Settling In

With any trip it takes a few days to settle into it. Getting into a routine, remembering how to use the GPS, remembering to lube the chain after the day's ride and how to use the panniers properly. The last one isn't usually the case but is now due to the new bike of course. They're not the bullet proof Pelican jobbies from before but they're OK for what they are. As for the riding, better. Off the motorways and into and over the snowy Pyrenees was fun but cold. Little other traffic meant no dramas or delay and with the roads all a bit damp it helpfully allowed for a slow and steady pace. After a couple of years of not riding for me I think that's a good idea. So finally into a damp/wet/cold Spain after a 6,000 feet climb off we rode south in search of warmer and drier weather. Not much to report other than Sando losing a differential oil sump plug bolt and, yes you've guessed it, all his oil. This was spotted prior to it seizing up so with Spain (just about) being first world all was sorted out fairly quickly.

Huesca was our end point for the day and following some beers we had a game of Russian 'restaurant' roulette consisting of a three course meal by each pointing at the menu not knowing what anything meant. Except Charlie's Salmon...

"Sank Yoo Very Merch!!!!!!!!!"

So then mini trip to Morocco, here we go.

Day one down to just past Bordeaux was long, boring and painful. Let's carry on from every other trip here and have a moan. It's only taken 60,000 miles and seven years to conclude that my Uvex Enduro Carbon helmet is bloody awful. Comfortable when put on, yes. Looks good, yes. Lightweight, yes. But oh my god at any speed above 50 mph it is unbearable. And so it began. First fuel stop off comes the flimsy peak. Better but a bit like awaking from surgery and being told your testicular cancer has been cured as they're now in the bin. Actually now writing this from southern Spain all vents on the helmet have been taped over and I've just bashed off the rear vent/spoiler thing. It's now bearable except for when the visor doesn't close properly and rattles around. Which is nearly always. If I wasn't so tight (actually no, poor) I'd have stumped up the £80 to have my Schuberth DHL'ed down which I inexplicably decided not to bring. Almost as inexplicable as buying a replacement Uvex after South America. Jesus. So helmet rant already done what else? Well the ride down needed to be long and as a result was, as previously stated, unsurprisingly boring. So best to introduce the other three guys from left to right;

Charlie (a young Grant from 2009's RTW trip) - Triumph Tiger 800. A 'farm boy.' Loves hunting and knows about animals that I've never even heard of. They don't sell those in Tesco's you see. Farted in the ship's shop before we'd even left port which upset the French shop assistant. "Sank yoo very merch!!!!!!!!!" That should set the tone then... Dev (Rolf Harris) - Yamaha Tenere XT660Z. Did the Morocco trip in 2014 with me and has also done the Royal Enfield Himalayas tour. Other than that has lent me a bucket load of cash for me to do my house, which I've still not paid back. A good samaritan. Sando (Not sure. The Honey Monster?) Yamaha Tenere XT1200Z. Gadget man. Loves it. Good impressionist, notably Jimmy Saville, Borat and the French shop assistant that Charlie upset on the boat with his fart. Looking forward to more. Impressions that is!

Next stop, over the top to Spain...

The Missing Link

Hello again life, it's me. Writing in the present, reading about the past, in the future. Clearly I didn't order the sticky toffee pudding then as it would be on here for all(?) to see. Not sure "before closing" was a good choice of words. The desire to be on a bike doing what I love has not disappeared. Not at all. It's just knowing what to do before the next big one in fifteen years time. I'll explain... Life now in 2016 is somewhat different to when I rode back into the UK on my old Moto Guzzi in 2011 following trip #4-Europe. Two children and a hard three years pursuing my own 'Grand Designs' has meant adventure, fun and self are words that sound familiar but I'm not entirely sure what they mean. I did though head back to Morocco in 2014 for a couple of weeks while nobody was watching on good old Des accompanied by three relatively new friends 'Dev' (XTZ660) and Chris & Adrian (big BMW GS') I didn't bother with the blog then as for such a short trip with not a lot new to write about it really felt as though I just tagged along for the ride, it wasn't difficult. This time though I will. The main reason being that I have a new (for me) bike! Forced to sell Des, the SV and the unused K100 for the house build (for a very tidy £7k) has meant a fresh look at what bike ticks what boxes. And of those boxes, trying to decide what are the most important?? Back in 2011 the V-Strom was meant to be that bike. But call me shallow...I couldn't love it for its looks. Instead I got my leg over the Italian neighbour you may recall... So considering that these pages are probably made up of 50% of me moaning about my bike what exactly do I want from a bike? What are those boxes? Have I learnt anything from so much time travelling the world on two wheels? Here's what I know.. 1) The bike needs to have character. Sound and engine type is normally the deciding factor here. 2) 95% of my riding is on good roads. I would expect the other 5% is being worked on right now by the Chinese. Somewhere. 3) Comfort, obviously. The main issue here appears to always have been wind noise and air turbulence. The choice of helmet impacts on this too. Long rides need to be enjoyable beyond 50mph. 4) Fuel range. 5) Weight. So when loaded up, it's manageable. I've seen so many people overloaded on heavy bikes it's ridiculous. More to damage/get stolen/pack, repack/pick up. 6) Cost. The bike will get damaged, why damage a brand new one? The cost needs to be compatible for use. Lastly, an important one - outside of Europe things are very different. When interested locals want to know what your bike costs, standing next to a brand new GS1200 and telling them it costs about a lifetimes wages, for them, is beyond embarrassing, it's vulgar. I've seen it and I don't like it. 7) Nearly there - Simplicity. I'm not a mechanic but I can do the very basics. But when things do go wrong the bigger and newer the bike the more difficult (and costly) the repair will be no doubt. Tubed tyres I've never understood, a pain in the arse to fix and carry spares. So there we have it, not too much of an ask. So what's the answer? It is possibly what I somehow overlooked in 2011... Any fellow bikers may want to quickly go to the toilet before I continue....

OK done? Good...A Ducati Multistrada 1100s. OK when you've quite finished let's see why (on Earth) I've come to that conclusion... 1) It's a bloody L-Twin Ducati with Termi's and a load of goodies that should go with it already bolted on! Come on. Check. 2) 'Many Roads' is the direct translation from Italian. However, caution. This (it would seem) is more akin to 'A' roads, 'B' roads, motorways and not the James Dalton Highway in Alaska for instance. So not checked. But...remember that crazy Danish guy...? 3) The big unknown as I write. There'll be more on this we can be sure. Not checked. For now. 4) Decent if reviews are to be believed. Maybe 240 miles, dodgy fuel gauge aside. Check. 5) Comparable to Des and combined with my small kit list about as good as it gets without peddling there. Check. 6) £3600. Check. 7) Air cooled. Easy access to engine. No tubes. Sensible service intervals. But tank off to get to air filter. Check.

That'll do for now. As ever my old gear is good to go and there'll be the inevitable mad rush in the days before. Curry and beers later to confirm the route and get to know the new guys a bit better? Check.

Belgium – A box of chocolates

Writing this after the event I’ve much to type but don’t quite know how to such is the disjointed experience that we had of the country. Perhaps a good way to start is to slightly change good old Mrs Gump’s turn of phrase, as in this case it’s a country that’s a box of chocolates. There’s plenty of conflicting flavours to be found, with our first being in the Poirot like French speaking south. Still searching for that something different we found it as spotting a huge space rocket just off the motorway provoked an 18km U-turn to what was the European Space Agency. A couple of hours of trying to find English text amongst the three national languages during what was otherwise a fairly interesting audio guided tour then followed. Only fairly as it quickly became apparent that Belgium has something of an inferior complex and takes every opportunity to put its hand in the air like some annoying kid in the classroom. On this occasion the European Space Agency was made to look like the Belgium Space Agency with the partner countries hardly given a mention at all.

With something new behind us it was something old as we stayed in the centre of Brussels and were presented with what has to win our award for the most impressive ‘old town square’ in Europe. Formerly a royal district, it showed as the architecture around the square is simply incredible although the big tourist attraction of what is essentially a replica 12” statue of a baby pissing or the ‘Manneken-Pis’ was very ‘is that it?’ like. Elsewhere the whole ‘Capital of Europe’ theme was thrust around at every opportunity with plenty of blue Euro flags around.

On our way out of Brussels it was back to something new as we visited the ‘Atomium,’ which unlike Mirka I’d never heard of and that included reading our ‘Rough Guides’ lowdown on Brussels attractions. What we found was an undoubtedly impressive structure that was part of some sort of ‘Don’t call us a poor man’s Paris’ Expo in 1958. However, after departing with €22 and a visit inside the only five spheres that are available I struggled to recall a time where I’ve been more underwhelmed which if you know me is really saying something! It comprised of a viewing area and an exhibition about how great immigration is. You could almost smell the vegan food coming from the two food areas. Other than a row with some old bag after I refused to spend €0.5 after spending a penny in a scummy toilet that was Brussels.

Bruges though in the Dutch speaking north was more like it. Strictly old style, it lacks the modern touches and attention seeking of Brussels. A medieval tower looms large over the pretty square and the place had a nice laid back feel about it partly thanks to a lack of groups of tourists. A couple of glasses of the excellent Leffe in a pub rounded off the day and pretty much the trip as an uneventful ride back home completed the six week and 6,000 mile ride. So what next then? Well a bit like having a blow out at a carvery restaurant, the past six weeks will take a little digesting. There may be though, time to sneak in a little dessert before closing. We’ll see…

Lovely Luxemburg

My ‘rough guide’ to Luxemburg promised us the most spectacular setting to any European city with difficulty in obtaining accommodation in or near Luxemburg City, which is quite a claim and just what we need after seeing so much beforehand. Except for the accommodation bit that is, which proved true as whilst following the signs for the city the GPS wasn’t having any of it. Clearly I didn’t zoom in enough on the google map showing our hotel’s location as after re-joining the lilac route on the screen we ended up 12km out of town! Happily though frequent buses to and from the city centre were nearby and so unpacked and fed we hopped aboard for the 30min ride in. Getting off at the main train station in the new town was pretty underwhelming but a short map read and walk took us to what was indeed a very spectacular setting for the historic old town. Set within what was probably a huge castle or fort the gorge encircling it is stunning.

Connected by a bridge the view down below is not one for the squeamish and you can’t help but think of how many people may have threw themselves down there over the years. Inside we found what was probably business district and a very upmarket shopping/restaurant district. Hours later with a happy Mirka sporting a new pair of leather boots we had a lovely traditional meal deep in the gorge between old and new in a cracking brasserie. Quite why I’ve never heard anything about Luxemburg as a weekend break sort of place over the years I don’t know, as it is firmly one of the surprises of the trip so far. Recommended.

Germany

Somewhat unfortunately Germany’s rapid autobahns were used in order to allow for an easier final few days. What was and will be by far our longest day of 556km meant that our stay in Heidelberg was a tired one and little was seen of the country en-route. A little ride around town while hunting for accommodation was deemed sufficient to see enough of the place as accumulated trip fatigue started to set in. With a return to normal life only a matter of days away now thoughts of this are now beginning as they usually do at this stage of any trip. Still, an early night might help as the somewhat mysterious Luxemburg awaits…

The 2011 DD Cup

The Czech Republic is of course, Mirka’s former home. Since arriving in the UK eight years ago her and subsequently our visits there to see her family have been maybe three times a year. One of these three though has been for me to take part in the ‘DD Cup’ which is a yearly tennis competition hosted by her sister and brother in law Daja and Petr to celebrate the birth of their two girls Didi and Deni. Tennis is pretty big in Mirka’s family with Petr playing professionally and several other relatives being of a much higher standard than the “Have you seen my tennis racket?” types back at home after Wimbledon has been on the telly. Thankfully though the younger and better players haven’t taken part yet and it’s up to the older and non tennis playing types like me to try to win the trophy. I’ve faired from bad to average over the years as it takes me a good set and a half to get things together and by then it’s all over. When asked if I’ve been in ‘training’ my answer is always the same...”yeah, last year.” This years effort turned out just like the rest with me finishing third (of five) but at least troubling the overall winner Pavel 4-6 in our last game.
So along with the big family turn out, tennis and food so to comes the drinking. My first visit to meet the family was to attend Daja and Petr’s wedding in 2004 and my evening was cut somewhat short after getting involved in something of a drinking contest among the non English speaking friends and relatives. I was holding my own and chatting away with such internationally recognised words as “David Beckham,” “Rooney” and “Premier League” until the Czech’s Ray Mears turned up, ‘Mira’ and ordered two of the countries national drink ‘Sliovovice.’ At some unknown time shortly after it was ‘good night Vienna’ or in this case 'good night Zámek Kačina' And it’s been downhill from there really as each visit presents a yearly challenge to my liver not to disintegrate. Usually though the hard work is on the evening of the tournament however this time it was the night before as just at the point of being ready for bed Petr and Mira headed off to a fellow hunting friend’s house for a night cap and dragged me along. A display of various guns and ammunitions then followed which was welcome respite from the drinking. These people will drink absolutely anything including the sort of stuff that does the rounds and always ends up being found the morning after hosting a BBQ. Our host on this case, another Petr, had a big grey bushy moustache which I’ve learnt is always a bad sign, the mark of a professional if you will. A new landmark was achieved when after ploughing through the previous drinks he disappeared to come back with some home brew. Now I should state that this is nothing new and is common place all around here and afar (as Steve will I’m sure, concur on the entry ‘The Trans Siberian Highway – Day 2') but this took things to a new level. Coming to think of it the first bottle of Slivovice was home brew too as it had no label, just Slivovice written on the bottle in marker pen but this new number one evil drink (I’ll discount Ayauska as even the Amazonians don’t touch it) was in a big bottle that looked like it had come straight of a laboratory and was filled little yellow berries. My god...mercifully though I was left to take on a bottle of still disgusting strawberry something by myself until I finally got into bed just before 4am. It got me thinking though...If only Amy Winehouse and George Best had come here for a holiday years earlier, think of the time that that would have saved?