A two year low budget no GPS motorcycle trip round the world, starting and ending in Harstad, North Norway.
The normal route from Norway to Central Europe is either by Denmark or Germany. Another option at the time was a ferry to Newcastle with a second crossing at Dover. There was also a third alternative, through Finland, St.Petersburg and the Baltics, but even as a local I knew nobody that had gone that route. A widespread belief was that it was unsafe with high risk of being harassed by authorities and mugged by thugs. But was it true?
No doubt that Estonia is proud of their European Union membership. You would think it was the Coca Cola marketing team that had decorated the border with EU logos, and signs frequently reminded that EU had sponsored the paved road from Narva to the capital. 
The musician and motorcycle enthusiast Mait Seger dedicating a copy of his brilliant album Sadness and Sun to my trip. Thanks Mait.
To enter Latvia was like driving out of a forest and into a farmers field. A few windmills did their job, and I turned left at the first corner heading for Mazsalaca where you allegedly turn into a werewolf when crawling through a specific tree root at full moon while saying a certain spell. And it would be full moon that night.
Latvian quilt: The Latvians make perfect patches in the potholes.
The main attraction in Lithuania was the Curonian Spit (Kurische Nehrung), a unique 98-kilometer long sand strip in the Baltic Sea. The rare land formation is on Unescos world heritage list. Even better, there is a small winding road along the whole length of it. The hitch is that the Spit ends far into the Russian enclave Kaliningrad, and few drive the whole length due to visa regulations.
I am usually happy to be a law obedient driver paying attention to the local speed limits. In Poland that was a problem. Not that I felt like going faster, but everybody else did. For my own safety I aim to keep the same pace as the rest, but in Poland it was impossible without an extra tilt on the throttle. Evidently sixty means eighty, and eighty means hundred and ten. There is a race car driver in every Pole.
Over the Tatra Mountains, down a winding road, and in between some bushes was the border. The two border guys seemed impressed when I replied that I was going to Asia (then said as a joke), but their confidence in that I would make it across their own country evaporated like gasoline on a hot day when the bike didnt start after the paper inspection was done. Just a flooded carburetor, but they didnt know, and they sat in their booth pointing and laughing while I was working on the problem. Going to Asia with that thing?
In a park in Budapest I met Petra. She offered me to pitch my tent in her parents garden, and after meeting them all and been served a wonderful dinner my status increased to houseguest. Then the father took me on a city tour in his car, an extraordinary experience, because his goal was not to show me the nicest places, but the worst.In a park in Budapest I met Petra. She offered me to pitch my tent in her parents garden, and after meeting them all and been served a wonderful dinner my status increased to houseguest.
Suddenly there were motorcycles everywhere, a stark contrast to the empty roads further east. I could say a lot about the many Austrian alpine resorts and the Grossglockner Road, but obviously it would be old news to road travellers. But it was all very nice. At the same time everything became very straightforward, and when stuck for a few days in the tent in rainy Lichtenstein I made the decision to do a U-turn and continue the excursion to some more far away places. It had to be a new continent.
As initially mentioned I was curious about the myth saying that you can not drive through Eastern Europe without being mugged by thugs and harassed by authorities. Well, by now I had driven 6000km without being mugged, stopped by police, or paying any bribe. Border patrols had been friendly and efficient. My confidence was on top.
I cannot emphasise enough the great help received at Knopf Tours in Heidelberg. Thanks again! These people are bikers best friends. Go there and stay a night or two if you can. After removing everything done by Off The Road I experienced no more bike trouble (see previous chapter). I pent some days at my brothers place in Strasbourg. They were quite busy with visitors, but Trond and I had a really nice bicycle trip around town. What a nice city!!! What a cool brother!!! I cannot emphasise enough the great help received at Knopf Tours in Heidelberg. Thanks again!
A spot hover ahead, grows, until the butterfly smash into the visor with its bright yellow wings blocking the view. The landscape is rockier, with thorn bushes, and the strong scent of pine trees invades my nostrils. Ah, the Croatian coastal road is so much fun. Hot air and rapid gear shifts. Quick stops with a sip of water, then on again, and before I knew it the sign saying Zadar flashed by.A spot hover ahead, grows, until the butterfly smash into the visor with its bright yellow wings blocking the view.
On 24th June 1981 six teenagers in Medugorje claimed theyd seen an apparition of Virgin Mary. They still do, but only three of them see her every day. Now, I thought some well qualified sacred guidance could come in handy. Perhaps she would appear and bless the bike? That would really be something.On 24th June 1981 six teenagers in Medugorje claimed theyd seen an apparition of Virgin Mary. They still do, but only three of them see her every day. Now, I thought some well qualified sacred guidance could come in handy. Perhaps she would appear and bless the bike?
To ask someone on Balkan about the next country en route is often useless. Here is still much hate, and you will not believe the horror stories one tells about the other. A Croat strongly warned me against going to Monte Negro. He assured that the locals would drug me and steal my kidney (allegedly they do that to all foreigners). He finished the lecture with a self-destruction of his integrity as a Monte Negro expert: and therefore I have never been there.
The current situation for bike travel in Albania is this: Stay away from the border region to Kosovo as youll have a fair chance of being hijacked and robbed (they might even take your bike). Arrival from Monte Negro is hassle free if you choose the border crossing west of Shkodra. And never drive after dark. In fact, for your own safety you should stay inside after dark unless you are accompanied with locals. On border arrival a biker must pay a 10 Euro entry fee, and on departure an additional fee of 1 Euro (the latter said to be road tax).
In 1993 I saw the image of a weird building on an old Macedonian 10.000 Denar note. Today the note is no longer in circulation, but in my memory the building looked like a giant football with windows on tentacles. Back then someone told me it was a church in Ohrid, and for some reason I knew that I one day would return to Macedonia and pay a visit to the architectural oddity. Unsurprisingly the holiday resort became a destination on my way to Istanbul, but after looking around and talking to locals it became clear that the building was not in Ohrid. Where was it?
Northern Greece does not remind much about the islands we fly to and get sunburned the first day so that we have to spend half the vacation inside a tile carpeted hotel room watching Greek TV programs without subtitles. No, the northern part might be the better option. It hides touristy jewels such as two lane highways, factories and power plants. Here you can spend hours drinking coffee at petrol station cafés and you can do it in peace since nobody care that youre there.
My hometown has a population of sixty thousand people, and they cover the road traffic Im used to. Istanbul has fifteen million, a quarter of a thousand times more than Tromso, more than the entire population of Norway and Sweden combined. That might explain the wobbling dirt bike with an N on the rear GPS-maneuvering through the Turkish metropolis last Wednesday. But I found my way, to Daytona Motor, the last point of dealer service before heading into Asia and no dealers land.My hometown has a population of sixty thousand people, and they cover the road traffic Im used to.
Early Sunday morning. I was through the fog belt around Bolu and was bypassing Ankara on the north side. New settlements lay scattered on both sides, on naked hills with distance apart. With the exception of an occasional truck perfuming the road side flora with a masculine led petrol fragrance I had the three lane highway to myself. Then a single woman came in sight. She wore tight red pants, looked real naughty, and as I rolled by she blinked her eyes and made her lips into a kiss.
Now, I could tell about the snow plough through the 2190 meter Kizildag Pass, or the unalike easiness of the slightly lower Sakaltutan Pass. I could go straight to the description of the two remaining mountain passes, but these would not compare with the fifth high, the most unexpected encounter. I rumbled into Erzurum at dawn, rolled the bike into the reception of Kral Hotel, and got the key to what might was the shabbiest room in town.
It is well known that Iran is a nation of terrorists and fanatics, thus we approached these madmen with great caution. Of course we would be perceived as aliens, something that easily could trigger their suspicious minds. But surprisingly the Iranians already knew many facts about Norway.