More on the ride 02/04/2011
 
     I guess its time to give an update Blog on the “No Looking Back Tour”. Although, it seems that’s all I did in Russia was watch out for crazy, speeding drivers trying to pass while playing chicken with on coming traffic.  
     We managed our way around the Moscow fires, with the help of a Russian map book Jim bought in Finland. Of course the book was in Russian so it did not coincide with the Russian maps I had from the US. 
     One day we found ourselves lost in the back woods near the city of Kirov. This was the day I figured out my Garmin GPS, with the Russian maps downloaded, was inaccurate. We were riding a nice paved road though the countryside, when the road became smaller and smaller, then dirt. According to the GPS only 3.5 miles of dirt then back to pavement and a fine secondary road. After a brief discussion Jim lead the way, right up to a giant tree that alyed across the road (trail). A quick look we found a alternative route around the tree. It was a trail cut through deep dense forest. Jim and I agreed it was a lot more work to make the bypass than it would have been to remove the large tree that was obstructing the main path. This seemed to be a typical Russian theme. We pushed on for miles and miles (much more than 3.5) until we came across some deep sand. For those of you that don’t know deep sand is an off road motorcycle nemeses. Sort of like freezing drizzle is a road bike archenemy, the sand takes special attention to navigate on a dirt bike. Now that I set the stage I feel comfortable to tell you I fell. I got up and fell again. I think I fell a total of six times before I finally remembered the technique for sand riding. Luckily, Jim in order to make me feel better fell, once. It was getting late in the day when the GPS told us to head south to the rivers edge and cross the bridge to find the next town three miles down the road. It was nice to know we were getting close to a town where we could gas and eat. When we got to the dock, I guess we will call it a dock, because it didn’t reach the other side of the river we stopped. Side note: When you travel it is very important to travel with someone whose emotional cycles are opposite from your own. This way when you are up, you can lend a hand of encouragement. This also means they can give kind words, to bring your spirits up. If not you find yourself looking for a large stick to knock the snot out of…. Hell anybody. After falling all afternoon, being lost in the backwoods of Kirov, realizing I had very little ability to navigate, and finally coming to a bridge that was 50 feet short of being a bridge, I was done. Jim on the other hand was in an up swing and took charge and off we went riding north along the rivers edge looking for a bridge.  We did find the bridge although it would be another 100 or so miles before we would find a known paved road. We ended up pushing on well into the night riding in you guessed it freezing drizzle. This turned out to be a long day even longer when we reach the Hilton, in Perm and found out we had crossed two times zones that day. Instead of getting in a midnight it was 2:00 am. Oh did I tell you, we were warned not to ride at night cause the mob will get you. 
       Now Perm has an interesting side story, and her name is Olga. Since we got in so late and it was freezing, we decided to take a day off in Perm. Olga was the Russia gal that worked the front desk and had a beautiful smile. I made a list of parts that the bikes needed (tires, fork seal, etc) and she called the motorcycle shop in Barnual (1000 miles down the road). She spoke Russian of course and had them order the parts. This might not sound like that big of deal but it saved time. 
        Normally we would ride into a shop I would play charades, pointing, hopping around, and drawing pictures until I got my point across. Then the shop would order the parts and we would sit around for a week waiting for the parts to arrive. But not this time, Olga placed the order and a week later when we arrived the parts were there. Thanks again, Olga. Want another interesting story? Olga came over for a visit. She flew to the US where she met up with Jim. They paled around for a couple of weeks seeing the sights. Back to the story.
     We were also warned not to camp (by many people) because the bandits would slit our throats. Good enough reason for us to push on. Russia doesn’t have many roadside motels. This means we had to ride from city to city in order to have a safe place to sleep, both for the bikes and us. That brought up another problem, riding into major Russian cities. We would set off early in the morning and ride to the next city that had a hotel, usually 400+ miles a day. No matter the weather, traffic, road conditions it didn’t matter we rode to the next city. 
    Once in the city, finding a hotel was difficult because they looked like apartment building, Soviet era hotels, square block buildings. The outsides were stained by decades of pollution, while the interiors were top of the line motel 8 quality and of coarse considered 4 stars.  All of the hotels had guards to watch the bikes, which was a must. The final ride into Vadivostok I hired a cab to show us the way to the Hotel and we followed behind. Half the fare up front the other half when we get there. This was an excellent way to get around to bad it was the last night when we figure this one out!
      A couple of time we did find a roadside motel. One night we stopped, right before a rainstorm and still day light (just like I like). We got a good night sleep and even ate at the motel restaurant. I chatted with the security guard while Jim inspected the room.  You would think with all the other excitement we had a nonevent at a roadside motel would not be worth mentioning. Well the event happened the next day. We packed up, gassed up and rolled out like we had done for 3 straight months. The next city was 12 hours away and we were riding a mix of half paved half sloppy muddy roads. It was going to be a long day. About six hours in Jim frantically pulls over and tells me he doesn’t have his phone. After months on a bike it’s pretty easy to tell if you have lost something because everything has a place (front pocket, left side, small camera, earplugs case. Left side jacket pocket, controls to the heated gear. Left, front pants pocket carries fake wallet, which contains $25.00 in different currencies, fake credit cards, used to hand over to thieves while the real wallet with documents and cash is in right front pocket). Jim went through his bags, boxes, and jacket, he came to the conclusion we left it at the motel. Not that big of a deal he was looking to upgrade anyway. We rode the rest of the day know we would cancel the service in 6 hours when we reached the next city. What we didn’t know is the security guard, who thought was doing us a favor, was calling everyone in Jim’s phone trying to get the phone returned to us. With the time change it was the middle of the night when Jim’s mother received a call from Jim’s phone, from a man-speaking nothing but RUSSIAN. 
      Then he hangs up and calls Jim’s dad and so on down the list. Jim’s entire phone list now thinks we have been kidnapped and are being held ransom. All they can do is sit and wait for the next call with instruction on where to send the money.  When we got to the hotel we used the Internet and made our calls. We cancelled the service on the phone and assured everyone we were fine, but poor Jim’s mother.
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Russia

We stopped at the Russian, Finland border thought to ourselves do we really want to do this? I had just waited in 3 different lines, been spoke at, (in Russian) had all my documentation, when I noticed 3 machine gun carrying Russian police officers standing around my motorcycle. A large puddle of gas was forming, from a steady drip coming from under my bike. Jim had already gone through the process and was waiting. “We got to go, now. I have stalled them as long as I can”. I got on my bike (here is the kicker) stuffed all important Russian document in carrying pouch and rolled past the check point. On the way, we were stopped 3 more times to check our passports. I think it is here where I lost one of the two pieces of paper the Russian Custom Agent told me NOT to loose.

When you enter Russia your are required to register every 3rd night at a hotel or travel agency. The purpose is to keep track of your movements. Russians like document trails. I managed to hang on to this one.

Another piece of…..documentation is used when temperately importing a vehicle, Declaration of goods. It is also used as a temporary registration. This is the piece of paper I lost within 5 minutes of being told not to loose. I am going to blame it on late afternoon, motorcycle showing signs of breaking down, oh and machine guns. Ok I was a little stressed. What did this mean? I was legal to be in Russia but my bike was not. And so this was how we started our first day in Russia. I called the US Embassy and was told to call back the next day and she would have answer on what I should do. I called back and she told me she didn’t really know and to “maybe go to the police”. Just letting you know that didn’t happen.

Jim and I rode into Russia from the Northern boarder, After a hundred miles of the most intense traffic we stopped at a cheap motel/ pizza joint. It was getting dark we, we were exhausted and after I paid 2 mean looking security guards, 10 euros to watch the bikes for the night we ordered a pizza ate and went to bed. It was here I noticed our paperwork didn’t match. In the middle of the night Jim became ill (in the stomach) and didn’t get much sleep. This illness is still hanging on and he has to tread lightly on his choice of foods.

　

The next day we rode back roads around St. Petersburg with the WORST drivers on the planet. Russian drivers do not follow any rules. They will pass in blind corners, on coming cars will pass, even if they see you (the bigger vehicle wins). We were completely run off the road at least 6 times by drivers that saw us. After awhile you just calmly, slow down and pull off on the shoulder and go “3 wide”. The roads are in awful shape, with giant ruts caused by trucks and hard winters. The ruts look like ones made in the mud by 4x4’s that have dried (these are on the Interstates equivalent of I35). The US has far superior dirt roads compared to Russia’s main super highways. 7000 miles of these roads and drivers.

Police

Each town of any size (1500+) will have a police check point. At the edge of town the speed limit will drop to 12mph and a police officer with a baton (looked like a running baton with a white stripe) stands, waiting. He randomly point his baton at a car to pull over. He then checks paper work, extorts money, issue citations.

The first time we were pulled over was early in the morning. We were heading out of a big city and had already seem 4 or 5 car wrecks (possibly fatalities). As we crested a hill an officer pointed his stick at us and motioned to pull over. We slowed and pulled over putting on my game face (remember as far as we know my bike is not legal). He asked for passports and something. This is where I have to hand it to Jim. Jim hands his passport, then says ”Oh insurance” then hands over proof of insurance. Before the guy can ask and remember we are in Russia, we have an endless supply of government documentation, Jim says “title” and hands over a copy of his title. All the while I am gathering my matching information and holding it out. “Oh motorcycle registration, migration card, hotel registrations“, and so. After about 3 rounds of this the police would get tired, bored, or overwhelmed and wave us along. Not once did we pay for a “Violation”. We ended up getting pulled over 3 or 4 times at check points and each time it worked like a charm.

About the police, we heard awful things about extortion, bribery, and overall harassment. We didn’t see proof of that. They were very courteous and professional. One night while looking for a hotel in a big city a patrol unit pulled up and led us to the nicest hotel in town. Even the two that pounded on our sleazy motel door at 10:30 pm demanding to see our papers were very nice once we showed we were legal (all the while knowing my bike was not).

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Half Way Round 08/10/2010
 
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Well, we are half way round the world and I feel I should write something. At this point we are held up in Helsinki (still) until we get the bikes out of the shop. Hopefully by Thursday we will be able to roll toward the Russian boarder. If not, please oh please Friday. We have been pinned up in this hotel room for a week, and even though Helsinki is a beautiful city with great public transportation, restaurants and sights to see, we are ready to get the next part of the trip started. Cabin fever is tiring.

As I reflect on the first half of the trip a few things come to mind.

Riding Canada is wonderful, although riding through central Canada is like riding on a tread mill. Nothing changes for 100’s of miles. The people in Canada are wonderful. I think because of where they live, they have to be of an adventurous spirit. The “staying” indoors all winter makes them appreciate being outdoors whenever possible. Most we met showed a true curiosity for our ride, and had nothing but well wishes. Plus in Canada I had an option to ride home. Not that I wanted to ride home, but in the back of my I knew I could. It wasn’t until we rolled the bikes out of customs in London that the trip became a trip around the world.

London was fine although packed with cars, scooter and folks. I learned large cities, (London, Toronto, Madrid) are not made for motorcycling tourists. Would I like to fly into Paris and see the sights? Yes. Will I? Might. The large cities the people are too busy, too slow down. I don’t take offence, they are just living their lives and come across people of all sort all the time. The smaller town folk don’t see many travelers and are excited to talk about your journeys. And you know me I love to talk to a stranger (only once did I eat candy from one, it was really good).

France was wonderful, the people treated us like family. Other than an Irish pub one time, it was the first time I was unable to understand any of the language being spoke. This is not to say I was not able to enjoy my conversations, I just didn’t understand the words. The smiles, laugher, pointing and charades were great fun. What did I learn in France? Don’t walk into a situation with you mind made up, you may be wrong.

In Austria and Germany I met wonderful people. People I would bring to visit with all of you. It made me sad to leave, and homesick. I learned the best part about traveling is the people you meet. The worst part is leaving the people you meet.

We have traveled 12 countries so far and have 3 more before we board a plane to come home. The next 2 are the ones that make me nervous, Russia and Mongolia. Russia because of the horror stories I have heard. Now before you get too worried I must add I have also heard wonder stories about how generous and beautiful the people are. As an added bonus it seems Western Russia is on fire. Wild fires surrounding Moscow have been burning for the last couple of weeks causing an increase (unsafe) level of air pollution. We have watched the fires closely and planned a route according.

Mongolia on the other hand is not because of people but because of the possible road conditions. Many a tale of the broken motorcycles on the roads to Ulan Bator. We have researched the routes and picked the best possible motorcycle for the conditions. Here in a couple of weeks will find out if we made a good choice. But don’t worry about a broken motorcycles. Like I said, it happens frequently. We will wait for a truck (like everyone else) and hitch a ride to the next town where we will have it repaired. I have people who can send us parts (Lori, Chet, Josh) if needed. We might have to wait a day or two before a truck comes by but we are prepared to camp out.

I sit in a hotel room trying to answer a question I am frequently asked, “Have you found what your looking for“. All I can come up with, I don’t think I am looking “For” anything. I think I am just ”Looking”.
I shaved. We were starting to worry, I didn't look much like my passport and i got tired of people asking if I was Jim's FATHER!

　

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Pants 08/08/2010
 
Before the trip started, during the planning stages Jim and I bought specialized rain pants. Jim is a little bigger than I am through the waist, so he wears one size larger than I do. But in this case, of motorcycle over pants we both wear a large. While in Germany we stumbled across a great motorcycle clothing store (thanks Karin) and decided our normal riding pants were showing signs of wear and we should pick up a new pair. Normally Jim would try on a pair take them off let me try them on and we would talk about the pros and cons. Jim tried on a pair handed them to me and wait they were to tight. They must run small! I tried on a different brand in a large. Nope to tight. “Here try an XL” the salesman said. “But I don’t wear an XL!“. He handed me and XL and they fit very nice. So I bought them and swear I am going to give them away when I get home.

We stopped by another shop before getting on the ferry. The shop guy gave us a backpack with some goodies (a couple of T-shirts, hats, etc). Thanks POLO. We got to the hotel and I pulled out my T-shirt and to my surprise it was an XXL. WHAT! Now I will hand it to Jim, he didn’t say much about the XL pants, but the XXL shirt was too much for him. I did take a little ribbing. I tried on the XXL and I am telling you the sizing runs small, it fits. I guess I will give it away, too! Long story long, don’t worry mom, I’m eating well.

The Ferry. The plan was to take a ferry from Stockholm, Sweden to Helsinki, Finland. This would have knocked off 1000 miles, from original plan, which was to ride over the top of the Baltic Sea. We were told Sweden has many traffic camera (used for catching speeders) and the speed limit of 50 mph. Jim does pretty well with my tooling around but 50 mph for 1000 miles he would have killed something. In addition we were unable to order parts over the phone, it was time to get to Helsinki to order the parts in person..

When we reached the ferry lines I asked Jim if he wanted to take a longer ferry, straight to Helsinki. We are getting a little nervous about the fires in Moscow, and want to be ready to bolt in (and past) Moscow as soon as the heat wave breaks. Jim agreed, and we hopped the FINNLADY (check out the ferry).

The ferry left at 4 am but took sometime to load. We checked in at 8pm and were allowed to board at 11:00pm. At the dock we waited with cars and big trucks and 6 other motorcycles. It was a beautiful night for a toad. We stood in line for 3 hours in a steady down pour. Luckily Jim and are packed for, well traveling around the world. We had the proper rain gear to stand in the rain (See video). The others had not planned on rain and were soak for hours. A little white van pulled in front of the line waved his hand and all the riders starting getting ready, and fast. I had just enough time to slap my helmet on my head start the bike and head up the ramp. I hoped Jim was behind me. He was

　

　

Once on board we secured the bikes to the cargo deck, by using 4 nylon tie downs (two on the front and two on the back). Jim finished securing and unloading and headed to the room. I took me a little longer to get it “Just right” (truly wasted energy, one of the other riders tied his bike from the seat to the floor with one tied down). I finished, unloaded and moved along.

We spent the next 32ish (that ish is for Holger) on a ferry cursing across the Baltic Sea. I feel I must explain Ferry. These are large transport ships capable of carrying 500 cars and maybe 100 semi trailers. The ship had sleeping quarters, small rooms with beds and restroom/showers (larger than some hotel rooms in France). There was a restaurant, bar café and once you got past the cargo decks it became more of a cruise ship. Small cruise ship but it was a nice place to sit while someone else made the miles.

We found a KTM dealer dropped off the bikes grabbed a cab and moved into the Holiday Inn in Helsinki. And my friends, that the latest.

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On to Germany 08/05/2010
 
Out of Austria on to the Autobahn.

We left Mattighofen in the rain which didn’t help my homesick mood. We rolled like we do, heading to Karin and Holgers house (the friends we made on the ferry) a couple of hundred miles down the Autobahn.

The Germans do many things well, one of them is build roads. The Autobahn basically a series of interstates that are smooth and well maintained. There is no speed limit, we were regularly passed by cars doing speeds I estimate closed to 120 mph. At 80 mph we stayed in the slow lane and only pulled out to pass trucks. But you had to be careful when passing because cars could sneak up on you at 140 mph.

Germany is very green, with tall beautiful forests. Lush fields with rows and rows of health looking crops. We have had rain everyday, mostly in the evening. Small towns dot the countryside, each looking very much the same at the others.　

We tried calling Karin but still have no luck dialing a damn telephone. With the gps leading the way, we ended up at an Ice cream shop in the town of Ruppichteroth. We tried the phone again (What’s up with all these numbers). I had a piece of paper with Karin’s address and phone number. As we were leaving to ride to the next town, to find a hotel, I asked a woman it she knew Karin. I showed her the paper with the address. She said she didn’t but would be happy to call. She pulled out a cell phone and dial the 97 digit phone number and started rattling off German. I couldn’t understand until she said “Joe from Texas”. She handed me her phone and I spoke with Karin. She told us to come on over.

We arrived and Karin was finishing up in the garden. We took the grand tour of the house, and she told us her husband (Holger) was on a motorcycle trip and had just checked into a hotel 200 miles away (rats). We took the gear up to the 3rd floor and then sat out back for refreshments. Holger called and said he wanted to see us and that he was coming home.

Karin works in an office and Holger is a (best I could figure) sanitation supervisor. They live in a smaller village, just outside of the small village. They have a beautiful 3 story house the took 2 year to renovate (which they did themselves). Both are avid motorcyclist and have toured all over Europe.

Karin took us to dinner at what she would call “A typical German village restaurant”. She ordered our dinner and it was fantastic. Holger rode to the restaurant to meet us. We finished, headed back home and sat up most of the night listening to Jim and Holger play guitars. Holger played in a heavy metal band in the and should his reunion dvd. It was just plain fun.

The next morning Karin made a wonderful breakfast or assorted breads, cheeses and cold cuts. With Holger as our tour guide, the four of us drove to an old castle, which still had a working village inside. We strolled around taking pictures, laughing and joking. Karin and Holger both spoke excellent English and it was fun to hold a conversation, with someone other than Jim (no offence Jim). While at the castle it rained, like Austrian rain.

We spent another night with them play guess the childhood nursery rhymes, (Rumplestilskin, Sleeping beauty, etc.). They made us BBQ for dinner and of course more than we could eat. The next day was a Monday, Karin took off a half day to help us at the post office. We mailed some things home and she was a huge help.

We have discovered the language barrier is exhausting. Not that we can’t get food or pay for gas, but everyday activities take a lot more effort. From the grocery store check out to trying to find a hardware store. Not being able to read, write, speak, or even recognize stores make it tiresome. Karin went with us to the grocery store then the post office and just like that, packages sent. The credit card machine would not take our cards and we had to fill out the labels (which were in German) but with her help, easy. It would have warn us out.

After recommending her favor motorcycle clothing store, Karin showed us the way to the town of Bonn. We followed her van down the Autobahn when it began to rain. She pulled off at her exit and waved us on. I later told Jim it was just the rain on my face and that my eyes were not tearing up. He told me he just had a little dust in his eyes.

Again we met wonderful, interesting people. People that we would run around with a home. I tell my students to “Surround yourself with talented people” . Ha, I found some halfway around the world. Thanks Karin and Holger we had a great time, come see us soon.

After a wet ride to town, Jim and I found a great motorcycle store. We spent the next hour picking out new riding pants. We each tried on 5 or 6 pairs of pants, each with removable liners (waterproof). Pants on pants off. Liner in liner out. We bought our new pants put them on and headed out the door.

I guess I will tell you this story before Jim does, that way perhaps I can save a little dignity. Earplugs are used by motorcyclist when traveling at speeds of over 60mph. The wind noise under the helmet can be loud and cause hearing loss. Normally I use a soft, disposable, foam plugs that you squish up and slightly inset in to the ear canal. The foam expands and blocks the wind. Day 60ish and I am out of ear plugs. We have not be able to find any in Europe (Wal-Mart’s back home have 12 different kinds at each store). While at the store I bought a set of soft, small, rubber plugs. Jim and I started the ritual of getting ready, body armor zipped, clipped, glasses off, jacket on, key in ignition, earplugs in. This is when the issue started. I wet my ear plugs so they slide in easy (anyone figure out where this is going?) . I inserted my left ear plug and perhaps I have be blessed with excessively large ear canals but “Bam, GONE”. The stupid plug slide so far in my ear canal I could not reach it to get it out! Now you would think I would be too embarrassed to asked Jim for help, knowing I might have to live with ridicule for the rest of my life. Nope "I want it out and I want it out NOW". “JIM, I LOST MY EAR PLUG”. “Where” he calmly asked. Boarder line beginning to really freak out “IN MY EAR!”. I think he might have started to laugh, but I was too busy envisioning an ambulance ride to a German hospital to have a stupid ear plug surgically removed. It was just far enough I couldn’t reach it and was afraid if I messed with it, I would push it into my brain. Only one thing to do, Jim had to operated. I went to my bike and retrieve the proper earplug extracting tool, needle nose pliers. Between his giggles of laughter, he reached right in and expertly extracted the obstruction. I think he might have done this before. It was only when the plug was removed that I might have become embarrass, on second thought I am just happy to have the dumb thing removed.

Still needingooking for earplugs,  we fired the bikes and headed to north up the towards the port town of Lubeck. Lubeck is the largest port in Germany and is located on the Baltic Sea. From here we would catch a ferry to Sweden.

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We have come to a cross roads. It has revealed itself, it is too difficult sightsee and motorcycle touring. The problem is the bikes/gear are venerable when we are not near. If we go to a museum, restaurant or a sightseeing tour the bikes sit idle waiting for us or whoever is passing by. It is not like a car where you can lock everything up and not worry. So we have decided it is time to get rolling. Perhaps you could tell. It is time to change the trip back to a motorcycle trip rather than a sight seeing trip. This doesn’t mean we won’t stop and enjoy ourselves, or that we won’t take pictures. It means we are going to see what we see while riding the country side. This is the way I prefer to travel so I am ready to get moving.

With that said we stopped in a small Austrian town (6000 people) called Mattighofen. This is the place our new motorcycles where made. When we arrived the sky was getting dark and not just with night. It was going to rain, and the rain drops in Austria are the size of cantaloupes. Jim and I had hoped to get a room at a hotel to regroup (laundry, blog, charge batteries, etc.). We got to town to find there are no hotels. We stopped on main street to try to figure something out for the evening. We parked and jumped of the bikes. Jim went into a real estate office to ask for help while I stood outside. Next door to the real estate office was a bar and 7 guys speaking German sat around drinking. One of them said something to me and I thought “Here we go. I am about to get my ass kicked” I turn walked over to the table and asked if they knew of a room for the night. “You need a room?” Yes. “Hold on”. The guy picks up the phone, calls someone, says he will be here in 10 minutes, “sit and drink?” Alright. Jim walks back and I am sitting around the table with these guys explaining we have rode these motorcycles (KTM, made in this town) half way around the world back to the factory. A cheer goes up. Jim sits and we take turns telling tells about the adventure so far. Within 10 mins. Andy (the inn keeper) shows up. We tried to pay but they would have none of that, I think the Mayor picked up the tab (Jim says he wasn‘t, but I like my version better).

We followed Andy the Inn keeper a mile out of town to his inn. Well I think it was his girlfriends families inn but he worked there. It was a beautiful large building with a bar/restaurant down stairs and 2 stories of rooms above. Andy moved something’s around in a carport so the bikes would be out of the rain (if it did, and it did). We unloaded and he walked up to our rooms. We had two separate rooms each with a twin bed, small table and chair, TV and our own bathrooms. The rooms were immaculately clean. And the price $35 a night, with breakfast. I had planned on a KTM Factory Tour on so we would be staying 2 nights. I asked if they had laundry facilities and Andy said no. His girlfriend spoke up an told us to get our stuff together right now and she would wash them for us. “How much would you like us to pay” because it was worth it no matter the price. She said “Whatever” I love Austria. We got the dirty clothes together and headed down for dinner. The restaurant was serving goulash and that’s it. If your hungry you eat goulash and I was hungry. We finished dinner and went to get the maps. While walking to the room we were approached with clean clothes in laundry basket. I love this place. We studied the maps and tried to come up with logistics plans for Russia and Mongolia then went upstairs to bed.

Today we ate breakfast and met a young couple from Vienna. She was, he was serving his mandatory civil service duty. In Austria you must serve in either 6 months in the military of 9 months in the civil services. He was on a field trip with 14 orphans sightseeing. This was his day off and his girlfriend (possibly his wife) came to visit the were off to see a movie. They were very nice an spoke English very well.

After we ate we headed to the KTM factory to see about a tour. We were unable to set one up before we left and I tried along the route to set something up. I really didn’t expect much and why would or should they care if we ride their motorcycle, we already bought the bikes. How many other riders show up expecting something.

When you arrive at the factory you notice multiple buildings, each behind a fence. We found the company store and took a quick look around. Not too much for us, mostly gear and clothing (which at this point we have plenty). I asked the girl working behind the counter about tours and she told me “The next tour is in September, everyone is on Holiday” (Griswalds). “THAT’S IT???”

As we walked back to the bikes, I walked into the main entrance and introduced myself to the receptionist. I told her we just rode her bikes from half way around the world (true, no exaggeration) and was wondering if there was anyone to show us around. She said she was sorry but the PR department was on vacation. “SO THAT’S IT!” As I stood at the front desk waiting for some other outcome she says “Hey, lets try marketing”. I said “Lets”. She made a call but couldn’t get anyone. She asked if I minded waiting a few minutes. I told her I had been on the road, on my way to see her for 50 days. I didn’t mind waiting. They had some bikes on display outside, so I walked outside to look them over. As we waited, some factory worker were on break. I walk to the fence and thanked them for working on my bike. They didn’t understand, so I did my best to “Charade” my thanks. I don’t think they got it. I then rolled my bike to the fence to show the Texas plate and they understood I had ridden from America.

I went back inside and was informed Martin from marketing would be happy to give us a private tour at 12:30 tomorrow. Now that is showing me the love. I walked back to my bike and the one of the factory workers was on his side of the fence. He threw a KTM calendar over the fence to me. Again, that’s showing the love.

We headed back to the Inn and ate dinner with Andy. We stayed up half the night listening to Jim play the guitar and Andy play the accordion. The local patrons clapped and sang drunken German tunes. Was fun.

The next day we arrived at the KTM factory. We met Martin who gave us a private tour of the factory. He explained how the bikes were built by local suppliers. He walked us past assembly lines filled with workers and showed us each step. Now I really like my bike. The quality of craftsmanship in Austria was amazing. I left the factory with a new appreciation of KTM.

We forgot to give our keys back to the rooms so we headed back to the inn. We returned the keys and felt bad about having to leave Andy. Someone once said the neat part about traveling is people you meet. The bad part is having to say goodbye to the people you meet. I invite Andy to come stay with me, I hope he does. Thanks Andy we had a great time.

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On the run from the Italian Toll Company.

We camped at a lakeside campground in a spot the campground host made for us (maybe 10ft. X 10ft). She felt sorry, since Europe is on Holiday, we would have never found a spot (hotel or campsite). I went swimming (cold) and we called it a early evening. We have headed south enough now that it gets dark around 9:30 and when camping off of a motorcycle you go to bed when it is dark (not unlike home for me).

We decided it was time to leave Italy for good. We pulled out the next morning and rode around the lake. Made it to the most northern point before the traffic woke up. We jumped on the highway (I love my bike) and before we knew it had crossed over into Switzerland. The Alps were standing tall on both sides of the highway as we watched waterfall after waterfall flowing into the valley.

We rode through some tunnels. I would leave it at that but I don’t think some of you would get the picture. All through the Alps there are giant tunnels. Not so much in height but in length. We rode in a tunnel that was 10 miles long, underground (or in this case a mountain range) and some the temp would rise. I just knew there was an accident and a huge fire and we were riding right into it. This was not the case but in one tunnel the temp did climb from 58 to 95.Switzerland was beautiful, just like you would imagine. I think the snow fall each year helps wash away the dirt, both on the roads and building. It was a very clean country.

At a rest stop we met a guy and his wife heading down to south Switzerland in a 4x4 truck (not stock). He had ridden Africa and Australia on a bike like ours in 2006, but had a family now and were going exploring by truck. They had their little girl with them. Trade in your motorcycle adventures for a 4x4 truck and a daughter? Deal.

We rolled along then stopped for gas in the country of Liechtenstein. How awful, again a country I had never heard of. The country is in between Switzerland and Austria and the one person we talked with at the gas station was very nice. I am going to base my opinion of that country on her, a very nice place. Was the main character in the movie “A Knights Tale” from Liechtenstein? Jim and I couldn’t remember. We spent a total of 4km in Liechtenstein and think we covered most if the country.

Once we drove out of Liechtenstein we found ourselves on the Austrian toll road without the proper toll road sticker (I am racking up the fines). We did pull over to the first service station/truck stop to see it we could purchase one. I walked to the counter (not knowing which language I should use) asked the grumpy woman behind the counter “Do you speak English, maybe” (I decide to go with my English). Her replay shocked me. She said with a scowl on her face “I do speak English, and don’t call me BABY!” She was so scary I couldn’t even let out the laugh. I told her I had said “Maybe” and would never refer to her as “Baby”. Although now I might.

We bought the toll passes $7.50 for 10 days, said good bye to Baby, and move on down the road.

Italy, Switzerland, Liechtenstein, and Austria four counties in one day. Try that in the States.

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Spain 08/02/2010
 
　

We spent close to a week in Spain and at first I was a little disappointed. Central Spain was hot and dirty, mostly farming communities. It is a place where major irrigation takes place to make the land inhabitable to humans or crops (Cochella Valley or Western Oklahoma). The larger cities we past were full of people sitting around, loitering. We received many a strange look. At one point (at a monastery) Jim and Brad left the bikes to look around, while I was still riding to catch up (I dropped my apple and went back to look for it). I pulled up just in time to hear a under cover police officer warn them (us) never leave the bikes unattended in Spain. I was just about ready to leave Spain, and head back to France. But we decided to hit the coast to see the Mediterranean.

We started riding in 100 degrees, no shade, long winding roads. The roads became twisted and increased in elevation (cooler). Soon the roads were a mess of twisted tight turns with major switch backs, up and then down the coastal mountain range. The bikes sang and there was no traffic. We owned the best motorcycling road. For hours we rode roads that were smooth and fast. I just changed my mind about Spain. Spain has the best motorcycle roads in the world (so far).

The three of us ended up at the beach at Penisacola (look it up). Huge high rise hotels (Panama city, Daytona beachish) covered the board walk. Thousands of people, dressed in beach clothes, walk up and down the shore. Brad was able to get a room over looking a castle (built in the 1200’s). We went out to dinner and ate sea food. I picked my normal meal, when the waiter hands me a menu, I open it and point immediately to something. I never know what I am going to get. Sometimes it is good others not so much. I can’t read the menu or speak the language, why waste everybody’s time asking questions. This night I did well and had fish. After dinner we walked the board walk and smell the salt in the air. Watching the freaks that come out at night I kinda was home sick for Huntington Beach.

The next morning were headed to Madrid. Brad was flying out and we had to return his bike to the rental company. Jim and I made an appointment to have our bikes serviced at the same location. The ride to Madrid was hot, dusty through many small towns. I was getting the feeling of not being welcomed, again. It was rolling on to the evening and elderly people started to gather on front porches, and doorways. The temp was still hot but cooling off. As we passed through they looked at Brad, then Jim and finally me. They showed no expression, no understanding of the purpose of these heavily packed motorcycle. They just gazed. This made me feel uneasy, until I waved. Once I waved I received a smile and a huge wave back. Crap, misread them completely. So each little town we passed through I waved like I was in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade and people smiled and waved right back. Okay I like Spain.

 We managed to stumble into Madrid around 10:30 pm and it was still 95 degrees. After an eternity of driving stupid traffic circle and braving the highways we finally found the hotel. I probably wont go back to Madrid, although we did eat dinner at the worlds oldest restaurant, it opened in 1724 (this time I got chicken).

The next day, again stumbled around Madrid (hard place to get around) and found the repair shop. Jose is the owner/mechanic and rents motorcycles. Brad returned his and we dropped ours off for service, then went to the mall. Jose’s shop (Happyrider.com) was under his house, in his basement, he even gave us a ride back to the hotel and picked us up the next day(when the bikes were finished). Here is the kicker, he wouldn’t allow us to pay for the labor. He did the work for free. We did end up buying lunch for him and his partner (the best we could do). They were the highlight of Spain.

The following day Brad flew home. It was a nice vacation from the real work of riding around the world. Brad had traveled Europe before and was handy to have around, plus he was just fun. Thanks Brad for the laughs.

Jim and I headed north fast. It was time to leave the big city and get back to the country. We made our was along the Pyrenees winding up and down the twisty mountain roads. We ended up in a cabin for the night at a camp ground just before it started to pour. The next day we traveled to the country of Andorra. Yes, a country. We had no idea it existed. It is 181 sq. miles, that’s it. It is covered with fancy banks and hotels. I did say that correct, fancy banks. We learned it has no income tax and is a tax shelter of some sort, We met a Canadian, Marco who gave us the low down.

We headed toward Italy over the Alps. The Pyrenees are an impressive set of mountains but the Alps make them look like the Arbuckle’s. By the way the Arbuckle mountains in southern Oklahoma are the second oldest mountain range on earth.

As we progress through each country the quality of driver decreases. Italy has the worst drivers. They are not used to motorcycles following any laws and therefore do not know how to drive around bikes. The motorcycles will drive right down the middle of the street on the white line, while traffic is flowing in both directions. Because of Holiday (Europe is on vacation) Italy was packed. We sat at traffic light after traffic light wait for a chance to break free of the city. We did camp a site on top of a beautiful mountain overlooking the plains. We met a group of def kids (20’s) and had a good time explaining what we were doing. They were great sports and Happy 30th birthday.

We tried to get to Florence but the traffic and heat made it impossible. Jim tried to send some things back to the states but had a difficult time at the post office. He was able to by a box for $4.00 but not allowed to use it. After an hour of discussion it was easier to quietly leave than cause a scene. So long Italy heading north were it is cooler.

Oh I almost forgot, I ran a toll booth (they say I did, I say I didn’t). They charged Jim $9.40 euro and me $66.00 euro. I sat at toll booth while the guy spoke Italian faster and faster. Cars lined up behind me and I kept saying “No ticket”. I realized he was not going to slow down (or be any help) and he was getting louder in Italian. So just for fun, I started with the whole story as fast as I possibly could (in English of course). When he would take a breath I would unload about the days events or anything that came to mind. I paid $10.00 euros and was credited for $10. The line of cars backed up to the point the toll booth operator printed off a ticket stating I still owe the Italian toll company $56.00 euros and the gate opened. I told him he owned me $.60 euros and I rode off. I have a feeling I will not be able to register my motorcycle in Italy until I get that paid off. Whatever.

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More France 07/24/2010
 
  More France

With Jim feeling better we headed south to met up with a friend or Jim’s, Brad. Brad rented a motorcycle from a shop in Madrid (Happy Rider, more to come on that). Because of the Kidney stone delay we missed the Running of the Bulls. Looks like I will have to go back some day.

We caught up with Brad and spent the next several days riding through the French country side looking at castles, fields of sunflowers and gigantic wind mills.

One morning, at a camp sight Jim and Brad started discussing the logistics behind the days ride. I usually keep quiet and as long as I know the plan really don’t care what we do or see. I just like to be informed. It look as if we could catch a stage of the Tour De France. All we had to do was leave a half hour ago and ride 100 miles to the town of Mende.

Quickly we removed our luggage and secured it in the tents. Then bolted out of the campground with super light bikes. Heading east along the those same fields and small towns we raced (ok mom, we rode fast, but cautiously, but for the story I am using raced). We rounded many round abouts, in one side out the other. We passed cars and got passed by motorcycles (they ride motorcycle crazy over here). We ended up at the small town at 2:00 pm just in time to get a good standing spot (no where to sit and it was 95 degrees). This is where I will do my best to describe what I consider to be controlled panic (at least from me and the kid next to me). The Tour De France is of course the biggest bicycle race, period. It is raced over multiple days over multiple countries. It is a bicycle race, but in France it is the superbowl/NASCAR/Coolest whatever you do, mixed into one exciting 3 week period (Major sponsors).

Standing in our spot next to a guard rail, at the 3km to go mark, on a up hill, right turn, we waited. Waiting for 100 bicycles to come by., we waited, and waited, “When are they coming?” 5:30. WAIT here is the weird part. At 5:00 a parade of sponsor vehicles, some cars, some floats, some other. Each of the vehicles throws handfuls of the sponsors’ products or some sort of advertisement (key chains, hats, water bottles, etc.). People are going nuts to catch an umbrella hat, today’s paper or a bag of jelly beans (ok, I might have pushed a little for the jelly beans). Shoulder to shoulder crowd screaming and jumping when a giant Peugeot lion cruise by throwing out key chains. I gave most of the stuff I caught to a kid standing next to me. He was short and didn’t have much of a chance. So after a half hour the gimme parade, the crowd was worked up. It was now that the races came by. Up hill and to the right the first 4 came speeding by. Closely followed by the “Peloton” (larger main group). And who was in the beginning of the second group? Lance. At least that I call him. Yes we saw Lance Armstrong for a second.

Then it was over. Poof done. No more parade no, more racers. We loaded on the motorcycle and rode back to the 100 miles back to the campground. I sat alone in my tent that evening and wondered, “Was it worth 5 hours on the bike in the heat, to watch 30 seconds of the Tour De France?”. Yes.

After the race we turn our attention to Spain. Brad had to return his bike to Madrid so we figure we would ride with him. On our way out of France we climbed the winding switch backs of the Pyrenees. The higher we climbed the cooler it got. Soon we pulled over to add layers of clothing. As we dressed for the cooler temp (on the side of a mountain) the fog was rolling in. We started back up the twisting mountain road waiting for the mouth of a tunnel to lead us to Spain. Thicker and thicker the fog layered in. Soon I had trouble seeing the tail light of Brads motorcycle. Resisting the urge to rise my face shield (fog coats your glasses) I smeared the water across my plastic visor. “Don’t do it” I repeated over and over. “Do lift the face shield, but I can’t see. “This is STUPID” I said out loud but no one could hear me they were wrapped up in their sightless drama. Can’t see the edge “whoosh” a car goes by the other way. Now the fog is so thick, it isn’t safe to stop. The traffic won’t have enough time to stop once they saw me. “Keep going. Don’t do it”. I finally broke and lifted my face shield I could see! For a second. Water vapor quickly covered my newly exposed glasses. What comes next, is a quickly trying to slide the glasses down your nose so you can see over them, all the while telling calling yourself stupid for knowing the outcome, yet still do it.

Although sometime I get lucky. Right before the glasses fogged up I saw the opening of the tunnel. It was a straight shot into the mouth. This tunnel was closed to a mile long and dropped significantly in elevation. So much of a drop in fact when we exited the tunnel (now in Spain) the sky was clear. The temperature increase 30 degrees and we were scrambling to remove our jackets. We entered France by ferry in the fog and exited France by tunnel in the fog.

We rode 25 or so miles but had some of the fight taken out by the fog. It was hot and we decided to best to make camp.

　

　

　

　

　

　

　

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France 07/21/2010
 
France

I know I am a little behind but here goes.

We left London in a hurry. Too much traffic, noise and crowds. Perhaps we were still enjoying the treatment from the Canadians. In the London I could not find anyone to slow down long enough to smile much less hold a conversation.

We rode out to the Dover to load on ferry. We pulled into the parking lot along side a couple on two motorcycles. While Jim headed in to buy tickets (I stayed back to watch the bikes) I got to talking to the couple. They were from Germany on holiday, and were on their way back from Scotland. When Jim came out I introduced him to Karin and Holger (my new friends). We follow them onto the ferry then spent the next hour and a half sitting outside, in the fog, on the deck of the ferry drinking coffee and chatting. When the ferry ride was over we met a couple of riders from a motorcycle club in the Netherlands, Jim dropped his bike, Karin and I picked it up and we had an invite to both Belgium and Germany (that was more like it) and If it can work out we will use them both.

I was expecting the French to be snooty, smelly and overall unpleasant. Wrong. They are very accommodating and try hard to make us feel at home. They were so wonderful, I am embarrassed of my prejudging.

We rode down the coast 50 miles or so but ran into severe beach traffic. Enough of that, we headed inland. The weather was warm, roads were nice and it was time to stay in our first campsite. It was getting late and we were getting tired. We tried two hotels but the were full (beach traffic) so we went to a small camp ground. Speaking no French I pulled up to get a camping spot. A French woman greeted me and in French asked “Can I help you?” at least that is my best guess. I froze. It is true, I said nothing. Finally this 5 foot 2 inch, 125 lbs woman figured out she had scared the hell out of me. Me at 6 foot 1 inch, 200 lbs, dusty, unshaven, dirty clothes, leather boot wearin, long hair, just pulled up on a motorcycle and I was terrified. She smiled and said “Du” Jim walked in and said “Wii”. Some how we managed to communicate we still needed to eat dinner. At this time her husband shows up and starts to give directions (he just starts rattling). I was lost, what is going on!!! At this point he sees we are helpless and he says” come on” .

He ran to his truck (smallest pick up ever made), started it and sped out of the driveway. Jim and I quickly slapped on our helmets (no time for gloves) and tried to keep up. We race down the narrows streets of some obscure French town, still not sure if we even have a camp site for the night. He finally pulled into another camp ground and wait for us to arrive. When we got their he point to a small restaurant that was still open (probably the only one in town). He smiled got in his truck and left. We walked in to a room full of “Bon jour‘s”. It was a sun room added on to a travel trailer.

Half way though my “MMMMMMmmooooooooooooo” (I couldn’t read the menu and didn’t have a clue how to order beef, so when asked I mmmmooooo’ed. I think Jim might have died inside, just a little) three women from three different tables (non knowing each other) got up and started line dancing in sync. I had seen enough! France was alright. We finished and headed to the camp site, set up the tents and crashed. Oh I also learned you better have your own roll of toilet paper cause it isn’t always supplied. Oh and that McDonald’s has free Wifi (this turn out to be a really great asset).

The next day we rolled through fields of sunflowers and giant windmills. I know we have big wind mills out in west Texas, near Sweetwater but if it is possible the blades seem longer here. I will try to get a picture up of the sunflower fields. You can bet I will have sunflowers when I get home. We were heading south to meet up with Brad, a friend of Jims. For the running of the bulls.

On our way to the Running Of the Bulls in Spain, we pulled into another camp ground in Chatuedon. Once again a French woman came hustling over to question us. By this time I was no longer afraid of little old French women and was delighted to try my French (which I have none). I pulled out my phase book and started reading phases that don’t apply to any situation. What ended up coming from our little chat? (Now mind you, I don’t speak French and she didn’t speak English) what came from our talk, She had two tent sites for $12.00. Set up your tents grab a shower and come to the cabana to watch the finals of the world cup, hot dogs $4.00. Smiles all around. Starting to really like France. It was here Jim had his little problem, the kidney stone.

I woke the next morning to find Jim moving a little slow. He took a shower and then threw up. He said “I think I pulled something in my back”. Then he laid back in his tent. It was now when he told me he thought it was a kidney stone. He had one once before 20 years ago. I let him lay in his tent, while I packed up my gear. When I finished loading my bike I walk to his tent to find him in the fetal position, with his hands between his knees, his hair drenched in sweat. His breathing was labored. “Aaa Jim do you want to go to the doctor?” I asked. He contorted around in the tent before he answered “I don’t know, what do you think?” “What do I think? WHAT DO I THINK? YOUR DIEING” is what I thought. “I think it would probably be best” is what I said. As cool as ice, I said “I’ll go get an ambulance”. Once I left I thought how am I going to get an ambulance? I don’t even know how to dial the stupid phone! I grabbed my phase book and headed to the next camp site. Luckily it was a guy we had watched the game with the night before. I point to the line in the book that said I needed an ambulance and the guy went NUTS. He jumped in his car and spend off. He drove up the road and got the camp ground host. He spoke a little English and called for the ambulance.

I could hear it coming from across town “EEEwwwwwwEEEEEEwwwwwwwEEEEEEEEwwwwwww”. Jim crawled out of the tent and sat in a lawn chair and waited. A crew of three, questioned him and I handed him a pebble so he could play “charades” to explain the problem. Poof! I am alone in France with two motorcycles and my riding partner is somewhere in this city (I hope). I learned right there, instead of standing around watching the paramedics work, a fella should take that time to pack up, in order to FOLLOW the ambulance. I didn’t.

I did find the hospital and arrived shortly after Jim. As I walked down the hallway I was getting ready to see Jim sitting up in a bed, drinking water, maybe hooked up to an IV for pain meds. We would have a laugh and make plans for riding to Spain. The nurse lead me to his room, and as I walked in he look the same. Not the good same. He was in the fetal position, labored breathing and in pain. Crap. I hung out till it was obvious I was not going to help and only going to be in the way. “I will be back in an hour”.

Now what? I rode to town bought some chain lube. Went and ate then headed back. This time I walked down the silent hall with a different attitude. I was scared. What kind of care will he get. Is it a kidney stone or is it something else? If we have to fly him home how will I get his bike back? What will I do, go, stay? I was scared, I walked by people waiting fearfully for information on loved ones. I rounded the corner, this time prepared to see my friend hurting in agony. Making dam sure he didn’t see the concern on my face. I walked in the room to find him sitting in a chair with a smile, laughing, surrounded by four nurses just swooning over him. I ask “4 really 4” and he smiled. “Guessed you passed it?” “We don’t know!”. We spent the next 8 hours waiting to be released. We could have waited a week, and it would have been ok by me. Jim was fine and that is what mattered. Oh then we ate the Buffalo Grill. But that’s another story for another time.

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