Single ticket to Sarajevo

In 1993 I passed my motorcycle test. The next thing I knew I was sitting on a bike six times bigger than anything I had ever ridden, on 42nd Street, New York, at rush hour, on the wrong side of the street. In front of me lay the whole of the USA, and I took a peak at most of it!

Since my Early 20's I have always wanted an Aprilia Pegaso. I blame that Colin Schiller, the then editor of Fast Bikes for all of those 'Ooligan pictures of wheelies and stoppies on a bike they kept raving about. Bizare really, because fast... It really isn't!

Well, less than 3 weeks to go now, working hard to earn the money to do it! Almost 20 years ago, as I have already said, I went on a much longer trip around North America and the difference in relation to planning and getting ready for the trip has been astounding. I bought my bike in the USA in 1993, whereas I already own my bike for the European trip and I have had to do quite a bit of work on her so that has added to the preparations. What is astounding in this day and age is the amount of information about places you want to travel to, it is mind blowing!

I am wibbling at the thought of getting a GPS to help me get to my desitnations. I do like the thought of easy transition, but I do so love to stare at maps. It is like Mills and Boon to a 45 year old spinster. Places come, about a thrid alive, and you can see things happening. They never happen this way, but the whole thing is a little excercise in the head that keeps you thinking hard! You don't get that with GPS. I will stick to the map and learn to talk, I think!

There does not appear to be too much more to do now. That is, apart from worry. Stupid niggles, worries, thoughts so far in the future that they ruin today. One thought is this whole thing is stupid. I can’t speak any language well, the bike is liable to let me down, some places are a bit flighty. And then, reassuring thoughts of 'should I just go to Blackpool for a month and make up some monumental stories'?

This is an era of foundless worries manufactured and used by politicians, the media and every company with a product to sell. I need to forget about worries!!!

8pm: I am sitting in a little hole with a door and a really noisy toilet on the P+O ferry 'Pride of Hull'. I will not complaint because it is cheap!

An interesting journey up, almost ran out of fuel on the M180 and then got lost trying to follow my eye to the Humber Bridge.

This ship is huge. There are 2 cinemas, a disco, a casino, but I have yet to clock a lifeboat. Personally I would prefer a really boring crossing with lots of lifeboats.

Bye bye UK .

Ich Bein... no I won't do it.

Today has been very easy going really... Well Yesterday was a bit hard work to be quite honest for obvious reasons. In fact, World War 3 would of been a breeze in comparison!

Leaving the campsite near Bremen

Today has been a steep learning curve. You should never leave things in your cabin when you leave the ship. If you are going to do this, make sure it is something inconsequential, like socks, not your wallet. If you do do this, then remember to go back before you have covered 20 kms.

I think you can see where this is going. So I retured to the ferry and the people at reception went to have a look. I was thinking my trip is going to be very short, but I was soon reunited with mz wallet and the 600E tht was in it! Absolute plonker I know, should of got up earlier.

How do I describe Berlin? well it has the vibrancy of London, but not the crowds, or maybe it does have the crowds but the pavements are so much wider to accomodate them. It is a wonderful place and I am so glad I went for a good walk around.

So Berlin to Bratislava in one day? could it be done? well I knew a guy with a 'can do' attitude that was going to ride the 730km trip on his single cylinder thumper.

That man was me. I mean, really, is there anyone else as stupid?

I was up and out of the hostel fairly early so I could nose around Bratislava. What a curious and unique place. The majority of the place appeared to be soviet era concrete monstrocities. These were quiet visibly crumbling. In the old town, there were some quite stunning buildings. But just around the corner would be a similar age of building that was falling down.

Bratislava statues take it easy...

I hadn't expected to have enjoyed Hungary so much. People in general seemed very relaxed and friendly despite being the porest country I had so far visited. Or, possiably, it was the other way around.

I would often come across horse and carts which appeared to be the usual form of transport,Trabants were still alive and well, and most cars were at least 15 years old. Skoda, Yugos, FSOs, Ladas and those Zlathy things were the order of the day.

A new day brought sunshine which was a relief. I was down for breakfast at my hotel, The Stari Grad at a reasonable time, because I wanted to look around before I left.

The Banja Luka Gate...

On top of the hill was the castle built by the Bosnic kings and later taken over by the Ottomans. All around the tiny cobbled streets were ancient buildings, It was so beautiful.

It was wonderful not to have to get up for another long day in the saddle. I therefore stayed in bed a little longer than usual. I had gotten myself a single room so vegging out was quite comfortable.

Looking out over Sarajevo from the Yellow Bastion...

Well, it was sad, in some ways, to see the back of Sarajevo. It had a uniquness to it like no other city I have ever been in.

To lighten the load, it was tipping it down with rain. Through the awsome mountains we travelled, some of the Limestone cliffs and buttresses were amazing and the blue colour of the water was magical.

Sheparding Bosnian style. Heard sheep onto main road, no need to look, cars will stop!

Taking a sneeky long distance peak at Dubrovnic the night before, I was confident of being underwhelmed. It was going to be like Newquay, I thought.

The old town of Dubrovnik...

It was worse. There was no Weatherspoons Pub, amusement arcades or McDonalds. I nearly died of hunger. The place was surrounded by a 15 foot thick wall, the streets so narrow, I could hardly shoehorn me belly through them AND, some people were talking foreign. Disgusting.

I am sitting in a small café, somewhere nea Senj, with the sea just a few feet away.The sun is shining bright and I have just ordered a beer. A bit of a perfect situation, you may say, but it is nothing, compared to the day Betty and I have had on the road.

View from the top of my beer bottle...

After the sun had gone down over the Adriatic, I went out like a light. Morning was still warm but clouds were threatening. I joined a long line of traffic leaving Croatia and we chugged on towards the border.

I found this at the camp site... You first or me? I can't remember the polite way to do it

Croatia had been wondeful. Even the well trod tourist areas were brilliant. I am sure I will be back.

The rest of the night in the Dolomites was entertaining. I found my mp3 player and remembered, I liked music. So standing with my back to a tree, I looked up at the wonders of the Dolomites and mouthed the words of many a song as darkness came, with a broad grin on my face.

So a lovely week of respite in Oberammergau, Barvaria.

My family came to join me and we enjoyed a wonderful week of climbing hills, eating in mountain restaurants, taking trains up the Zugspitze, Germany's highest mountain and relaxing.

Betty has been put right by the local garage and is ready to go, although her oil consumption is beginning to worry me. Saying that, she has been mercilessly thrashed up and down autobahn/autostrada/toll roads, something the lady was really not designed to do. Perhaps this increases the oil consumption?

I was awoken by an explosion. Don't know why and I wasn't too bothered to find out. Pigged out with breakfast and was out into the rain by 9am.

The lovely Forcola hotel in Livigno...

Over a few of the passes, We were in the clouds. Everything misted up and I was down to 40 kph, looking over my steamed up glasses. I must have looked very studious!

The day started exceptionally early. I left my luggage at the apartment and escorted my family back to Munich Airport. The rain pelted down as we came through the centre of the city.

Of course, I had not taken my Waterproof, because I didn't want to carry it around the airport. Instead I was wandering around the airport in soaking pants! Nice.

So off everyone went, and I immediately felt lonely. Things weren't likely to get any better as I had planned to visit Dachau Concentration Camp that morning. I figured the rain and wet would help to add to the sombre mood.

I had eaten and gone to bed just before it started to rain. It was pelting down hard as I layed up for the night.

I was awoken at about 2pm by a wet elbow. In fact, just about everything was wet. It turns out that the hot temperatures of the Adriatic had unglued the taped seems on the tent.

The rest of the night involved mopping up water with socks or undies and atempting to sleep under a waterproof jacket.

Motorcycle clothes dryer...

It had rained all night and cheapy tent had kept me dry. It continued to pour down outside, and I was left thinking what I could do.

I chatted with a few Swedish climbers who were hoping to climb the Matterhorn even though it was very early in the season. They were just sitting around waiting for the weather to break. We all agreed that Zermatt was not a place for anyone but the very well off.

The tsunami tent had a semi successful night at keeping me dry but by 5.30, rain was leaking in at a steady rate. I got myself ready for the off.

Fortunately I had seen a tent ln the local supermarket. Being a terrible tent snob, it was a poor choice but it only had to last for a bit over one week. At 29 Swiss Francs it was cheaper than expected. I hope that it is a deal, not indicitive of the water repellant properties of the tent.

I know the past few days had taken a bit of a toll as I wasn't up until 10am. I was going to take things easy, although this was slightly enforced as it was raining quite a lot.

I decided to walk up to the glacier and have a look around. I fashioned a rudimentary ice axe on the way up but the paths took me to a mountain hut. From here the views were fantastic but acccss to the glacier was impossible.

I was awake at a reasonable time and ready to go by 9am. Of course the clouds had disappeared to reveal the French Alps in all their glory. A better view from any campsite, I have not found.

I love waking up in France, when people say Bonjour to you, it is like they really mean it. It is a real welcoming of a new day. I wish I knew more French so I could discuss the joys of living with them.

Waking up in the Best Western Hotel in Ieper, or Ypres as is is known to English speakers, was quite an experience. I was in a comfortable bed, there was no sound of rain, I was not freezing cold and no immediate concerns sprang to mind. Had I died and gone to Hell?

Well, in a nutshell, Betty and I are off on our travels again. This time we are leaving Europe behind and heading to Africa, albeit, the closest part Morocco and Western Sahara.

To go and visit the Sahara is something I have always wanted to do, I was making plans to do it in a very different form over 20 years ago, but it never happened. However, my fascination with deserts has never dimmed. Not that there is much of your typical dune sea desert in Morocco, but it isn’t too far away from it in places.

I suppose we had to talk about fundamentalists, terrorists and bad people that I am warned about, et_al. I'm not at all worried about that. Morocco appears to be a place that adores peace.

I'm a little more worried about Gringo middle class fundamentalists from my own country, but it’s amazing what the Daily Mail can create. I can leave that to reach its zenith in the general election that I will be thankfully away for. I can choose to return or not, my vote is cast already.

We all live and travel with baggage, some of it necessary and others, not quite so. Some is physical, some in the mind and some of it just nipping at our heals.

Many a traveller will advocate the joys of travelling light, and I do support this notion, but my medical condition deems that I need to make a lot of provision for my journeys.

Well off we go! Not too sure if I am doing things wrong but everything appears to be going correctly!

Set off in severely cold 2.5 Celsius conditions for a lovely ride down a very quiet A49 to drop in on my mate and fellow Pegaso owner Robbie in Monmouthshire. Betty wouldn't start at first but eventually she coughed into life. I was feeling similar.

The rest of the ferry ride was great, I had a good sleep and listened to a really interesting talk on whales and porpoises we might see. I didn't see any but I was just too lazy to stand there watching for hours.

Coming into Santander was quite an experience. The heat was amazing, at least 20 degrees and I began to be worried for the trip ahead. All the bikes had been stuffed up a corner, so loading up and reversing them out was a bit of a hassle. Of course when it was time to go Betty wouldn't start, so we held everyone up. Oops.

I was woken early by the birds who enthused about the new day to quite some degree. I chatted to David and Marjorie who had kept me entertained last night in their campervan. It was soon time to be off and back onto the autopista. I had to knock back 535 kms today so I held Betty at 120kph and watched the clocks roll.

This was it, the day to leave Europe and get to Africa. I didn't really feel like racing out of my campsite but I did eventually leave. A thick fog, typical of the region had fallen and the trip to the port was a bit horrid.

Getting tickets was easy enough and I joined the queue to board. There was a lot of lorries going on but little else. There were no kindred spirits to talk to. On the ferry, I got my immigration number and my passport stamped and that was it. I lay with my face down on a table for a bit of rest.

I was away nice and early this time with easy access to my stuff. Back up the hill I had come down the night before, I heard the sound of motorbikes on the switchbacks below. I had stopped for a drink and waved at the two Belgians who came past they were the first two bikers who I had seen any distance from the port. A little later I caught up with them and we had a chat. They had done a lot of the things I wanted to do and it was interesting to chat.

Seeing as there was lots of noise in the narrow streets until quite late it was nice to hear the streets quiet until quite late, it was good to see things didn't get going too early in the city. I had a breakfast of mint tea, fruit salad and a bit of sweet bread, it was very healthy!

The fantasitic roof top view from the Riad

It seemed almost a shame to leave. I had been made to feel most welcome by Mustapha and Houcine. Now I left after exchanging details with them and headed on the road to Bouanane. From here I would take the N10 'desert highway' to Bouldenib and then cut a corner off using a piste to reach Erfoud.

Houcine and I at Mustapha's rather impressive guest house

For once I didn't need to be anywhere, so I thought I would lie in for a bit but by 8 am it had got unbearable as the process of slowly covering yourself up in bed as the night temperatures dropped was quickly reversed.

The first thing to do was to find why Betty's fan was not coming on and this meant a bit of a bike strip down. Fortunately, I had done it many times before but the thought of breaking something now made me a little nervous. There weren’t any spares for an Aprilia Pegaso on this continent!

I was away from the campsite nice and early on my way through Rissani and out to Erg Chebbi, the famed dune sea of Morocco, it wasn't long before it made its presence clear, as the dry arid black rocks of the flat plain I travelled on set off the Erg spectacularly. Into Merzouga, the village that serves the tourist industry for the Erg and there in front of me was the great dune of Merzouga at over 150 metres high. Sensing a great kodak moment was on the brink, I wheelspan up the nearest dune, dropping Bettys rear axle into the sand on the improbably steep slope.

I was glad to leave Efroud and get back on the road again. I was also glad I would not be taking the southern piste and sticking mainly to the highway leading to Zagora. The pistes bashed us both about and always caused some worries in my own mind. I don’t think I would be able to cope with a long piste in this heat, especially if it had a few difficult sections, I would have a look at some of the pistes around Zagora rather than here.

I had a great nights sleep and woke to find that my ankle felt a little better. There would be no piste today just a bit of road riding, so it would give my ankle a bit more time. I had been told to leave my bike outside on the pavement which I was slightly concerned about. I needn't have as a guardian wearing a florescent jacket had looked after it all night. The cost 10 dirham, 63 pence. It is a bit hard to get your head around. 63 pence wouldn't pay for Group 4 Securities to clear their throats back in the UK!

The heat had given me a restless night. I had not slept well and the hot weather had got up before me. It was time to leave the deserts behind.

The hotel had been fine, but I hadn't felt too welcome and it all smelt a bit too. It was like bog brushes had not been invented yet.

Betty had been parked in a secure garage but it appeared that someone had stolen Hot Chick from under the windscreen. It didn't bother me too much anyway. I suspected that she had been using me for the ride anyway. So now, I am on the lookout for a riding companion. We'll see who turns up.

It would have to happen at some point and, here it did. I had gone to bed, ear plugged up and expecting a good night’s sleep, found it impossible to get to sleep because a certain nationality of campervan enthusiasts had got together to eat, drink, shout and talk unnecessarily loud into the small hours, like they still thought they owned the country.

My room had a balcony on which I had made plenty of cups of tea throuout my stay. On the 4th floor I could sit watching them play tennis at Agadir tennis club whist making tea. It was most civilised.

Checking out and heading back the way I came I found riding a lot easier today. I was getting used to the position of the handlebars and had packed my bag a little better, yesterday it had been sliding forward on the seat and invading my personal space, putting me in a bad mood.

It had been the first night I had not used earplugs as the ocean waves were a pleasure to go to sleep with.

I was away on the road north to Agadir. Here I hoped to go to a supermarket where I could buy some more supplies.

There were a few spots of rain in the air when I got up, something not experienced in Marocco yet. I put the tent away wet as there would be no way to dry it. I put my waterproofs in the panniers as I might be needing them soon. I said goodbye to the Dutch campervanists who had been kind to me and lent me a chair. You can always rely on the Dutch to speak good English, have a good conversation with and theres often quite a sense of humour with them too.

I wasn't having much luck with the Adhans in Fez, I was expecting a really good one but the local mosque had employed a rusty darlek with a cold to deliver theirs. It was a bit of a disappointment.

THe Blue Gate seen from the terrace of my hotel

I was planning another big day on the road, so after a few more tense battles with Montazuma, I was on the road. I think I will stop drinking milk because it seems to give old Monty a renewed vigour in his vengeful pursuits.

I was hoping to deal Montazuma a fatal blow today by not eating any dairy products because he had executed a deadly early morning raid and had gained some ground.

Dry muesli was a bit of a spitting feathers affair, but with plenty of water, it went down, eventually. I had quite a lot of things planned today, so after loading Betty up we were ready for the off. I then noticed the chain had gone a bit saggy and the reason for this being my automatic chain oiler had been ripped off in the past few days. I don't know how that had happened because I'd hardly been taking it off road.

I am probably the worst person in the world to sleep with. Not because of my legendary love-making abilities, but the fact that I tend to snore and I get very irritated if I can't get straight off to sleep.

I had got irritated that night because next door to my room, over a 3 foot wide street was the terrace of a cafe. Even after 11am, people were making noise, playing a banjo and singing. I imaged them to be a bunch of right on western kid, off their face on kif having "The time of their lives". This did not help to better my mood.

Things needed to work like clockwork today as there was just one ferry, leaving at 1.30pm that would fit into my plans. All of a sudden, there was no more care free ambling. I had to be places at certain times.

I set off from the campsite and enjoyed the ride up to Tetouan. A number of reservoirs had been created and the water in them was unusually blue.

The journey ahead would be a bit rough. I had to get within striking distance of Santander for the following afternoon. I would need to cross the majority of Spain to do this. After the beating Betty had taken over the past few weeks, I should have been a little concerned, but going on the past performance over the last few weeks, I was filled with confidence.

I was having to manually oil the chain after losing the automatic scotoiler but the tyre wear had reduced in speed, so I was confident to reach home on a legal amount of tread.

Its been a while since Morroco and a trip were planned this year to fly out to meet friends in the far east, rent a bike and mooch Mongolia.

However, more pressing matters took hold and we needed to build an extention on our rather modest house so all plans went out of the side of the wall which had just had a big hole knocked in it. I was slighly grumbly about it but, other oppertunities would arrise, I was sure..