Whyteleafe, Surrey UK to Cape Town

Welcome to the 'Departure and Europe' category.

We are making our first tentative steps, a little slowly.

We spent two days in Dresden seeing a friend of Caroline's and two nights here visiting Terezin (a nazi concentration camp town) just north of Prague.

Not much time to find an internet place good enough to post photos, and no real photos anyway. Next stop is Prague, then Budapest, Romania, Bulgaria and the Black Sea coast, probably another week away.

The day before yesterday we arrived safe and sound in Istanbul, after reaching the Bulgarian Black Sea Coast a few days before.

We have a few members in our Hall Of Fame now.
BAT Motorcycles of Biggin Hill

Firstly a big thanks to BAT, who we rate as the world's experts on grey-import bikes.
They effortlessly found and supplied a wide range of spares for Caroline's Serow and Beau's non-UK TTR.
As it turned out, this particular Serow is a one-off model made only for one year and only for the Japanese market, yet BAT had a spares book for it (entirely in Japanese but that doesn't faze the staff in the slightest), and of course a spares book for the TTR also in Japanese.

On the Monday after our arrival in Istanbul we headed off to the Syrian consulate where the information we had previously gathered was confirmed. That is, we need a letter of recommendation from our own consulate. The British consulate charges 68 pounds for this, a pro-forma standard letter which just needed our names inserting and printing off on the office printer. This is about three times the cost of the Syrian visa itself. The Canadian consulate charges slightly less for their letter.

Turkey certainly is when it comes to its people.
We recently heard from John, our Australian aquaintance on his way home on his 250cc Honda.
He was robbed at gunpoint in central Turkey a couple of days after leaving us outside of Izmir.
We don't know what sort of robber it was, but it took place close to a police barracks. The villain was immediately apprehended, but it delayed John by a few days for all the legal processes.
What a difference to our time in Edremit!

We wuz almost robbed too. Then a day later one of us actually was robbed..... more later.

We have gained the fabled Syrian border, where visas are indeed available on request, at least for Brits and Canadians.

We are in Aleppo for a couple of days, mainly to obtain Syrian cash from ATMs (not many outside large cities) but it's also an Islamic city worth seeing.

Firstly, in the area of the city with the cheap hotels, parking is tightly controlled so we have to find paid underground parking for the bikes. That's done now, and ATMs found (only about four, even in a city this size), so we have been sampling the wonderful cafe life and street foods of the city.

And a nice Aleppo interlude crept into our day.

We spent longer in Aleppo than we first planned.

Circumstances made sense to undertake a major laundry session, (sleeping bags) so while that lot dried we investigated more of the souks. Including the one selling leaf tea where we bought a couple of handfuls from the box with the most elaborate Arabic description on its label. We'll try it when we next pitch the tents, probably at Krak de Chevalier.
We also had time to visit the main mosque in the middle of the souks.

- or -

The Road To Damascus

(As far as Hama)

Travelling south from Aleppo we spent a damp day in Hama, the home of many old wooden Arabic water-wheels or Norias, wondering whether to dodge the showers and head for Krak des Chevaliers, or not bother and stay in the dry.

In the end, with the sky brightening, we headed east on a minor road just to see where it went. But the heavens opened sending us scuttling back to the hotel.
So the next day it was off to Krak des Chevaliers, rain or no.

Ask a Policeman.
Here's one for Grandson Oliver:

Where's your Dad when we need him?

Signpost on the Road to Damascus

This one gave us some difficulty in deciding. So, no messing about, no easy option, we turned left.
Not exactly in our plans.
One hundred yards down the Road to Baghdad was the first petrol station we'd seen since leaving Palmyra.
All filled up, it was, I'm afraid, back to the easy option and west to Damascus.

It was a funny thing, but our entry into Jordan was similar to entering Syria. Irish weather.

Rain clouds loomed in with no warning, giving us a good, or at least a bit, of a soaking. So we stopped for the day earlier than planned, making a quick halt at the ancient ruins of Jerash and skirting around Amman, before heading to Madaba via Mount Nebo and a first sighting of the Dead Sea.

Throwing common sense to the wind, and being a regular swimmer, McCrankpin dived into the Dead Sea as though it were his local pool, attempting the impossible: to get under the water.
And here he learneth today's biblical lesson: incredibly salty water in eyes nose and mouth is verily an uncomfortable sensation. Yea, it hurteth like hell, and requireth an emergency rinse from the bottle of water brought along for his after-Dead-Sea-swim mini-shower.
Verily it is a strange experience, standing halfway out of the water, both feet a foot above the sea bed.

After Wadi Mujib we reached the hot springs at Wadi bin Hammad for the night, where we almost sparked an international diplomatic incident.
When travelling through strange places in the manner that we are, you can never predict what the effects of your presence will be, other than there will be some effect, however subtle. And it's really necessary to be aware of it.
When we arrived at the springs the warden showed us a small spot to camp with our bikes alongside. The spot also included the bonfire patch.

'Match me such a marvel save in Eastern clime,
A rose-red city half as old as time.'
Those words, and these photos, will have to suffice. There's not much I can say, other than it's a magnificent place, huge. We visited over two days and only saw maybe a third of it, the best being the climb up to the monastery and the ambience at the top.

Again, the grandeur and atmosphere are difficult to adequately describe.
But it draws you in incessantly.
We camped in Rum village, and I intended firstly only to walk to the end of the tarmac at the edge of the village. No camera, water or anything.
Here, there's a gentle slope of large boulders at the base of the massive rock edifice to the right, which I climbed a little way to get a better view into the desert wadi ahead.

And a new continent.
The Dark One.

Don't want to tempt fate in any way, but mechanical problems have been pretty small to date.
Here's a summary for those with a mechanical bent who may be interested:
(A bit boring for everyone else)
First off, Beau's petrol tank started showing the first signs of a pinhole leak way back in Germany, or thereabouts. From the rusty patch where the front of the seat rubs against the rear of the tank.
We fixed that with some proprietary tank repair glue but it didn't last.

So many photos, so little time for updates.

Photo just added to earlier entry:

The Roman Amphitheatre at Bosra, southern Syria.

Latest Photo update 17th December:

Syria

Three Riders outside Krak des Chevaliers.

After a very relaxing week at a comfortably remote beach we were ready to leave the Softbeach camp at the amazingly early hour of 12 noon! And we didn't have tents to take down and pack!

Beach-front living, and parking. Mountains of Saudi Arabia in the distance, looking east.