Post 58: Turkey Part 4

'How far is Trabzon?' The cafe owner smiles back at me and raises three fingers, .. 'tallata, tallata'. His gold toothed friend shakes his head in disagreement, .... 'ithnane, ithnane', he makes the sound of a motorcycle indicating that we'll be faster than his old Renault 12 car and that we'll actually make it in two. Everybody in the Cafe has an opinion but the general consensus seems to be 3 hours for us to ride to the port of Trabzon in order catch our ferry to Sochi in Russia. Our European map finishes here in Amasra and the Russian map only covers the north side of the Black Sea heading east, .... but we know where we need to go.

Through necessity we've had two nights of rough camping without tents and using only our bivi bags for protection. We experienced the most amazing thunder and lightening storm to date and spent a sleepless night watching the town of Zonguldak disappear in an amazing flood as we sheltered beneath the makeshift shelter of a cafes awning, .... it wasn't comfortable but it's certainly something to remember. At 3am, once the rain had finished, the Cafe owner appeared with cups of hot coffee for us, ... that's Turkey for you.

For the past two days we've been heading east as quickly as possible along roads that aren't designed for fast riding. The coastline here is almost as beautiful as the Adriatic Coast in Croatia but the roads are to say the very best, 'variable'. Our lack of language skills has eventually returned to haunt us as the '3 hours' indicated at the cafe for our journey from Amasra to Trabzon, ... was actually '3 days'.

At around 8am this morning just east of Samsun and with already 100 miles under our belts, we were waved to the side of the road by a group of rather irate looking traffic officers. Their radar had recorded our speed in excess of 120kph in a 70kph limit. We removed our helmets and hunted for original documents while the police officers tapped nervously on their gun belts and indicated on a small piece of paper that the fines would be in the region of 400YTL (200 Euro Each). They spoke no English and apart form 'Hello', we spoke no Turkish, .... perfect. Within minutes, we'd handed them a copy of 'The Riders Digest' magazine (which we signed for them of course), posed for pictures with the officers in front of their car and handed out three shiny new Poor Circulation badges. At some point it may have been suggested that we were journalists working for the BBC, by the police officers not us, ..... but who were we to disagree. We eventually left them with a wave and a promise to slow down the riding and to return again next year, ..... fantastic.

Alan is suffering from some sort of stomach bug and we've stopped short of Trabzon and taken refuge in a small backpackers hotel for the night. I've managed to find some free wireless Internet and I'm making the most of it. Tomorrow all being well we'll sail from Trabzon to Sochi in Russia, around 12 hours, ....... but that assumes that Trabzon is actually located where we now think it is.

www.justgiving.com/geoffgthomas

Post 57: General Update

General Update

Well I think it's about time that I updated on some of the more general 'Stuff' that has been going on. (This is me saving the life of one of the many tortoises that we see trying to cross the roads here in Turkey, .. and they can actually run when required)

Both bikes are behaving far better than their respective owners and we've had no real issues. Alarm worries struck me at a couple of border crossings but I think that was mainly because the 'Sensor' was buried beneath so much needless luggage that the signal from the fob simply didn't penetrate. Apart from that, the Michelin Anakee tyres have done about 10,000 miles and we'll be lucky to get another 3,000 before we try to replace them in Volgograd. We'll replace front and rear brake pads at the same time and probably change the oil and filter. We're carrying K&N air filters and after the dust of our illicit expedition into Bulgaria it's probably a good idea that we change the original Triumph paper elements. As for the rest, ..... best to leave well alone I think.

My new Caberg Trip helmet, bought specifically for the journey, has decided to 'self destruct'. We were heading through Macedonia on a wonderful stretch of fast and winding road when the top plastic sliders decided to part company with the rest of the helmet. At the speeds we were traveling (quite quickly officer, .. but safely) the force of the wind catching the flapping plastic almost ripped my head off, ...... but I survived ;-). I tried to change the visor but unfortunately the main side screw is turning in its socket and so I'm stuck with a cracked visor from here onwards. Thankfully superglue came to the rescue and now all 'floppy plastic parts' are once more firmly secured to the helmet, ..... for now.

I've had several interfaces with wildlife whilst Alan seems to have remained immune. I caught a wasp in my tee shirt coming out of Prizren in Kosovo. It stung me six times before I managed to stop the bike and strip at the side of the road. (Much to the amazement of two Police Officers who stood and watched). I've been stung on the move twice more by other wasps and also again at borders for unofficial taxes, ..... but that's all part of traveling I guess.

I shared my tent in Greece with three mosquito and they had their fill of my blood overnight. I was too lazy to go to my bike for the '100% Deet', so I guess that's my fault really. I let them out of the tent in the morning and at least they looked fat and healthy.

We've crossed into Asia now, Alan's first time. We avoided the temptation of Istanbul (and it's traffic and expense) in favour of Gallipoli and we're thankful. It would have been great to show Alan around Istanbul but we'd probably have needed to use a hotel with secure parking and that would have been additional expense that we can ill afford.

The budget did take something of a battering but we've managed to get it back on track through Greece and Turkey. In Greece we did this by living rough and eating whatever we could buy and in Turkey it has been purely down to the generosity of total strangers. Thankfully petrol is not part of the £20 per day as the fuel cost is something that is beyond our control and 'free fuel' is a difficult commodity to 'blag'. However, the price of Petrol has come as quite a shock to us, especially here in Turkey. We hope that Russia has not yet jumped of the 'hyper fuel tax' band wagon because we're relying on cheap gas there to help us afford to do as many miles as possible in America, ... here's hoping.

We're still not sure if we have a means of getting directly from Vladivostok to Anchorage but hopefully we'll meet travelers coming 'West' who will be able to inform us of the current Flight/Ferry status and some approximate costs. If it's difficult, we'll ship the bikes to the USA and go touring in Asia on 125cc hire bikes for a few weeks, ... it's actually cheaper to do that than for the two of us to fly directly from Russia to the USA,.. weird but true.

As for home,.... we're missing the people and not the place. It's taken us four weeks to replace the idea of 'Being on Holiday' with 'Traveling' and we're now a lot more relaxed. Now any problems that we encounter are all part of a days fun and not the pain in the arse that they always seemed to be in the beginning, .. or maybe we're both just growing up.

Alan is concerned that we're neglecting to mention our respective charities in the blogs and that people may overlook one of the driving forces behind this journey. It's a fair comment, but it's also true that we only have time to write so much about the amazing things that have happened and time is not something that is really on our side at the moment. Thankfully people have been making contributions directly to both Hospices, ....... and for that we are truly grateful. Any new names are being added to the Orange Tiger as and when we can, .. so if you have contributed recently don't worry, ..... your names are on there.

The people we've met along the way have created the most memorable moments, .. many of which we may write about at a later date. The 'Blogs' just give small snapshots of each country or each day, .. the dairies we keep are filling quickly and if we forget to write anything down, ... then worryingly they may be lost forever. The weird thing about the generosity of those people that we've met so far is that those who have the least, .... give the most.

Advice to other would-be-travelers? Just do it, .. any bike,... any destination, ... it's not difficult but if you don't do it, ...... you will certainly regret it.

www.justgiving.com/geoffgthomas

Post 56: Turkey Part 3

Turkey is expensive, .. fuel is £1.40 per litre, but the hospitality and friendliness of the Turkish people is second to none.

Last night we arrived in the small coastal village of Koccalli on the Black Sea in search of a free place to pitch our tents. Seeking out what looked like the nicest piece of seafront real estate, I cheekily suggested to the guard at the complex gate that it would be an honour for us to camp here. Unfortunately, although the guard seemed more than willing to allow us access to his beautiful beach, ... access for the Tigers would be impossible for riders with our ability, ... we haven't mastered 'Sand' yet.

From behind us, .. we see the beaming smile of Ali, the Chief of Police for Ankara. His holiday home is on the complex, .... we must camp in his garden. We pitch tents and meet Ali's wife and father for more Chai and strawberries dipped in honey, .. delicious.

This morning we woke on our fourth beach, on the fourth different sea in four consecutive days, on two separate continents, .... this is traveling at its ultimate best. We said farewell to Ali and his father and headed off, .. East towards Trabzum and eventually the ferry across to Sochi in Russia. A few kilometers on we stopped the bikes and from nowhere 'Urzal' appeared and invited us for 'Chai'. Within minutes we were sitting under a constructed sun shelter with Urzal and his Father drinking Chai and eating the most amazing bread that I for one have ever tasted. Urzal spoke no English and only a little Arabic, ... but we talked and ate for about an hour about his life as a baker in Turkey. He would accept no money but wished us well as we headed on along the Black Sea coast.

From here on communications may become difficult as we're unsure of Internet access in Russia. However, given that with the exception of Italy we have found everything that we need freely available in the strangest of places, ......... perhaps even more pleasant surprises await us.

www.justgiving.com/geoffgthomas

Post 55: Turkey Part 2

Following one of the most amazing sunsets seen on the journey so far, .. we wake in the small hamlet of Kum to the sound of the Muezzin calling the faithful to prayer. We pack tents, brew coffee and head back to Gallipoli for the ferry.

On the ferry to Lapeski over the Dardanelles, I meet Osman. He practices his English with me from sheets of paper whilst holding tightly onto my knee, ... I practice my rusty Arabic on him, ... but avoiding his knee. It takes 30 minutes to cross, .. if feels like 5 minutes, ... Turkey is turning into an amazingly friendly place.

We ride east hugging the coast and for no particular reason, I decide to turn off the main coastal road and into the town of Biga. I hear the bike behind me as I pull over to find a functional ATM, .. we have no YTL, .. only Euro. A voice, .. I turn, .. cool dude on a Yamaha Virago, wrap around shades and no helmet, 'follow me, we drink tea'.

Around the corner we enter a cobbled street, 'pedestrians only', we park the Tigers in front of a row of shops. We're introduced to Teyfo, he owns the 'Converse' shop in Biga, ... his friend Ayhen sells handmade ethnic jewelery from his stall close by but passes the 'slack-time' by entertaining shoppers with rock ballads on his guitar. A Suzuki GS500 arrives, .. we've seen it before, twice, .. they've been following us from Lapeski and apparently trying to flag us down, .. we meet the rider, Volcan and the passenger, Ozzy.

We sit between the shops,.. hot refreshing Chai arrives glass after glass and interspersed with rounds of beautifully toasted panini with tomato, cheese and salami. Teyfo brings a 'Cura' and begins to accompany Ayhen on guitar, .. we have a rendition of Turkish folk songs followed by Bob Dylan, ..... the best improvised busking session I've ever attended, .. these guys are good.

Ozzy explains that he owns a Fish and Chip shop in Devon and is back in Turkey for a few months. He and Volcan were on their way to Istanbul to meet with friends when they saw us pass on the main road, .. they have chased us on and off for the last hour, ... 'welcome to Turkey'. We meet Savas from 'Ismet Oto', the local Michelin dealer, ... he will check the price of replacement tyres for the bikes, ... he shakes hands and leaves to do his research.

Ayhen presents us with bullet necklaces and invites me to ride his Jawa 250 'Chopper', .. it looks cool, .. I used to have one (unchopped), .. but a 350cc circa 1974. Ayhen looks puzzled, ... 'Korean, .. 1992, .. not Jawa', but it's still the coolest bike on the block. We follow Teyfo to Ismet Oto where Savas tells us the price of Michelin's in Turkey, .. we decline politely and hopefully we'll find affordable rubber replacements in Russia. Volcan needs to oil his chain before he sets off for Istanbul, we head for the Auto Souks. Teyfo has a secret, .. only I can be shown, but I must promise not to tell another living soul. I ride pillion around the Auto Souks as people wave and shout to us. We arrive at a small industrial unit where I'm introduced to an elderly and distinguished gentleman and I'm warned to speak openly but not to touch him, .... unless invited to do so. We smile, .... the elderly distinguished gentleman, comfortable with my ability to maintain the secret that is about to be revealed, invites me to follow him into his workshop. Three secrets are revealed to me, each a little more amazing then the one before, ..... but for the time being, ... secrets they shall remain.

Volcan and Ozzy decide that we should follow them to Erdek to swim and camp,.. it is on their way to Istanbul and they will say goodbye to us there. We follow, .. at great speed, .. it is some 70 miles, ... it takes little time. The water is the warmest yet, a local boy guards our bikes, ... the Albatros Cafe Bar provides free beer and Chai, ... Ayhen arrives with a notebook that I had accidentally left at Biga, ..... Ozzy takes us all to dinner. We still have no TYL, .. only Euro, .. we are not allowed to pay for anything.

After dinner, Ayhen gives guitar lessons to a local girl while we head away to find camping with Volcan and Ozzy who are still on their way to Istanbul. We head along the coast and as the sun sets and Volcan stops to pray, .. we request the assistant of two local brothers in their late sixties. Within seconds I am riding pillion on a scooter of unknown vintage and heading along the coast. At a small beach we pull in for a camp inspection. Two middle aged brothers are already camping there, .. a heated discussion takes place and one of the campers brandishes a rather lethal looking snake that has just been killed by his dog. The beach looks ideal, the brothers seem to live here in two tents with a small dog and boat .... after the discussion ends the rider of the scooter raises an eyebrow to me 'Quais Sidiqu?', .. I raise a thumb, .... 'Coola quais al humdililia', the deal is done.

Sadly we say goodbye to Ozzy and Volcan, it's already 9pm and dark, they were expected in Istanbul at 1pm. As we watch them ride off into the night, Ishmail, the elder of the beach brothers invites us to join them for 'chai' on the sand by the waters edge. We sit in silence, listening to a dolphin chuckle and vent just a few meters from the shore, drinking hot sweet tea with two strangers who are at this precise moment in time, the closest friends that we have in this world, Ishmail and Kalam. Welcome to Turkey

www.justgiving.com/geoffgthomas

Post 54: Turkey Part 1

Greece had been as I'd expected and in a way, something of a disappointment. The beaches, the camping and the Retsina had been amazing, but apart from the Priest, ... the locals seemed to have very little time for these 'ragtag' bikers from England. Perhaps we're becoming immune to the changes in geography and crave more exposure to the changes in culture, .. perhaps these 'Tourists' are becoming 'Travelers' at long last, ... perhaps the adventure is about to begin.

Entering Turkey is easy, Insurance is £3 for one month and the visa purchased at the border is £10 for three months, .... no 'unofficial taxes', .... and we're moving ever closer to Asia. Once over the border we head for the Gallipoli Peninsula and the memorials to those who lost their lives in the Great War (1915). The temperature is rising, 34 degrees and it's only midday, ... we find the port of Gallipoli and stop for 'Chai'. Immediately were the centre of attention, kids gather around us and we speak the universal language: 'Beckham?, .... Ronaldo?, ... Chelski?, .... Manchester United?', ... they pose for photos and reduce our supply of 'Poor Circulation' badges, .... but we're out of Greece and interacting with people once more, .... this is why we travel.

South of Gallipoli we turn west at Kilye Cove and head for the memorials at the centre of the peninsula. It's a Sunday, early afternoon and tourist coaches move thousands of locals around the area on the narrow melting road system. We visit Johnston's Jolly, Lone Pine and Quinn's Post memorials where the mood is somber and reflective. Here it is mostly Australian and New Zealand troops that are buried yet their graves and memorials are kept immaculately, ..... excuse the burning midday sun and you could think that your actually back in Ypres or Flanders.

At the Turkish memorials higher in the mountains thousands of families gather and pray, ... they eat food and drink tea on large rugs and blankets that they've brought from home. Unlike the ANZAC memorials, the Turkish counterparts seem to feel more like an area of 'reflective celebration' than as a reminder to the loss of mostly young lives that they are. They're not celebrating war or victory, in fact I think that the Turkish people see the death and destruction that occurred here to have been even less pointless than we do, .... but they seem to celebrate the lives of those family members that ended their short lives here in a way that we would find difficult to accept in Northern France. It's actually very refreshing to experience and possibly lessons can be learned here.

We leave the area understanding what we have seen and learned, ... but unlike Ypres, .... our hearts are not heavy with regret but are filled with a confidence that if people of the world can continue to view such needless destruction in this way, ..... then there is more chance that such conflicts will never be repeated, .... Inshallah.

www.justgiving.com/geoffgthomas

Post 53: Greece

Before leaving the safety of Italy for the unknown quantities of the Balkans, Greece had shone from our map of Europe like a beacon of comfort and safety. Sometimes when your traveling the 'unknown' actually becomes the adventure and on this particular journey that has certainly proven to be true.

Croatia, Montenegro and Macedonia have been amazing and are certainly not to be feared. In Kosovo we had been alarmed by the UN and KFOR activities close to the border with Macedonia, ...... but there had been nothing to fear but the fear of uncertainty itself. Each Nation had warned us aboutt he next, ... and each had been wrong. Greece on the other hand was a 'known quantity' and we knew exactly what to expect.

Entering Greece from Macedonia was simplicity itself, .. Passports and Go. This part of Greece is unknown to me yet it all seems very familiar. We head for the nearest stretch of coast and hopefully a beach to rest our aching bones for the next few days, recharge the batteries, drink Retsina and eat fish until boredom dictates that we once again head east. The traffic in Greece is heavy but the rules of survival are familiar, ... be confident and ride like the road belongs to you, .. and only you, .. be selfish with the asphalt and you'll avoid being intimidated, .... think 'London' and you'll survive just fine.

We crack-on, we follow the compass for the nearest coastline and arrive as night falls at a place called Retikas. It's not on any of our maps and Alan's trusty SatNav suggests that we're actually in the sea, ... but that matters little, .. the ground is flat, the Taverna is open and the Retsina is cold, ...... sardines arrive and the night is complete.

I meet the Priest, he loves England and Beer, .. we talk for at least an hour in two very different languages but that matters little. He notices 'Buddha' around my neck, he chuckles, ..... he has one wife and five beautiful children. The bikes are blessed but the Priest has no more beer and decides that the Raki transported from Albania is not quite to his liking, ..... we say 'goodnight' and in the morning, we'll simply see what the day brings for each of us.
www.justgiving.com/geoffgthomas

Post 52: Bulgaria

We actually came into Greece before Bulgaria but as our adventures in Greece continue, I will discuss Bulgaria first.

I woke in my tent to glorious sunshine, camping only meters from the sea beside a Taverna where the owner had kindly allowed us to pitch our tents. Today we planned to go into Bulgaria and then to return to Greece. Our map showed a small road heading north from the town of Komotini towards the Bulgarian border where we would cross, .... and so we set off.

Using the compass and a little 'know-how-not', we moved north along roads that ran out of tarmac and reminded us very much of Albania. The signs for the small villages were all in Greek and did not appear on our map or Alan's SatNav, ..... but we kept onwards, always North. At a small village, knowing we were close to the Bulgarian border we stopped for water and asked at the local store for directions. We were ushered to the local mayor's office where it was clearly explained to us that although a route existed to the border, it was almost impassable and that it was impossible to cross into Bulgaria. On further questioning it was clear that a 'secret path' did exist and was known only to the locals, .... the mayor could not condone such entry into Bulgaria but was kind enough to sketch a small map to demonstrate the possibility, .. result.

The road became tarmac again as we slowly climbed high into the hills, avoiding donkeys, snakes and tortoise at every bend, ..... and then the tarmac stopped. The road became the most difficult yet but the Tigers performed well,.. even with tow knobs like Alan and myself doing our level best to crash at every opportunity the Triumphs saved our bacon on more than one occasion. We passed a military post where bored soldiers looked at us with suspicion and we turned east along an even rougher track for about 6Km following the roughly sketched map. Finally we spotted it, ..... amid a tangle of razor wire, the white skeins and posts that marked the border between the two nations. We consulted Alan's SatNav which had not shown a road for the past three hours but what it now clearly showed was that we straddled the border between Greece and Bulgaria. We had found the unofficial crossing point for those 'in the know' complete with hidden shelters no doubt erected by those awaiting the arrival of people who for whatever reason decide that it's better to travel without passports, .... we were beginning to feel like real travelers. With some effort we managed to ride the bikes across the border line and for the first time in Poor Circulation, .... we had illicitly entered another country.

After taking photos (which I will post once I find some wireless internet) we continued along the road inside Greece towards Kimi but the going became impossible and sadly, we admitted defeat and turned back.

Though we were never officially there, Bulgaria was the 20th Country on the Poor Circulation list and to prove we have been, .... Vodafone were kind enough to confirm the fact by sending us 'welcome to Bulgaria' messages on our mobile phones and the best news of all, .. we've crossed a border and no 'Taxes' were payable, .... fantastic.

Post 51: Macedonia

In Macedonia there exists a motorway unlike any other, the 75/1/75 from Skopje running south to the Greek border. It begins like any other major road, passing through towns where congestion and pollution remind you constantly of home. It is in parts blighted by seemingly endless roadworks and maniac drivers, .... but I will let Alan tell you about the Rover 75 that almost brought Poor Circulation to an untimely end. You then approach a toll gate where you pay 40 Denar and the smiling begins. An alternate road exists where no toll is payable and the locals must use this road as this part of the motorway is almost devoid of traffic, .... let the fun begin.

The road parts and the North and South carriageways skirt around opposite sides of a range of hills, ... two lanes of bumpy yet usable tarmac twisting like a pained serpent and stretching as far as the eye can see. We pick up the pace, using the torque of the Tigers to lift the bikes out of the corners and gunning for the next vanishing point, never using the centre of the tyres, always on the edge, ..... hunting the apexes and aiming for the perfect clipping points, ... for a motorway, this road is absolute heaven. We arrive at the next toll gate, ... hand over 80 Denar and with huge grins inform the attendant that we each want two goes, .. what an experience.

As for the rest of Macedonia I could not tell you, .. we passed through at an alarming speed but enjoyed the 75/1/75 so much that it has left us with a warm feeling for the country and a new confidence in the ability of a fully laden Tiger to hold a perfect racing line at well over 100mph, .... don't try that at home folks.

www.justgiving.com/geoffgthomas

Post 50: Kosovo

About 10Km from the border into Kosovo the road transformed into brand new beautifully smooth motorway with long sweeping curves. It passed through small hamlets where the signs of recent conflicts was evident on most of the buildings and now derelict military emplacements stood as reminders of the troubles faced in this region not so very long ago.

We picked up the pace eager to clear the thunder and lightening that was brewing behind us in spectacular fashion, eager to find a resting place for the night and eager to leave Albania where we had spent no money at all, .... we do not even know what currency the Albanian's use, but two days of no spending and amazing hospitality had put Poor Circulation back on schedule, back on budget, .. thank you Albania. With Alan follow and cracking on at pace, we entered a blind bend passing a sign for 'Tunnel 50m' before cresting the brow still hard over on the tyres. What I found was not a 'Tunnel', but a brand new electricity pylon erected right smack-bang in the middle of our lane, .... sweet. Thankfully the road builders, or pylon erectors, had seen fit to add an extra piece of narrow tarmac running around the pylon. I'm not sure how close we came to glancing the pylon but what we now do know for sure is that it's possible to touch down the footpegs of a Tiger from right to left in quick succession, ........ but only if you have too.

With heart rates returning to normal we arrived at the exit point for Albania and an assortment of uncomfortably uniformed but well armed guards who seemed to be constantly saluting me. It was a few minutes before I realized why. I had a mosquito bite on my right ear and every time I raised my right hand to scratch, ... they saluted me. I decided to stop scratching, ... but then they asked for '2 Euros Tax' to leave the country and for some strange reason, ... the itching in my right ear returned with vengeance.

The Kosovo side of the border post was a total contrast, 'welcome to Kosovo Mr Thomas, I hope you have a wonderful stay and please ask if you need any assistance', ... even the uniforms fitted properly. Sadly we needed to buy transit insurance but the border guard who spoke perfect English helped translate, informed us that Manchester United had clinched the Premiership, Boris was the new Mayor of London and that Manchester United v Chelsea would be shown on TV all over Kosovo, .... thank you.

With the thunder storm closing in on us we headed into Prizren and filled up with fuel as the rain started to pour. We asked about local cheap hotels and seconds later a new and rather classy black Mercedes Benz with blacked-out windows pulled along side. With a hiss of anticipation, the front window lowered and a shadowy figure requested that we follow him, ..... and so we did. Through dark back streets and across wet cobbles between silent small shops and cafes we followed the Mercedes at some speed, ..... not knowing where we were going or exactly who they were. Finally the car drew to a squealing halt outside of a well lit but 'shabby chic' hotel somewhere in town. The driver emerged and announced himself as the owner of the filling station where we had fueled the bikes, and with him, ..... his entire workforce, .... result.

The hotel was a welcome relief and a chance to steal electricity for our gadgets (between frequent power-cuts) and to top-up on free sachets of everything from the room and the morning maids trolley, ... always the richest of sources. We'd promised not to stay in hotels and twice now we've broken our own rules but with saving so much money in Albania and with the storm of the journey so far on top of us, .... we justify our decision and remain almost on budget.

www.justgiving.com/geoffgthomas

Post 49: Kosovo?

'The road to Puke is bad, .. very bad, .. even on bikes', .. Jack looks worried for us, 'the ferry from Koman to Kosovo, it is good, very good,.. much better,.. it leaves at 11am,.. we can hurry'. Jack's hand demonstrates the speed and ease with which the ferry will whisk us into Kosovo, ... 'we go now'.
We follow Jack's 'Aprilia-Bitza' out of Shkoder and upwards into the mountains where the litter vanishes and the air becomes instantly clear. We're traveling slowly, Jack's bike wobbles more than is normal, he uses both sides of the road, ... it looks less stable, .... flat rear tyre, ... Unlucky. We stop, we offer to help, we offer to pay but he will have none of it, 'your late, .. go, go, go'. He gives us rough directions and off we set towards the town of Koman and the ferry onwards. We consult our maps and find ourselves in the middle of a very 'blank' are of Albania and so employ the Garmin SatNav only to see the not so comforting sight of a small icon of a motorcycle on an otherwise totally blank screen. If there had been words, I'm sure they would have read .... 'Beware, .. there be monsters here'.

As we enter the hills, the roads become worse, the pot holes are deeper than the Tigers spindles, more sand than tarmac and then no tarmac at all, just dust and debris. At all times to one side a drop of several hundred feet to the ravine below and to the other, a steep rock wall and memorials at every bend to commemorate those who's journeys were never completed, ... hopefully we will not be adding to their numbers today. The road is blind and narrow, streams flow across it and construction traffic blocks our progress at every turn. Overtaking becomes a matter of blind faith, .... but we place our trust in every deity known and press on for the 11am ferry.

In the town of Koman; 3 cafe and 2 houses, we ask about the ferry and are waved onwards into the mountains. We head on, climbing until we see before us a hole in the rock face, not quite a tunnel, not quite a cave. We enter nervously, the floor, walls and ceiling all of the same sandy texture making navigation difficult, ... we keep going fueled only by blind faith and the knowledge that retracing our route to this point would be almost suicidal. Eventually a light appears, we ride towards it and emerge onto a concrete jetty, ... of sorts. This is the ferry terminal from Koman to Kosovo and the next stage of our journey.

A small Albanian man, big smile and crap crumpledsuit, approaches us, .... too slick, too friendly, .. another bloody 'fixer'. He confirms that the 11am Ferry departed at 10am, ... unlucky. The next ferry is at 15:30pm, ... Inshallah. We meet in a huddle and make two executive decisions: 1. We're not going back down the road we've just come along, ... and 2: Mr Fixer's palm will remain ungreased by Poor Circulation. Living on bikes makes breaks like this more bearable, we have everything we need and so do what every other Englishman would do in the baking midday sun, .. we light the Primus and make a brew, .. 'top tea sir'.

Finally, at a little after five in the evening, the Roll-On Reverse-Off Ferry (one platform wasn't working) chugs slowly towards the dock. A Le Mans type start breaks out as every vehicle races for prime position on the pre-war vessel. We're English don't you know, .. we coolly wait working on a last on first off basis and end up wedged between lorries and cars as the ferry casts off and heads for Kosovo. We head to the top deck and watch as the mountains flow past us providing amazing view after amazing view, ... these mountains are unspoilt by man and are truely spectacualr. Along the side of the ravines we see the alternate to the ferry, ... the road that Jack warned us about, he was so right, it looks worse than anything we have experienced thus far, .. under our breath we thank him once again.

The 1 hour sailng actually took almost 3 and we arrived in Kosovo at around 8pm as the sun began to set. We were amazed at the lack of formality as we cleared customs and rode on into Kosovo towards Pristina. After about an hour on equally crap roads to those experienced in Albania it dawned on us why the roads were so bad and the customs so sloppy, ..... we were still in bloody Albania.

www.justgiving.com/geoffgthomas

Post 48: Albania

Albania, ..... where do I begin?. We cross the border from Montenegro between the towns of Sukobin and Muriqan. The roads are narrow and dusty as we approach the border post, hot, dry and tired. Passports and formalities, ... we pay an entry tax of ten Euro's each which slips neatly into the trouser pocket of the official, .. no doubt later to be shared with his two equally well armed colleagues, ... like I'm going to argue?

We're on roads that appear neither on my map nor Alan's SatNav, .. but the compass says East, that's good enough for us. Some of the roads in Albania are really quite bad, but the rest of them are much worse than that. We soon reach the edges of a town that again has no name, ..... the streets are lined with discarded rubbish and young kids are rushing at our bikes, touching, grabbing, waving. It's friendly, ... but it's also claustrophobic and we push on as best we can. We come to a bridge, .. the crowds around us growing quickly. The bridge is narrow and made from wood with too few fixings, ... traffic is coming from the opposite side, ... it's single file only. Bugger it, ..... twist the right wrist, stand on the pegs and rattle across the rubbish festooned planks and hoping that nothing sleeps beneath them, .... welcome to Albania,.. welcome to travelling.

We're heading for the town of 'Puke', .. well you have to really. It's getting dark, the prospect of rough camping is not really filling either of us with much confidence and we're still only in the town of Shkoder, ...... which does appear on our map at least.

'England?', ...... 'I Love London', ..... I see the bike, 'Aprilia 600' I think,.. but something is missing. The guy is waving, shouting, .. I wave, smile and head on over the brow of the hill. I look back, .. Alan has vanished. Please,.. not here, anywhere else but not here. I think for a moment, ...'Engine', ... the thing missing from the Aprilia 600 was an engine, ... his bike had no engine but he was still riding it. I turn around, ... I see Alan riding towards me with a sillouette in front of him, .. a bike of some description. 'Meet Jack, ... he's taking us for a cup of tea'.

Jack lived in London as a refugee for five years, he's now back in Albania and has built his own home,.. it's close,.. we're invited, .... result. We follow Jack back to his home, its dark, no street lights and his bike which I see is fitted with a replacement Honda C70 engine has no lights, ... the Tiger lights the way for him down dark lanes, no houses,.. old factory units, across countless railway lines, .. and finally the family home. It's big, .. it's nice and his family are great. We eat, .. we share food they can probably ill afford to give and they refuse to take any money in return. We drink Raki (homemade and very strong), we eat salad, cheese (homemade), drink wine (homemade) and then Goulash, .... fantastic. Our bedroom is their bedroom, .. heaven only knows where they slept.

In the morning we inspect his Honda-Aprilia-Bitza, .. it's a minor miracle that it actually still works. He shows us his garden, .. he gives us 3L of Raki for our travels, .. he leads us to the mountains to catch the ferry to Kosovo, it leaves at 10am. Halfway up the first hill,.. he wobbles to a halt,.. rear puncture, .. unlucky. He refuses help, refuses money, ... he wishes us well and sends us on our way.

Albania may not have the infrastructure of other European countries, .. but it has an amazing heart. It it were not for the rubbish strewn everywhere, .... this place would be on every traveler's most 'beautiful list', .. especially mine, .. though possibly not Alan's.


www.justgiving.com/geoffgthomas

Post 47: Montenegro

We're advised in Croatia that Montenegro is really not a good place to visit, ... we're to be on our guard about the people there. That's funny, .. didn't the people in Italy say the same about the people we would meet in Croatia?.

Montenegro is the newest member of the EU, ... and it looks as if every road in the country is currently under construction. Unlike in Blighty, the roads don't close, .. you just sort of find a path, gentle on the throttle and hope for the best, ... fantastic solution but a little scary at times.

We're heading south for Albania, another country we've been advised to avoid, .. but as we're passing it would be rude not to call in. Montenegro is kind of like 'Croatia on a Shoestring', it's all there and you get much better value for money. You can't call the fuel 'cheap', but it's better value than the UK,.. but where isn't?.

We get held up by a rock slide blocking the road. We filter to the front and are surrounded by people we were advised to avoid at all costs. We chat, .. Yamaha? Kph? Power? Cost?, .. we answer as best we can, share drinks, pose for pictures and eventually move on. The people in Montenegro are no different to the people of Croatia, ... if you're told to avoid them then it's only by people who have never been, .. go there,.. see for yourself and you wont regret it.

At the next roadblock (resurfacing not rock fall) we meet the 'Montenegro Pirates' on an assortment of Bikes, .. heading south to meet with friends returning to Europe. We talk, we exchange numbers and if we're passing this way again, .. we'll call in for beer and tall tales of daring do, .... but sadly we're a day behind schedule and must keep moving.

www.justgiving.com/geoffgthomas

Post 46: Dubrovnik, Croatia

Sadly leaving Milan and Maria behind us, we head down to Dubrovnik, a city in the south of Croatia that was loved and visited several times by my late parents Barbara and George. Now I understand why they loved it so much and why they almost wept at the sight of it's near destruction during the conflict of the late 1990's. The 'Old Town' of Dubrovnik is quite simply one of the nicest towns that I have ever visited.

The old walled city sits partly in the Adriatic Sea and it's narrow streets have avoided (almost but not totally) the 'tat side' of commercialism that affects so many similar towns around the world. Combine the amazing buildings and streets with the natural hospitality of the Croatian people and you have what must almost be the perfect mix. We've come across our first 'English Tourists' in Croatia, .. but other than that it has been an almost perfect experience.

Now I understand why my folks insisted all of those years ago that I come visit Dubrovnik, .. and Split, but of course I knew better back in those days, .. didn't I?.

In the morning before we leave we meet David from Washington State USA. We talk,.. he travels, .. he advises us on routes through America,.. things to see, things to avoid. We're invited to his home on the water above Seattle for Pizza, Beer and free camping, .. that's one more night sorted, .. a great guy with lots of good advice and we hope he enjoyed his journey to and stay in Bratislava. Alan's still suffering a little with a touch of 'Travelers Tummy', ... but on a brighter note, .. I'm fine ;-)

www.justgiving.com/geoffgthomas

Post 45: Split, Croatia

We left Trieste early and by lunchtime had arrived in Croatia at the port town of Rijeka. For the first time on Poor Circulation our passports were used for their intended purpose, .... entry and egress from Slovenia. We didn't stop there but it's now becoming clear that 'Borders' exist only for humans, .... nature remains constant with one country flowing seamlessly into the next and thankfully in this case, .. with the continuation of the same amazing scenery.

In Rijeka I ask at the local tourist office about 'Internet Availability' and receive strange frowns from the young girl, ..... 'this is Croatia Sir, free WiFi everywhere', as if that should be the case everywhere, ...... and of course so it should. Italy had been a shock in the way that it guards the internet like a concerned parent would, ... but Alan and I are adults (at least some of the time). Thankfully, universal internet coverage means that I need never again in my life cross the thresholds of another McDonalds to steal free WiFi (and sugar sachets), ... even typing their name hurts more than a drop of gravel-rash, ... so I'll move on.

From the port of Riejka we ride south down the Dalmation coast, .... and this so far is the most spectacular ride yet. (Possibly with the exception of Pass de Giovo). The A8 hugs the coastline all of the way down to Dubrovnik in the south, .. the road surface is good, the mountains to the east spectacular, the drop to the clear blue Adriatic to the west sometimes worrying but always beautiful, ..... in total, .... an amazing experience that we never want to end. The road is never more than a few meters from the waters edge all of the way down and the small villages that I see begin to suggest that eventually making this area my home would not be beyond the realms of possibility. Spoiled for choice once again, we pitch up beside the sea (within 1 meter of the shore) for a restful beer assisted nights sleep.

The following morning we head down to Split along the same amazing road to an amazing City with hidden treasures around every corner, .. but only if you know where to look. At Sirena Camping Ground just south of Split we meet Milan and his daughter Maria, .... and are provided with more amazing hospitality. Milan arranges a meeting with Ivana Dujmovic from the Croatian newspaper 'Slobodna Dalmacija'. We head back to Split and await the arrival of Ivana as arranged by the new 'Rivera', a new 'cafe society' only inches from the Adriatic Sea, .... Italian style with Croatian value, fantastic. Out of the shadows and across the square towards us walks possibly the most beautiful woman Alan has ever seen. (I of course was mostly concerned with spreading the good word of Poor Circulation to notice how stunning Ivana was ;-). We talked for about two hours about our trip, about Croatia and we even discussed Dante's Divine Comedy, .. wow, .. what a girl. We pose for photographs and sadly say goodbye to our host as Alan presents her with a Poor Circulation pin badge, .... made her day I'm sure.

That evening Milan and Maria; owner and daughter respectively of the Sirena Camping Ground invite us to their special annual 'Fish party' where we're treated like Kings and end up slightly intoxicated, .... for a change. It's an interesting night mixing with both locals and Dutch/German travelers, .... singing and dancing to unknown tunes played by a small quartet of larger than life local musicians. As the evening draws to a close and the wine has worked it's magic, interesting happenings of an adult nature are narrowly avoided as I manage to sneak away to my tent, ... alone. One day I'll write it all down, ..... but until then, ... well, ... you simply had to be there.

www.justgiving.com/geoffgthomas

Post 44: Trieste, Italy

Italy has been a revelation so far, .. so much style it's a wonder the people ever find time to leave the house, I really wish I'd brought my hair straighteners and I definately need larger sunglasses. We spent two nights in Trieste on the Adriatic Sea at a camping ground about 10 miles north of the town, ... it's quiet, it's cheap and close by is the 'Gonad Supermarket', ..... and that's just got to be special ;-).
In the village we've become minor celebrities, well I believe that's the case but my Italian is worse than my Russian. 'Crazy Bikers' seems to be the phrase most often used, ... but it gets us a huge discount on the marmalade croissants for breakfast each morning. Italy is great but the roads to Trieste have been boring and congested, .. or possibly we've just been spoilt when riding through the Black Forest and the Alps.
The Italian's seem to have a strange rule for Internet use. Our passports have remained firmly hidden in secret places until now, but here in Italy we have to surrender them in order to use the Internet in cafes and even then, use of the laptop is forbidden. We're resigned to dark cafe's away from the life and style in the streets outside and that's not really where we want to be, .. we're here to meet people and have fun but at least inside such places, .... Italian drivers are not trying to kill us.
I've had my first minor accident, although accident isn't really the correct word. A testosterone fuled local decided that my riding was too slow for the hustle and bustle of Trieste (I was following Alan of course ;-), and so he assisted my momentum with a shunt us the arse while I was already running at around 40mph, ... sweet. Internationally recognised signs were exchanged at the time and his wing mirrors were repositioned at the next set of traffic lights, ..... but diplomatic relations remain in tact and my 'gander' has now returned to 'chill' mode.
The bikes are holding up quite well but the front Michelin Anakee's are lumping up in wierd and wonderful ways. We've got enough tread to reach Volgograd and we'll probably need to replace them there, .. but like Elton John, .. we'll learn to live with the bad weave.
As for the budget, .. well,.. it's sort of holding up as we always expected to spend more money in Europe than in Russia, .... so we'll have plenty of time to catch up later. Thankfully, although we're a couple of days behind schedule we've had a few days courtesy of friends and well wishers and every little helps.
www.justgiving.com/geoffgthomas

Post 43: Italy

Along a road that appears on no map and has never seen tarmac in it's life, we arrive at Nevergal, tired, hot and dusty. A ski lodge offers camping at the rear, ..... it's rough but it will do, the view of the Dolomites is spectacular.

We meet Thomas, A German cyclist who arrives after us and pitches in the same field. He announces that the Pizza in the next village is both 'Extra Large' and 'Extra Delcious', but then he's cycling and probably needs the caloires, ... we're cocking about on motorbikes and certainly don't. (Most of each day seems to be spent eatting and drinking in front of some amazing vista, ..... it's a bitch of a job but someone has to do it. I really need to camp in some god forsaken craphole to bring me back to reality, ... this is just too good.

Frost inside the tent again when I wake, ... I didn't think we were that high when we pitched last night, ... but then the snow and ski lifts (Top Of) should have offered a clue. It's amazing how snow exists when the daytime temperature is so high, .. but then snow like this, 'proper snow', we just don't get at home. We ride out of Nevergal and follow a serpent like road to the south past 'Death Road Motorcycles' and judging by the roadside memorials, aptly named. We ride through a green valley between snow capped mountains and snaking 100m above us all of the way is a motorway flyover, no graffitti, so stench of stale urine, fantastic ...... one day all flyovers will be built this way but until then, ..... we have '*Gallows Corner' and '*Hammersmith'. (*Enter your own choice as appropriate)

We're close to Slovenia, bathroom facilities suggest that we're now more 'East' than 'West' and we're heading to Trieste in Italy. As we drop down on the 'SS14', the bay of Trieste comes into view, .... followed by the smell of coffee and the sight of stylishly dressed/undressed females (and males for our female readers of course). Alan announces that the girls here are both beautiful and fragrant in equal measures but I'm too busy wondering why 'Alfa-Man' is trying to mount my topbox to notice, ..... the driving here is so, .. well, .... Italian I guess.

I promise to really anoy you and post pictures soon, .. but until then just take my word for it, ... you've got to come here soon.

www.justgiving.com/geoffgthomas

Post 42: Onwards Into Italy

Our days seem to consist of packing tents, brewing coffee and eatting fresh pastries beside roads without names amid scenery without comparisson at home. It's impossible to say which view has been the best so far and it was a shame that Pass de Stelvio was closed. However, on a much brighter note, ... Pass de Giovo was open, .. WooHooooo. I fitted the CamCorder to the engine bar, hit 'record' and set off at a gentle(ish) pace towards the sumit. It was amazing, beyond words, ..... if you ride a bike you simply have to do it. At the top we drank coffee sitting in the snow, shirts off (not pretty) and bruned in the midday sunshine, .... fantastic.

The Alps have been amazing, but as we drop down and the temperature rises we eventually arrive in Riva del Garda and find yet another spectacular camping ground right on the West shore of Lake Garda. The lake is millpond smooth and the girls camping to our left offer Alan a welcomed distraction from his sore arse and Satnav Issues. (The SatNav is now thankfully demoted to his own personal 'MP3' player as we rely on map and compass, .. as it should be ;0). That evening we experience the first ever 'Poor Circulation' under canvas storm, and boy what a beauty. Sky black, winds howling and lake Garda like a raging ocean, .... Rain followed by hail and within 1 hour the place was awash. Thankfully, both tents float and no permanent damage was done.

That evening, the girls to our left, watched cloely by the boys to our right, smoked unidentified substances through a bubble pipe before courtship ritual began to the Euro Pop beats of unknown bands, ..... we love Italian Camping. Everybody here puts so much style in to everything that they do, .... we stick out like sore thumbs, dirty thumbs at that. Our evening is brightened by the arrival of our first 'Shell Suit' sighting, .... we begin to cheer up, Sweet.

Italy is great, but we're begining to rediscover 'congestion' and road manners are fast becoming obsolete, .. their's not ours. It's fast, it's furious and the beautiful parts are amazing, ....... but the Dolomites await us and so East we go. It finally feels as if we're changing from 'Tourist' to 'Traveller' and it's not a bad feeling at all. I miss home, but the people and not the location, ... London is a distant memory and hopefully long may that remain.

Oh, .. Italy seems not to keen on providing free 'WiFi', we even tried to steal some from McDonalds without success. We havn't shown our passports at any border crossing yet to get Internet access today, we have had to surrender ourt Passports to the cafe owner and 1 hour with no ability to upload photographs. (Sorry)

Post 41: Austrian Alps

I`ve just woken from sleeping in the tent with quite possibly the best view in the world. It didn`t look àll that` until I´d actually scraped the frost from the inside windows, ...... but it is amazing.

We left the Idyll site in Switzerland yesterday morning heading for Austria and then Liechtenstein. Unfortunately, Liechtenstein is so small and my map so large, that I actually had us heading back into Germany. Again no passports required, but Austria has seen us riding in congested traffic for the first time since leaving blighty. We can see the amazing mountains to either side of us but we're constantly crawling through semi-industrial wastelands along the valley floor and becoming more frustrated with every set of traffic lights that seem permanently set to 'Red'. Eventually we found Liechtenstein, stopped for a pee and then headed back out towards Landeck in search of a camping ground for the night.

With nothing suitable in Landeck, we rode towards the village of Prutz only to be rudely halted by a rockfall. At the head of the queue of traffic I got chatting to a pair of Dutch bikers on a K1100 BMW and asked about suitable camp grounds. With the rocks cleared, we followed them for about 20 miles (at a very considerable pace) along quite possibly the most spectacular roads I have ever ridden, .... Austria has redeemed it's self. We pulled into a field behind the Hotel Weissepitze at around 3,800 feet and very close to the Italian border. We're pitched between mountains capped with snow and under clear blue skies it's impossible to decide on which direction offers the best view.

We were told last night by the hotel manager (Who arrived on an electric 4x4 All Terrain Vehicle which we promptly hijacked and tore up the field until it's charge was exhausted) that the Pass de Stelvio was closed due to heavier than expected snowfall and we'll now need to find an alternate route which is a real shame. However, as there are so many amazing roads around here, it really just presents another opportunity for discovery.

On a more alarming note, Alan is falling in love with every girl that we meet. That's fine for now, but if he gets that glint in his eye and starts wearing his High Karate when we're alone and deep into Siberia, ....... I'm out of here.

Post 40: Switzerland

Mark Wallis and Lee Crahart have departed for Calais and today we moved on into Switzerland. More frost inside the tent this morning, .... but 'wow', what a sunrise. We headed towards the border grabbing breakfast at a small bakery with the most amazing coffee and served with a smile. Everybody is so friendly so far and it's a shame we're passing by and not interacting as much as I would like too, .... but we'll slow down a little soon.

Alan's SatNav lets him down again and I guide us to Rheinfalls which are truely amazing. We walk down to the base of the falls that I earlier described as Niagra-Lite, ...... forget the 'Lite' part, ... these are amazing and unlike Nagra, not surrounded by 'tat'.

We're heading for Leichtenstien and Austria later today which should take us to a total of 9 countries before heading back into Switzerland for the Stelvio Pass and down into Italy for a little lake hopping, ...... we'll keep you posted.

www.justgiving.com/geoffgthomas

Post 39: Schwartzwald

Were camping near the village of Linach in the Black Forest. We pitched tents outside of a ski chalet and enjoy the most amazing views into the valley at sunrise. We're at around 3,000 feet and I woke this morning to find ice on the inside of the tent which was fun. The sun rises above the mountian to the west at 6:05am, .... at which time coffee is served next to the small chapel on the mill pond from the Coleman primus stove for those that aqre awake, ... we might stay here for a couple of nights to get are act together before heading on. This whole area is amazing and a true bikers mecca, ... the roads are sublime. Even the bikers here have their own distinctive jaunty wave. We're trying to master our own 'Poor Circulation' responses but I think they're currently more 'fool' than 'cool'.

We took a diversion into Switzerland with Mark and Lee for their last day. It was uncanny approaching the border, .. the rolling hills and green grass. I defy anybody riding this route on a bike not to whistle the theme from The Great Escape, ... Steve McQueen I'm not, .... but 'Free' I am.

The Rheinfalls I've honestly never heard of but they are magnificent. We'll come past this way again when we have more time and take a closer look. It's a little like 'Niagra-Lite', but the sun is shining and I'm getting a tan, ..... what more could I ask for.

Alan's having problems with his Garmin SatNav, ... apparently it wont talk to him. He keeps faffing with the connections and I'm sure it'll get sorted eventually. (NO, I have not sabotaged it). I think it's 7 countries now and still my passport has never left my pocket, we just get waved through with a nod and a smile.

www.justgiving.com/geoffgthomas

Post 38: Baden-Baden, so good they named it twice

We followed Mark Wallis on his Pan European and his Garmin Satnav, we were back in France. We passed a beautiful looking power station on our left,.. then again on our right, ..... then again on our left while I wondered if the French actually had their own word for 'Deja Vous?'.

Belgium, France and Belgium again, but on such amazing roads why would I care. We stopped for hot brioche and real coffee in a town with no name, delicious. We headed onwards and entered Luxembourg at speed, .. still no passports. Lunch was purchased at a local deli and and eatten besides a picturesque road with no number in the blazing sunshine; bread, cheese, ham and Ardennes Pate', .. the best McPicnic in the world. Then it rained, it rained heavily, .. proper continental rain, but we still laughed in it's face and sheltered under army poncho's before heading onto Germany and the Black Forest, .... more of which later.

I'd like to tell you all about it, .. but the sun shines outside and I need to move along, ... the roads and scenery in this part of Germany are stunning and quite frankly, ... I could be no happier if I was licking neat prozac from Kiera Knightly's naked buttocks. Bye for now and enjoy yourselves at work this week, .... we sure as hell will.

Post 37: Welcome to Europe

Still in the Black Forest, 2,000 miles into Poor Circulation and still no photo' to upload, ... but we'll work it out eventually. (Spellcheck still in German too, ..... but I'm beyond caring anyway).

Where was I? Oh yes, 'Next stop France and cheap fuel'. Forget it, cheap fuel is a figment of other people's imaginations and it simply dose not exist. Well, at least not in these parts. On the plus side, May 1st is a Bank Holiday in France and we shared the roads with only lycra clad racing cyclists and waving spectators, .... so we of course gatecrashed affairs and waved back with glee. We were sticking to 'B' roads and thus avoiding the dreaded motorway tolls from biting into our meager budgets and while many of them had been 'closed' for the cyclists, we were waved through with great ceremony. Our 'MO' was to wear CitySprint jackets, look confident and smile at every checkpoint, ..... maybe they thought we were 'Escort Riders', but it worked. The downside to arriving on a Bank Holiday was that France 'closes' for the day, ... and that includes petrol stations. We headed for Lille and managed 257 miles before finding a filling station that was actually open. The slow pace had rewarded us with amazing fuel economy and we actually had at least 2L left in each of the tanks, ..... good planning really.

We hadn't shown our passports on leaving England nor entering France and as for Belgium, .... the border crossing was passed at 80Kmph without so much as a wave, ..... vive la Europe. We headed for a small town in Belgium called Chimay which is famous for it's amazing brewery, .... no surprise there then. We found a camping site and strolled into a deserted town centre. On instinct, I ducked down a side lane and saw a sign in front of me, 'Queen Mary, Bikers Welcome'. We'd decided to go 'Native' and avoid such places, but on opening the door I was amazed to be confronted with a mannequin in full racing leathers, Valentino Rossi no less. We spent the night in there and listened to quite possibly the worst evening of karaoke every encountered, ... so bad in fact that it was truly amazing, .... we love the Belgium's.

Post 36: ´Dover Departure´

Unfortunately, I´m updating from an internet cafe and can´t upload pictures, ... but if I could it would just make you all jealous. (The 'Spellcheck' is also in German, .. very useful for a uni lingual dyslexic like myself). It´s Monday morning in the UK and most of you are making your way to work while I sit sipping Latte´ in the gorgeous sunshine of the Black Forest and my only concern in this world is wondering what the hell to write.

We left Braintree on Thursday evening only two hours behind schedule and with good friend Mark Wallis riding with us, ... just for a change it was raining. He were heading for Folkstone and once across the QEII bridge, Alan and Mark´s SatNav´s took them off down the A2 in the direction of Dover (Map 1 - TwatNav Nil). I arrived in Folksotne before them (Naturally :-) and for the first time in Poor Circulation memory, the rain had stopped and the sun was actually trying to shine.... Result. Within an hour, Mark and Alan had arrived followed by the fourth original member of Team Hap Hazard, Lee Crahart. The tents were pitched within a few yards of the sea and we headed into the harbour for beer and kebabs, .... I´m sure that it had not been that long a walk when I was a kid but at 40+ it nearly killed me. (*Memo to self: Next time more training and less pies). It was a great night and apologies to the good folk's of Folkstone and beyond for keeping them awake into the wee hours of the morning.

Thursday saw us arrive early (yes Early) for the complimentary P&O ferry to Calais. Unfortunately the ferries were running to a Poor Circulation timetable and we managed to blag our way onto the late running 6:50am ferry, ....... no passport required. We were away and for the first time it actually felt like the journey had begun and the sun shone bright for our departure. Next stop France and cheap fuel.