no prisoners here. We're taking a long coast ride tomorrow to head down to Grasse. That is a longish trip but swallows a bunch of ground while the weather holds. Sunday is not so good but we've not got far to go.
I have sunburn and insect bites. Pics to follow but the hotel internet is really crap. Crap and expensive.

I want to see pictures... and coz you lost your camera you will have to use your other halfs, so tell her "NO FLOWER PICTURES"................ :palm:

Civilization ends at the breakfast bar

We woke up on the alarm and I debated if I wanted to partake of the free Italian breakfast or just lay in bed for a couple more precious hours. In the end my stomach won (as usual). There was at least one other English couple, I could tell from the pasty rolls of flab but hearing them speak in a low gutteral drawl as the clincher. An entire community of Indians had pretty-much taken over the breakfast bar like vultures. The hotel remained typical of Italian culture. nothing really worked but it looked good. This was extended to the food. My other-half fought off all comers for the last slice of chocolate cake and then took one mouthful and gave it to me. It was not chocolate or indeed cake. In fact nothing had more than a passing resemblance to food. If there are any Italians reading this then i apologise because I know you probably can't reply as your keyboard is a piano-black diamond-encrusted piece of art wrapped around a steaming pile of chinese dog-crap.
She wanted to see central milan. We did. It wasn't too bad, very big and typically poorly signed so my sat nav arrow guided us slowly out. Some of the streets were cobbled and gave my suspension a work out. With all the upgrades she took it in her stride but I had to pop my eyeballs back into my skull twice. Signs marked no entry were ignored by me and the police who watched me do it. In fact the only function the police appeared to have in Milan was to keep the sunglasses trade in business. When we finally escaped Milan we hit the motorway and proceeded to empty our cash reserves into the pockets of the Italian government at every toll.
At our first stop we had a coffee. I ordered Coffee, she had hot chocolate. They said no but offered Ca-Cak. I assumed Coco and asked if that was right. They agreed in the typically Italian way by grunting. My coffee was served in an egg-cup and hers was just hot milk. Mine was black and strong enough to run my bike on. The first sip was like it was made of pure evil milked from the nipple of the devil himself. After that i grew to like it. When we got out two Italians were laughing at my bike. One was on a Ducati and the other was on an Aprilia Pegaso Strada that had virtually rotted through. I laughed back. We all laughed and nobody had any idea who was laughing at who or why.
We plodded on into Genova. I wanted to cut off the corner and save some miles but the signs were't on my side. I'm glad they didn't.
5 miles out of Milan and the countryside began to take a grip. Slowly the city was repaced with large concrete carbuncles as industry supporting the consumerism takes hold of the region. Another 5 miles and that thinned out into farm.
20 miles out of Genova and a whole different Italy appeared. Ancient culture painted itself on the sides of mountains and the scenery grew to be spectacular, both man-made and natural. Genova was huge and painted on a backdrop of money. We didn't stay long, time was not on our side today. Just long enough to lube and clean my chain and make sure the bike was happy.
She was.
We carried on towards Nice. We just didn't seem to make time today. We stopped at the drop of a hat but even so...
We followed the coast road and it's clear it was designed for and by bikers. Motorcycle have been built just for this route, i'm sure. It was amazing and beautiful. Slightly irritating as we had to slow to every one of the many villages catering to tourists but still awesome. Pics were taken but nothing can compare to being there. It's worth the whole trip just to see this.
Finally we made our way to the autostrada for the final leg of the trip today towards Grasse in France. We made more frequent stops now as we were both getting tired. The saddle sore is getting worse and it was her first day on the bike today so she's beginning to feel it too.
The coast roads gave way to high mountain top roads battering us with the wind and we cranked on to make up some ground. We won an hour back from the sat nav on that stretch. Finally we descended towards the final toll at Monoco. I seemed to be the only bike filtering but we bardged our way angrily to the front of the queue.
We still had to sit and wait and the bike got very hot. Accelerated away she grumbled for the first time but we were 400m above sea level and climbing and I was accelerating hard 2 up with massed luggage. I stopped soon at a service station and let her cool. We had no more hassle from her after that.
Finally we made Nice but bad timing meant we got stuck in the crowds of a football match. The bike was getting very hot now so I filtered as far as I could and then stopped her. We went shopping for dinner but there was nothing left, the crowd had emptied the supermarket. By the time we carried on it was getting dark but we went looking for food. She wasn't sure what we fancied but I was getting dangerously tired. I took a bad turn and nearly went into a car so then i stopped and gave her a choice of whatever was in front of us. While eating I checked the maps for the last leg. Apparently 10 minutes into Grasse, another 10 to the hotel.
After a few wrong turns we followed signs to Grasse. Then the signs ran out. We were now at 10.15 and they close the hotel at 11pm. I asked directions and got a good idea where we were, apparently still a long way from Grasse, and this was after 20 minutes on a motorway. I plowed on quickly and finally the roads petered out to nothing, we were just heading along winding country lanes the went nowhere. I asked directions again, assuming I'd missed a turn to be told we were still 25 minutes out. With another 10 to find the hotel I now couldnt make it on time. In a surreal late-night dash i covered this 25 minute trip in 9. I cranked her up and threw her about like the little single she is, ignoring the weight and the fact we were on a mountain pass with no safety barrier at 750m above sea level. It was like a special unlocked mission on a bad playstation game. we belted along and it was the best fun ever.
But then disaster....
We were getting tired now. My eyesight was blurry and I was literally having to make a conscious effort to speak or drive on the correct side of the road. I needed to get to this hotel and get to sleep.
Suddenly we found the sign to Grasse... I had 10 minutes to find the hotel, all I needed if the advert was right, more than I needed if I could keep up my pace.
Grasse was right there before us and it was closed. There was a festival going on and nobody could drive through. I gathered this from speaking to people who couldn't grasp the urgency... I couldn't even find the phone number of the hotel.
Luckily I found a policewoman who spoke good english and she kindly radioed ahead and let us through the barriers although the middle of the town was still fenced off so we had to pick our way round. The hotel stayed open for us and we found it by more luck than judgement.

It's certainly proving to be an eventful trip...

And finally a word about my bike. Awesome. We all love our bikes but she is dealing with this like a pro. One minute we're making mountain passes, cobbled paths or fire-roads along the side of a river and the next we're up a mountain thrashing her like a sports bike after a 400 mile day. She's proving herself every bit the modern equivalent of the true spirit of the GS, the go-anywhere, do anything motorcycle. After today we're slowing down. We're moving too fast, filling our days with just too much blur and excitement. We're not really doing anything, we're just seeing it. Tomorrow we're having a nice easy day and then the day after, a slow ride into Spain and then a day off the bike. I'm putting an hour or two aside to go over her and make sure she's holding up as well as I think.
Tomorrow I need beer.... and lots of it...

France is closed on Sunday

We started out this morning in a hotel outside Grasse. Breakfast was an optional extra charged at £10 per croissant so the idea was treated with the contempt it deserved. Now i'm no fan of hotels and the tent and bags are packed and eager to be pressed into action but my regular internet searches show that it's about 2 or 3 euros less to camp and once breakfast is thrown in, which it usually is then we're out of pocket so we're hopping hotel rooms for now.
We left the hotel for fuel as the bike was thirsty and eager, well... thirsty at least. Today was something i have been waiting for, we were crossing into the Verdon region national park. We were only going as far as Manosque but frequent stops meant it was an all day business. Within minutes we were seeing ADV style bikes everywhere, all mint and shiny spending more time polished than in dirt. Shame but that's life. nice to see them anyway and we saw a lot. Within 10 minutes we found out why.
We climbed onto some mountain roads and just kept climbing and climbing. I have an aversion to heights and a slight dislike of death so my nervousness was piqued slightly. My sat nav has an altitude meter but the road signs warned of 800 metres, then 1000 and so on. We looked back and just had to stop for pictures. The scenery was simply breathtaking and the scale simply can't be captured on camera. Every second we didn't stop was a wasted photo opportunity and the scenery just got better and better. We were literally up with the clouds today and every picture looked like a postcard. This area had hairpin bends on every stretch and some caught us off guard but generally it was just simply the best riding so far. I'll add some pictures but they simply don't do this area any kind of justice. This experience has to be experienced, it can't be viewed or captured or described or imagined. There is simply nothing like being immersed in a gigantic, ferociously austere ballet of natural elegance and to feel truly that you, as a human are a part of something so vast, so old and so big.
We powered through villages at the best pace we dared. We had to stop once to let my partner put on her waterproofs but the few drops of rain quickly passed and we never really had anything more than a few drops of warning. As we went deeper the villages fell away leaving little more than a few ramshackle dwellings dotted around inhabited by brave souls who can survive without any human contact. The buildings that there were gave the impression of a person pouring too much salt on a meal and some simply spills across the table, a few random grains dotted about before they're wiped away.
We made our way through this stunning area towards a village, Castellmaine where we stopped for a largely unsatisfying lunch surrounded by all manner of motorcycles. Nobody seemed interested in talking but at least the French riders take the time to wave. Mine attracted some interest, I presume because it's heavily modified and dirty. My partner looked at some shoes in town today and asked how French people can afford to live. I guess that's an interesting question, this place is insanely expensive, even compared to London. I guess what you don't see through shop windows is the taxation, wages and rental costs which paint more of a rounded picture. Obviously they have more disposable income so the shop prices reflect it. I guess this is why there are so many brand new bikes on the road and people scoff at mine, a 4 year old machine built by my own hand.
We explored a bit but were both keen to travel on. As soon as we left we started ascending again, more mountain passes and they grew increasingly dangerous. No pretense at side barriers, just a sheer drop to certain death. One mistake and you were a dozen different kinds of dead. I think this fact was realised by my passenger who behaved herself well today. Some of the lanes were just so narrow that we couldn't stop and these were ones with the most amazing views.
The road signs let us down by GPS stepped up to let us know we were on the wrong lane. We've reached an understanding now and it's a useful tool if not as useful as advertised.
We finally found signs to Manosque and I just powered on at a decent speed. The scenery was thinning out now as we approached the only major town in the park. What would have been stunning anywhere else now looked bland and we were both tired.
I'm not sleeping. I have carpal tunnel syndrome, an incredibly minor ailment which has flaired up painfully. Not to bore you with details it means I need to leave caffeine and alcohol alone and drink plenty of water. I don't do that and it's usually fine but with the added stress, exertion, exhaustion and everything else it's started up in both hands. Two ibuprofen sorted it right out for now.
We found Manosque fairly easily after some hassle with no road signs and what road signs there were matching neither my map or google maps.
We got sent in the wrong direction to the hotel but found it eventually after the usual hassles.
Interestingly it wasn't a hotel but a sports centre with accomodation. It looks more like a hospital but full of children who smoke. The bike is safe and I have a bed and frankly that's all I give a shit about right now.
We went back into town for a meal. My god, everything was closed so we ended up at a little bar. She ordered what she thinks was fish and I battled my poor french and the waitresses poor english and ended up with some pasta. It was the best pasta ever! We tried each other's food (apart from the fish, I'm a vegetarian) and everything was amazingly good.
It was also great to get out on the bike without the luggage. She felt more like her old self.
Tomorrow we've decided to make a long haul trip to Barcelona a day early. My bum is going to drop off with the saddle sore and she's starting to feel it too. We were going to do the trip over two days but we;ve decided to suck it down and get most of the way there in one so we have two days off the bike to recover.
It will be a boring run but we need a few days off to stretch it out...

PictureTrail: Online Photo Sharing, Social Network, Image Hosting, Online Photo Albums

Link to an album of pictures. Tired now and can't even figure out how to put titles to them but will work on that later.

Grinding gear

Today I have a little spare time where I’m not battling chronic exhaustion so I thought I’d blog a little bit about my equipment.
Everything I’m using was thought through and there is a reason for everything, even if they weren’t the best choices in the world.
My Jacket is a BMW Boulder, otherwise known as the poor-mans Touring jacket. Poor BMW equals expensive to everyone else and this jacket retailed at £300. It’s recently been replaced with the Boulder 2 which is a little bit different so some dealers still have the older ones. I was lucky enough to have an offer accepted on Ebay and got mine new from an over-stocked dealer for £150 which is a fair price. It’s got a tough outer nylon shell that’s fairly water resistant and a goretex inner liner. It’s a summer jacket really but so far I’ve dealt with 10 to 40 degrees and it’s never been uncomfortable. It’s just about roomy enough for a fleece inner and I have a waterproof jacket to throw over the top (army surplus breathable plastic suit). The armour is top notch and it has protection at the shoulders, elbows and back. It’s keeping me warm, cool and dry and is not restricting me at all. The main zip has snapped and the others are a bit fiddly but otherwise top notch gear and a great investment.
Trousers are Wolf Titanium Outlast. Not the greatest choice but they retail at £180 and I got them for £110, the limit of what I wanted to pay. They are a cut above most and I was impressed with the quality of construction when I looked at them. They look different somehow and more durable. They have an internal waterproof/breathable membrane like Goretex but without the cost and a winter lining. I’m running with the lining zipped in because otherwise they stick to you like glue. The lining is very thin anyway and I’m not hot in them. I was impressed from day one, there is no wind through them but they don’t get hot. The only snag is the sizes are generous and they are a bit big but that’s probably a benefit in keeping me cool and I’ve grown to like the way they fit now. Only other issue is that you struggle to take a leak.
Boots and gloves are easier choices. Boots are £20 Karrimore walking boots on sale in Bromley. They are doing the job, they give good ankle protection and are cool and comfortable... price also was spot on. Gloves are some old winter gloves that didn’t fit properly and I wore them once when my main gloves were wet through. The linings stuck and pulled out. I cut them out and now they fit brilliantly and are making good summer gloves. Price was cheap.
My Helmet is an Osbe adventure. Now it’s a good looking and well-made lid with Kevlar/carbon construction I got it cheap at £100 but it’s very noisy and the peak does nothing whatsoever. It’s starting to look tired now and I fancy an upgrade but touring kicks the crap out of your equipment and I’m dubious to spend out on a new lid when this one is decent enough. I don’t need the level of protection this one gives and replacing it with similar would be a waste of money. On a bike that does 70mph I’d be better off with a polycarbonate helmet that was just a bit more comfortable. I may change it out. I saw a very trick looking led on a German GS and it wasn’t something I had heard of. I will look into that when I’m in the land of big, ugly sausages and bigger, uglier women.
The rest of my gear is strapped or bolted to the bike. My sat nav is a Garmin Zumo 500. It’s the same as the 550 for less money and is exactly the same other than not having radio data updates which only work in the US. It’s water and shock proof (tested and proved) but European travel is limited. Granted it’s my own fault for not reading the instructions but I assumed it would just be a case of putting in the post code and getting navigation to the place, just like in the UK but in fact it’s much more tricky and the navigation is basic. Now I’ve turned off all the gadgets it’s like a useful modern compass and it’s telling me my KPH too which is a nice touch. It’s still better than a TOMTOM. I doubt later models are more advanced. I’m guessing for the sort of navigation I wanted I need to download new maps and pay for the privilege. I will find a way to do that without paying.
Luggage is Dirtbagz throwovers. They’re throwovers but they’re good quality. They’re heavy duty nylon and they have an inner rubberised coating so they’re even more durable and waterproof. They have heatproof panelling to avoid exhaust heating and plates to hold some degree of shape. They also come with metal support bars to rest on. Those bars are tough and have saved the bike from damage when she was kicked over in London by some unknown bastard. The bags seem excellent but I’m running a bungie around them too to support the weight, just in case. No trouble so far. I wanted metal so i could lock them but the alloy rear subframe doesn’t lend itself to the extra weight and boxes can be dangerous in a spill, especially off-road so this was a better solution all round, (cheaper too).
Upgrades to the bike were more costly. The first and biggest improvement came from a Wilburs rear shock. The showa standard unit is a piece of crap. They frequenlly pack up and bottom out, stressing the allow swing-arm. The Wilburs comes with a 5 year warranty and transformed the way the bike handles. They set them up for you and I’m a generously built guy in the first instance. Additionally I frequently carry a Pillion. My other-half weighs about as much as what happens when you dispose of a heavy curry the morning after a night out but I specified the weight of the luggage too. This all means it’s just a guess and it still handles brilliantly on or off road. I wanted to bring the front up to spec too so eventually went with Hagon progressive springs. I know some people think you have to swap out the forks but those people have more money than sense. I’m at home on a bike. I can push a sports bike to 180mph or throw a GS about off-road but I would never see the benefit of completely rebuilding the front end. I’m just not that good and outside of competition riders nor are most of us. The Hagons do the job. I noticed some difference. Not the same as swapping out the rear shock but some improvement nonetheless. I notice it more bumping it over stuff and I’m really glad to have these upgrades here now that the bike is loaded with heavy gear and two up. I wanted Hyperpro but coulnd’t get them in time. The ones I bought appear to be the same spec and were the same price. I doubt I would have seen much difference either way.
Other big changes were a new exhaust, K&N filter and Iridium plugs. All this freed up a little extra power and she has noticeably more snap than before. I didn’t do it for this reason, I did these changes for fuel economy and saving weight and I’ve seen a benefit in both areas. Exhaust is a GPR. Acceptable quality and one of only a few road legal cans you can get for these. The engine is a lean-burn type and runs hot so you can’t just stuff these full of metal wire, it will burn through it so this is a fairly high quality item but still heavy at roughly half the standard weight. It also doesn’t have a CAT which makes her able to breath.
The major weakness of the design of the bike, from my perspective is the small tank. It hold 9.5 litres in total, 3.5 of those in reserve. That still regularly delivers about 110 miles range without reserve. I fitted a 5 litre acerbic endure tank to the front. It’s meant to be bolted to the forks of competition endure bikes but I made a bracket that held the weight to a load bearing structure on the frame. The tank fits just under the exhaust at the front, right down on the ground. This means the extra weight is in exactly the right place to keep the handling sharp. The downside is the danger of damage in this spot. My answer to that is that these tanks are built to withstand a truck driving over them. Secondly if there is damage to them I only lose the front tank and keep on going with my main supply. No huge loss. It’s fitted to the breather at the back so the vacuum feeds the fuel directly, just the same as the costly X-tank which holds weight too high and in a weak place and upsets my luggage plans. The X-tank is over £500. Mine was fitted and functional for £70 and has boosted my range to around 200 miles before reserve.

The wind takes its toll
We had a long but fairly uneventful day today. We woke up to a decent morning, weather wise and began loading the bike. I wanted to get fuel and be on the road by 9. Today we were making a big push in towards Barcelona so tomorrow we have a very easy couple of days break. I rode off to the gate and the steering wouldn’t turn. It was too late and I was too tired to catch it so the bike fell over. None of the people around offered any assistance even though we were clearly in trouble.
It turned out to be the tank bag fouling on the headstock so I kept my eye on that. Luckily it happened pulling away and not later down the line at a decent speed.
We gassed up and hit the road. We found the motorway with no trouble and the signs were mostly pretty straight forward. We had a few tricky moments but nothing to worry about. We made a few stops but were making very good time. We took a coffee break just after the Lyon turnoff and I pulled away with the lock on and again, we dropped the bike. Again nobody helped or even seemed to care. I guess these are the French that people make jokes about because up to now I thought they were the nicest people we had met on our trip.
After Montpellier we got into trouble. The side winds were just awful. At one point we were being battered so hard I could barely make 35mph and still the bike was being thrown from line to lone on the road. At one point a truck rocked dangerously in front of us and caravans were weaving. This didn’t make anyone drive any better. French drivers still poured aimlessly out of motorway junctions without looking, spilling out like a drunk blonde at her best mate’s wedding. A few notable drivers were playing it really stupid, cutting right up to my rear. I have a temper and a few times today I came close to losing it. We were actually stuck in traffic today for several miles so we filtered and cut to the front to find the aftermath of an accident. We’ve seen several now but I’m shocked we’ve not seen many more. The French drive with total disregard and the Italians with enthusiasm far in excess of their abilities. Almost every car you see has some kind of damage.
Of course with this kind of battering we had to take fairly frequent breaks, usually every 50 miles or so. This slowed us down a lot and i worried what we were going to find up ahead as the map showed us only getting closer to the coast line and it remaining flat to the Pyrenees. Talking of the Pyrenees, they were looming up ahead, grim, dark and imposing and threatening a painful crossing.
At one of our stops a guy turned up on a BMW. We said hello and chatted in broken French/English. He assured us the wind drops ahead in the mountains which was a relief. His bike looked like an R1150 but was only an 800 although he assured us he was well rested and his arse was not as sore as ours. It is nice to make new friends.
The Pyrenees crossing was nothing to write home about. The weather was calmer, the border control was non-existent and we finally got some speed up and cracked on. On the Spanish side things were cheaper and fuel, even on the motorway was the same price as at home, at last. In the end though it was the tolls that annoyed us most. We ended up paying more today in road tolls than it cost us in fuel. The tolls here are insane. You ride out of one and you’re straight into another one. You can’t avoid them and there doesn’t seem to be any warning. If you’re trying to cover any distance then you have no choice anyway. Everything along the way is massively expensive too, hot-dogs were 4 euros and cans of drinks were 3. There would be riots in London if someone tried that although from what I hear on the news, maybe someone did?
Finally we entered Gerona to find that we did have a slight problem to deal with. My partner (for now....) had booked us a hotel but she had not saved the address, a map or even made a note of the name. We tried to find wi-fi but couldn’t and even when she did pick up some kind of signal she found nothing in her email box so we weren’t even sure if she had made a booking. Everything had gone ok up to then but we spent a long hour riding around using what tiny information we had to hunt down this hotel and eventually, against all the odds we got settled in.
Gerona is an amazing little town. It’s clean and tidy and the design is just friendly somehow. We went out for something to eat and it was just the best place so far. I hope spain has the scenery to match France because so far it’s ahead on points....
In other exciting news I saw 2 bikes like mine, BMW G650X-countries. They were riding together, one black and one yellow, both stock and both extremely clean. Nice to see a familiar face

Why this bike?

Why not? I have owned over 50 bikes over the years, probably more and each has had its use. Lately I’ve become more interested in the adventure style machines over sports bikes. I tried a few and eventually i conceded that I needed a BMW GS because everything else was a bit crap. I bought one and rode it home from Newcastle to London overnight and went green-laning in the morning. It was amazing to ride and I was an instant fan. After a while it started to play up. Minor problems at first but then expensive and annoying things. In the end I changed it for a new F800gs which was faster (quicker maybe) and more fun. That got stolen but I was already looking to get rid of it as it had reliability issues of its own. In the end I got this one, just to get myself on the road really and to keep going out on the lanes. I was impressed straight away, it was quick and really good in the dirt. Far more lively than the 800. It was also economical.
I started planning this journey and looked hard into what bike I wanted. This one just kept showing itself to be the most practical and reliable thing out there. At only 53bhp it’s not fast but nothing on this trip has blasted past me. She is the most economical machine in her class and has legendary reliability with no known faults. BMW built the X-range to race in the Dakar after the F650gs was replaced with the parallel twin. They upgraded the rotax engine and built a bike round it for competition. That is why the bike has a tiny standard tank and lightweight rear subframe. When they sold them the bike was way over-priced and sold poorly, because of this lack of popularity they are now bargains!
The original GS boxer was a great bike. Built to be capable of going anywhere but they got bigger and have ended up as touring machines, bloated and over-complicated. This little bike is the true spirit of the GS name. It really can go anywhere and do anything. It’s capable off road and on it and can tour if you’ve got the nerve and can tolerate the pain.
In the end all bikes are a compromise. I considered the Yamaha XT660Z, the BMW F650GS Dakar, the Aprilia Pegaso Yamaha TDM, Triumph Tiger, Honda Dominator, KLR and a host of others. I bought and used most of them but none of them had the right mix. I didn’t mind compromising fuel capacity and other details I could fix easily, I just didn’t want to compromise build quality, reliability, weight and economy. Slowly I went down my list eliminating bikes. TDM too unreliable, not good enough on dirt, Yamaha XT engine too old fashioned, thirsty and poorly finished, BMW Dakars getting old and needing total rebuilds, Pegaso... just no... Don’t get me started on that one.
In the end the G650x has upgraded competition spec engine internals, a lean burning engine which gives excellent reliability, durability and economy with respectable power, a lightweight frame giving excellent handling on all conditions and an excellent engine management system that adjust easily to varying fuel, altitude, temperatures and performance requirements. Also the wiring is basic, no over-complications. The dash is actually fairly crude and luxuries are few. This is a bike, nothing more, nothing less. It has ABS which I don’t like (it’s a triumph of marketing over common sense) but that is the only optional extra on these and you can turn it off.
Some people like a bike with all the possible gadgets thrown in, I like a bike with nothing complicated to go wrong. I had to have my R1200gs recovered twice when gadgets failed me. The 800 was a lovely bike but seemed slightly flawed. In the end build quality became an issue with weeping rocker cover, severe stone damage to the bottom after some mild lanes and frame discolouring after using a mild degreasing agent to clean it. The little 650 just takes what life throws at it. It was kicked to the road in town once and laid on her side all day. No damage and she started first time. Some little git tried to steal her and smashed the ignition barrel. I repaired it and swapped out for a new one for £5. She was running the next day.
Out in Milan I left the lights on and killed the battery. I jumped it from a van and was on my way in 5 minutes. This is what I need from a bike. I need to know I can fix it as I go when things go wrong (and they will and they do.)
I’ve spent a lot of money on this bike but she remains a great canvas on which to build a perfect lightweight adventure machine. On top of an adventure bike I need a commuter, transport for two, a tourer, a green laner and a bike I can blast through country lanes on a Sunday with my mates. This bike is not the best for any of these but it does them all and that’s all I ask.
Good luck when choosing yours. What I suggest is to write a list of what you really need from a bike. Don’t be seduced by marketing or hype. The more stylish plastic, the less substance. A good machine does not need marketing, it will sell itself. Separate need from want and you’ll be off to a good start. There have been times where I’ve wanted a R1200gs out here but they’re heavy and unreliable and i know it would have let me down. I have the bike I need and while I’m sitting on the road for hours on end, alone with my thoughts I’m a lot happier not having to worry about what’s up ahead, knowing this bike can handle whatever the black ribbon throws at us.

Politics. Please read around

Spending time on the road you have nothing to do sometimes except think. You’re alone with just you and the road and the endless possibilities of what you might find up ahead. Occasionally you have a nagging pillion but ignoring that, you have the noise inside your head, the howl of the wind and the pain in your arse. Having too much time to think I thought i’d express some of those thoughts.
I had a text from home telling me my town was on fire. I checked the news and sure enough, there it is... burning to the ground. It’s a bit surreal to see news from home when you’re so far away and to think, people were worried about my safety... On Facebook everyone is saying how terrible this is and in the hotel everyone is staring at me while the news is on. They’re probably wondering why i’m laughing.
Ok I see people saying they should lock up those responsible and i agree totally. The thing is I disagree with who is responsible. You don’t blame a baby for wetting itself, you train it to be a self motivated adult except this is not happening. In the 30s the US economy rolled over and died and the government foreclosed to the banks and sold the future labour work force into ownership of the financial sector. This is now happening again. The US is the poorest nation in the world, living in massive debt and plunging further into negative figures every day but their baseless currency, unsupported by secured reserves, is how they measure the value of the oil supplies. This is generating a global recession which is plunging towards a planned depression.
In the UK the situation is desperate. People cannot find work. Individuals who do are working at jobs far beneath their training and spending their lives in debts they simply have no control over or hope of ever escaping from. These days people accept that it’s a part of life rather than something that could have ever been avoided.
England is a jumbled bastardised society built on trade and consumerism. Standing is measured in the value of your spending. You are advertised at daily... earn... consume. You are a cog in a wage-slave machine that spews out human misery as a waste product. The UK is a grim place. People cannot afford to live well and have little control over their lives. It’s a police state, a nanny state where every aspect of your lives is guided and restricted, built on from a foundation of poor eucation.
Of course this kind of repression creates tension. They have created an underclass of people who know they’ll never work, they have no future, no opportunity. They have no aspirations, they spend their life in subsistence wages or on the dole, surviving day to day with no responsibility to themselves. We see this everywhere. These people have no hope and no control over their lives. What happens when you control human nature for this long and to this degree? Riots. Explosions of anger and hatred as these people exert some measure of control over their own environment. Look at the news, it’s the poorest places that are rioting, the places with the most unemployment, the least hope.
It is the government that’s responsible for this but not the puppets who appear on TV every day, it’s the people who control them, the ones who have designed this multi-tiered system of sophisticated slavery for the slaves to buy into and worship. The government should be afraid of its people, not the other way around. A government should be management, they should adjust details, make things work for us so our lives are easier not channel funds into their own company profits. They should not control us, they should not be constantly making new restrictions or raising taxes. They should be organising road signs and making sure businesses behave, that should be the limit of their “power”.
These riots are a venting of the frustration that this power struggle has caused. I don’t blame the rioters but I’m angry at the ones moaning because their local shop has burnt down. A shop is a shackle to a system of control. Think for yourself and free your mind and the control slips away. There is nothing in a shop you can’t go out and get or make yourself for a fraction of the cost with a little thought. They’re spoon feeding you like a pet dog, a perpetual puppy in an aging body but some dogs are born wild and eventually they will resort to their nature...
My only concern now is the aftermath. If this has been planned then new restrictions will follow. I hear this was started over a police officer shooting a man in self defence to later have it revealed the officers wound was made by another officer. I wonder how true this is but it sounds very plausible.
Don’t believe the news. Look at the trouble Rupert Murdoch is in, these are the kinds of people who make the news. Think for yourself and wonder what the story is behind this.

I guess I'm preaching to the choir. Nobody would travel if they were satisfied with life at home. This is something we do because we know there is something better out there....

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The magic number is.... 57

Today was an easy one. Woke up in the hotel to a breakfast we had to pay extra for. 6 different kinds of break and some fruit. 4 of the kinds were French and the others were just white sliced loafs of slightly different kinds. Not very Spanish. I’ve noticed in my brief observations that the health here is not so good as France. Obesity is taking hold here, there is a lot of overweight people where in France it’s very rare. Driving is ok. The French drive like they just don’t care, the Italians like they’re behind the wheel of a sports car. The Spanish seem to drive ok. When a car has caused me trouble then it’s always turned to be foreign, usually Italian.
We took a slow ride to Barcelona, less than an hour. We seemed able to cruise around 57mph with no trouble. Like yesterday there were warnings about the wind but nothing to worry about at all. The bike just sat herself at 57 and rolled along happily and I was more than happy to let her. I’ve given her a bit of a hard life lately so it was nice to take it easy. Tomorrow we’re just doing the tourist thing in town, we’re off in later to have a look about and eat some food. Nothing heavy and much as I love my bike I need a day out of the saddle.
Everyone is going crazy about the riots at home but a few people seem to have some perspective. I can’t understand a lot of Spanish but it was on the news and they were showing headlines with graphs. Even they were linking unemployment-recession-rioting so why are the people too stupid at home to see it? I’ve never been proud to be English because the population just seems happy to sit back and let the government wipe their shoes on them. Someone I know even said we need to give the police more powers when this riot was sparked by several abuses of police power. Insane.
It’s very strange to hear about news on your doorstep when you’re so far removed from home. My mum was worried about me going away, she feared for my safety. Now the shoe is on the other foot.
We’re planning to go on towards Madrid next and then a slow Pyrenees crossing before a dash towards Eastern Europe. We will see...

What a difference an afternoon makes.

I hate Barcelona. I hate it. We went in for something to eat. We followed signs tot he city centre. We sort of found it, I think but it was just like every other city centre, full of over-priced boutiques with under intelligent people buying them with money they didn’t earn for themselves. We headed off to the seafront to see something a bit more down to earth where two weary travellers with tired bums could eat a hearty meal while watching girls in bikinis... more me than her, that one.
We met an English biker while down a backstreet who asked us through his sweaty helmet for directions to the water. We told him we were lost too. He laughed and told us he’d be driving round for hours... an ominous sign. I managed to find the port with no real difficulty and sure enough we had something to eat and all was well with the world. The food was ok, nothing special but Spain has a charm of its own with amazing heat that still feels refreshing unlike the sweaty miserable sun of Italy.
Finally we headed back to the hotel. Then the thread kind of unravelled and we ended up covering 60 miles trying to escape the evil clutches of Barcelona where every street looks the same. A police woman sent me in totally the wrong direction at one point and I came within a gnats dick of a crash. I was admittedly driving a bit angry by then but we were heading downhill and the light changed to green. I accelerated to carry on and a girl on a scooter just sat there... still sat there, still sat there. I pulled in the brake and locked the front wheel, even with ABS it locked up and skidded all the way. Luckily I somehow managed to steer it just round her and the semi-oblivious tart shrugged and said a half-arsed sorry, little knowing she nearly had an enduro bike where her spine used to be.
All this put a downer on my day but then it’s just degrees of bad. I mean a bad day touring is still a great day in your life. It’s not like my car got written off, the sale of my house fell through, I rowed with my missus or I broke my toe...

We took a quiet ride into Barcelona and spent 5 hours walking around looking for.... anything. In the end we gave up and went home. Actually we did stumble across a nice little market and a few other things that made us smile. One of the best things about the place is the sheer volume of bikes and the diversity. With the climate bikes don't readily rust so there are some great machines dotted about. BMWs are very popular with the F650gs single being a very common sight but I've not seen a Dakar version yet. Big GSs are everywhere and so far I've not seen one with the kind of engine rot that's so common in the UK.
Big news today... I started the bike and noticed a puddle underneath. Water, clean water was pooling under the engine. This worried me greatly. I moved on to the fuel station which was next door and put a tankfull in. I noticed more water pooling in the same spot. I laid the bike down on her side and started looking for where it was coming from. There are no breathers there. My fan had not come on, the bike was barely started. I checked my water level... slightly low but blue from anti-freeze which confused me even more. More confusing still, pure water was leaking out of my sump plug at the opposite end of the bike to the rad.
It turned out that where I had parked was where they spray the garden in the morning with the sprinkler system. It was so hot here the water had simply evaporated but some had pooled in the shady spot under my engine inside my bash plate to roll out when I stood her up. Problem solved with some relief!

Spain is nice. Now let's get the hell out of it.

Good morning world. We're just sitting in the hotel lobby waiting for a burst of energy to get out onto the road. We've changed out minds about Spain. It's a nice country but wasted on the Spanish. They're not a nice people, now I know I'm basing that opinion on a small section of the population of a large place but the ones in Barcelona can piss off as far as I'm concerned. You ask them a question and as soon as they realise they stand to make no money from you they just walk away without another word. The driving is basically ok but they have a habit of wanting to pull off on an exit and so thrashing the crap out of their little rotbox car to pull in front of you first. The French seem oblivious as to the danger they cause like a blinkered horse and the Italians just don't care about anything at all, especially you. Can't put my finger on the attitude here, it's like there's always something to prove but it's not quite that. It's a selfishness to everything that happens here. Always "me first" which you don't see anywhere else on a large scale.
Anyway, expediency is turning us round to head up towards Poland. We're slightly bored with knocking about tourist trap areas and want to see something better so we're heading back. Tonight we're back in Girona (well just outside) and then we're heading over a different crossing of the Pyrenees so we see a bit more scenery and then heading towards Toulouse. It's a shame as the petrol here is finally the same price as at home but the road tolls are crippling. Food is slightly cheaper but has no unique identity of it own where French absolutely does. You can buy a sandwich at a motorway stop in France and it will be really good.
I walked down to the petrol station opposite last night but it was closed. I was lucky enough to see a French lorry driver knocking one out to internet porn. There's an image I just don't need in my head.

Ok, I’ve been on the road for a few days now and have covered a few thousand miles. I built my bike using common sense and logic but not personal experience so what lessons have I learnt and what would I change?
The biggest problems have been the seat and the navigation so far. Several bits have failed but we’ll come to those later. Starting with the seat... the standard unit was lousy. It was a nice seat to look at with a tiny layer of ineffective foam. There was free space between the cover and the foam making me suspect the seat unit was recycled from another bike which is common practice these days, a lot of parts are recycled from the HP2 such as pegs and headlight. In any case it was hell to sit on so I had it fitted with a gel pack. Instant improvement but not a big enough one for the use it’s getting. The seat stylishly tapers to towards the top meaning I’m resting my arse bone on it in only two places instead of spreading the load. This is causing significant pain (discomfort really, I’m just being a drama queen). She is uncomfortable on the rear but not in pain so it’s clearly the way I’m forced to sit on these two ridges. I plan to find out what base this bike uses and see if there’s a way i can modify it with a better, wider seat. Failing that I will rework it to make something decent out of a spare I was generously given by my brother... thanks bruv.
Navigation needs a total rethink. I’m using a map and a GPS which only has details of cities, nothing else. It’s working fine now I’m used to it but getting in and out of cities or finding specific places is proving very difficult. I need to put some more thought into that. What I want to do is build a decent mapping tool. At the back of my mind I want a Dell mini-9 netbook to modify. The Mini-9 was built to be stripped down and modified and has an SSD (Solid State Disk) so no problem with vibrations and lower power consumption. There are touch screen kits available and it can be made water resistant. I have an idea of the monitor up on the dash showing downloaded maps as I drive with open note documents to scroll through as I go. That in concert with the GPS system would be pretty foolproof... Bit of a pipe-dream but that’s my ideal-world solution. A second best would be to have a pocket organiser showing notes I’ve made/downloaded. I have one already so it’s just needing to be waterproofed.
I intend to rework the headlight/dash area of the bike. I made a whole new headlight bracket that handles the HID ballasts and spots. It’s clunky but it works. Even when fitting it I considered it a prototype, a test of material and techniques. My issue is that isn’t as resilient as I would like and doesn’t do everything I want. I mounted the screen to it and it’s exceedingly clunky and the screen has a very slight vibration that makes me wonder how tough it would be in a fall. I am leaning towards twin headlights. Now that would over-load my charging circuit but my headlight is so weak I have to do something to improve on it. So far driving at night has been problematic as a lot of roads have no lights, this will be worse on secondary roads or as I go further towards Asia. My ideal solution would be twin “dominator” headlights in black, wider apart than standard and mounted to an alloy and stainless rally-style cockpit. One would be headlight and dipped, just as standard and the other would be modified to be HID only with decent forward projection. My spots are great but they throw light everywhere (as intended, I figured those more to let people know I was there and to pick up details of signs or rocks on trails which they do brilliantly but the beam pattern is very wide and they’re not helping on unlit roads very much. Great offroad but not s good on an unlit highway and sadly that seems to be an environment I’m dealing with very frequently. I would sandwich a set of LED markers in the middle of the lights so during the day I can power down my headlight clustercompletely and let my charger have a rest. Running late I can use my HID which uses far less power and when i need everything, I have full spread of light. I love the way traditional and HID mix. They’re very different and anyone who says one or other is better is wrong (in my opinion.) You want both together to see everything on an unlit road. That seems to me to be the best solution with the lowest power drain and at the lowest cost output. Sure I could get a plastic fairing but I hate the way they look, I like the pared-down minimalist appearance of my bike. I like the dominator lights (the kind a lot of people call Bandit lights on account of how frequenrtly they’re used on crash damaged Suzuki Bandits, they’re the same overall diameter as standard and fit right on. I hear nothing but good things and although they’re not all that tough they are at least as good as standard. My plastic headlight is already looking very poor and throws next to no light. I can handle that on a G650, just about but can you imagine running that arrangement on a HP2 enduro? Highly unacceptable. BMW should hang their heads in shame.
The new look headlight will be heavy shaped alloy plates which I hope to augment with high-strength stainless steel which will survive any accident and support the entire arrangement. This will also give me a mounting-tree so I will fit my dash low, my GPS high and that still gives me space for other gear. I may still leave my GPS mounted to the bars, it’s given me no problems in that position and is clear and easy to read. This does free up some space high-up for a rolling-road or other mapping equipment. My mind is chewing that over already. I will keep with the screen I have but aim to straighten it up a bit and raise it a few inches, that should give me optimal protection and a good compromise between usefulness and being a sail to catch crosswinds.
The rear tail unit was a disaster. I’ve ridden a few thousand miles with it held on with bungies and cable ties. I will make a better job when I get home. I want to clean up the back end as far as possible. The number plate was somehow sucked into the rear wheel and shattered the mounting points of the Motrax universal tail tidy. Utter piece of crap, I would have been better off mounting it to a banana. In future I will have the plate mounted directly off the tail with the bare-minimum legal requirements and indicators mounted close in, preferable to the alloy rack. LED are tidier and lighter on power but these ones don’t seem very bright. I’ll probably go with “fairing mounts” at the rear to keep it as tidy as possible. Rear indicators are very important travelling in unknown territory so i’ll shop about for the best I can get. I hoped Oxford would be those. They have an air of quality to them and were far from cheap. In fact they’re not as bright as I wanted, not even as bright as the £10 for 4 I bought for a friend’s bike which are far better.
I’m going to simplify and lighten everything. She needs to be lighter. Already the G650x is one of the lightest bikes in their class but I want to save even more weight. I’ve cut a lot of fat off already but the front mudguard is going to have to go. It serves no purpose now I have a high-mount and the tank/bash plate protect from dirt so that’s now redundant. I will go over her and lose anything that is stylish and lacks a function or replace what I can with lighter parts. I made an alloy side panel for the left, it actually saved half the weight over the original plastic part so I’m sure there are other places I can do the same trick. I know it seems odd to add so much weight to the bike for this job then talk about cutting a few ounces but every little makes a difference. So far with the savings on exhaust, etc, I’m about even with the parts I’ve added to a standard weight. That is what I’m aiming at, keeping the weight as low as possible.
The tank (fake tank, airbox cover) is looking rough. I intend to paint it matt black. Simoniz (I think) Tough-black paint is excellent. It is chemical and knock resistant and just about as good as standard paint. I’ll sand down both the side panels and main cover and have the whole reworked in Matt black which will be a touch different and give her an update. I also want to build an alloy rack over the top cover. It doesn’t have to be very good, 2mm alloy will do, it’s just to help locate the tank bag as it slips all over the place and caused us to drop the bike. If I don’t opt to carry the tank bag the mounting will allow me to carry other items with a bungie such as water or a map. Either way that will help to protect the tank in future and save from any more awkward spills. The tank cover is only plastic so I can’t load anything too heavy up there so lightweight alloy will be more than adequate.
I’d like additional luggage points at the sides or at least some kind of radiator protection. There are several engine bars available but they’re costly, heavy and largely redundant. When the bike has been over only the bars touch the ground so all I’m looking for is a slim shield in case of an uneven surface impacting the side. I’m not sure how to achieve this yet but I will also like a flat surface for bungie points. I’d love to be able to mount thin wraps on the front sides to decentralise luggage. This isn’t overly important to me as with only one person the luggage I’m carrying will be fine where it is but spreading the load is good if it can be done right.
I want to move the airhorn slightly. It’s fine now but for more offroad use it will clog and in any case it’s in a vulnerable spot.
I’m glad the bottles are there. When we’ve trailed through the backroads of a national park with 200km between fuel stops I’ve been very happy to have 2litres of emergency fuel on the side. Other than that though, they’re remained empty and redundant. I’m seriously wondering if they’re worth the effort. I have been thinking about using the rack for water and storing just a single bottle of fuel in another spot as I seem to be slightly over the top. My main tank hold 6 litres plus reserve and the front auxiliary tank another 5. I have seen 200 miles on this arrangement with around 50 in reserve. This seems to be enough although when lost in town I’ve got that down to 160 miles. The throttle use offroad and in town is similar so for trail riding i’m realistically expecting the lower end of the range. For larger bikes with a bigger tank I would think that keeping the fuel tank half full and riding with reserve fuel slung low might be a benefit offroad. Riding a Triumph Tiger on trails was a wobbly experience with the mammoth tank slunk to the top of the frame. I’d have been happier with fuel slung lower.
The suspension is working nicely. The bike is handling the conditions well and the handling, while compromised with the load is still safe and predictable. Despite what some people say the standard setup would have done ok if driven below the bikes limitations. The upgrades, while fairly costly have made me a lot happier and made the bike safer and more reliable. If you have £500 to spend, spend it here. A decent shock and spring upgrades are well worth it. If you want to blow some cash then swap out the front forks but those of us in the real world, the way I went is good enough for 99.9% of us and would still be good enough for the rest who aren’t too badly afflicted with boys-and-their-toys-syndrome.
I will probably make an alloy guard to protect the front fuel tank. Not that it really needs it but more to help cover up the obvious fact that it’s there. It’s held up fine, so far but I will probably rework the mounting plate to make it neater slightly. I won’t replace it, just clean it up.I would be happier with some kind of guard over the filler cap to protect the hose but so much of the fuel and electrical system is already exposed that I can’t imagine this will be any additional problem not to have.
I originally wanted and paid for a Gel battery for the slight extra power and durability but on working on the bike I see a standard battery has been fitted during the last service. Otherwise I was happy with the work but I’ll be taking up this issue with the guy and get this sorted out. I know some people like to move the battery but the weight saving is minimal and I already have weight mounted in the low-slung position so there’s really nowhere to move it safely to. I’m happy enough where it is, I just want more durability from it. I may fit hard-wired jump points in case the battery dies but I’m hoping this is over-kill. It’s played up twice and both have been my fault. With wiring routed to the key this should no longer be possible.
I may move the fusebox up to the new main dash and have some kind of warning lights and kill switches. I would like the ability to isolate the ABS system directly from the dash. I know you have the bar button but it’s limited. I would like to simply kill the ABS on dash for extended stop-start trail riding. Similarly I would like to kill the accessories so a slightly upgraded power system may be on the cards. So far I have switches on the bars but they need moving up to the dash, as does the accessory socket.
These are my thoughts so far about building my BMW G650X-country “Adventure.” She’s good now but I want her to be right. I’m learning a lot from this trip and she’s close but we’re not there yet...

Easy like Friday morning.

Not much to report today. My other-half is "not veery wheel" as she says it. That being the case she's upstairs sleeping it off while I was charged with the responsibility of leaving her alone. I took a ride for a couple of hours, nothing special but it was such a relief to get the weight off and just ride my bike again. The scenery here is great. I found a fire-roads but have no idea of the legalities of riding them so I gave in when i found a sign, just in case. Nobody I asked seemed to know either but my impression is that nobody would care one way or another.
We had no luck buying a travel charger to fix her camera so I cut a USB lead and made one using insulating tape and an Iphone adapter. It worked ok and charged her battery enough for a few days. I replaced mine with a very cheap camera which takes pretty poor photos. It will do till I get access to my own bank account, right now I had to leave with an expired bank card so we're running only on the cash we brought which is not ideal.


Universal truths to traveling.
Part 1

Every hotel/motel/hostel will have a bathroom floor made of something impossible to stand up on while wet.

Every road you need to go on will be a one way street blocked against you

Google, maps and GPS will be fine until it really, really matters.

You will come back with half the stuff you went with and the missing stuff will be the stuff you need most. (Camera... tools.... wets....)

If you have it then you won't need it.

The thing you most worry about won't happen but something you never thought of that is far worse probably will.

No amount of preparation can prepare you for something you didn't know you had to prepare for.

Everyone speaks a little bit of English. Just enough to completely misunderstand what the hell you're trying to ask them.

Everyone is an arsehole in a big city.

BMW riders just don't want a conversation with you. Everyone else will be happy to chat.

Taking your partner on the road is a mistake.

You can never carry too much water.

Failure to prepare is preparing to make your life very, very stressful.

hy all
 

You're absolutely right my lord
phase with the BMW drivers ....funnyyyyyyyy

The road less traveled

Well she's still not well. I was going to respect her privacy but I figured, what the hell. The reason for this blog is for the people reading it to learn from my mistakes so the fact is, it's her time of the month. She's normally fine with it but maybe a combination of the climate, food and seating position have made this one pretty uncomfortable for her. We were going to camp but we're in a low cost Etap hotel instead and booked into an F1 tomorrow night. Sadly tomorrow is going to be a long day, we're pushing now to Eastern Europe so we're riding from Toulouse to Lyon. Not a big journey but a dull one so a big effort.
Today was a fairly long ride but oh so worth it... From Girona to Toulouse. The GPS and google wanted us to backtrace our steps on the A7 autopista but we both fancied doing something a bit more ambitious. We decided to go inland and cross the Pyrenees a bit further in, almost into Andorra. We didn't know what we were going to find there so we just went to see what would happen. Coming over was great scenery but it was just a motorway so it was all very sanitised. This time we stuck to backroads and it was simply amazing.
We headed off from Girona with a fairly heavy heart. I liked it there and had enjoyed the break. Bareclona was meant to be a rest stop but was awful, really stressful and with her getting ill we took a few days there instead. I'm really glad we did, it's a great little town. Not big enough to get lost in, just easy to find your way about and it had just enough of everything we needed.
We headed out towards Banyola to Olot and onwards from there. It was so nice to get back on the road and even more exciting to be faced with genuinely no idea of what was up ahead. I knew it would be better than the road in, that was all.
The road to Rizolla was ok, nice scenery, lots of farms and fairly easy to navigate. We stopped for directions in Rizolla but it turned out to be Olot and we hadn't got as far as we thought. The mountains were looming large now and I'm poor with heights so it was a slightly anxious time. I know it would have been easy to avoid all this but where's the fun in that?
As we headed in the scenery changed and we started seeing these great little villages and towns with friendly people and great, clean scenery. Everything was so nice, no matter where you looked there was another great view.
We followed a wrong sign and it took us up... and up. The road was narrow, so narrow that two cars would have struggled to pass. At first I had rocks to the side of my lane but on the other side was nothing, no barrier, no boundry, just a drop onto rocks. I was starting to get a little nervous and then the lanes switched sides so the drop was on my side. I ignored it as best I could and focused on the road. That was a good iea in any case as hairpin turns were coming at me like spray off a wet lorry. One lapse of concentration and we were dead. Even she knew it this time and she started clinging on tight. I took a chance to stop at a rare layby on the drop-side of the road and checked a map. I was sure we'd gone wrong. We reconciled to continue in any case but then some push-bikers turned up and confirmed we were on the wrong road so with some relief we turned about and headed down. Now I'm not a nervous guy. I've thrashed an RSV Millie flat-out on a road and took on a gang of a dozen guys once armed only with harsh language but this made me sweat. I'm not good with heights but I'm proud to say I took it like a man but was breathing a sigh of relief when we made it down.
After that we found Rizolla and took a short break. The added benefit of this path was far fewer toll roads so the toll money was spent on chocolate cake and my other half fuelled herself up on that while running about snapping photographs like a thing possessed.
We then headed off. The map was tricky (large scale) and I couldn't make out where the border was but we hadn't made it there yet. Then we started climbing... An ominous sign approached, a yellow BMW GS on my side of the road... he wobbled back to his own side to pass and we carried on. I knew what this meant. We were coming up for a climb into the mountains, nothing else makes a man drive a motorcycle down the wrong lane of a narrow strip. We climbed fast, I watched the signs by the side of the road as they measured off the altitude to around 2km up and the road was still far from the peak of the mountains. I saw a floral tribute to Oliver at the side of the road and briefly imagined our name on one. Then another to David. The hairpins doubled back on themselves and opened out to unimaginably beautiful scenery. There was some traffic about but nothing to stop this being an amazing experience. We couldn't get pics of the really great stuff as there was nowhere to stop but it was an intense experience. We stopped at one pooint and a group of sportsbikes passed us but even they were sticking to the speed limits.
At one point there was horses just wandering around on the lanes as if this wasn't challenging enough. We then passed a field full of them and I knew she wanted pictures so we doubled back. I turned in a small clearing and it was littered with smashed bits of motorcycle screens and fairings where someone had failed to make a turn. Scary stuff to see but everyone up there was behaving and the wind was low so really the danger was mostly perceived. We took our time and I focused on what I was doing. The bike came into her own, the single cylinder engine had braking and torque so the tight corners where under good control. This tight hairpin lane went on for 40 miles! By the end I was just relived to see some flat ground. We pulled into a town, our mid-way destination and we had a coffee. I checked the map and we still had another crossing to get back out of the Pyrenees on the French side! The border was non-existent and signs were vague but tolerable. In France you just keep going until you see a sign that says otherwise. Simple really... until it goes wrong which it frequently does.
The French side was darker, greener and flatter. The road goes round the mountains rather than embracing them. To the French they are an inconvenience, to the Spanish a joy. We followed the directions of a French biker after the signs ran out and he directed us to a long underground tunnel. We had to pay a toll on that but there was nobody about and it occurred to me to just go round the barrier. We didn't but we should have.
Once on the other side we caught the rain or rather it caught us. She put on her wets. Mine are now missing, presumed lost in action. Luckily my gear is meant to be waterproof. The rain hit us hard and slowed our progress significantly. I could feel the belting rain through my armoured gear, each drop registering on my arms and legs. I warned her the bike handled like an excited puppy in the wet with TKC80 tyres so we took it easy. Actually we outran the rain in about 20 mintues and headed into brighter skies. We stopped for a breather and the black clouds began catching us up so we took to the roads again, just keeping ourselves ahead of the rain. We managed to make and hold around 75mph which was quick enough in the wind with the weight we're carrying. We ate the kms pretty fast and were in Toulouse before we knew it. We got caught at another toll gate but we were tired and I just wanted to get there so we sucked down the charges. Toulouse signposts hindered our progress and we saw the same piece of road 5 times but we made it in the end.
Tomorrow will be a dull day, I imagine but we need to make progress. Everything is expensive here so we need to push on.

Universal truth of traveling... supplemental.

Whenever you ask directions, no matter that you're wearing full bike gear, carrying a lid, standing next to a bike, getting off the bike or still on it, people will always ask you, "Are you driving?"

I asked a guy today, the bike in plain view behind me, me fully kitted in bike gear and carrying a lid and he gave me directions to the underground station... Weird...

he probably looked at you and thought your a tramp (bum for the yanks) and needed a dry place to sleep... not really his fault :thumbup1: :mchappy:

Cross Country moto... No Challenge

Quite an easy day today. We’re still suffering under the curse of womens issues so instead of a longer drive into Lyon we had a shortened trip into Albi which took roughly an hour. Getting out of Toulouse was pretty straight forward and I was able to follow the signs all the way from one hotel to another. If I’d followed the GPS or google maps I’d probably still be there now...
Anyway, one minor issues was with my front tank. There were marks on the front upper lip where I can only assume the tyre has made contact. I’ve tried to replicate the conditions by jumping it up and down curbs loaded and unloaded and braking as hard as possible but nothing. I’ve marked the front with powder and cannot get the tyre to mark the fresh powder. I can only assume it’s from Barcelona where we braked for our lives behind a scooter, it’s the only full-blooded emergency stop I’ve made. From now on I’ll ride more carefully and keep a close eye on it. When I get back I will look at moving it. I might be able to move it back or down a bit or maybe switch it to mount on the side of the bike (my original idea) so we’ll have a play when i get home. I like the weight where it is but frankly the spot will be fine to mount other heavy gear so nothing is really lost
Ambi is nice. An old town full of French clichés and impressive architecture. The cathedral was open to the public and she went into shutter-bug mode instantly, firing snaps off at everything. We were allowed to just walk in and she observed, quite rightly, “not like England... they want paying for everything...”
We found an old monument bridge and my vertigo oddly flared up. It was only a hundred metres high above water and chances of survival if you were to fall were good. Yesterday chances of survival were less than none but I was fine. I guess irrational fear is not meant to be logical. Nice to know I’m still carrying totally baseless emotional baggage. In any case, I still walked across it and the view was very impressive. People are nice here too. I like France but it’s so damn expensive. Food is now three times the price it was a hundred miles ago. It’s good though, the cooking here is top notch. I want to try a McDonalds at some point to see what they’re like here but we haven’t even seen one.
We had a bit of rain today. The weather forecast says it’s in for tonight and then clears up. Showers by Thursday but we’ll be in another country by then so we’ll see what happens.
My brother has bought a V-strom for touring. He’s coming away with me on the Europe leg of my ride to Asia. It’s going to be a more hard-core trip, we’ll be packing less weight and running cheap. No hotels this time, camping rough. I think it’s the wrong bike, not just for the trip but for him. He tends to get bored with bikes too quickly and I can’t see the Strom getting under his skin and I think he needs to learn to love a bike and keep it long enough to bond with it. I also think that while comfortable it might be a bit too bland and heavy but we’ll see. It’s got more power than i’ve got and his bum won’t be as sore... maybe I’m jealous of that.
I think my bike is perfect for my big trip and the modifications make it just right but there’s other considerations. I use my bike daily at home. I can’t afford to take it off the road for 6 months at a time between trips to prep it. She always needs to be ready. She’ll also be daily used when i arrive in Thailand so I had to consider that too. The only thing I didn’t consider is this Europe trip, 2 up. I didn’t have that in mind when i bought my bike or even when i started the upgrades. The suspension work was just for my own benefit. The upshot is that she’s doing fine but I’m not happy with the extra weight. She’s not designed, built or rebuilt for this. I’m being careful and so far no sign of problems. I wanted the Touratech rear boxes which come with a steel subframe and can handle the weight. The cost was over £1100 and boxes are not ideal off road. My solution was £300. I thought about the 09 rear steel subframe but that was £800 from BMW (I could buy a Honda Dominator for that and just ride it). Again, not worth the cash for the possibility of snapping the subframe which is a slim possibility and I’m already taking precautions against by packing carefully. Power wise... I guess the truth is I could have done with a V-strom. I know there are crazy (American mostly) people on the ADV forum (mostly crazy Americans) who reckon the Strom is a true enduro capable of anything including travelling through time, flying and fighting robot dinosaurs but the truth is that’s a low-slung multi-strada machine with cast wheels that can just about handle some fire-roads. With two up that would have suited me fine. Acutally I looked into possible weight savings of stripping one to the bone and reworking it with better shock and forks but I found the cost prohibitive and still thought the Beemer the better bike (opinion varies).
In any case it’s always exciting to have a new bike on the table so I’m keen to see what he does with it. For my money I’d add HID spotlights straight off, upgrade the horn and look into a sturdier bash-plate. I don’t know much about the suspension but the upgrades I made to mine were well worth the money so I’d look into that. I’d not use plastic boxes, I think they’re too flimsy, especially on unmade roads which we’re planning to use. I’d go with bags and simply bungie them to the racks. Anyway, I’m keen to see what he does.
I find myself looking at the back of bikes now everywhere we go. My partner doesn’t speak English as a first language so sometimes the conversation is a little basic. Being surrounded by foreigners is making me feel even more isolated. I speak a little French but not enough to hold a worthwhile conversation. I find myself hoping to meet some English people, ideally with a bike so we can talk bollocks over a beer. Maybe that’s why I’m rambling so much in my blogs but hey.... you don’t have to read this crap...

Well we went into town for a wander. I feel like a proper tourist now. I tell you what, it was ok just wandering round snapping pics and mingling. Sunday is death in France. Everything is closed. I speak enough French to get by in a shop but somehow just couldn't get it today. I guess it was a regional accent, I couldn't get a word of it. That said, everyone was so nice about it. Last night we went for a pizza and a girl working there came over and told us in broken English she could help us with the menu. Tonight the waiter did the same. He caught me on the way to the toilet and showed me what things were in the kitchen to help me decide. Honestly, people out here could not be nicer. There were a few arsehole kids knocking about but if you look at them they smile and wander off sheepishly. All front, no real animosity anywhere. What a really lovely little town. So unlike England.
Once I had to go to Birmingham with my regional manager on a conference. We got a bit lost looking for the hotel and crossed in front of a car by accident. This big black car pulled up beside us and the window came down and a massive Indian looking guy leant out. We went into combat mode ready to give some abuse back and the guy just said, "Are you guys lost, can i help?" Such is life in London. We get shit all the time and we learn to expect it and be ready. It's a horrible way to be but it's life. I worked in Cash Converters for a while (those ends don't meet by themselves.) I managed the buying counter in a real scumtown. Fights every single day, usually constant. We were on first name terms with the local police we saw them all so often. I guess you just get so used to this kind of life you don't notice any more. Being out here where life is easy and there's nothing to prove is so refreshing.
We drove into town with no jackets, no gloves, no tube, nothing but our lids. I felt like a total criminal. Again, we just parked anywhere and no problems. Of course we showed due respect and so long as you do there's no problem. You don't cause one for them, they won't cause one for you. Far cry from London where you make a slight deviation from the hopelessly complicated and heavy-handed laws and you get an on-the-spot fine and a good telling-off.
Sorry to brits everywhere... this way is better by far. England is wrong, very wrong and the more I see of the world the more I think so. Travelling by bike obviously has it's own problems but I still prefer it to flying out or backpacking. I'm a biker first, i guess.
Not much else to report that will be relevant or vaguely interesting.
We're staying in an F1 hotel. It's clean but very, very basic. Cheap too, cheaper than a camp site, at least those I can find online. 30 euros and you get a room with a double bed with a bunk over the top. You get a sink but toilet and washrooms are seperate. The door has an entry code but the buttons are in a strange non-logical order. The same code lets you in the building or inside the locking front gate. It's fairly secure and has CCTV and an all night attendant. It is basic but it's decent enough. I would definitely recommend if the time is dragging on and you're tired. Even better if there's 3 of you although if you're biking you could get 2 more on the floors. Nobody cares.
Water pressure is a bit ferocious, the shower is like get pressure washed.
She's feeling better now, more like her old self so we're pushing on to the black forest. Once night in Lyon and then Mulhouse and onwards towards Poland... Hopefully.

Added info...

The bike saw 185 miles before the little yellow warning went on. I filled up at the French border, well she was filled up for me. The girl did a good job, it looked like and took both the main and front tank to the brim. There were som curly, curvy mountain roads, a 75mph blast for 40-50 miles, some getting lost in Toulouse, a gentle 65mph cruise for 60-70 miles today and the rest pottering about in town. That's over 2 days in 28-30 degree heat so some escaped and two up with heavy luggage. I'm impressed, the fuel capacity and economy is bang on. That's delivering a genuine 76.45mpg (uk) overall. I'm happy with that. at that rate the fuel is literally cheaper than the tolls.

Grin and bear it

Today was a test of endurance. over 9 hours in the saddle, well I call it a saddle but it's a device of torture after a day like this. I had it fitted with a gel-seat by a top bloke in the Kent countryside. Mr. Archer has a good reputation and is cheap. He works out of a shed but should by charging ten grand an hour telling BMW off for making crap chairs.
Anyway, the Gel seat made an instant improvement but not enough of one. My fault, we didn't really discuss my needs, I just said a few long trips and I wanted a gel seat. Chances are he would have told me I needed something else, I should have gone into more depth with him. Anyway, my fault and my sore arse.
I've felt it today, the pain is getting to us both and on top of that the bike is pissing me off. She's done nothing wrong and I'll be in love with her again soon but after a day like today I'm venting spite and she's getting blamed.
You see I'm a sportsbike rider. I love 2 strokes especially. I love the kick of power in you back, I love the blast of acceleration. I'm used to having 140+ BHP and the drag coefficient of a fully jacketed rifle bullet. My ideal bike would have a 200bhp engine and deliver 200mpg. Frankly I don't see why that's asking a lot.
Now I have 53. Actually around about 55-56 with my mods. Oooooo. Big improvement, worth every penny. The size of the bike is to small too, too small for me to carry this load with the extra ballast of a needy pillion. I've done todays trip with thoughts of what I would do different.

I love the Country. It's a great go anywhere, do anything bike with just enough of everything to make it work. The thing is I didn't buy it with this trip in mind and it's wearing thin now. I guess I should have bought a BMW boxer and cruised around happily and sold it at a profit when I get back. Anyway, I didn't.
On paper the R1200gs is the best bike for all my needs, rolled into one. In reality it's just not reliable. Maybe I should have gone to the 1150 or the 1100 but the performance figures were just too low against the weight when i was looking and I still had a different set of dynamics in my head. I don't test drive bikes. Waste of time. I buy them, ride them and make my mind up. You have to own a bike to know it, you can't get an impression any other way. I just didn't have the time or inclination to buy any more big boxers after my 1200 let me down (time and again).
I really wanted the 800 to be the one but it isn't. I was approached at Box-Hill by a Dakar rider who chatted with me and he said it was just too flimsy. Not what I wanted to hear but he was quite right. The bike is built to sell, not to work.

One time I had an Aprilia RSV Millie. I wanted a big V-twin and it was between this bike and a Suzuki SV1000. The SV had lost it's fairing in a shunt so the price was right but the seller was a dick. He messed me about so I went to see this Italian Millie knowing what to expect. Now Italian bikes are gorgeous to behold but flimsy and unreliable. The Millie is actually not a pretty bike. Somehow the styling is just bland and uninteresting compared to the visually stunning Dukatis. They do work though.
This one was not what I expected. I went with my brother and as the light went on we just stopped and stared. It was a thing of beauty. Repainted in a custom mixed glass black and it looked like a dark mirror had been melted on top of the fairing. It was just jaw-dropping. I bought it.
In fact it wasn't that quick so I had to derestrict it to make it fun but fun it was. THis was a great fun bike. A Lamborgini once had to pull over to let me pass on a motorway, this thing was an animal and I never got off of it without a grin on my face.
I bought a Sprint for daily use, the first ever Sprint RS with a certificate from Triumph. Sadly when i sold that it went to Poland to be broken for spares. Anyway, I stopped using the RSV. It was just too difficult when i could just jump on the Sprint and go without having to worry about thefts or damage.
In the end I thought they were just too alike. I bought an Aprilia Pegaso instead, a 95 in black (my favourite and the second of these I owned). I still never used the Millie. I walked out and just thought, no, I'll just use the Peg today.
I sold the Millie pretty soon after, just no point having it. It's probably dead now. The guy who bought it had never ridden a big bike before and was meant to come back for a load of expensive spares and was never heard from again.
The moral of this story is I want a faster bike but I know there's no point. The Country is the right bike and I'm griping over nothing. It was just a long-arse day and I have the hump with being lost and over-taken by solo-ridden sports bikes.

We've eaten and eaten to a mediocre standard. In France anything less than amazing is actually quite poor. We went to a pub/bar/bistro and the food was ok, not great. I ordered Caesar salad and it came with thousand island dressing. The service was top notch and everyone continues to be so friendly. A guy in the hotel even apologised for talking in front of me but he also tried bumming fags of my partner who, being Asian is terrified of unplanned human contact.
We're in Lyon now. It's a nothing special city, same as any other really but there's still a uniquely French flavour to it and by that I mean than just confusing road signs.
We had a long trip today. We started out with hassles straight off the bat with an empty tank. I didn't worry last night, I hold about 50-60 miles in reserve and the petrol station was right next door. Unfortunately this morning it was closed. We tried finding another but no luck. We drove round for ages until we found one and then got back tot he main road to find a cheaper, better one only 100 yards from where we started.
My GPS luckily advised me it could help me out so I pressed the icon to be told that to get petrol i simply had to turn around and travel 500 miles in the opposite direction. Nice one Garmin. Money well spent.
So we finally got ont he road and to be fair, navigation was simple enough. We took the scenic route which at first was a bit on the dull side. It reminded me of my first few days riding solo when i had wished she was here to see the lovely French countryside and now she was so that was nice. She's a country girl (she farts in public) and she appreciated the spectacle. Suddenly it broke into mountains and the scenery went from nice to amazing. This is a really beautiful country but the road design is poor... whenever you see something amazing there's nowhere to stop and photograph it.
This went on... and on.... and on. Bum-breaks got more frequent and the trip just seemed to get longer and longer. The GPS just kept slipping back and back and we had to stop several times to check maps because the signs don't always make sense and nothing agrees with each other.
In the end I just wanted a motorway so we could get to the hotel, eat and sleep. Getting there was a real challenge and I was just too tired. It's a lot harder with a pillion, always trying to justify yourself and the constant nagging responsibility. It's so much easier on your own.
Anyway... we finally made it and I was berating the bike for not being faster because by the end I just wanted to make up time and we can't. We can do 70mph before the vibrations kick in and I had in mind something around roughly double that.
Of course the fact is that anything over 70mph on foreign, unfamiliar roads when you're tired is stupid and dangerous and after calming down I'm glad the bike is limiting me really. The vibes don't normally kick in until around 85 which is the quickest I've been on her. My Pegaso 660 I saw 110, my old Peg cube about 120 and that bike got there pretty fast too.
Anyway, we went into town for some food without the luggage and what a relief that was to rider her normally. It's just the weight.
On top of everything there's a knock in the front steering bearings. It was ok before but I guess the weight and the miles are adding up. It will need changing when i get home and from the feel of it will be fine for now. I'm not overly concerned. My front brake pads are low as well but again, I'm not worried. I'll look for some as I go around. I swapped them out in my living room last time in about 10 minutes. Very straight forward job but might be more difficult now my tool kit is spread around the motorway outside of Milan.

So what's been on my mind today? Well I've been wondering if this is the right bike. Practically it is but is it the right bike for me? I'm a big guy and the bike is small. I'm down to 16.5stone now but was 19 a few years ago when i was overdoing the gym a bit. Because of that I'm also top heavy, even now. I like plenty of power and I'm a big fan of carbs. I always go back to singles but unlike some people I don't think they're the key to life. I reckon the mighty V-twin is the best configuration but it's not an economical setup and that's something I want. Parallel twins or split singles are just a modern way to soak up vibrations, a way to sanitize the engine. Ok, some modern P-twins put out impressive figures but what would modern singles be doing now if the bike companies had continued developing those a bit harder? Modern 400s are now showing impressive performances because they're a racing class. P-twins seem a bit pedestrian because they're not used in competition. Either way, they're not really my cup of tea. Having said that if I was looking for a basis of a great all-round adventure bike I'd look twice at the early 850 TDM. The frame was ok and the engine was good. I reckon with a completely new set of suspension and a style upgrade there might be some potential there. I had one though and the exhausts dragged on speedbumps, it wasn't very reliable and it only managed 125mph.
Maybe the V-strom. Now the performance figures of the 1000 are very appealing, especially with the potential to easily ring more power out of them but the economy is laughable and they're really too heavy for any enduro work. The 650 is good but I feel it's too aimed at touring. Absolutely nothing wrong with that but I'm looking for something else.
The Kawasaki Versys has a good engine but it doesn't speak to me.
I guess the modern world of bikes is just not for me. My opinion is that nobody builds something you can just get on and ride any more. I mean KTMs you can't ride at all without extensive modifications and they still have engine management issues. Having said that I love the Super Duke (in principal) but that's another story. I doubt there's a single biker anywhere who doesn't want a KTM if only they worked properly.
Modern bikes are built to sell. That's a simple fact. The worst example of this was the Triumph Tiger who originally in 95 had off-road pretensions but a lousy engine (I had one. Fantastic to ride but just so unreliable.) Then the pretensions melted away as Triumph caught on to the fact that people were never using them off-road so they just become a toy for showing up at the coffee shop. I'm keen to see what happens with the new Mini-Tiger. It's over-styled and that's never a good thing and apparently it's having engine management problems straight off. Nothing new there (I love Trumpets, I've had 5 or 6 or 7 of them but they're not good.) On that issue though, I thought about a Triumph Scrambler. How cool would that be?
Anyway.
Maybe an older bike. Africa twin, Tenere, XT, DR. I like the DR Big, I like it a lot. I don't know much about them other than they're big and qualified to perform medicine. It's got a big engine and lots of potential. With modern shocks and forks and some not-too-far tuning I reckon this would be a beast. My brother had one but sadly backed out of making it something special. That was a project I really wanted to see.
BMW Boxers are not reliable, I mean the engines are great but the electronics let them down. Don't get me wrong, I'm not technophobic. CDI was a huge leap forward from points and I think BMW were on the money with the Canbus and it's a shame it's not catching on. I hear people moaning about it but instances of Canbus failures are very few whereas wiring looms are a pig to work with. I believe in good technology, not ways to make things cheaper to produce or more appealing in the short term. A good example of what I mean is modern headlight design. Round headlights gave way to shaped and styled units but those units date very fast and have no real benefit over round ones. BMW Gs headlights have the best setup you can imagine but somehow the light from them is appalling. It's bad technology where the advancement only benefit the company producing the bike.
So in other words.... All I managed to think about today was bikes I didn't want. Nothing else ticks all of those boxes. Reliable, durable, economical, versatile, enduro-capable, adaptable, good handling, good acceleration, light through traffic and off tarmac, cheap to buy and support (parts, etc). A lot of bikes fill those criteria. I mean you could argue that a V-strom would but the trade off is less economy and more weight in exchange for more power to cruise. Well cruising is not my cup'o'tea.
Traveling to me is a means to an end and the means is the end. Riding long distance in a straight line is the wrong end. Tough to explain that one.
Anyhow... All bikes are compromise. You compromise on quality, against cost, power against economy, etc, etc. The G650 is a good set of compromises and I can't see a way to improve on it without building a bike from the ground up. When I get settled somewhere then maybe I will do just that. Till then... I will stick to what i have and have a sore bum..

More rambling...

I'm tired but I can't sleep. My brain won't turn off. I am a lousy navigator because I just don't care. I have a good sense of direction but can never lock down reference points to make judgments from. When I can't find something I get stressed and then I don't sleep, so here I am.
Other observations from the road. French drivers aren't as bad as people say. Most are quite courteous but a few are just overtaking monsters who have to get in front of you even if it kills them. They'll overtake anywhere.
We had a chav-scum green Golf behind us today. Over-tuned and really played with. They'd made such a mess of it that it didn't even run. He was sat behind us at some lights revving the engine. I mean we're loaded with gear, do we look like we want to play? Then he just hung back so I figured I had to have been wrong about him. I kept my eye on him just in case. He overtook us on a roundabout, nearly lost control as he did. Then he got in front just in time for the lights and couldn't pull away, his car splutteing for life and stinking of unburnt fuel. Finally he got away, lurched all over the road and chased a 4X4 up the road. Little man with something to prove but he's the only one we've seen so far. In the UK, these pricks are everywhere.
There are a lot of bikes out here and a very high number of BMWs. Most wave and are very friendly, even come up to chat. There are some well used bikes but most are brand new. Oddly the newest, cleanest and shiniest bikes are ridden by people with the worst gear. People wear gear I wouldn't look twice at back home, really bad budget brands. The nicest lid you see is a Caberg. I'm not knocking them, they're plenty good enough for a 650 single but back home a GS rider wears a high quality level of gear and if they'll talk to you they want to make sure you know it. maybe it's just that the weather is so predictable. I don't know.

Hmmmm, a DR big.

My mind is racing over this one. I love the Wilbers shock on mine, it's a great upgrade. It would need front shocks too as the original ones are just awful. The brakes are a bit weak too so they'd need replacing. My guess is there's a common mod for this, a whole front end transplant from something else that won't break the bank. The tail and headlight need replacing. They're the only things that date this bike, otherwise the styling is still great today. I'm thinking along the lines of a Buell style headlight arrangement and taller screen, replace clocks with a new, up to date dash, etc. Engine bars and a better Bash plate... probably custom made as I doubt there are many upgrades about for these. Better find a good welder.
New exhaust is a must, save enough weight to cover the cost of engine guards and match them with filters and maybe a new set of carbs. I assume there's a kit somewhere for these. I'd be surprised if there isn't. Any more tuning than that would probably be too much. New handle bars, LED indicators and tail light and probably the same bags I have now. All finished in black and grey with HID spots and ultra-bright LED rear fogs an enduro tail and as much crap stripped away as possible but I doubt there's much. I bet it could easily go to 65bhp with a corresponding torque increase in the same range.
The brain is ticking....
You'd have to sink another 3-4 grand into it, more like 5 once you've got it painted. I can handle matt myself but gloss might be better.
.... I know where there's a good one going....

Do it... you know you want it.... DR BIG.......... MMMMMMMMMMMM

**** you, Garmin

The old problem kicked back today. Navigation. I knew it was going to be a bad one and I warned her that i thought so. Google maps couldn't plot me a route and I had precious little to go on. The guy at the F1 hotel said it was no problem, maybe 2 hours although google said 4. I liked his optomism. We stayed and chatted for nearly an hour, nice guy, great English and seemed to know his shit. You get a certain arrogance when you speak English, the fact is most people speak some so you really don't need to bother with other languages but hearing others do it is impressive, especially as my own ability with them is so rudimentary.
Anyway, we followed his route, which disagreed with the other three methods, ie, signs, google and GPS but then they all disagreed with each other too and he steered us right last night.
We ended up at an impass where the same road went in both directions to places I hadn't plotted on my notes. We stopped to check the map on the motorway at an SOS phone point behind a truck with a sleeping driver. Then a crapped out car pulled in behind us with what I thought was a flat tyre. It was actually more blown than a rich drunk kid in a brothel and had taken half the wing with it. Maybe... the whole car was so knackered it was hard to tell. I tried to help him out but as he opened the door the panel dropped off and the speakers fell out. His boot had the random clutter of several lifetimes but no jacks of wrenches. He asked if I had one.... errr....
So we got directions off him and we left him to kick the shambolic remains of his "car" to crap while we headed out. We got onto some kind of main road and stopped to fill up and check we were heading right. A Swiss couple this time, a pair of bikers. They didn't know but that wasn't good enough. They took my map and stomped off into the crowd demanding answers. Never have I seen such helpful people or such a fearful crowd. They told me the story of the day... I was going right. I left and we headed after the signs that I had been assured lead the way to Mulhouse. Of course we followed and it still didn't feel right. The satnav was moaning and I was heading miles off course. I stopped and checked a map. I only had to come off at the next juntion and all wold be well. I confirmed this while chatting with a rider on a 1150 gs (how my sore arse envied his cushion on wheels that wafted along on a sea of mechanical luxury). He told me I was in a completely different town and illustrated it by pointing at a map he was holding upside down. I thanked him anyway. We left by the next exit and sure enough the road signs lead us god-only-knows where. All this time the road numbers never got close to what they were meant to be but we were following signs to Mulhouse the whole time. Now my GS was saying we were off course and getting worse all the time. Signs came up showing left and rights and towns meant to be on the same line in totally different directions. All I can assume is we were following signs off the country lanes to a main road but we lost around 2 hours and added 100 miles to the journey. We stopped for lunch today but nobody had any food left. I parked next to a UK bike in a nowhere town. I was quite excited but he turned out to be French and I felt cheated out of a conversation and sulked for the next few minutes. We eventually found a village where i warned her was the last chance for food, we were making lousy time and virtually lost and it was time to stop being fussy. A woman followed us out and said they had no food but could make us sandwiches. We had that. They were big enough to choke a rhino and the bread had the consistency of granite, it was honestly like chewing a delicious kind of rock.
We headed off to more getting lost before a last map check which promised to drop us off on the A-road we should have been riding on for the last few hours. Then my guts played up. I can usually eat dog-shit without any trouble but I thought it best to get whatever was in there out with the minimum fuss. We got on the main road and stopped at an Aire. The toilet was a traditional hole in the floor but nature had to have its way and the deed was done.
I can't see how a cheese sandwich did that but something was not right. My other half had ham but she was fine and she's a delicate little flower.
We headed off into the wild blue yonder with untold miles to make up. I cracked on and made a solidly unpleasant pace around 70-75, even cracking 85 at one point although the bike was unpleasant to be on.
Eventually we made it, exhausted to Mulhouse. We looked around and my initial impressions were, what a shit-hole. It's very different to othetr French towns being a border town. There was considerable ethnic diversity which was unusual. There was also pawn-brokers, Cash-converters, high visiblity police, etc. All the trappings of poverty and the town had a very unpleasant vibe. We got directions twice that both led to different places and eventually just stopped in another hotel and asked. Apparently we were in the wrong town. Thanks for that, Google. We headed off and got more directions. Well one guy said he knew and then went off to buy Ice-cream so who knows what happened there. A woman was nice enough to phone her husband and ask and gave us some wrong directions. Luckily they were almost right enough that we muddled through.
The place was full of Polish lorry drivers so I got a chance to have a beer with the people that had been trying to kill me all day on the A43.
Beer makes Jack better.
Fed up with navigation. I feel like it's all my fault but not really sure what to do for the best. I phoned the hotel, he said turn left but I hadn't told his where I was yet. I asked a Turkish man in a kebab shop if he spoke English. He said, "Nein!". That's not even French.
Anyway, the hotel is crap, F1s are cheap but honestly I'd rather camp. They're just not worth the hassle.
But the nice thing about this one is an Italian GS1150 outside in the car park. This thing is mint... I mean mint. Lovely colours too with nice modifications. This is a truly gorgeous machine.
Also I had plenty of time to think. Want to know what I was thinking.... Read next...

Do I? I probably do but it's hardly a practical thing when everything I currently own fits in a bag.

Well today was a lot easier. The hotel was a pig to find but the way back to the main road was a doddle. If Google maps had played nice then last night wouldn’t have been an issue. In any case, we got back to the main road in about three minutes and made it into the next big town in about 25 which was just under halfway to the camp site where we’re staying.
We were expecting a difficult border crossing but we weren’t prepared for what happened. My partner is Asian and has struggled hard to get qualified for a European visa and get the legalities organised for this journey. She is completely legal but the paperwork is complicated and entry is never completely guaranteed. In all the other borders we were simply allowed straight through without checks but this time we were on a main road into Germany, the world capital of over-organisation (other than England).
So we were driving along and we crossed a river. There was a lot of industry around, mechanical bridges, factories and specialised boats moving things around. How unusual for France who would struggle to organise a pissup in a brewery if not for the fact that they just et pissed up anywhere, everywhere and always. Then I noticed the signs were in German. Simple as that. Nothing. Not even a police car at the side of the road, not a notice, not a sign. It was almost a disappointment.
So we trundled into town and stopped off to consult the map. We would be following my downloaded directions and the GPS co-ordinates in the final instance. The GPS insisted we go forwards. We made our way through the town with a very poxy 30kph speed limit which is nothing short of frustrating and then the town stopped and it was rolling hills everywhere. I had to go straight on and the road suddenly went left and right so we just took the moral high-ground and went to find something to eat.
We found one restaurant that looked open but were told they were no longer serving. A woman came up to us and said that if we decided quickly she’d see what she could do. The restaurant was the scary sort where you imagine you’re going to walk out without any cash left but we blundered in anyway. Being Asian my partner likes to eat a larger meal in the middle of the day although I prefer to wait so we try to compromise and I figured it was her turn to pay so we’d do what she wanted.
The woman helped us with the menu as I don’t speak a word of German I didn’t pick up from war movies. My partner ordered something with pork and I got the vegetarian special with extra vowels. I didn’t really care what it was, we were hungry and interested to try new stuff.
Two salads were served, both highly delicious and filling but there was no pork in hers. Then two more massive plates of food came. Hers had noodles that were as thick as chips and mine was a giant fried shredded potato with vegetable covered in cheese. Both were amazing, really delicious and cheap too. It came to less than 20euros with a drink so we over-tipped and headed out. We aimed aimlessly into the black forest. Now this place is beautiful in the same way that Switzerland was and in some ways was quite similar. It’s a mountainous region but more civilised so it’s just essentially hilly and green, like a microcosm version of Switzerland or the latter in a snow-globe. We just rode about aimlessly snapping pictures and wilfully getting lost. There is a fair bit of civilisation here, a little too much and the French national parks have an edge on it here with far more drama but this wins in terms of civilised, controlled beauty.
Riding conditions are superb but I longed for a ride around these glorious roads solo, unencumbered by the weight of a passenger but this is something that is absolutely best to share so the inconvenience was marginal at worst.
We got serious after a few hours and found the place with no further trouble. The place is littered with A-roads and I found that a little sad, we even came across some heavy industry which was like a blight, a mark on an otherwise spotless clean cloth.
We pitched the tent, our first night camping. No problems, it went up easily enough and I quite like camping. The only thing was the cost which was only meant to be 4.5 euros somehow got up to 19 but we got plenty of free stuff and it’s still cheaper than a hotel. We’re staying an extra night to rest up and explore tomorrow without the hassle of a schedule or the weight of our baggage. Food is cheap here, far cheaper than France but maybe a bit too delicious. Large seems to be the norm, perhaps larger and more widespread than England that has a noticeable obesity problem.
Looking forward to a hassle free day tomorrow and saving some cash. From here we’re pushing into the Czech republic and then Poland. We wanted to go further but time is against us. A month is not enough but it was the longest visa she could get.

i think a month would have been enough had you not got so lost.... :taz:

Who are you again?

So I thought mostly about why I was travelling. Now this is not to say that doing so is not a suitable end in itself and even when you're facing the misery of battling road-signs or any host of other irritations it's still fun. When you travel long distances you tend to have time to think. This is what I think about. I find it useful to have the distraction of the road to worry about, it keeps “that” part of my mind busy and allows a freedom to think that you otherwise don’t often enjoy.
So... Philosophy now... please read around....


Anyway.


The cage. Part 1

The reason I'm doing this is to understand more about myself and the human race in general. Charles Darwin postulated the theory of evolution based on his observation of political interaction which he later withdrew. One of the most interesting observations of us when he suggested that Humans do not behave as a wild animal gone tame but as a wholly domesticated creature. Now that’s an interesting observation and I believe an entirely correct one. It does however open more questions than it seeks to answer.
I believe we are every bit as trapped as a chicken in a battery farm. Now the chicken is an unconscious, experience-response organism, a fairly crude brain and is almost entirely instinct driven. That means it’s motivated towards equilibrium of its biological needs. Entrapment causes frustration and discomfort but anything not causing damage will be neddfully tolerated as struggling is wasting energy and risking injury, both of which are instinctively programmed in as negative. Now a chicken born into a cage or put in at a sufficiently young age will simply perceive this as an environment. It won’t hate the loss of freedom, it will experience the environment from the perspective of continued survival. It accepts it because without a conscious aptitude it is incapable of abstractions and even imagination. It cannot conceptualise freedom it has never had.
A mouse crawling through a modern building will similarly not perceive the fact that it’s walking around on an artificial structure designed to accommodate another being by techniques it cannot begin to comprehend. It will instead consider the surroundings as its environment and will decide on their worthiness by their ability to satisfy its bodily needs as driven by its instinctive programming. In other words, will there be food?
Humans are different by an order of magnitude. We have consciousness. This strange and unscientific thing cannot be measured or proved and yet the human ability to think about this statement is proof of its existence.
A very smart man once said to me that “meat cannot think.” This is true, the human brain varies only slightly in real terms from any other creature of the same physical dimensions and yet Humans work in a totally unprecedented way. Consciousness sets us apart from all other creatures on the planet which is an astounding feat if you consider the mind-boggling array of life here. This is a kind of quantum leap you’d expect between a germ and a rat. It would be like putting hands on a snake. We are totally separate from anything else due to this simple ability to wonder. It’s not even like our brains do it. Humans are a cluttered, jumble of impulses, some randomly firing so that in our voices we can head objectionable suggestions from within our own minds. We are intelligent creatures with a functioning brain, a computer the likes of which modern technology can only dream about producing and we’re also conscious. It’s like the two are working together, side by side and not always in agreement. If you consider the simplicity of the Human body which still has many mysteries then how can we ever hop to understand the mind? We’re barely beginning to scratch the surface and yet we’ve not even begin with the mysterious soul so often spoke about but so rarely attempted to explain. If the mind is more complex than the body by an order of magnitude then consciousness is likely to be more confusing still.
So this chicken is caged and yet cannot conceive of his entrapment. She is a prisoner of this environment and her restrain serves the needs of another creature, again which she has no concept of. She views it as a larger animal , nothing more. She has no concisions faculty of her own so no way to project that faculty onto another creature, she has no frame of reference and no ability to use it if she had.
What if Humans are in the same cage? A chicken is little more than a body with a sophisticated computer in it to continue its survival with a pre-programmed set of instructions. The body is of use to us. Humans can, to a degree ingest it and it lays eggs which are also edible. That is the limit of our interest for the most part.
Now a human has no natural predators. We are relatively free to move around the planet within the confines of our technological progress, ie we are stuck on this rock until we figure that out. Our brains are reasonably uninspiring. The fact is almost all of our mental abilities can be emulated and bettered by a piece of technology in some way. Try working out a square root faster than a calculator and you’ll see what I mean. Try viewing a scene from a movie you just saw in your mind and then watch it back on a DVD. Technology tends to be aimed at building on the weaknesses of our brains although they’re not weaknesses at all but rather the poor communication between the two human elements functioning together. Very little technology goes into emotional thinking replacement. Your brakes might have electronic ABS but they’ll never love you for it.
Our cage is just as invisible to us as it is to a confined bird. It’s just as frustrating, just as annoying and we test it, bite against it but ultimately we accept it. It doesn’t threaten our survival and we’re used to it. We don’t even know it’s there because it’s a part of our perception.
If a creature was of the next level of magnitude up from us how would we see it? We are only conscious, we don’t have the ability of this being so we cannot perceive what this ability might be and we’re also unable to project this ability onto our perception. If we see an injured animal we can sympathise. It’s something we understand but the next level up from us, we’re completely incapable of perceiving it. If confronted by it we’d interpret it in a way that makes sense to us just as a caged chicken interprets a human farmer as a bigger animal. We may see it as an alien, a god or a loaf of bread with a really interesting thing written on the wrapper. We may see it as a rock, or a whale.... or a planet.
So the cage is around us but it doesn’t appear to hamper our movements significantly. That poor chicken can’t stand up. We can get in a car and drive to the coast. The restriction placed upon us is a different one and does not significantly impede our physical movement and we’re so used to it that like the chicken, we don’t even know it’s there. We don’t know that there’s any other way to exist since this is our current condition and for most of us the thought never occurred that there’s anything wrong with the world. The battery animal is provided for. It’s fed and its waste is managed, it’s survival is, to a degree in the interest of the jailor so it’s maintained within the confines of the convenience of the higher creature. Just like that we are maintained and we accept the frustrations of our condition because our survival continues. In fact we can do slightly better than that, we can flourish although doing so is extremely rare. Our physical needs are met through one means or another but in the developed world where the population is somewhat balanced then it’s exceedingly rare to see someone starve to death, even someone who refutes societal norms absolutely. The frustration the entrapped animal feels is one of instinctive drive to search out food and keep itself clean enough to avoid the worst infection. Even a basic animal is driven to explore its surroundings as doing so is a better guarantee of survival, that drive is completely frustrated by an animal confined in a modern farming environment. The animal will survive but not being able to finction as it’s instinctively biased to do will negatively impact on its wellbeing, just as it does with all creatures, including Humans. We’ve all known, to some degree the negative emotional impact of denial of basic instinctual urges. Every fat person will know the difficulty of rejecting food they know is not healthy when habitual behaviour has identified itself with the survival instinct. What about the adrenaline rush of dangerous sports, the near physical push againt you as you approach something you have unconsciously identified as dangerous enough to pose some threat to your survival. Pushing against that instinct is extremely difficult but there are others we push against every day. The urge to procreate is the one we manage most carefully on a daily basis which was why it was convenient for Sigmund Freud to study it.
We all know the difficulty of denying an urge from a deep place in our minds and yet a farmed animal must do this daily as part of its existence. So must we as socialised humans, we daily fight against our urge for more space, territory, time, increased wealth and status and yet this is now accepted as a normal part of society, it’s simply mainstream existence for the overwhelming majority of those living in the modern world.
Just like a caged animal who doesn’t appreciate the nature or circumstances of its incarceration we are entrapped in our confined existence and have little concept of the true reasons behind it because those reasons serve a power that exists on the next level beyond human consciousness, a level we are in capable of conceptualising.
So then travelling is another step towards identifying this cage. Just like a bird can flap its wings and feel the edges of it confinement I’m spreading out to feel the edges of mine. Obviously mine is not a wire mesh holding back my arms and legs, mine is one of a conceptual barrier. I’m a Human prison of a trap made out of my own humanity.
Chickens escape all the time although they have no deliberate inclination to do so. It happens, doors locks fail or they escape during handling. It happens every day and it happens on an accidental level too with humans. We just have to learn to be aware of it. Does a raving psychotic actually have an ability to walk outside the cage, do hallucinogenic drugs actually show us a glimpse of freedom? For a chicken a cage is a literal box. For a pet the cage is more sinister. A cat or dog is trapped by its own instinctive behaviour towards survival to bond with its captors. A dog especially exchanges the unwanted elements of instinctive pack programming for the ones we find more acceptable in exchange for food and shelter. When a dog reverts to the basic roots of its programming and bites a human or goes wild, we have it executed. The trap for the dog is a kinder place than the fate of the farmed animal but anything that modifies natural behaviour and frustrates basic drives is a cage of some sort.
It’s quite possible that Human consciousness is in itself a trap, a confinement of some sort, a tether to a pattern of thinking and a way to limit us. That thing that sets us apart is often the thing that’s useful to exploit just like chickens end up in boxes because their eggs taste good.


So that was my on-the-road musings for the other day. I’ve got lots more so see how much more time I get between navigational disasters.

Big clocks and giant portions

We just did the tourist thing today. We unwound a bit and went for an easy ride. We headed back to Triberg which is the home of the worlds largest cuckoo clock and because I knew the way. I thought I remembered seeing it and she got excited when we passed it so all was good. We rode back and it was nice to dump all of our gear and ride a bit more freely. We plodded on looking for photo opportunities but really there weren't any. I got the tap on the shoulder as passed the world of 1000 clocks, a tourist trap with a giant clock bolted to both ends. This is code for stopping so she can infuriate everyone with constantly photographing everything in sight. We stopped and the clicking began. I went in for a coffee as the place advertised a cafe inside. The cafe was actually a coffee machine next to a plastic table but needs must.
We carried on up the road and they're nice roads, very nice but not great. The first part of the Black Forest was lovely, really nice but being the beginning we expected it to build where it actually doesn't. As you go deeper in the towns get bigger, the land gets flatter and the scenery gives way more to industry. It's a crying shame as this region has a great deal to offer. I'm quite sure there were many routes we missed but this was one of the big points of my trip and it's left me a bit disappointed, especially after France and the Pyrenees.
SO we saw a crowd outside a big clock and I noticed the time, about 2 minutes to the hour so I spun her about in the road and headed back as soon as it was safe. She was wondering if we were lost again but I filled her in and she primed her camera expectantly. It turned out, according to the signs that this was, in fact the biggest cuckoo clock in the world and the crowd was waiting with a deep anticipation. Then the hour chimed, a wooden bird came out and a lot of people were just laughing. It was really pathetic, a total let-down. We carried on to the town and parked up. I wasn't sure, there were no other bikes around so I didn't know if the Germans were strict on parking. I found a carpark behind a hotel that had a notice Parking Plus Bikers. There was no ticket machines and I parked virtually in a verge out of everyones way so I took up no space anyone else could have used.
We ate at the hotel. The food was, as usual, monsterous. I ordered something-something-something which was noodles with cheese with a light salad and she changed her mind a dozen times. The waiter was a cock. Really rude, blunt, impatient and arrogant but he was like this with everyone, we weren't singled out for special treatment. She eventually went with German sausage which she fancied trying. The food was too big for one plate so my salad came in seperately. It was nice but so filling I could barely stand afterwards. Hers was likewise and she couldn't finish or even come close. The waiter grunted and said goodbye in a way that translated conceptually to "piss off" and we didn't tip him.
We waited for the other big clock and it was a similarly disapointing experience so we gave up on big clocks. We rode back slowly looking for more things to photograph but the region just didn't sing to us.
Tomorrow we're heading to Nurenburg and then into Prague. The black forest is nice, it's a fun place to visit but it's not what I hoped. It feels like the leftover piece of Switzerland but scaled down a bit. We carried on past the camp and stopped to look over the scenery and honestly, I've seen better in Kent. Shame.

Last night was rough. The rain came with a vengeance and the storm hit the park with the ferociousness of a German person attacking a Bratwurst. The tent did well to stay up and did better to keep us dry but it did, all of our stuff was kept out of the worst of it. The noise though kept me from sleep as the sheet drummed to the music of raindrops the size of golfballs.
I lay awake worrying about the next day facing hairpin bends in pissing rain with overzealous Germans in heavy luxury-derived cars anxious to overtake while redesigning my troublesome fuel layout in my head.
I woke up on the alarm so at least I slept a bit but felt like the inside of my skull had been cleaned out with a scouring brush. I packed up the tent while my partner fussed about every minor details of applying her makeup until she, frankly started to annoy me. I packed the bike myself and got all of the gear loaded while she stared blankly at me, moaning intermittently about wanting to go to the toilet block instead of doing something productive. In the end the guy who ran the camp moaned about a missing card for the wifi and charged me the blunt end of 40 euros for the two nights occupying a 3m square patch of wasteland. His website said 4.5 for a bike but apparently you have to also pay to be a human being on this particular camp although that was not stated before we rode several hundred miles to be there. This is not unusual and it’s my understanding of the culture that caused the misunderstanding so I took it on the chin. Be warned that when you book a camp here you should confirm the price up front instead of assuming you will be asked to pay what the literature said.
I was almost tempted to just drive off and not pay, there really would have been nothing he could have done and I doubt he would have cared very much but I’m just not built that way. Either way, I was disappointed in the camp. The owner was typically German, he loved to tell us all the rules and then completely lost interest once he had the money... Are you listening here, BMW? He, like many Germans in the service industry was rude and abrupt with no interest in actually serving us, just in providing a basic function and getting paid for it. I don’t know if tipping is customary here but if it is then I assume most of the waiters are starving to death.
So I did my morning mapping which is my way of reconciling myself to the journey ahead online and with the benefit of maps and GPS, none of which generally help very much. She joked about hoping we didn’t get lost again which was additional pressure I could really do without after her lack of help and a night without sleep. I got us onto the right road to lead us out to the motorway and, predictably the actually road stopped and restarted and left me wondering where we were because, of course signs would just take all the fun out of it.
Now the bike started playing up. I don’t know if it’s an issue with my bike or these models in general but occasionally when I start her from cold and rev too hard straight away she refuses to stay running at tickover and just dies. Today she did that again. She was fine at first, we fuelled up and there were no issues but then it started and nothing would keep her running at tickover short of me keeping the revs high. My guess is it was the temperature. As we climbed into the hills it suddenly got very cold and maybe the bike was not warmed through enough to tolerate the sudden shift.
We stopped at a town which was on our way and proved we were actually going right and had some breakfast. She got very excited about cake, I had coffee and the bike had half an hour to cool right down. After that she ran perfectly and all was well with the world which is what happens at home when this problem strikes.
All was plain sailing after that, we got onto the “81” the main road into Nuremberg but hit a junction suddenly at Stuttgart which separated us off into three lanes, all with half a dozen names on the signs with none of them the one I wanted. We hit traffic suddenly which happens a lot here as they all fight to get off the junction into the fast lane and we stopped off to check the map. We had no idea where we were now as the signs had let us down completely. Against the odds we were on the 81 and still going right. We followed it along and had a straightforward run ahead. We caught a little rain which had left the roads very greasy and that around the point we hit some nasty crosswinds but the roads dried and we started making better time.
German efficiency.... that’s an odd concept. I wonder where the idea that Germans are efficient actually comes from. I had to use a motorway toilet today, several times and it left me with a deeper understanding of the culture that spawned the BMW R1200gs.
The toilet is good. A solid piece of polished metal, indestructible and well shaped. Not as uncivilised as a hole in the floor in France, this was a piece of engineering. Sadly there was no flush. The flush was very cleverly built into the door so the toilet automatically cleaned itself on your exit. Of course in the real world this never works and every toilet in Germany is full of week-old piss. You can get it working if you swing around on the door but this level of sophistication can’t replace the elegance of a chain that you pull to clear away your bodily waste. It’s tough to see what they hope to achieve with this over-complication. People are not so proud of their bowel movements that they generally leave them for the next person to marvel over. As a species we can generally be trusted to flush a toilet. Technology of this kind can rarely be trusted to do anything other than fail. Also the metal toilet is not a kind place to stick your arse which is the primary function of the unit. So here we have German ingenuity failing because they’ve not really thought it through. I’ve owned a GS. Great machine and I was a proud owner who loved to ride it. Sadly, it didn’t work. Speaking with regular tourers who ride in extended groups they tell me it’s frequently the GSs that fail. This doesn’t surprise me in the slightest. You have the basis of an amazing machine which is let down by over-complication. Nobody wants to tour on a metal toilet that only flushes occasionally when a chain is cheaper, easier and more reliable.
I can see why the GS has become bigger. They love to enhance, to improve, to embellish, to enlarge. German cars are bigger, more luxurious with smarter gadgets and clever engineering and that’s how they like everything. Bigger, richer, more controlled.
While doing my mapping a gentleman came over who raced XTs and he planned a whole months worth of sight-seeing for me on the map even though I explained several times we only had another week and a half and were leaving Germany this weekend. They are a great people, really warm and friendly. They’re proud of their country and rightly so, it’s a beautiful place. I like German engineering far more than half-arsed Italian bikes with fiery passionate performance but little attention given elsewhere. Far more, also than Japanese consumer-oriented product management and far more than the British following-along while shouting “me too.”
Germany is, for my taste a little too controlled, a little stale. The food and technology is a bit too heavy, a bit too much to swallow. This country loves its little luxuries, it’s built on them and it loves to show them to the world but in many ways it’s the one that’s reminded me most of the UK. We weren’t sorry to leave the Black Forest. The roads were not what we wanted or expected. They could have been if they’d just been left alone but every few meters is another gift shop or hamlet built out of tourist-trap cafes. The further we went in, the worse it got until it was just Kent but slightly more vertical. The shame is that maybe Germany doesn’t know to stop, the people are like that when they help you. They go just a little too far in trying to take over. It’s nice that they’re so friendly and the people we’ve chatted to have been warm and genuine but they often try too hard.
Of course tonight we’re in Nuremberg, a big city. Life is always different out of the countryside so we’re eagerly anticipating finding stuff that makes everything I’ve just written totally obsolete.


Update...

We didn’t.
Again, our waitress looked and behaved exactly as the others, just couldn’t wait to get rid of us. The town is actually very nice, very clean and very welcoming. Musicians busk at the sides of the streets and make no mistake, these are musicians. The town is lovely, a balanced little outcropping of ancient culture where a person can wander through, relaxing in the moonlight. There’s a terribly German flavour to everything here which is actually very refreshing. Coming from England where British culture has long ago collapsed it’s very pleasant to go to these truly European places where life and culture don’t just get stored in museums but live and flourish.

We had a fairly easy run into Prague today making good time until we struggled a bit to find the hotel/motel/hovel that we’re booked into.
Last night we stayed at a Hotel/Hostel and it was ok, fairly cheap but quite low quality. It wasn’t the low budget decor that bothered me so much that everything was an expensive extra until it ends up being cheaper to stay in a better hotel if you’re not careful. Well we were so **** them. At first they wouldn’t let me park the bike in the carpark as there was already two and her argument was that if there was another the cars might not be able to get out. I told her I was happy to park in a car space as it was offered with free parking but in the end just ignored her and parked it anyway by a railing. Of course nobody had a problem with this, she was just being awkward. We had to pay for the internet so I paid her in loose change which annoyed her and made me laugh as she kept losing count.
I packed up this morning and a German guy hovered on a low balcony above me and decided to talk at me in the distinctly German way which totally precludes listening. There appears to be no German equivalent of the phrase, “what do you think?”
“BMW?” he said as I kitted up the bike. Apparently he had had a BMW car for a number of years. He told me he liked water-cooling and fuel-injection. I tried to tell him my bike is not really a BMW as it has a Rotax engine and was built by Aprilia in Italy but trying to talk was clearly a poor use of my energy. He was unable to explain why he preferred those particular features but argued I desperately needed them in my life. I tried to explain I had both and in some ways saw a great deal of benefit in not having them. He talked some more.
As we checked out he came back to me again and started talking. He asked if we were on our way to Munich. I told him Prague. He grunted and walked off immediately. If I had know this would have worked I would have put CZ badges on my bike. Actualy... I’m a big fan of the CZ 660 singles, especially the Bhagira and thought about one for this trip or that trip..., I favoured the low cost and easy spares as it had a Yamaha engine. Also it used carbs so it would have been fairly easy to work on. Against it was a small tank, relative low quality, average fuel economy and difficulty getting upgrade parts. Oh well.
As we crossed the CZ border, again, not really a crossing, it was just a sign by the side of the road and we were in, things changed suddenly. The petrol stations have bars in them and some have strip clubs. Everywhere you turn are signs of prostitution and other tourists warning you to watch your valuables. I actually quite like it here. The main road was quiet apart from the odd convoy of slow moving trucks. There was some truck jousting going on where two evenly matched trucks struggle to pass one another blocking the road for everyone else but most behaved really well and the driving standard was actually very high. Off the main road the roads have no fences, just wide open and very free-looking. In town things were much more cluttered, more random with low cost buildings and lots of unfamiliar businesses everywhere. Skodas are really popular, as omnipresent as the obligatory BMW in Germany or clapped out Fiat in Italy. There aren’t so many “nice” cars, by which I mean the same cars as all the other ones with a more expensive price-tag for extras that only exist for the owner to brag about. The economy looks stretched... more economy, less consumerism. People don’t pile stuff into their trolleys and the restaurants are empty meaning people are cooking at home.
We struggled to find the hotel, (this is hardly news) but I swear, this is not my fault. We stopped about 20 miles outside and I used Google maps from a motorway free WIFI. We got directions and I drew a map. We looked for signs to the place to come off but no signs and then the main road vanished leaving us wondering what was going on. In the end we figured it out, the places were road names but google was lying to us.
So we’re staying here tomorrow night too. The hotel is low rent but has free breakfast and it’s better than camping. I can handle the drawbacks so long as we don’t have to stump up for tons of hidden extras again.
I got to get a solo rider today, so nice to lose the weight off the bike and go for a quick ride. I bought some bits in a shop with euros. The woman didn’t seem impressed and i’m sure I didn’t get the right rate but that’s my fault for not being properly prepared.
I seem to be a bit of a novelty here. Bikers seem relatively rare, even scooters are few and far between but that might be different in town, we’re still in the suburbs. A few people have noticed us, both together and me alone. We’re attracting some funny looks. Not sure why but will keep watching.

So I'm bored... my other half is ill again. She's being a bit of a drag now. She won't get involved whenever things need to be done and I'm having to do everything, think of everything and take responsibility for everything. I went out to get some bits and asked if she wanted to go out for something to eat. She said she did so I just got water and some bits. Then I get back and she decides we're not going out so now I have to ride back into town again for food. She's like this all the time about everything and it's tiring.
Now she's ill, she's just stuck in the room half sleeping, half looking at tour guides. I don't mind seeing Prague but I'm getting a bit bored of travelling with her. She doesn't like to go out, she doesn't like meeting people, she doesn't seem to like anything. She was moaning about the hotel. She can't seem to understand that we're moving from country to country in a few days, things change fast, standards, conditions, etc. Ok, this hotel is very basic and there's nobody here who speaks any English but it's fine and it's cheap too but it's not good enough for her...

OK, I dragged her out for a Beer... Anything was better than sitting in that room listening to her brain ticking over about sightseeing tomorrow. We found the hotel has a bar built onto it so we went there. Kind of rough, people staring at us as we walked in in a kind of reservedly hostile way. I asked what she wanted and so I had to go to the bar and ask if they had a glass of Rose wine. I tried to explain what that was to fits of laughter from the barmaid so I just ordered 2 beers. The fits of laughter spread like wild fire until everyone was laughing. People still kept shooting glances at us but looked away when i made eye contact. It's like something out of an old British movie here. People just don't seem to know what to make of us... or me... or her???

So I've been thinking about the perfect bike. Logically the 650 single is that bike but it's not perfect for me. It's ok 1 up but I need more power. I'm struggling with the tiny 55 horsepower output and I need more. I'm a big lad, I used to do a lot of weight-training and even though I've cut down now I remain the thick end of 17 stone with most of the weight up top. Add to that her and her luggage and the bike struggles. I don't know what would be better. A tenere with a TDM engine would be fun. Why didn't they do that? The new TDM is just about the perfect design ADV bike but is a bit too heavy for the little engine. Put a bigger lump in it and it would have been a brilliant bike (for me) and they already had a proven parallel twin engine that would have worked just nicely.
The TDM itself doesn't do it for me. I had one. It just didn't feel right but it has a bit more power. Mind you, when i had one I thought it was gutless.
I guess I want sportsbike performance. I'm seeing too many roadsters out here on the continent and I'm missing the power of the Millie/Fireblade. Actually the Fireblade was a great bike. I had the 99, the last of the carbed machines and the best of the bunch. The earlier ones were good but this was a slightly improved engine over them and the later bikes cooled down performance for a few years to come. The 98/99 was a great, reliable engine that behaved itself in all conditions. I upgraded mine with a sporty exhaust and a K&N jet kit. Not only was it powerful and quick, it was reliable and fuel-efficient. It delivered impressive mileage, as good as 80mpg on a run.
What's really bugging me is that it was comfortable too and it would have been fine for a trip like this.
I need more power!!!

Mind you... in CZ there are police everywhere so maybe I'm better off with the single.

Just a bit of a tourist day in Prague central today so nothing much to report. Weather was great until later when it darkened fast and a few localised showers.
The city is very nice but has been wrecked by capitalism. Every inch of ancient architecture now has a neon sign or a gift shop. It's like seeing a beautiful girl with a scar on her face.
Also everything here is a ripoff. Every time you spend money something goes wrong, although everything is far cheaper here we've spent twice as much. I bought shopping yesterday in Lidls and it came to just over 8euros and I paid with a 20. I got back a 200 CK note and enough change to go to the pub with. This morning I bought fuel with a 20, just over 200 CK and only got a 100 CK note in change. I lost about a fiver there and it's the same story everywhere. Even changing money is no help because they catch you at the exchange places too. It's beautiful but not a place to pass through casually. We did a river cruise and then the announcer called right at the end, "I have to announce because we didn't tell you earlier but there is no bus back, you all have to walk." Sadly typical of this place. Actually it wasn't far but it's annoying. She took a picture next to a dressed up guy outside a tourist information and he had the cheek to ask for a tip.
Sad really because this town is really something special, it's very beautiful with some amazing building with a very odd vibe to them. Definitely glad we went.
We had no trouble with stealing despite the many warnings. The bike was left all day in a car park and was unmolested. Turned out we should have been allowed to park for free but the attendant didn't tell us that bit. I didn't tell him my bike can ride over pavements and out through pedestrian walkways so we can call that one a draw.
Not many bikes here. I literally saw a dozen all day including two scooters. That came as a surprise. The ones I saw were nice bikes, Harleys and KTMs so the riders are passionate people. There is no casual biking like the rest of Europe. Everyone nods and waves though, the few we saw were happy to see someone else on two wheels.
Well worth the trip and I recommend anyone to see the city but bring Czech Koruna and then it's a lot cheaper and shop at bigger stores, they are less likely to (be able) to rip you off. In future I'll be asking the exchange rate before I buy anything, I'm in that habit now. We stopped at a very exclusive bar for a beer and had a couple. Two beers came to less than one Coke so things are pretty cheap here.
Driving standards are good, very good. People are polite and stick to sensible speeds. They even give me space when I'm clearly confused.
One other thing I've noticed is the astonishing lack of English out here. We hardly ever see or hear any English people. We've only seen to UK bikes and one of them turned out to be French. Tomorrow Poland... maybe a few days but soon need to start plotting the route back. I'm aiming to spend a last few days in Amsterdam getting totally off my face.

Lost and found

Ok, just a quick one today. I did my morning mapping in Prague and checked everything out on google maps. There were twoo pages if instructions just to get out of the main town. Daunting to say the least so i warned the other half it might be a tricky one. I even downloaded the co-ordinates of the place we're staying tonight and imput them to the sat nav which seemed to work fine.
I got as far as I recognised from yesterday and then got to the first turnoff according to google. It told me to follow a sign to three towns and take that turn off. All three of the towns mentioned were on different signs going in different directions. I just guessed and followed the little pink cursor pointing towards Worclaw (I now know is pronounced "Ross-love").
So against the odds that seemed to work out. We ended up on the motorway for an hour, maybe more and then we were suddenly forced from the road due to roadworks and found ourselves in town. We followed more signs and cursors and found ourselves chugging along quite happily in the czech countryside. More up my street, it was nice to see a bit more of the real country.
We ended up in Nova Mesa for lunch and had none of the problems we had before. People were totally friendly, brilliant English, great food/service, everything and no ripping off.
We followed on and suddenly found ourselves in Poland. It was a long trek through the country but fun. Nice roads but really awful driving. They drive like a mixture of the worst of all the other countries brewed up together.
We ended up in Worclaw and saw a UK numberplate. We waved, he waved. He stopped, we stopped and we all made friends. Like us, he'd not spoke to an English guy in a while so it was great to chat with a familiar accent. Nice guy too, he's been on the road for 3 months on a 600 Bandit more down to earth than my bike and all the better for it. There's too much arguing on here about what's right and what's best when this guy is doing it on a machine with personal issues and all his gear straped on haphazardly with bungies. It was great, we swapped numbers and are meeting up for beers and food tomorrow.
It took us another 50 miles to get to the hotel/hostel which was 10 minutes up the road. We followed the Sat nav which took us miles out into the coutryside and predicted the hotel was a small bush in the middle of a field. We actually found it pretty easily following local directions.
Poland is nice, I like it here a lot. It's rough and ready but honest. (so far).
More tomorrow. It's getting late and i'm getting tired.

Ok, feeling a little more awake now. We had a nice drive into Poland. Poland is also a nice place to drive for the most part. There are a lot of speeding cameras here but they’re all preceeded by a warning sign and almost all had been damaged so they wouldn’t work. I gather the speed limit was 70km which seemed enough in those areas, nobody was actually driving any faster.
Driving standards, as previously mentioned are poor. People are willing to kill and die to overtake you even if they then don’t drive any faster than you did. People pull out into oncoming trucks or hover right on your rear waiting for a moment. Also you can be driving along and suddenly a car is in your lane. Not a totally safe place to be so you absolutely need your wits about you.
So the Satnav took us about 15 miles out from Wroclaw into a patchwork quilt of fields on some of the worst roads I’d ever driven on. Forget fire-roads, green-lanes or unmade roads, these really give an endure bike a workout. It was one place where I could comfortably leave every other vehicle standing although as soon as the tarmac returned, so did the crazy overtaking. The roads are bad even in the centre of town so it’s hardly a surprise that they get worse out in the sticks. The road was a shattered mess of cobblestones, loose brickwork, sand, old tram tracks, gravel, glass and dead horses. Workmen stopped to stare os we drove past, the bike seems to attract a lot of attention here and I've not seen very many so far. A couple of GS500es on the way in and a couple of chop-style things (not my taste so not very good spotting those.)
In some ways it’s a lot like being at home. We went into a local mall for something to eat and a big half-naked man shouting and half-drunk with his deeply unattractive, even louder and even more drunk partner were being escorted out by security with no force but friendly persuasion. It was just like Lewisham was every day before they burnt it down. The buildings on the outskirts where we’re staying are crumbling into dereliction and remind me again of home, Thamesmead and Erith (before it was turned into a giant supermarket).
The people are different from European. They look different and have a different way of acting. They seem more restrained, more responsible but somehow unaffected, aloof and insular. There is none of the gangs of kids screaming with youthful enthusiasm into the early hours and everyone seems happy enough to leave everyone else to get on with their own thing. People don't seem to connect here, not to each other and certainly not to us. People are seperated into groups of loose affiliation.
Navigation actually wasn’t that hard, once we got back into town we found the place fairly easily with some good directions. It always amazes me how some of these people know these places. I mean an obscure hostel tucked behind a supermarket is not something most people would ever know about but everyone seems to know exactly how to get there.
The bike is doing well, we’re in the home stretch now, another week and we’ll be back home. Weather permitting my brother will meet us in Dover. He’s taken to his new V-strom with a passion and loves to ride it. It will be nice to ride back to home with him although I will have to go into London first and drop off my other half. Irritating details of the mundane responsibilities of daily life are already intruding on my trip. In fact during the whole trip I’ve been keenly aware of my responsibility to her and it’s a hell of a drag. I’ve had to make constant schedules, arrive at hotels and camps at given times, worry about every detail while she just sits on the back telling me she’s getting tired. I would never take her on an extended trip again, she’s made it a lot less fun than it should have been but I guess that’s women for you. She's not a biker at heart and doesn't enjoy roughing it. On her Facebook page are derisory comments from her many friends saying how she must be tired, cold or uncomfortable. Nothing about how she's enjoying the benefit of this kind of travel. Her attitude seems inline with their philosophy.
The rear tyre, a TKC80 has held up amazing well and will still have plenty of life in it when i get home. The headstock bearings need to go and the brakes need sorting... a fair bit needs sorting but she’s held up fine. I have work to do when i get back but it will be a pleasure, this has been a learning experience and has helped me get things straight in my head, or at least firmly crooked.
Poland... I don't know. I like it because it's different and interesting and the basic part of my mentality relishes the simpler lifestyle, the slower pace, cheaper food and drink but I'm also keenly aware of the negative differences. We went to the laundry and on our return the key wouldn't work and the door handle was damaged. I think someone tried to break into the room but nothing seems missing. We are actually right next to the main office.
I do get the impression we're slightly affluent here. The bike is getting a lot of attention, mostly positive but I wouldn't want to leave her parked here long. We walked to the shop and bought a few random bits. I bought some Vodka for a friend back home and we passed a drunk guy living in a ditch drinking dregs out of an empty beer can and another gentleman looking for things in dustbins. They look at us with a certain envy and I almost feel like we're rubbing their faces in our good fortune at being able to afford to just drop into their city for a few days to eat well and snap pictures with an expensive digital camera.
We took a walk into the mall for something to eat and, like Thailand and other countries where the economy is failing (all of the West is becoming like this) people are shopping but nobody is buying. People wander around in pairs or alone, mostly business-like but nobody is carrying bags, nothing is being bought.
I have worked with some Polish people, quite a few, actually and have a lot of respect for them. They work hard (mostly) and take responsibility more than westerners. One told me they hate this country, it's grey and flat and depressing. I disagreed at first and berated London which has collapsed in on itself in a premeditated pit of consumerist apathy but I now see their point.
The suburbs here are a desperate place. People use what they have to survive. Young girls are here in the Hostel looking for men with foreign passports and not shy about it. Young men are learning English so they can apply for work abroad. There is a feeling that people don't want to be here and I know how they feel. I have spoken with Polish people about this place and rarely hear positive things said.
I guess now I can see what they were saying. Capitalism still seems to be a new concept here. The stores are shiny and new and still slightly novel and it's breeding a culture of wanting. Wealth is stamping its foot hard on Eastern Europe and turning a richly historic area into a lurid display of the latest fashionable items, as decided by the cost of producing them.
Was this place better under communism? Well of course the politics of power rarely benefit the people of any country but I've heard people say further East that things were better before. In Poland, I can't say but I imagine that we've simply traded one set of problems for another and sold some idealism for a few shiny bangles.
We're heading into Germany again tomorrow. A short stopover in the country and then on into Berlin. I want to get a vibe of that city and am hoping to worm myself into the Motorrad building and see if I can tag onto a guided tour with little actual hope of that happening but stranger things do...
We're heading into the old city later, a small hub of bars and buildings which is apparently very nice although I prefer the honesty of the suburbs, I think you can tell more about the building from the way the way the foundations were laid than you can from the decoration.
We're hoping to meet Andy the biker for a snack and talk bikes'n'bollocks over a couple of beers. We shall see.

Shattered. Just shattered. It’s after midnight now and I’ rapidly losing the will to live. In Berlin and there’s a storm kicking the shit out of the city. Lightning is rattling the windows but at least nobody steals bikes in the rain.
It all started this morning...


The alarm went off at 8 so we could pack and vacate comfortably by 10. Actually we comfortably were on the road by 9.30 with a fairly decent breakfast inside us and a warm effervescent glow of optimism that todays travelling looked pretty straight forward. I plotted the map and it was an easy ride to the A4 into Berlin. Simple. I was tired though. It was so hot last night I barely slept a wink
So with some fuss we found signs to the A4 by following the pointer to the correct direction. We knew it would be ok because Wrosclaw is surrounded by a ring road so you simply follow the arrow and join the next main road. So we found it easily enough, a few false starts, as always and in the end we found a roundabout with signs point to A4 Germany. So we joined and followed along. Then we hit traffic... bad traffic. We filtered as fast as we could but the weight was not conducive to sliding down the inside of moving trucks with any confidence. IN the end we got to the front to find roadworks blocking the way. We filtered through and I got a bit concerned that we were now heading back into town. We turned round and reversed, still no alternate sign to the A4. In the end we agreed I had to take a best guess and follow a road leading the right way. I found one to a town on the edge of Poland in more or less the right direction. We had some Zloty left so we figured we’d stop there for lunch. NO big deal.
We followed along but it was tough going. It started to rain but just a passing shower, in our direction at least. The skies were black and threatening behind us but we were heading into warmer climates. In fact it got a lot warmer. 24 became 26 and climbed up to 34 before it was through. We finally made it through the back routes to the little town where every sign to the centre pointed in a different direction. We eventually gave up and stopped at a cafe outside the station. Food was good and cheap and we finished off our Zloty with plenty of fuel and only 20-30km to the border.
We had a couple of Polish guys come over to say hello. One was from London and they tried to help us plan out our next route to Berlin. The first agreed my way was easiest, the other thought a direct ride into Cottbus would be quicker. We opted for easier and head off. Again, no signposts anywhere so we followed on to our arrow on the GPS. Eventually we were taken to a roundabout off back to Poznan, down to Cottbus or straight on so we went straight on. We carried on through a little village and by now the roads were getting narrow. They got narrow, broke up into dirt tracks and in the end we were riding through dirt in the woods. Luckily My other half has been trained in this, we go green-laning back home 2 up to prepare her for any eventuality and this was just such an event. It was great fun but the bike was just too overloaded to carry on. There was no guarantee the trail went anywhere in any case so we limped back to the village. Now I was starting to worry. We were off our maps and had only enough fuel to cross the border with no spare money and nothing with an exchange centre in it. We went all the way back, another 8 km and then stopped at the roundabout. We decided to go to Cottbus through lack of a choice but would look out for a crossing earlier on. No chance, 45 miles to Cottbus and the motorway. We had no choice so off we went.
We hit something. It was black, the same as the road and I was so tired I just didn’t see it. I hit it square and it was about the size of a brick. I slowed down and found somewhere to stop. You can’t just stop by the side of the road in Poland. Someone will just drive into you.
There was no damage to the wheels, no play in the bearings. All seemed fine so we rested up for a few minutes next to a wood. We cleared our stuff out when a snake came to see what we were up to but by now I was past caring and just hoped the venom worked quickly and was deadly to humans. We ran out of water at this point and the low sun was directly in my eyes and my helmet was an easy-bake oven and my boots were soaked with sweat. I was dehydrating fast, my mouth was dry, I was getting a headache and things were swimming in my vision. I was having trouble concentrating to I put on some music to help me focus. It’s always hilarious when you stop and some guy says to you how unbearably hot it is while wearing a T-shirt and you’re dressed in full bike armour and just putting a plastic tub on your head full of insulating foam.
We braved onwards and onwards while every deathwish driver in Poland tried to commit suicide and take us with them. I lost count of how many times I had to switch on full beams and ride into the roadside gutter to let a complete retard by on my side of the road after he tried to overtake without the space or power to do so. Honestly, how people survive this country is beyond me.
So we finally came off the country roads to follow signs into Germany. We crossed on an old cold-war installation which is now an empty pile of shacks. It was quite poignant really. We then saw signs to Cottbus and the motorway but it was yet another 25 miles. We carried on. By the time we got to Cottbus the motorway signs had ended and we got led into the centre. We got some water, which helped a bt and a woman came up to chat. She said the way out was too complicated so we had to follow her. We did that, we suited up quick and followed her out of the city. By now it was 34 degrees and the traffic lights were all against us, the bike was red hot and was draining the last of our energy with it. Finally we got to the motorway, blown away by the constant kindness of strangers we’ve encountered on this trip. Everyone we’ve asked has just wanted to help.
So we quickly stopped for the water and snacks she had bought and I reviewed the fuel situation. Not good. The forward tank was drained and the main was just over reserve and we’d clocked 180 miles with no idea when we’d see fuel. We carried on and clicked up 196.2 just as the reserve light lit up and just as we saw a fuel station sign 5km in the distance. Saved!
So we made the last dash to Berlin. We looked for the 13, 113 and then 100. No idea what they were but they turned out to be road numbers and following them was easy. According to the map the 100 led right to the hostel. Well it didn’t. Berlin is vast... just vast. I pulled off in the end at random to be told we were only a few miles out. We followed the guys excellent directions and they lead us a few miles from the Hostel. We then spent 3 hours following directions of people who wanted to help but were too proud to say they didn’t know. We hit the opposite problem, I asked one guy who should have known because the road the Hostel was on was directly at one end of the road he lived on. He sent us in the wrong direction but came running out to correct himself. In the end we just found it. Just after 10pm and the gates were locked but they let us in regardless.
Worst hostel ever! It’s got beds out of a prison and is filthy and staffed by idiots. I will read the reviews more carefully next time but none of the pictures match any of the rooms.
We went out for some food and a storm hit so i guess it could always be worse. Tomorrow we’re still in Berlin but in a 4 star hotel we got a cancellation with so we’re paying the same as this crap Hostel. Result!
I’m now shattered so I’m going to sleep in my prison-issue bed with no sheets as they were extra... I have sleeping bags and it’s too hot for them anyway.

No internet for a couple of days so here are backdated issues....

Sightseeing... Hell...

Just spent the day on the sightseeing bus today. It was interesting and there was no way I would have found my way around Berlin on the bike so it was cheaper/easier/less stressful to let the bus do the work while I laid back and saw the city. It’s was an interesting day from my perspective. Germany and Berlin, in particular is a strange place. My impression, as a student of the human sciences is that Germany is a bully that’s picked on the wrong little kid in the playground and got a bloody nose. It’s learnt a bit since then, grown up a little but now it’s over-compensating massively for its supposed shortcomings and struts around proudly but still careful not to ruffle the wrong feathers. It’s a man pumped up on steroids down the gym, a 55 year old dude in a sportscar he can’t afford or an aging model with a breast-job who glares at teenage girls.
It has a rich and chequered history and the architecture is alive and vibrant with stories to tell but the over-compensation spoils it a bit. We walked over the stones in the jewish memorial and the security guard came up ranting and raving in German. I stared at him, wondering what the hell he was saying and he stopped, took pause and began apologising hurriedly, sweating and flustering. I apologised for my oversight, stepped down and walked on. This is typical Germany. It swaggers and boasts about the biggest library in Europe, the biggest hotel, the biggest station with the most shops inside but when you call it on these things it backs down fast without knowing why just like the over-muscled steroid-junkie compensating for some presumed weakness.
I was chatting with my partner over a massive German meal, apparently designed to not be able to be finished. We enjoyed our time in Nuremburg, it was a nice town with some impressive historical buildings and a clean, welcoming vibe. It was a nice place not trying too hard. Berlin was more like an R1200GS, bigger, better and more equipped than the rest. So over-complicated with extras and electronic gadgets, one up on the opposition that riding it is no long fun. The small, real thing does the job perfectly. It felt right, it had a proper European feel, it was nice and fun and had everything you need without having to work too hard or spend too much to appreciate it. It was the difference between a rotax single and a GS-tourer.
On the way back to the hotel (which revels in the same philosophy, believe me) we waited in a station. There were two food kiosks, one selling boxes of “authentic Chinese noodles” and another selling German sausage and beer. The Noodles were sold by a German man while the sausages by a Chinese girl. The irony was not lost on my asian partner who said, "everything here is fake!" She's right, German students are dressed up as American soldiers outside checkpoint Charlie. Of course it's not the real one, just a fake one. Some of the old building were destroyed during the war so they were rebuilt to look old... etc, etc.
So tomorrow we’re moving on. Not much money or time left now. We’re taking a trip into Kassel tomorrow and will find some camping when we get there and then a night in Belgium before the trip homewards.

Finally the rains came

What a day... today was more of an adventure, life on the edge and all that. Irritating as hell though.
We set out from Berlin and already we were off to a bad start when i couldn’t find the bike keys. Luckily I carry a spare but I only have one for the tank. In the end we couldn’t find it anywhere which could only mean one thing and sure enough they were in the bike. I had used them to operate the saddle the night we went out which means they were there all day as well and two nights and nobody had looked twice, certainly nobody had tampered with her. Plus one for Germany.
So we set off and couldn’t wait to get out of the hotel. It was rubbish, like an F1 in France but with delusions of grandeur and a price to match. Minus one for Germany.
We filled up and got direction. The GPS is now almost completely useless. Apart from being rubbish the touch screen is now playing up so it’s barely functioning. Tomtom are bad, Garmin seem to be not much better. I will have a rethink when i get back.
We got on the road, my route planned from my map’o’europe that the guy who helped us seemed to think would work and be easy to follow. It was and we made good time out of Berlin but there were spots of rain and the skies were grey and cloudy. We knew this was coming which was why we went sightseeing yesterday and did the boring slog ride today. All motorways, no fun, nothing to see here...
So we headed off and the route seemed pretty sound. We stopped after an hour after crossing out of Berlin and getting well under way. We had a coffee to warm ourselves up as the temperature was a little shy of the 36 degrees we endured yesterday.
So while she plodded off to get the coffee I hung around the bike and waited. A car approached me and a fat, swarthy gentleman leant out to shake my hand. You know you’re in trouble when one of these guys wants to shake your hand. “I just need some petrol money, I give you my gold and you post it back to me back in England...” he says, fingering his necklace and ring. I laugh at him and say no thanks. His even fatter mate says I have to do it, it’s 18 carat gold, great quality. I take the gold off him, still laughing out of curiousity. Inside it’s stamped 585 so I tell him it’s marked 14 carat, bears two fake hallmarks and is made of brass. They pretend to look shocked. Now I’m probably the wrong person for them to pick on, in my last job as a pawnbroker I wrote the company manual on how to spot fake gold and have about 6 years experience in the trade dealing with scammers who have thought it through a bit more than these guys. The fatter one gets more worked up. I tell him it’s the shittiest scam I’ve ever heard and just can’t stop myself from laughing. The pieces are really awful fakes. They drive off in a mood and nearly mount a curb. I’m still laughing. My partner looks at me like I’m a crazy person and wonders why I’m in such a good mood when the sky is black and rain is looking like a certainty.
So we plod on and make good time then a shower hits and hits hard. The wind is coming up and the weather is clearly against us. Then up ahead we see nothing... just a white mist and we’re riding into it. The spots of dark on my light grey jacket are getting bigger and darker and it’s getting colder fast. My jacket is goretex lined and my trousers have a knock off gortext variant so no idea how good they’re going to be in a storm. My boots have holes in and my gloves are missing a lining. Oh well, we’re going in and there’s nothing we can do about it.
It hits us like a fart in an elevator. During this time we’re battling contra-flows for roadworks that aren’t happening and dumb-arse German drivers who feel the need to flex their penis-muscles by driving through narrowed lanes flat out. It's a blur of road spray from the back of bargain basement Porches and 5 year old audis.
We force our way on but it’s getting cold. I’m wearing a t-shirt and I’m feeling a cold, clammy dampness and I know I’m getting wet. We stop off after about 40 miles of this and I take off my coat. My arms are covered with a fine damp mist, condensation building inside the waterproof lining so i might as well just be wearing a shirt. My temperature guage says we’re down to 10 degrees. 10 bloody degrees! That’s a hell of a drop and I’m soaking wet and riding into heavy winds. Not a good day and I'm shaking all over, I can't help it, purely involuntary. She’s ok though, her waterproofs are old fashioned plastic stuff, they work and work fine. They don’t allow the dubious benefits of letting your skin breath but they keep you dry and cost less than £30 so a proper bargain. Also, her skin doesn’t want to breath, it’s bloody freezing out there so breathing is an unnecessary luxury. I need a piss every five minutes today, the chill is cutting right through me like a blade but everywhere we stop wants a euro to let me use a toilet. Expletives were exchanged and I just used a bush. Cheeky Germans... Germany, minus one for weather, minus one for toilet charges which are everywhere.
We stop for a bite at a McDonalds to use their free wifi and plot the rest of the days adventure. Sadly dumb-arse staff are not a german invention so no points for this. Internet didn’t even try to work so I ask relevant questions to find nobody knows if it’s plugged in or even how to plug it in. I know I’m not going to win this round.
So we plod on... I have a bit of time to think so I start exploring my dash and try to figure out how long I’ve got till the fuel runs out. You see this morning I just chucked in 14 euros, what I had in my pocket so didn’t bother to rest the clock. I figured I had about 240 miles since I had about 75/85 on there this morning. We carried on and by now it was getting dry. We crossed underneath an immense black cloud and when i say black I mean properly black. Somehow the water didn’t just flush down on us and the roads were drier now than we’d had all day. I opened her up and got us to 75mph which was all i could manage in the heavy wind. At one point we were down to under 50 but bikers were clumping behind me, none of us could make a better pace.
We started making some time us and as we passed the 200 miles mark I started watching out for fuel. You can probably tell what’s coming here... right? So we carried on... nothing. We saw a few turnoffs but they seemed to lead nowhere. No problem, I have a big reserve and another 40 miles in the tank before we hit it. This is Germany and we’re on an autobahn, we’re bound to see fuel soon. So finally at 237.6 the fuel light came on. At this point I was still not overly concerned. I resolved that at 250 I would take the next turnoff and go looking for a petrol station because I was now getting a bit worried at the lack of services. At 270 she spluttered and turned up her toes. We coasted to the bottom of a long hill with nothing but fields all around us and certainly no turnoffs. In the end I braked at an SOS phone. I didn’t plan to use it because I couldn’t but it gave us something to stand behind because the driving is so mental here you don’t want to be on the hard shoulder. My spare bottles were empty and I had nothing on board. I tried the siphon hose and the front tank was as empty as the main but I hoped I might find a little sloshing around at the bottom I could use.
So by now my partner was coughing badly, we were both shaking from the cold and we were stuck, literally in the middle of nowhere. I put our helmets some distance behind the bikes, a supposed international signal for distress and waited for someone to help. One bike went past at a million miles an hour without a second look and cars barrelled past without looking our way.
Minus one, Germany for be full of people who are so arrogant the entire world dislikes having you at hotels.
So we see a couple of bikes and I wave... they pull up and stop but don’t speak any English. The first one points at the bike and says, "Kaput?" We get our message across to one another with grunts and points and gestures and they take my emergency bottles, pointing off into the distance. When they ride off I think we’ve got a plan that they’re going to get me some fuel and bring it back. She’s freezing now so I wrap her gloves round the exhaust to warm them through and stick my wooly shirt on her and pretend I’m not at all cold. She seems ok, more worried than anything else. Plus one Germany for having bikers that give a shit.
So the police stop... rather predictably. I walk over and ask if they speak English. They don’t so we do the grunts and gestures game so they get the vibe of what I’m saying. They tell me to stay off the hard shoulders because people in Germany drive like “Vukkin idiotsh”. They’re happy everything is under control and go about the business of having 80s mullets. Plus one to Germany for having police who try to help.
So the bikers head back down the other side, blasting their horns. My Asians coughs her lungs up in celebration and we wait patiently for them to find a ramp, turn around and come back to us. They do in about 15 minutes. With petrol in it the bike runs fine. They give us directions to the petrol stations and we give them beer money for their trouble which they don't like to take. As we’re about to leave we get another police car with different police. Better English this time but still only concerned that we’re safe. Plus two to germany for having bikers that didn’t steal my bottles and for having police who still have no interest in finding something to nick me for but instead making sure we’re safe.
We find the petrol station and fill the bike with the juice of a billion year old dinosaur, drink some foul motorway coffee and decide what to do. We’ve still got nowhere booked for tonight and no plans so we decide to head to Kassel as it’s what we were going to do anyway. It turned out we’d made better time than I thought and we made it into the city centre in 45 minutes, give or take a few showers. The first hotel we came to was 90euros a night and we’re low on cash. I ask if there’s anything cheaper about and he tells me there is an F1. At this point I hear the sound of angels singing. F1, cheap, cheerful, clean, warm and lovely. He was even nice enough to print me a map. Plus another one for Germany for having just plain decent people in it so long as they’re not behind the wheel of a car.
After the usual hassle we found it, sent all over the countryside by the directions of others after the map refused to be accurate. In the end we found an Ibis so I figured I’d ask them to find the F1 logo attached to a hotel in their carpark. We booked in and put this long, wet day behind us.
The guy on reception let me park in the disabled bay as it wasn’t busy and really couldn’t have been nicer... Plus one, Germany, damn you!
So all in all Germany wins out for the day. Berlin... well it’s just another city, full of people who just live too close together and have to work too hard at something they hate. Out of that and German people are cool by me. They shouldn’t be allowed to drive but get them out of their automobiles or as they call them in Germany, “vukkinderthmachinen” and they’re very warm and pleasant. So far nothing has made me want to be back “home” in England. Shame as in about three days that’s exactly where i’ll be.
Bugger!

And finally today. Disappointment grows

We head today to Brussels, which is a cross between France and Germany in every sense of the word. Both myself and my partner have never been here before so we're looking forward to this. We're stretching the last of the cash and making the best of it. Of course it all goes wrong.
We wake up to dryer gear and stuff ourselves on food bought from the local supermarket because it's cheaper than paying the 4 euros each for breakfast at the hotel... better too. Realisation slowly dawns that it's just cheaper to buy breakfast there but oh well... The sun is out and the sky is blue.
We head off in no particular hurry. Still no internet, the woman at the hotel says they've been having trouble for 2 weeks. Damn you, Germany, you just won't play nice. So we head back to the shops to pick up more of the wafer things with nutella in them that my partner is now chemically addicted to. We discover the shops are closed. We then discover today is Sunday. We then discover that the shops are open until 10.30. We then discover it's 10.43 and we get on our way. Biggest ***** of the day award goes to the man in the VW who just pulls out of a sideroad in front of me. I sort of had a feeling so no harm done but his grinning little brown face as he shrugs and does some odd gesture rolling his hand makes me want to show him the true meaning of christmas. I let it go and watch while he cuts through cars being a general menace to everyone.
We get lost in the city for nearly an hour looking for a way to get onto my map which is a list of road numbers and place names to look for. We follow the half-functional garmin round in circles before giving up and backtracking which reveals the first clue, a motorway sign with the right number on it. We follow it out and get back on track.
We stop for some fuel and fill up to the unamused expression of my partner as I comment about yesterday being all her fault... maybe for being heavier than usual... I don't know. I look at the road signs, the place we want is dead ahead. Black clouds are behind us so I throw some grass in the air and it's blown back and away meaning the nice weather ahead is blowing in. With no internet we're running blind with no plans again. We're heading to Brussels airport to find one of 7 F1 hotels there for some cheap lodgings.
We cross out fingers and head off into the sunshine up ahead. The signs lead us back round and towards the black clouds and now the Garmin says, yeah... let's go there instead.
The weather is windy but the roads are dry so we take the bike up to 75, not economical but I figure it's best to make time when we can, we've got a fairly long trek today and harder because of the fact it's all motorways with nothing to see or do, just a plodding ride. So apart from the wind it's uneventful. We stop for Mcdonalds to use their internet... doesn't work, of course and my Asian decides she's hungry. We buy some "food" and sit at the only free table next to the bin. They wouldn't give me a smurf (happymeal toy) but I have a feeling that meant something different in German because the little blonde girl working there looked horrified.
So we're eating and this immense fat woman is opposite, chewing her way through a mountain of food with her handful of offspring. She's looking at us with a smile and talking to the kids. The kids are looking at us. I look about and all the kids are looking at us. Now I'm not unsual looking and it occurs that they're all staring at poor little Asian girlfriend sitting next to me. She thinks it's funny and just waves and smiles. Children cry. It's all very unpleasant.
So we leave and head off into the distance. The sky is dark and grim but behaving so we make our way to the end of my list. We check and I figure best to head back a stop and turn off to Dusseldorf so we do that. We then skip ahead on my list and follow to the Belgian border. The kilometers melt down nicely although the roads keep bunging us off exits. Suddenly we're in Belgium but Belgium is wet and it hits us. We had a shower and then it dried up... then it hits us hard. Hard enough that I just pull up under a bridge and wait for the worst to pass. Belgian drivers are pretty decent. We saw a few bad-uns but most were pretty safe... ok, we saw two accidents too. The bikers though... this is death-wish country. One on a sportsbike was weaving through traffic in a rain storm at speeds my bike wouldn't even make. A whole group of tourers just spread out of a turnoff and I had to swerve to avoid them, another was scrubbing his tyres in in front of a truck that wasn't going to avoid going through him... painful to watch but no accidents there, thank god.
So... a day of cold, moist, plodding slog we made it to the Brussels Airport. We got some directions, followed them and ended up at a different part of the airport. We followed the directions on the back of the F1 leaflet and ended up back where we stopped last time for directions. I got him to write them down this time with special emphasis on the "straight on" part which made little sense when all three roads veered off in different directions. I sort of followed and the sunlight blasted my eyes and I went blind so held on to whatever lane I was on. We never saw any of the signs he directed us to but we saw an Etap hotel and stopped to ask for directions and there was the F1... typical. So we went in to find it had been closed down... We asked in Etap... he had no answer, they just locked it up and left. Etap was twice the price but we stumped it up through lack of choice. Inside was the answer, the hotel is identical but... twice the price. The rooms are the same, the beds are the same, the windows, curtains, towels, TVs, everything...
So a whole day blasting to Brussels and we see the inside of an F1 for twice the price. We were going to stay here 2 nights but can't afford to now. We were going to head to Brugge instead but the F1 is gone there too. So now we're going into Brussels tomorrow for lunch and then into France for 2 more nights before crossing home. Not ideal but neither of us want to go back. My partner is stuck in England for another 5 months studying but is thinking of blowing it off and going home. She loses some money but it's just not worth it....

Well my trip is ending with a whimper, going out in a blaze of disappointment. Today we woke up in Brussels (i'm going to miss waking up and wondering what town and even country I'm in, I love that). The sun was shining and the skies were a glorious blue... or grey. We packed slowly and headed into Brussels, the last real stop on our little trip. So we made it into the center and our initial thoughts were... what a shithole. It really sucks, it was worse than England. We stopped off a couple of times for her to snap off a few pictures. She tapped my shoulder at one point and we stopped (that's our code) She went off to snap a statue and was gone a whole hour. I was not impressed but there's no stopping her when the mood gets hold. We had words, she looked sad so we headed off. Still more crappy scenes of depravity. What a dump, the worst place we've seen so far in Europe. So we didn't bother with lunch, we just grabbed some bits and carried on. The GPS was still playing up, the touch-screen is not working at all but it guided us on to Halle, the next town albiet over a railway track. We found signs which lead us to what google said was the right thing and we got underway. I stopped for fuel, still a sore subject with her and had to pay upfront. That bugs the crap out of me, I hate that. So we finally left Belgium and there was much rejoicing. We were soon in the centre of Lille and honestly, not much better. We stopped as I had to find the F1. I had the GPS co-ordinates and was struggling to get them into my Garmin.
We got underway and by some magic the Garmin worked perfectly and guided us to the front door of the hotel on the first attempt. I was impressed... why it can't always do that I don't know.
So we headed over to a restaurant on the same block. After examining the menu I asked the waitress about vegeterian options. They included a salad... Considering there was nothing she fancied we moved on. She didn't want to get back on the bike but we did. We rode out and found a site with 4 or 5 places and she picked one at random. The waitress was rude and unhelpful so we were definitely in France. She ordered fish, I ordered something. Then a dude brought us two small oblong plates. Then some other dude brought us two wooden boards with a hot brick in the middle and three little jars of herbs. We waited, confused as the food arrived. Two bowls of potatoes and some raw crap. It was cool actually and in typical French fashion the food was really excellent. Tomorrow we check out Lille. That's it... nothing but back to London after that. Not looking forward to that, I can tell you.

Well I'm sad to say it's my last night in Europe. We're in Lille, we wandered around the town, I made some notes, she ate some cake. Not an exciting town but the architecture is actually very impressive. Otherwise, it's just another city really. I don't drink when i drive, she doesn't drink at all and places like this are best appreciated while on the way to fully incoherent, in my opinion. We had some lunch... it was typically French. By that I mean the food was good, the service was lousy and the cost was prohibitive. In fact the waiter and the manager nearly got into a fight over something or other while I was trying to pay. Who knows....
So what have I learned, which was the whole reason for me to do this. Number one, the bike I chose was all wrong for Europe, 2 up. Out here a more powerful bike would have served us better, the roads are faster between towns and we struggled to chug along at legal speeds. Having said that the bike has been reliable, hassle free and economical. I'm happy on balance and ready to accept her as the right machine for my next trip but that won't be two up with heavy luggage packed to the rafters. We didn't use half of what we took so next time I will happily pack much lighter. My side bags are only about 15litres each and that's plenty. I'm going to rebuild the dash and headlights. They didn't work as I planned so I'm going to take my time and do them exactly how I want them this time. no rush, just get them right. I have exciting plans in my head so looking forward to seeing how they pan out.
I'm going to service the bike and tidy her up but otherwise everything was fine. The motrax hanger was a piece of crap and I'll build my own as soon as I can.
We hurried too much. We booked too many hotels and were always racing to get to them. That's the joy of riding with a woman, I guess. I'm looking forward to doing more and seeing less. She seems content to just take photos all day. She doesn't relate or react with people at all. She just takes pictures.... I asked her the other day if the reason for the pictures is to remind her of the places she's seen and the things she's done or just to upload to Facebook and show off to her friends. She went quiet and slapped me, a sure sign she was rumbled. So there you have it, she likes to brag online that she's traveling. The bike is nothing but a bit of transport to her and the end is the only result. I'm in it for the journey and it's a been a bit of a struggle doing it with and for her. I'm looking forward to finding my own pace.
Nothing much happened today. I upset a French woman. She demanded I pay first at the fuel station. I went in and asked if she spoke English. SHe didn't and threw a big card at me that had, in English that I had to first state payment method. I told her cash. She still refused to turn on the pump and I tried to make her understand I didn't know how much I needed as I wanted to fill up. She was rude. I offered to leave 20euros, more than it would cost, she just kept shouting "pay now, pay now". She got a torrent of abuse which shut her up and I still didn't get any fuel. I love France and most of the people but those working in the service industry are really lousy...
So tomorrow we sail back. I'm not looking forward to it. I have missed people and it will be great to catch up but england.... I've had enough....

Thanks Jtw000 for a great account of your journey. I have thoroughly enjoyed reading the story of your travels, your experiences with the bike and your views on aspects of life.

I hope you'll let us know your views on the trip and your return to "normality" now you've been home a few days.

Cheers

John

Thanks. I've not been able to bring myself to write about my return as being back is so very, very grim. I'll get to wrapping it up this weekend. I'm only back in England sorting out visas for a longer trip which makes it just about bearable. I guess I might start a new blog in a few days and go into details of visas, bike preps and other stuff if that might be interesting?

So I’m finally back. I’ve been back a few days now. I rode back on the Wednesday. It was a fairly uneventful ride, we crossed over on the ferry, met a couple of nice French dudes and an English dude on a KTM who didn't want to talk to anyone. They were on their way to a Steam festival on the isle of Wight. I wasn’t really sure how to respond to that so I just smiled and sat somewhere else.
My brother met me at the dock and we rode back together. It was all a bit grim to be honest. By the time we got back to my brother and had a cup of tea we were just about ready to turn round and head back out somewhere, anywhere... Only the thought that I’m only back in the UK to sort out visas for the big trip is keeping me sane. (Sane... ha)
My brother asked how I felt and I told him I was ok, not tired, we’ve adapted to the whole thing fine. That being the case he asked me to help him move house. I sure love being home. I dropped my other-half off back in the city. It was an unpleasant experience. We both agreed we just wanted to head back off out there instead of just dropping back into the old routine.
So we dropped back into the old routine. It’s frightening how quickly you just slip back into the same old crap. My other half is back to school on Monday and has already started back to work. I’ve been helping my brother sort his life out and tomorrow I’m cracking on repairing the bike and booking visa stuff. My carnet paperwork turned up while I was away and is costing £1075. Nice...
So... I guess that wraps up the trip. I learnt a few things and now I’m off to apply them to my next trip. I’m starting a new thread for the new trip. I hope this is useful to some people. My advice....


1) Plan your navigation. GPS, maps, whatever. Don’t just expect things to work, they don’t. We spoke to dozens of people who all had the same problems with getting in and out of cities.
2) Plan your bike. Mine did well, was very cheap to run and reliable but on the long straight roads 2 up it wasn’t fun. Any bike will manage. All the logical things are important but the bike you want also needs to be a factor.
3) Get a comfy seat or expect to get a sore arse.
4) Pack carefully or you’ll lose things. I now own 4 t-shirts, 7 socks and 2 pairs of boxer shorts but no tools or waterproofs.
5) Plan your route. Ours was stuck with starting in Milan so we ended up all over the place.
6) Go to the Pyrenees
7) Don’t bother going to Belgium
8) Pack light. You don’t need all that crap.
9) There is no point taking your girlfriend to countries with extremely cheap prostitutes. See rule 8.
10) People like to help... that doesn’t mean they can. Take directions with a pinch of salt. A big pinch. If anyone tells you it's just over there and points to where you've just been, punch them in the face.
11) You need better lights
12) Foreign driving is terrible. Just like it is here. Polish driving is so terrible I wonder how anyone is still alive there.

Loved reading about your trip mate, some of your observations cracked me up big time :) rule 8&9 for example..hahaha