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