Obsession
November 10, 2007 at 8:15 pm | Bike, Trip | 1 comment
It consumes my every waking hour, trivialising what’s in front of me and turning tortuous the daily monotony of work.
I read every scrap of travel writing I can find, Striking Viking’s ADVRider.com Thread, Jupiter’s Travels.
Amazingly enough Ewan Mcgregor’s “Long Way Down” started a few weeks after I’d made my decision to do this trip by bike, so I’ve been keeping an eye on that as well; and although it’s quite far removed from the unsupported adventures of less famous riders, it’s quite interesting nonetheless.
Vital for entertaining me at work in a job that started boring me more than two years ago to the extent that I actually found another job!
Though I was inticed back with a significant salary increase.
I’ve been stressing about two major pieces of equipment for my journey, my bike and my camera.
I don’t think it really matters which bike I get out of the choices I’ve narrowed it down to.
Namely a Honda Transalp (current frontrunner as some-one at work’s selling a cheap low-mileage example), a Honda Africa Twin or a BMW GS650.
All of these bikes will do what I require, I simply have to find one that’s in good condition.
I want to find one soon, but I have to sell my car first to raise the cash, as although I have plenty of money in the bank, I want to preserve the sancitity of it as long as possible, as through previous experience I’ve learned that “I’ll just borrow this little bit of money from my savings for the time being” quickly turns into “Fuck! I haven’t got any savings!”.
This will dissapoint my girlfriend somewhat, as since she doesn’t drive we’ll have to either walk, taxi or pushbike everywhere once I sell my car (that and she doesn’t want me to get a bike anyway as she reckons I’ll kill myself).
But unfortunately from here on in my girlfriends wants have to start to take a little bit of a back seat.
It makes me feel cruel, as she’s kind enough to late me stay with her until the day I leave for Italy.
I am helping her though, she’s under-educated to the extent that she’s not strictly independant and this has lead her to depend on a string of abusive boyfriends.
Trying to resolve this requires a… certain amount of patience, but is rewarding nonetheless.
She does hamper my planning and personal activities somewhat, as if I’m not paying attention to her she sulks with the traditional “What’s wrong?” “Nothing!” but with the most transparent body language you’ve ever seen.
However the poor girl hasn’t had much go right in her life and is the sweetest thing you’ve ever met.
I went to see a BMW F650GS today, 3 hour drive to and from and the blasted thing didn’t start first time, so I have grave reservations about it, plus the 5% the salesman was prepared to knock off the asking price didn’t impress me much.
Inspecting it was a brief glimpse into how far I am out of my depth, I know almost nothing about bikes, and being outside of my zone of knowledge trying to blag it ended up with me rushing the inspection, I don’t think I really learned anything about the condition of it bar my baseless opinion that the sprockets seemed a little rounded and the identification of a rather dodgy looking wire outside the fairing.
F650GS Dakar
November 11, 2007 at 11:15 pm | Bike | No comment
Dakar, Dakar, wherefore art thou Dakar?
Whatever kind of bike I want, starting off with an Africa Twin then a Transalp and now an F650, they seem to be bloody light on the ground.
At least near to me.
I can only go and see one of these things a week as they’re all so far away that I can’t go there after work, and by the time I go and come back on a Saturday, it’s too damned late to go out to see another one!
Looks like my car’s worth less than I thought as well!
Less than £2k is what they’re being advertised for on autotrader.
I’ve put mine on for a bit more hoping that four new tyres and a brand new service will see it safe for a few extra hundred…
Oh well, I’m not exactly strapped for cash so I’ve not got anything to moan about, it’s not jeaprodising my trip.
I’m kinda suffocating personally… Kim is being incredibly clingy and I can’t bring myself to tell her off for it or try to extricate myself as I feel so guilty for staying with her when I’m just going to leave her in a few months, even though she knows it and she’s known it from the start it just… eats at me…
I have a bike!
November 17, 2007 at 10:56 am | Bike | No comment
Well, I decided to buy the F650GS Dakar from the place 3 hours away.
It was about £600 cheaper than the equivilent ones (which were scarce at best anyway) and I decided to take the risk.
On tuesday I took a half day and went down to Hein Gericke to kit myself out with gear and ended up spending £830 without even getting a helmet or gloves!
Still, it’s very good kit and I did find the helmet I wanted, I just figured I could get it cheaper online.
And I did! A good £100 cheaper at that!
It was due to arrive on Thursday (the day before my bike arrived) but apparently the Lynx courier didn’t get to me before his shift finished and thought “fuck it” and just took it back to the depot.
So Friday rolled around and 11am was the scheduled delivery time for my bike.
I was hoping the helmet would arrive before then so I could take it out for a brief spin!
But of course sods law was on perfect form and it arrived at work 2 minutes after I’d gone home to meet the guy and my bike!
.. Still took it out for 2 minutes without a helmet though…
Anyway, of course this being winter, by the time I get home after work it’s pitch black and I can’t take the bike out even though I’m happily geared up, so I wait impatiently for the morning.
And WOOHOO, why the hell didn’t I get a bike before? (Other than the fact that my dad would/will disown me of course!)
This is ridiculously fun.
To start off with I’m a little dissapointed by performance, then I look down and notice that even though the engine is screaming (by my Ford Mondeo standards) I have another 3,500 revs to play with.
I line up nice and straight and twist the throttle.
Holy mother of god I thought my eyeballs were going through the back of my head.
And this is SLOWER to accelerate than my Elise, how does that one work?
For the most part I took it nice and steady though, a good bit of practice for my DAS over the next few weeks!
More biking
November 18, 2007 at 10:44 am | Bike | No comment
It’s amazing you know, you never see a bobby on the beat in your life, then suddenly you see three in two days!
Still, I’m not doing anything to arouse suspicion so I just give them a nod and ride on by.
My ride yesterday was a bit unsure, an early change-down and using the rear brake instead of the front brake had the back end twitch a couple of times.
But today was a lot better, lots of observation, happy gear changing, but I need to build up my speed a bit, being overtaken by cars is not quite the idea; plus I hear examiners are very strict about ‘making progress’ and it’s quite easy to fail by doing 55 in a 60.
I’m pleased with my Hein Gericke gear, today was much colder than yesterday and had a big wind blowing, but despite this the jacket and trousers kept my torso and legs at exactly the right temperature.
I really fucking need a pair of gloves though, these fingerless cycle gloves not only provide somewhat questionable protection vs 70mph tarmac, they’re also bloody cold!
Also, walking boots… not windproof! But my motorcross boots should arrive tomorrow, though it could be interesting going to pick those up from the post office, bet they come in a box that could house a baby elephant…
But… I thought you didn’t have a license?
November 19, 2007 at 6:32 pm | Bike | No comment
I rode to work today for the first time.
When confronted by co-workers I made up some cock and bull story about how I got my license at the beginning of the year, but kept it a secret in order to make it a surprise (I did something similar last year by not telling anyone about me buying a Lotus until I drove up in it, which leant some credence to my story).
I have my doubts as to whether my direct colleague was fooled by the story as he knows me quite well, but he said no more of it and I sincerely doubt he’ll make trouble about it.
Everyone else on the other hand just accepted it, as generally speaking people choose to believe what’s easiest.
The ride to work was fine, perfectly controlled no issues, though queuing at junctions I haven’t quite got the hang of yet and stalled once.
The ride back however was nightmarish.
I’ve never ridden at night before, and even though I only finish at five, at this godforsaken latitude (ie; Milton Keynes) at this time of year, it gets dark virtually before you’ve had breakfast (hyperbole? nay sir!).
I’ve equally never ridden in the rain before.
Tonight I did both, I hated it.
It’s the fear and loathing of inexperience, I eyeballed every draincover and every painted white line with dread, as though they conspired to throw me off my steed and bring my first dose of riding related pain.
Coming upon the home stretch of the journey I accellerate hard for the first time as I’m satisfied I have a straight line and hear a tap, tap at the back of my head.
Flexing my jaw I realise… Fuck… I haven’t done up my chin strap.
Not only does this completely nullify the point of having a helmet and worsen my fear of falling off, it’s also an offence, and flying long and wild behind my head like some traitorous tail of felony it’s sure to attract the attention of any sharp-eyed copper that might pull in behind me.
I ponder pulling over in a bus stop to do it up, but quite apart from the fact that I have such limited visibility that the unlit bus stops only appear to me mere metres before I come to them (a turn into which would surely invite an impromptu meeting with the car behind), a lone biker pulled over in a bus stop is even more likely to attract attention than a flapping chin strap.
I decide to press on and make it back home without incident, wondering to myself what the big deal was.
During the day I continued my theme of doing as little work as possible and researching my trip instead (it’s quite a thing to be paid to plan your trip is it not?).
I went through the seemingly endless possibilities of upgrading my bike, in terms of protecting the engine should I drop the bike, protecting the sump from damage when offroading or simply running over debris on the road to the panniers.
I’ve decided to go for Jesse panniers, even though this means importing from Germany, it ends up slightly cheaper than ordering from the UK manufacturer (though I do need to investigate potential importation charges, I’m not sure if they apply intra-EU).
De-catting the exhaust has to be done at some point, and through the faqs at F650.com I’ve discovered it’s reasonably easy to do without BUYING anything if you have access to welding equipment (not that I do, but I’m sure my friendly local welder would oblige given £20 and a couple of beers).
De-catting the exhaust this way doesn’t result in any increased noise (slightly dissapointing), but the real reason for doing it is to allow the bike to run on leaded petrol, as if you attempt to do this without de-catting, you’ll very quickly end up with a blocked catyltic converter to the extent that the engine won’t fire up (so I’m told at least).
Still, this is a job to be done once I’ve got some time (and light) on my hands, as I need to investigate how easy it is to take it off to give to the welder.
I also rang up the RAC’s Carnet department, apparently a Carnet is only valid for a single year, so if I’m to do as planned, I shall have to have a new Carnet issued on the exact date I enter Australia, else I’ll have to do all sorts of complex jiggery pokery regarding extension of stay on an expired carnet with switchover to a new carnet, which is apparently very difficult and best avoided at all costs.
Tomorrow signals the start of my DAS (Direct Access) rider training.
To ride there I’ll most likely park up at a nearby restaurant (which I scouted at the weekend) and walk the extra few hundred yars, as I feel that letting on to the trainers that I’m riding a bike illegally would probably not be the best idea in the universe.
Still, I should prove more competant than they expect from some-one who’s ‘not ridden since his test’!
Training
November 29, 2007 at 8:48 am | Bike, Trip | No comment
I’ve been without the internet for a few days now, changing from one provider to another.
Doesn’t make much difference to life in general, but it has meant I’ve not been updating the blog so regularly.
It shouldn’t have made any difference to that though, as I’ll be without the internet on the road for days at a time, so I should really get into the habit of offline blogging (using Word at the moment *gasp*).
I’ve been on a couple of days more training for the bike, had a new instructor called Martin who I didn’t get on with, who was insistent on late braking and following him closely (he didn’t actually let me lead at all!) and considering that the biggest issue of mine he identified was running a bit wide at junctions, his blat through the countryside was not very instructive.
The next session however was with Chaz again, who I get on with much better, he restored my confidence and gave me useful information on how to get round my junction issues and took me somewhere we could practise them.
I bought Kim a helmet and took her out for a very brief ride last night.
She absolutely loved it. She’d told me that she’d been on her mum’s boyfriend’s bike before, but never expressed any particular enthusiasm for it (in fact, initially she said she wasn’t going to get on it at all!).
However once we’d done a quick circuit of the housing estate and the briefest possible dual carriageway section, she was grinning from ear to ear.
Having a pillion passenger was much easier than I’d expected, I was quite apprehensive about the effect on my balance at low speeds, but she did very well and it wasn’t an issue at all.
I had a bit of a scare a few days ago with my panniers, as Kiwibob (the German redistribute of Jesse panniers) hadn’t replied to my emails for three days , and when I tried to go to the website I got a 404 page not found error!
Still, after the weekend I pinged him another email and he responded saying that he’d shipped them that day (as it had taken the full 5 days for the bank transfer to go through, why the hell do they bother saying 3-5 days anyway? We all know it’s always 5!).
On Wednesday I got home to find that the WP rear shock had been delivered, but the panniers had been bounced back to the depot as no-one was home.
This posed a bit of difficulty as I had no way of transporting them home having sold my car.
My mate was kind enough to offer me a lift to go and get them, however I was a bit dubious about his car’s ability to pick them up as his boot is significantly full of subwoofer!
As a result I decided to pull a sickie the next day at work, saying that my back’s playing up and wait in for UPS instead.
I’d decided to have a quick look at my shock absorber, not that I’d be able to discern anything from it, merely because I was curious.
However I discovered that they’d sent me a shock specced for the F650 GS as opposed to the GS Dakar!
This basically means that the amount of travel the spring has is significantly reduced, which would make it less capable off-road (the whole point of buying the Dakar being it’s improved off-road vs the standard model!).
To their credit, the company (Full Travel Suspension) acknowledged their mistake and arranged for TNT to pick it up today and promised to sort it out as soon as it arrived and send it back for Saturday delivery!
So all good then! I’ve got two mates coming round on Saturday (potentially, at least one of them should make it!) to help me fit the shock and panniers.
Things are progressing nicely!
I need to start sending off for Visas, but I just can’t seem to get round to it, oh well, at least I’ve managed to get my dad to send off my mum’s birth certificate so that I can apply for my second passport.
I’m pondering explaining my plans to my dad when I see him at Christmas, but I still don’t know what his reaction will be. It could be that it was my mum that was completely anti-bike, it’s quite possible as my dad was always far less over-protective than my mum…
I’ve started worrying again about how Kim is going to cope once I’ve gone.
I’ve been trying to get her to make stronger friends with the people she works with, which was going quite well as last month I cajoled her into organising a night out with everyone, and despite a few hiccups with her getting upset about everyone else changing the venue without her approval it went quite well.
Last weekend we had another night out with her mates from work.
It wasn’t going well, even before the night itself she blew up at work when her friends kept teasing her that she and I were joined at the hip at the last outing.
On the night itself I thought it was going much better, I tried to encourage her to hang around me a little less and get into the group a bit more (which was helped by me going to the bar and having to wait half an hour to get served!).
However at about midnight I just got back to the group with pint in hand to find the guys had gone to the other side of the room to play pool, leaving me with Kim and the girls (fair enough really, I didn’t know or establish a rapport with any of them), then when the girls went to join them, me and Kim were left standing on our own somehow.
She then reached into my inside pocket and pull out her wallet, phone and keys (which I was keeping for her as she had no pockets or handbag) and walked out of the bar!
Abandoning my pint (which I was enjoying inordinately and only had two sips of) I trotted after her asking where she was going.
“Home, you go back to the bar with your friends”
This puzzled me somewhat as I knew nothing about those people and would never have even hung around with them had they not been friends of Kim.
As it transpired Kim felt that they’d been ignoring her and blocking her out (which, may have been the case to a small extent, but I being the social butterfly that I am was used to that sort of thing).
For some reason this caused her to vent her frustrations on me (the first time she’s done that, hopefully the last too).
She walked straight past the taxi rank declaring she was going to walk home.
I trotted along her angry striding gait cheerily chiming in that I’d come with her.
She kept ranting about how they were ignoring her and that she should just give up on people and commit suicide (she says this in moments of frustration, though even at the time she admits to having no real intent on doing any such thing).
I was getting a bit pissed off at this point, as interwoven in her insults at her friends were insults and insinuations against me when I’d done nothing wrong in the slightest, so for one of the first times ever I raised my voice to her and demanded to know why she was taking it out on me.
I sat down at the side of the road and she squatted in front of me, looking me hard in the eyes.
“Shall I pack your things when I get home?”
“Why?”
“Because this is the end, isn’t it?”
I said nothing, I wasn’t worried, I knew she didn’t mean it and my momentary anger had passed.
After a few minutes of silence she seemed to realise what she’d said and started to calm down.
I stood up and hugged her, and after a few more minutes she conceded that maybe it would be best to get a taxi (a wise move considering we live some 3 miles away and it was midnight Saturday!)
I passed!
December 4, 2007 at 8:51 am | Bike, Trip | No comment
My nerves were wracked all weekend, I felt as though tiny worms were wriggling slowly underneath my fingers.
It made me short with Kim, and it made me make stupid little mistakes on my Monday lesson.
They were compounded somewhat by Martin’s style of teaching, which is blunt and to an exceptionally high standard, and at times seems to try and exonerate him of responsibility.
One of the biggest things he kept picking me up on was my U-turn.
To me, I was executing the u-turn quite nicely, a little wobble occasionally, but nothing to worry about.
For Martin on the other hand this would not do, I would rev high, slip the clutch massively and use the back brake for controlling the speed.
Which is a great method for doing a u-turn don’t get me wrong, but if I deviated the controls even slightly while doing the u-turn (speeding up or slowing down while cornering isn’t the greatest idea I’ll admit) he would repeat the reasons I was going wrong (which went back and forth between a number of issues, I would concentrate on getting one right and the last problem would crop up again).
Eventually he realised that I was doing my turns too tightly, and subconsciously this was causing me to do all manner of things which were bad for a controlled turn.
I set myself up and aimed for the opposite kerb.
Hurrah! Beautiful, controlled, perfect every time!
I was still making silly mistakes like leaving my indicator on after turning (which if done for too long will fail you for making false signals!), but Martin’s style of teaching was quite effective for making me completely paranoid about leaving the signal on!
Tuesday morning came, and once I was on the bike, the world seemed to relax, everything was going to be fine, I was going to pass no problem!
In the hour or so warm up before the test Martin berated me slightly for my U-turn which I tidied up quickly, and gave me a little more coaching on the emergency stop.
We rode into the test centre and parked up, getting there a bit early I had to wait for 15 minutes which did little to settle my nerves.
Eventually the examiner came out and took my documents and fitted me up with a radio (which oddly enough went around my waist and sounded much clearer than the ones we’d been using to train with.
He took me outside, to do the tellme/showme for which I’d memorised a long list of procedures and bullshit answers.
In the end, all he asked was for me to demonstrate the front brake, and where would I find the correct tyre pressure rating?
Piss easy! So we got on with the test.
Everything was going very well, I would even have gone so far as to say I was enjoying myself, until he told me to go right at a roundabout and I bizarrely went all the way around (I think I was in another world thinking about how well I was doing!).
Unfortunately the examiner saw this too late and took the exit I was meant to take, which resulted in me losing him quite significantly.
Before he went out of range he told me to pull up on the left and wait for him, which was easier than it sounded on a 60 mph road with no pavement.
There was a bus stop, but I was almost certain that I would fail for pulling up in an inappropriate place, so I chose a side road.
Which he went past before he saw me in it.
I was getting a bit flustered by this point and didn’t know whether to wait for him or to go after him.
I waited for a little while and then went after him, which was of course the worst of both worlds as by this time he’d turned round at the next roundabout and was going in the opposite direction to come back on me!
He went past and repeated his instruction to find somewhere on the left to pull up and stop.
It was the same situation, nowhere to pull up and stop. So I did a u-turn at the next roundabout and pulled in to another side road.
Of course this resulted in him going past me again in the opposite direction and tutting very loudly remarking that I was like a bloody goldfish.
I was screaming on the inside, “Fucking hell I’ve failed, what a stupid thing to fail for”.
But still, I’d been told by every instructor I’d had that it was rarely as bad as you thought and either way worrying about it on test would only make you make more mistakes.
We went on with the lesson and I did reasonably well I felt, no major fuck ups as it were.
In the exam room, I heard those beautiful words, “I’m pleased to say you’ve passed.”
Thank Christ for that, I couldn’t stand having to do that build-up again!
Plus I can re-assure Alex that the test is not that hard, and that they seem to want to pass you!
Even so… 8 Minors…
Fitting the shock
December 15, 2007 at 8:53 am | Bike | No comment
God I wish I hadn’t drunk so much last night, I might be still drunk, I really shouldn’t be riding, but here I am on the way to Northampton, I’ve been trying to get this done for weeks.
My mate has kindly leant me the use of his father’s bike garage to fit my shock absorber in, and has agreed to be a second pair of hands.
When I get there, it turns out that another chap called Sam, even younger than I is floating around to lend a hand as well.
In my rather dazed and delapidated state, it ends up being James and Sam working on my bike, with me staring intently trying to comprehend the concept of bolts.
They set about my bike with vigor, ignoring my plaintive wails to consult the instructions I brought on my laptop, happily taking bits off and casting them to one side.
In the process they discover 5 seperate stripped bolt heads, and also the fact that to access the upper bolt for the rear shock, the fuel tank (which resides under the seat) must be removed.
Things turn a little defeatist at this point, as Sam has a half day, and James feels we need him to help reassemble the bike, so in light of the fact the job will take far longer than previously though, they start to reassemble the bike.
I read through my instructions, having beaten the hangover haze and regained some mental acuity, I find that removing the fuel tank is not necessary, and you simply pivot the subframe on the front two bolts.
This however is easier said than done, as one of this bolts is stripped beyond normal removal methods.
The re-assembly continues and after 3 hours of labour (which I’m ashamed to say I had little to no part in), the bike is back together again.
James gives Sam a lift into town quickly, and he and I set about assembling the rack for the panniers.
Beautifully made these Jesse panniers, stainless steel fasteners all round, perfectly fitting parts and sturdy boxes.
The last property being tested quite nicely when the bike topples off it’s makeshift centre stand of a pile of orange crates and slams heavily down on the handle of a lathe.
Barring a dent and a slightly skewed mount, the panniers are fine!
After being introduced to Adrian, an experienced mechanic who is simultaneously envious of my journey and raring to help, I shoot off home before it gets dark.
Until next time BMW! NEXT TIME!
Sliding down the tarmac
December 18, 2007 at 8:53 am | Bike | No comment
Blimey, quite greasy on the roads at the moment!” I think as I exit my company’s driveway.
I tootle along home as per usual, thinking more about the nice warm sofa than the road ahead.
I cross over a roundabout and think afterwards “Christ, I have no recollection of negotiating that roundabout, I really should get out of autopilot”
30 seconds later I’m tumbling along the tarmac thinking “Should I tuck my arms in or not?”.
It didn’t matter, by the time I’d made a decision either way I’d slid to a halt.
I tried to recall the past few seconds.
Somebody pulled out VERY close in front of me, I remember the actual process of waking out of auto-pilot and taking a noticeable split second to assess the situation and realise what was going on, then…
I grabbed the brake, idiot, I’d locked the front wheel up and contributed to an already bad situation.
In all my sliding and slithering I hadn’t hit the car that pulled out in front of me.
I lay there in the middle of the road for a second or two, wondering rather indignantly if the car was going to stop or carry on regardless.
It stopped, and a well spoken middle aged man of indian decent exited the drivers seat and enquired if I was ok or not.
“Nothing’s broken, can you give me a hand lifting this up and getting it out of the road?”
As we lifted my bike and pushed it onto the grass verge I noticed that the one thing that seemed to take the biggest damage was my disc lock, which had flown out of my rear compartment and smashed its plastic casing on the tarmac.
He gave me his card, wrote down his registration on it for me and gave me a lift home.
For my little escapade, all I had to show for it was a rather scuffed jacket, torn trousers (where my motorcross boots had ripped through from the inside) and a friction burn on the heel of my right palm where my £12.99 Tesco Value gloves had disintegrated.
My right pannier was very dented, big horrible scrapes down one side and the hinges had snapped, but they looked like with a hammer and the acceptance of no hinges, they could be made serviceable again.
Having left my bike at the scene, I asked for a lift from one of my colleagues the next day, who took me to my bike and hung around while I made sure it worked.
Beyond a broken indicator, a lot of scuffing and a twisted hand guard, the bike was right as rain! Maybe I don’t need those engine bars!
I started her up and set off for work.
Hmm, it’s not freewheeling very well and there’s a horrible burning smell, shit, that’s not good.
Erm… whoops! Turns out the twisted hand guard was sticking the front brake on, leaving a rather nice groove down the middle of the front disc which was revealed upon later inspection.
After removing the offending hand guard, the bike is happy as larry!
During work I started to experience some rather worrying neck pain, so I took the second half of the day off and went home.
Taking the time off as an opportunity, I took a hammer to my bugger pannier and set it to rights.
After half an hour of stress-relieval the pannier was bent inwards instead of outwards, but at least the lid fit on it!
A quick trial on the bike… Yup, works like a charm, still locks, still fits (not as well as it did, but hey!).
All in all, quite impressed with Jesse!
Stolen!
February 24, 2008 at 8:56 am | Bike, Trip | No comment
Yesterday, at about 11pm, I look out the front window and notice something strangely missing on the driveway.
“Kim… Where the fuck’s my bike?”
“What?”
“My bike! My fucking bike’s been stolen!”.
So I run outside and look up the road, hoping in vain to see some-one trundling it away, alas no such luck.
After effing and blinding for a while and wildly gesticulating at the moon, stars and whatever deities happen to be listening, I call the police, who take my details and predictably are never heard from again.
I get on a variety of internet forums and post about my bike being stolen, a few people from them happen to be local and promise to keep an eye out for it.
The next day me and my mate Alex go drive up and down every single road in a place called “Netherfield”, which is the biggest rat-hole in Milton Keynes, and despite seeing a number of cars that we could quite happily believe were stolen, we don’t see my bike.
How? How could they steal my bike a WEEK before I leave Milton Keynes? Bastards!
Of course my insurance doesn’t cover it, I felt as I was only going to be in the UK for another 4 months at most and it was £150 extra to cover for theft, that it wasn’t worth it considering I was going to go through some of the most dangerous countries on the planet with no theft insurance.
I still feel that was the right choice… However perhaps the wrong choice was leaving my disc lock at my dads…
Oh well… Shit happens…
Frustration
March 5, 2008 at 8:41 pm | Bike | No comment
I finally found a BMW F650 GS Dakar on Ebay, for the right price no less!
Downside it was in Rotherham, which is a good 3 hours drive away.
I cheekily asked Alex to give me a lift yesterday to go and see it, but he declined the thankless and tiring task of driving for 6 hours.
The next day I arranged to get a train up, (quite how it worked out at £29 at 9am and £58 at 10am I haven’t the faintest, needless to say I opted for the earlier!) but as the chap works nights I couldn’t get a train that would arrive before he left, so I booked one for the day after with the promise that if I liked what I saw, he’d let me have it for £2,100.
Less than 3 hours later he rings me back and informs me politely that some-one has just been to see the bike and given him £2,500 for it!
Oh well, such is life and I spend 10 minutes wrestling through automated telephone mazes attempting to cancel my ticket, only to be told to go to the website to cancel it (usefully neglecting the address, which I had since forgotten as I’d been referred through more places than your average ISP tech-support query!).
After tearing my hair out to find the address, and swearing and shouting so loudly (admittedly quite unnecessarily) that the neighbours resorting to playing the piano (badly) to drown out the racket, I eventually find the site!
As you may already have guessed by this point, at the end of it all they did not in fact grace my card with a refund as I was “ineligible” for unexplained reasons.
I’m beginning to wish I hadn’t chosen to go on an F650 Dakar, and I certainly wouldn’t have had they been as rare when I was buying the first one as they are now!
Quite why the entire world has suddenly decided they’re the best thing since sliced eggs and are tripping over each other for the opportunity to sell their granny for one I don’t know.
I think a non-dakar will have to suffice.
My original plan to buy a Kawasaki KLR was scuppered today by an email from Kiwibob (reseller of all things Jesse) informing me that the racks required to attach my panniers to a KLR (which is the only bike cheaper than the F650 that they’re compatible with), would have to be made to order and shipped from the US, and as if that wasn’t bad enough, they were always backlogged with orders for them.
Still! The F650GS standard is a fine bike, and I’ve found one nearby that is cheap, the right age and seems in fairly good condition!
So fingers crossed some cunt doesn’t come along and offer twice the asking price for this one!
They’ve found it!
March 7, 2008 at 11:35 am | Bike, Trip | No comment
I can’t believe it, it’s a miracle! My prayers have been answered! Thank you jeezus!
This morning I got up at the crack of wossname (well, 7:30 anyway) and grabbed a taxi to go and see a regular old road-style F650GS.
Half an hour, £35 and lots of backseat navigation later I’m inspecting the bike.
A fine specimen indeed, no leaky fork seals, engine starts first time, no scuffs scrapes or bumps but I have an underlying feeling of disappointment, and despite dressing up in bike gear and bringing my helmet along (not to mention a wodge of cash), I decide to pass on the bike.
On the taxi ride home I mull over my decision, which had surprised me as I just felt the need to get some wheels under me and was expecting to just take a cursory glance of the bike, give the guy his cash and jump on it.
But for some reason I didn’t and I couldn’t work out why I’d just spent another £35 on a taxi when I could have a bike right now. Don’t get me wrong I didn’t regret my decision but I didn’t know the reasoning behind it.
But my decision was retrospectively justified when I got home and found my phone had a voicemail on it.
“Good morning Mr Martin, Thames Valley Police. Just calling to say we have some news on your stolen vehicle”.
I think to myself “Nah… they can’t have found it.. even if they have it’s been torched I’m sure”.
I return the call, trying not to get my hopes up (and failing miserably), I quote the reference number and the lovely lady on the other end of the phone elated informs me that they’ve found my bike!
She doesn’t know what condition it’s in though, so I have to ring the recovery company (and pay them a fee!).
I finally get through to some-one at CMG and YES, it’s in one piece!
Unable to contain my excitement I eagerly ask what the damage is.
“Mmm, snapped gear lever, busted ignition, broken front brake lever, fucked right handlebar, punctured front tyre, broken fuel cap and some scuffs and scrapes”
I chuckle to myself recognising some of the things he’s listed as damage that was already on the bike, thank him profusely and put the phone down to find some-one to pick up and fix the bike so I can ride it down to Newbury.
What a result, it’s made such a difference to how I feel, where previously I was feeling low and fatalistic, I’m now determined and rejoicing!
Two weeks into no job!
March 16, 2008 at 7:09 pm | Bike, Personal | No comment
Well it’s been two weeks now since I quit my job, left my girlfriend and moved to my dad’s house as a staging area.
I’ve been trying to prepare for the trip as best as possible, I’ve been buying god knows how much stuff (my ‘preparation budge’ is disappearing faster than I’d hoped!).
The repairs on my bike are going to cost more than I’d initially anticipated, £391 vs £250, and that doesn’t include things like indicators (some cheapo ones off ebay are in order I feel!), that’s simply to get it legal on the road.
My dad’s been away on holiday in Sri Lanka for the past week (he got offered a job out there just a few days ago as it happens!) and he’s scheduled to be away for another week.
I’ve set myself the challenge of not buying any food while he’s away, so I’ve been keeping myself alive on couscous, rice, pasta and the contents of the freezer (which was 5 oven chips, a VERY expired pack of pork chops and a rather tasty seabass!).
Since Alex came round last weekend and we got very drunk I’ve decided to abstain from drinking for the moment.
While living with Kim I got into the habit of drinking every single night and as soon as I stopped I realised that I had become a bit of an alcoholic.
Every evening after about six I would viscerally crave alcohol; the first few nights after I stopped I would just sit at my computer thinking “I can’t have a drink, I can’t have a drink, I want a drink, I can’t have a drink”.
On the third night it felt like I’d spent a month without drinking and broke down and allowed myself to have a Gin and Tonic, fortunately we were out of Gin, but I made myself an &T anyway!
It’s been a week now, and the cravings have all but abated, but I’m still finding it very hard to get to sleep at a normal time, hopefully this will resolve itself eventually!
I’ve been trying to learn Italian for the past week using a program called “Before you know it” which is basically a large set of digitised flash cards.
The learning method of flashcards works very well for me, but it’s very limited, it covers virtually no conjugation and the creators seem to have forgotten all about nouns and pronouns!
Still, I feel I’m making progress, and even if I have to go back to the audio method of learning (which I really don’t get on with, I’m very much a visual learner) if I stick with it I’m sure to get somewhere.
My days seem to whisk by these days and it certainly doesn’t feel like two weeks since I turned my life upside down.
The time has been split between researching incredibly boring things (such as HT bolts, *yawn*) , learning Italian, reading and wasting time on the internet, the latter of which seems to take up a disturbing portion of if…
I’ve finally decided that I’m not going to take a laptop on my trip, I’m going to simply write (shock horror) using a pen and paper and use my MP3 player as a dictafone.
I’ve managed to get the fundamentals of my paperwork through, namely my health insurance and my Carnet de Passage, once I’ve got my bike back (end of next week) and fixed it up with the panoply of sprockets, brake pads, chains, fork seals and other (supposedly) disposable parts there’ll be nothing stopping me going!
I ended up going with Navigator Travel insurance, mainly because they were the only people that covered areas that the FCO (Foreign Commonwealth Office) recommended against travelling to, but also because it’s run by one guy (not a fly by night, I’ve checked!) called Richard who seems bizarrely enough to have something of a passion for health insurance and spent absolutely ages with me on the phone explaining the situation regarding FCO areas and all the other innumerable questions I had for him.
I finally got round to fixing my panniers (from the crash back in December lol), Kiwibob sent the hinges through last week and after using a car-jack to get it back into shape (see photo) and using some Quiksteel to finish off the edge that had cracked open, it was good as new!
Bike Preparation
April 9, 2008 at 3:50 pm | Bike | 1 comment
Dominic Stubbs very kindly came round the past two weeks to help me with my bike.
As a result we managed to
Rebuild the front forks (new seals, 15W oil and proline neoprene gaiters)
Replace the rear brake pads
Replace the chain and both sprockets
Alex Long very kindly came round on Monday and with his help we were able to
Change the brake fluid
And so far we’ve tried to change my front tyre 3 times, failing by puncturing the inner tube each time.
… I’ll get the hang of it!
I’ve also replaced the air filter and made a start on fixing the headlight which was a complete cunt as one of the windscreen bolts rounded off and I had to slip a hacksaw between the windscreen and the console and move back and forth about half an inch for an hour at the expense of my skin!
I also tried to fit a cigarette adaptor I got from ebay, unfortunately the cable came loose from the battery connectors after about an 1/8th of a second so that was put to bed.
On the upside my pannier stickers arrived, yay!
Innumerable other things have arrived, air horn, gloves, oil, fiters, inner tubes, tyres, the list of stuff I’ve ordered is completely endless.
I was starting to get a bit worried about my pre-trip finances but I got a call from Centurion on Friday saying that the other party in my insurance claim has admitted liability! Which should provide me with a much needed cash boost.
To get the bike seaworthy all I need is to change the oil+filter, replace the front tyre (with a working inner tube this time!), and fix this problem with the windscreen/headlight.
Then to make it ready for the trip all I need to do is fit the panniers which is a half hour job I could do in my sleep!
Tyre fitted and overheating!
April 10, 2008 at 11:12 pm | Bike | No comment
I finally got that fucking bastard tyre fitted without pinching the inner tube.
The trick in the end was to go very very slowly, use talcam powder (man the difference that made!) and to never move the tyre lever past perpendicular to the rim.
Oh and to kneel and push the bead in to the well with your feet, using your feet like an extra tyre lever to keep it from peeling back while you’re doing the opposite side.
The wheel still needs balancing, but fuck it I can get a garage to do that, it’s not a skill I need.
I set off this evening to go and see Chris in Oxford (30 minute drive max) and got about 3 miles before my temperature warning light came on.
Pulled over and inspected the rad which was stone cold in contrast to the pipes feeding it which were boiling hot.
I’m assuming that there’s some kind of gunk inside the radiator blocking it and that I should really have flushed it through before installing it.
It took me about 2 hours to get home, finding somewhere to turn round on that particular stretch of the A34 takes ages, especially if you have to stop for half an hour every five minutes to let your engine cool.
Oh well, I’ll take it apart tomorrow and flush it out, see what kinda crap comes out, hopefully nothing’s come loose and flushed itself into the water-jacket…
Also I got to try out my new heated Gerbing Signature gloves for the first time.
Mmmm, tasty!
It wasn’t actually cold when I was trying them, but it felt really nice.
I rather like my bike naked… I could go for that as a look!
A bicycle, yes… a push bike sounds nice
April 14, 2008 at 4:37 pm | Bike | No comment
Two wheels, two pedals, a seat and handlebars.
Not a crank sensor to be found.
The overheating issue turned out to be simply air in the system and disappeared once I’d poured some more coolant in, so I was all ready for a big trip to test it out.
I was riding back from Brighton where Jenny (my dad’s girlfriend) had very kindly sorted out two fillings for me pro-bono and all of a sudden.
*Cough* *splutter* *surge* *death*
So I coast onto the soft verge inches away from cars doing 70+ on the A23, my dad who’s following behind in a car, stops and comes over.
“What happened”
“Just died, almost as if there’s no fuel”
“… There is fuel right?”
“Unless it’s suddenly halved its MPG and the fuel light’s stopped working”
So I try and start it, starter motor’s working quite happily but it’s just not firing.
A police car pulls up, “Oh great” I think to myself, but they turn out to be quite reasonable guys rather than the jobsworths I was expecting, and they give me a number to contact when I arrange for pick up of the bike so they can come back and close lane one for us (for anyone who was inconvenienced by this, I’m very sorry!
Fast forward eight hours and the garage has picked it up and diagnosed it as… Crank sensor…
That itty bitty little sensor that tells the ECU went to spray the petrol around, ignite the mix, etc etc.
£150
Plus some labour charges, and apparently the K&N washable filter I installed is suitable for catching things the size of small boulders and not much else according to this chap, which I’m not entirely surprised by actually…
That and my swingarm bearings have a bit too much play in them apparently, he suggests replacing them, but I can sort that myself.
Oh and he won’t work on the bike unless I let him replace the front brake lever (which is snapped, but perfectly workable).
£250 - £350 I expect the damage to be…
Thank **** my insurance claim was approved…
The sensor’s a mail order part obviously, which won’t be with them until Wednesday, but as they’re off on Thursday, if the part doesn’t come in first thing it’ll likely be Friday before it’s fixed.
Jenny has very generously invited me to stay until then, but it still leaves me with a whole tonne of stuff to do at the weekend with very little time.
I may have to postpone my ferry again..
NOOOOO!
Fixed! Bits are anyway….
April 16, 2008 at 8:56 pm | Bike | No comment
Well the very knowledgeable and helpful chap at Rens in Haywards Heath has sorted my cam sensor.
He also informed me that my K&N washable air filter was a pile of shit that would likely ruin my engine (I’m not surprised really) and replaced it with an OEM part.
He continued by telling me my swingarm bearings had a bit of play in them which would lead to their relatively imminnent destruction, my rear-wheel/sprocket rubber block thingies (known to realoem.com as “absorbers”) have way too much play in them and should be replaced, my alternator is about to die and I should keep an eye on my rear brake fluid level as it was bloody empty.
I’m also getting a squealing noise from the bike which worsens the harder I accelerate, I’m going to try and isolate that tomorrow as I haven’t the faintest what it could be (I had a brainwave earlier, AHAH! Alternator belt! Which was great, except my bike doesn’t have an alternator belt and probably no bike in the history of the world has either).
The total death toll for parts and labour came to £300, but I’m getting used to pushing £300s out left and right like confetti, this bike shit aint cheap.
I’ve rescheduled my ferry to the 27th of April to get all this stuff sorted out, I’ve also moved it to somewhere in Britanny rather than Santander as there were no spaces on any spanish ferries that didn’t require upgrading to a cabin.
So I’ve got an extra week tacked on in which I have a myriad of tasks, but still the trip trundles on!
Should be a good chance to get my hands dirty and restore my (somewhat shaken) faith in this bike.
Water pump
April 18, 2008 at 9:59 pm | Bike, Trip | No comment
I think the water pump is what’s squealing.
I’ve been having a worrying squealing sound coming from the bike ever since I got it back on the road and my theory is that the water pump got screwed when I had too little coolant in the bike.
Fortunately I have a full water-pump repair kit already so I’ll get that rebuilt tomorrow.
Ordered a new alternator which should arrive on Monday, get that fitted and hopefully it’ll all be hunky dorey!
James (my dad) asked me to do him a favour yesterday which turned out to be to let him pay for somebody to inspect my bike thoroughly for any potential issues and to have them repaired.
He was quite adamant about this, but appealing as it sounded I had to turn him down.
It’s hard to explain why I turned him down, I imagine some people will understand immediately while others will be perplexed by my decision.
Pride is the first reason I think, I don’t like taking handouts and in some insecure portion of my mind it feels as if accepting his offer would take something away from the acheivement of my goal (if and when!).
Secondly I want to do the repairs myself, I could look over some-ones shoulder to watch what they’re doing but it’s not the same.
I wonder whether it’s the right decision, I would sorely like to be in a position where my bike inspires confidence in its reliability, but somehow I can’t bring myself to…
Me and Alex went camping last night (at an actual campsite no less!)
It was a good chance to try out my tent before having to erect it in anger, and a damn good thing too!
It was a completely bemusing process putting it up, as you have to put up the poles, then attach the flysheet and then clip the actual tent to the inside of the flysheet.
However it does look very robust, for those that are interested it’s a Vaude De Hogan 2006 model that I got £60 off as it’s a display model.
The construction process is quite simple once you know what you’re doing and hopefully it’ll stand up to the wind, unlike the tent I went camping in in the south of France last year which had one of its poles snap (in admittedly VERY strong winds).
Cam Chain Tensioner?
April 19, 2008 at 10:25 pm | Bike, Trip | No comment
Far too many posts have been named after bits of my bike lately.
So I’ve removed my left hand engine cover (which I might add is a complete BITCH due to the oil return cable being A) positioned precisely in the way and B) inflexible) to repair the water pump, and I notice that the plastic guide for the internal chain (thought it was a drive chain at the time) is a bit chewed up, but thought nothing much of it at the time.
I took the waterpump bits into the house to clean up and replace and although the impeller-shaft is a bit scarred, I doubt that it’s that causing the squealing.
However since having a look on the internet, that chain turns out to be the timing chain (or cam chain) and having chewed up guides is symptomatic of either a very slack chain (virtually unheard of) or a failed chain tensioner.
Which… I can only assume is a pretty major job, as from my (admittedly limited) experience with timing chains/belts is that anything associated with them is usually a complete pita.
I’ve posted on The Chaingang and am awaiting their expert assessment of the situation.
Hopefully it’s something I can do myself, and hopefully it’s the cause of the squealing and not yet another problem with the bike.
Either way though, it doesn’t look likely that I’m going to be able to keep my ferry booking which is a week tomorrow.
Taking up my dad on his offer to get the bike overhauled is very tempting right now…
Clutch Basket Needle Bearing
April 23, 2008 at 1:47 pm | Bike | No comment
Wow, another post named after a bike part.
I checked out the chain tensioner, seems to be working fine, so I reckon that it probably failed previously but the lazy bastard that replaced it didn’t bother to replace the guides.
My current theory is the clutch-basket needle-bearings
I’ve taken the clutch cover off again (as I’d put it back while deciding what to do), which happily took only half an hour instead of the 3 hours it took the first time.
Taken the main clutch plate off and just need to get the basket off now (which requires a special tool).
Once I’ve done that I can inspect the needle bearings and see if they’re damaged (I’ve ordered the replacement parts anyway).
Then I can get it back together, put some oil in it and see if it’s actually cured the squeal.
Eta on the parts is tomorrow or the day after (same with the tool).
Hopefully it should be all sorted by the weekend!
But.. I’ve rebooked my ferry for the 4th of May anyway, as I have plenty of time and I really don’t want to leave in a rush.
When you rush, you make mistakes and I just can’t afford to at this point!
Parteo-Parteo, where for art thou Parteo?
April 26, 2008 at 10:08 pm | Bike, Philosophy, Trip | No comment
No prizes for guessing that my part hasn’t turned up.
The tool did however and I’ve been able to get my clutch basket off (incidentally, 140nm is a LOT when the nut has nothing to stop it turning other than a tool on your knee) and inspect the bearings.
They look fine to me…
This made me somewhat upset (to the tune of a gin and tonic or three), however I was heartened by Midge’s post as that “release bearing” is one of the parts I have on order!
After chasing Motorworks and asking them the eta on my new bearings (middle of next week) I nipped down to my local bearings shop (who’d have thought there was a shop that just sold bearings?) and they measured the perpetrators with a micrometre and ordered some new ones in to arrive on Monday (seeing as it was Friday!).
Time since then has been spent reassembling my alternator, rewiring the cable of said alternator, new sealent-grommet as to get the grommet that’s made for my alternator cover would cost £350 (as it only comes with a new alternator from BMW!) and trying to figure out why I wake up angry each morning (very counterproductive, takes me until 2pm before I can do any work without throwing the first object that annoys me across the room!)
I also got a reply from BMW’s marketing department regarding my request for sponsorship, which was… declined.
Primarily based upon the content of this site I believe…
I don’t blame them in the slightest, with this blog I don’t exactly cut a very presentable front, certainly not the sort that I dare say BMW would be keen to back.
As stupid as it sounds I only applied to BMW in a fit of desperation as I don’t really want sponsors.
Sponsors feel far too much like a commitment, cutting into my feeling of “ultimate freedom” which is what this trip is all about.
A blog post I saw a few months back (alas I forget the link) summed it up for me in a way.
It went on about how nobody was alllowed to have an adventure anymore if it wasn’t for charity.
You’re not allowed to be a brash young man in another country after stories to tell the grandkids, you have to be politely tiptoeing through they various PC minefields, manitaining a good standing for your country and most importantly doing it for lukemia research.
I don’t want to do that, half the point of this trip is to find out who I am, and I’m not going to start that off by constraining myself with a load of guidelines set out by my sponsors.
It may seem like I’m being a bit of a dickhead to some people, but maybe that’s the point as well, this idea we as a society seem to have at the moment that we absolutely must go through our lives without offending anyone else in the slightest at all costs… It’s mad, and I don’t buy into it.
My view of chavs (or various other ne’er-do-wellers) remains unchanged and while these seemingly opposing views may seem unreconcileable to some people, I point to my recurring theme (in thought if not necessarily in this blog) of Balance.
It seems a popular misconception that you have to be for or against virtually every concept or principle in the universe, whereas I’m generally of the opinion that just about every concept and principle in the universe has its place in all its extremes, whether or not it affects you negatively.
.. But maybe this is a thought for another time…
Packed and ready
May 4, 2008 at 3:31 pm | Bike, Trip | 3 comments
A thing of beauty to be sure!
I’m heading off in half an hour, going to meet up with Dom before I leave as he lives near Portsmouth and I have his cargo net still…
I don’t know when I’ll get the chance to blog next, I’ll have to use a pen and paper to scrivere my thoughts upon… Translating that into text at a later date though may prove difficult due to my apalling handwriting!
I’m oddly calm about this whole thing… I think I still don’t really comprehend that it’s happening, and probably won’t until I realise everyone around me is speaking another language I know no more than a couple of words in.
The bike is running sweet as a nut now, I reckon it was all in my head.
I was amazed how easily everything fitted on the bike, even had room to spare for a crapload of books in the panniers which I’d never have believed!
I don’t know what to say now.. I’m off!
Starter.
June 18, 2008 at 2:26 pm | Bike, Trip | 1 comment
Aaah, a beautiful day at last, sunny after many days of rain and dark skies, a good omen!
I do my daily excercises and waddle down to the local internet cafe to check the online tracking my starter motor.
Status: Out for Delivery
Fuck yeah! About time, it should have arrived days ago, but yours truly typed a 5 instead of a 6 in the postcode of the campsite he’s staying at while ordering the new starter motor, and this delayed matters somewhat.
I buy my measely €4 worth of groceries and try to force myself not to run back to the camp site, instead maintaining an easy saunter.
“Hi.. Any post?”
“Ah! Yes!”
Woohoo! I run over to my bike and tear off my old starter motor and oh-so-carefully fit the new one.
Right, moment of truth… Key in, turned…
*Pushes start button*
*click*
AAAGH.. Bugger… Oh well, it’s probably just a flat battery.
So I wheel the bike over to the start of the hill that leads conveniently into the campsite and push the blasted thing up it.
Sweating profusely I get to the top, wheel it round, leap on and whoosh, starts first time!
I sit it by the side of my tent and give it a bit of time to charge up the battery.
Flicking through the Oddyssey I decide it’s probably best if the revs are above idle, and grab my mole wrench to jury-rig the throttle open.
I pull back the throttle *PHUT WHIRR BANG*, a huge black cloud of smoke issues forth from the exhaust and the bike stalls.
“Hmm.. that’s not cool”
I tentatively try the start button again, still clicking.
“45 minutes was enough to charge it anyway I’d have thought… must be the relay..”
Where was that relay again?
In the process of wrecking the bike I discover that the airbox had a certain amount of oil in it, a gobbet of which probably got sucked in and caused the earlier stall, apparently this can be due to overfilling the oil (which I may well have done).
I eventually pull out what I assume to be the relay, as it’s situated between the battery positive and the starter.
Proudly I present my trophy to the local mechanic who sets about it with a battery and a multimeter.
“Si, working”
Eh? So wtf is wrong?
I retire to the internet cafe and learn a number of things.
1) I just tested the solenoid
2) The location of the relay
3) 45 minutes at idle probably isn’t enough to recharge the battery.
So once I leave this internet Cafe I need to get back to the bike, reassemble it, bump start it again and leave it running for a few hours.
Fingers crossed eh?
Happy Birthday to me!
June 20, 2008 at 4:51 pm | Bike, Trip | 2 comments
Yup, highly egocentric this post, for today I am 22, the first “uncool” birthday! Next stop 30!
My attempts to repair my bike myself have been utterly thwarted.
A full charge and even a jump start were insufficient to get it moving, though a bump start worked no problem.
A few days ago I had an amazing stroke of luck.
Quite out of the blue a chap called Guido messaged me on CouchSurfing.com and offered me a place to stay if I was in the area, and where should his area be but 15 miles down the road!
I jumped at the chance, and despite my crippled bike, I pushed it painfully slowly up a hill and bump started it down, hastily packed my gear onto it and set off for Salo, praying it wouldn’t stall.
Stall? No, it belched black smoke and died.
I was left to walk the 8km on foot in 30 degree sun and full leathers to the nearest bus station to complete my journey.
Given time to mull my situation over, I decided I’d had enough.
My bike has been held together with bootlaces, luck and duct tape for too long, it’s time to get my issues sorted once and for all.
So I’m getting BMW to sort out everything, fork seals, black smoke, all the little niggles that have been bugging me and then some.
Unfortunately after ringing up the nearest BMW Motorrad (which was pleasingly close by) it turns out that all my local BMWs are booked up years in advance.
So where shall I take it?
Germany!
I’ve pre booked a rental van and I’m taking it to Munich on Tuesday.
In return I’m getting a courtesy bike which I’m going to ride around with great pleasure (it’ll be nice not to have to worry about my bike falling apart for a change!)
The above solution represents a days work, head bashing, bad translation and frustration that I won’t bore you with, so back to last night!
Once I’d arrived at the bus station I discovered the next bus wasn’t until 2 hours after I’d agreed to meet my host for the evening.
A quick email to warn him and hope he didn’t mind and I sat down to wait.
After the picturesque bus ride down the west side of the lake I turned up in Salo and headed for Guido’s house.
Amazingly it was pretty easy to find, I’d been geared up for wandering the streets of Salo for hours and forlornly ringing him at 10pm asking how to find him!
I rang on the door, waited… Rang a second time… No answer.
Err.. fuck…
As I hung about the gate not really knowing what to do a lady and her son approached the gate.
“Ciao”
“Ciao!”
“You… are waiting for Guido?” (not goddo)
“Si!… Err.. Dove?”
“I don’t know, but would you like to wait in my house?”
“That would be great, thank you so much!”
I didn’t stay long in her house, just enough time for a shower in fact (which I was in very obvious need of and was offered as soon as I stepped over the threshold), before Guido turned up with his other guests.
“Sam! Hello! We have been waiting for you at the bus stop!”
“Really? I’m so sorry, I must have missed you!”
“No matter, let’s go to mine and eat!”
Some time, some carbonora and some red wine later we went strolling along the sea front under the light of a full yellow moon and an artfully lit boardwalk over the crystal clear waters of the lake, beneath which you could see salmon flitting in shoals of untold magnitude.
Guido gave me and the couple staying with him the historical background of Salo and treated us to ice cream from the much touted local gelato joint.
And the next day? Well, although it’s been my birthday, not much of note has happened, so… Though I should like to leave you with some photos, I decided not to lug my DSLR from my bike, so I shall have to merely bid you Arrivederci for the moment!
Thus Spoke Zarathustra
October 27, 2008 at 12:23 pm | Bike, Trip | 3 comments
‘I think… I think… It was a cat’ I replied, tenatively prodding the gelatinous lump on my plate that seemed to be staring at me eyelessly.
‘Don’t think about it, just eat it’ Ben said firmly.
I’d met Ben and his brother Sascha almost immediately after crossing the border into Iran, as they were simply passing through the town I’d holed up in when they saw my bike and came to investigate.
The first meal we all had in Iran wasn’t exactly appetising, none of us spoke any farsi so we simply communicated ‘Whatever you have’ to the restauranteer and sat down at our table.
We really wished we hadn’t…
Unless of course anybody is able to enlighten me as to a domesticated (and edible) animal with vertebrae approximately 3/4 inch in length…
Ben and Sascha were driving from Germany to the UAE where Ben was working, and wow what a schedule!
They’d got from Germany to Iran in 11 days and were due to get to Bandar-e-Bas (south of Iran) to catch a boat a week after I met them next to Turkey.
The next day the three of us took the roundabout route to Tabriz, going via the Azerbaijani border.
By and large the scenery so far in Iran was much similar to Turkey, so I didn’t bother taking many photos.
Many dusty and warm (in comparison to Turkey anyway!) hours later we stopped for our first petrol fill-up with our new Iranian petrol cards.
We zipped to the front of the queue (being the arrogant tourists we were!), which was surprisingly long for a country that extracts and refines its own oil, and I was selected to try and figure out the pump.
Simple enough, put the card in, wait, start pumping.
Wait.. 14 litres.. surely no—
*SPLASH*
“Holy shit!”
Err yeah, lesson one, not all Iranian fuel pumps have auto-shut-off switches…
Drenched in fuel I sheepishly pushed my bike to one side and let Ben and Sascha fill up, with somewhat less embarassing results.
Tabriz is a big place, and despite more road-signs in English than we’d expected, we still fail to find the centre of town.
At one point we tried to do a u-turn (which involved slowing down in the fast lane) which nearly got Ben killed as the car behind him screeched in a cloud of tyre smoke to a halt mere inches from his rear wheel.
Eventually we stopped by the side of the road and Ben wandered off to ask about a hotel and came back with a friendly Iranian chap to give us directions.
At about this point a lady came up to us and asked in English.
‘Are you looking for a hotel?’
‘Yes, do you know of one?’
‘No no no, you should come and stay with my family!’
After the traditional three-time-mock-denial we followed her at a walking pace back to her home.
It must have made quite a sight, three heavily-laden bikes, larger than anything allowed in Iran, following a lady at a walking pace down the highstreet.
As it turned out the entire family, of which our saviour was the mother, spoke wonderful English, and their hospitality surpassed anything we could have expected.
In researching my trip, I’d read many times that people are always surprised by how incredibly friendly and generous people in Iran are, and good god I have not been dissapointed.
I honestly think you would have to rugby tackle an Iranian to stop him from paying for a meal at a restaurant, I always offer three times (at least!) but they always refuse and almost seem insulted! Pushing my wallet back into my pocket and frowning at me.
As I’d was suffering a recurrance of a dodgy stomached I’d contracted from unpasturised milk in the last few days before I left Turkey, I was more than glad to accept their hospitality and slept for most of the next two days.
In between my mammoth sleeps I said goodbye to Ben and Sascha, who had to continue pell-mell south through Iran, and spoke at length about England and Iran with my hosts.
As it turns out Iran is a much more ‘liberal’ country than I’d expected.
Having lived in Saudi, the women dressed in black Abyahs (not sure what the Farsi word is for the shawl) and headscarves came as no surprise, but what was shocking was the beauty the women could convey through their faces alone.
I don’t know whether Iranian women are unnaturally blessed with beautiful eyes or whether their dress simply focuses the mind, but call me crazy I could almost start to think dressing in this manner a good idea!
Western music is technically banned in Iran, but you’ll hear it played openly in taxis, and blaring out the windows of ‘the kids’ cars, and if you turn on PersiaTV, an Iranian Music channel, you will see scantily clad ladies (comparable to music videos in the west) singing the latest Iranian pop music, which sounds indistinguishable from western pop music barring being in Farsi.
At the same time of course, there’s a lot of opression going on, for example I’ve been told that a woman riding a bicycle down the street in Tabriz would likely be stopped and warned by the police for ‘Abnormal Behaviour’.
Having spent two days with my faultless hosts in Tabriz, I journeyed on by their reccomendation to Orumiyeh, a city next to the second saltiest lake in the world.
A bridge is currently under construction over this lake, but as it’s only about 20% completed I opted to take the ferry.
On this ferry I met Professor Mohammadi, a lecturer and researcher of Animal Genetics at the university of Ahvaz, who invited me to stay at his home for a few days.
‘Sounds excellent! I’ll see you in three days time!’ I said, thinking to myself
‘How far can the south coast be?’
1,300KM that’s how far!
Orumiyeh didn’t fulfill my expectations of a lakeside town, and I embarassingly spent my entire time there without actually going down to visit the lake.
I had to continue my journey south through the mountains.
A water trough in the middle of the mountains trickled softly as I stopped and ate my bounty of fresh dates (which since discovering I’ve been eating by the kilo)
It’s not all mountains round there!
A local bus thunders past, unfortunately I haven’t got any photos of the beautiful bright-blue pickups that are so common around these parts.
A photo of my home made radiator guard made from 25cm of free chicken-wire!
I’ll post the rest tomorrow or soon after I think! My heart’s not in blogging today 
Thus Spoke Zarathustra