I woke up ill, grumpy and irritable, but that's enough about my ex-girlfriends....

We hoped to reach Samsun in a day, probably around 200km on the map. Unfortunately the coast road isn't as straight as on the map, literally following the coast in and out of bays and inlets and rising up the 700ft steep cliffs. All very nice except for the bad road surface, sometimes dusty gravel and very bumpy. Not any campsites to speak of so we followed the route laid out by Volcan and Ozzy to Amasra.. Popular with tourists but like everywhere this time of year, quiet. Not much choice but to find a cheap hotel (about £15 each) and a hot shower!
Everyone we ask estimates anything from two hours to Trabzon or four days!

At least the road improved, if not the petrol prices, the most expensive in the world here! Still no sign of Samson after a very tiring ride, and a close call with a taxi that didnt stop at a slip road and passed right between us, death by taxis perhaps? I found a suitable field and gingerly rode the bike through a narrow gap between some trees. The track was about 2ft wide but as I passed through, the left side caved into a 3ft deep hole, throwing me into a stylish judo roll over the bars! Was I laughing? Well no but I was unhurt and the only damage to the bike was a small bend in the crashbars. I was more than ready for a kip after we dragged the bike out, so I laid on my poncho and soaked up the cold dank night.
Every single night since I can remember, dogs have been the bane of this trip. They are running loose everywhere from Croatia onwards, and last night several packs were around as usual. Along with spiders crawling over my face, an owl and many other unidentified creatures around, niether of us slept at all!
I think we left for Samsum at around 6.30 after having no problem getting up early! At least the road left the coast for a while and gave us a chance to make up some time. Until the local traffic police decided that 110kph was a tad over the 70kph limit. As there are no signs, so that seemed to us a comfortable speed on a long empty dual carriageway. A few excuses later, we convinced the three officers we we raising money for cancer charities, 'Chernobyl' as they called it, worked for the BBC, gave them a Riders Digest mag and posed for photos! I like Turkey a lot.

Samsun came and went at a more sedate speed but I was feeling very ill, especially after stopping a a Turkish 'greasy spoon' cafe, where the unidentifiable cubes of meat and potatoes floated on an inch of grease! I had no appettite and felt rough but I made it to Ordu where we decided another cheap hotel would give us some rest. I've never been so tired or felt so ill on a bike. Annoying as I've been meticulous about what I eat and drink.

Trabzon is around another 200km so we will be a day late into Russia if they let us in!
I hope I feel better in the morning!

Bulgaria (technically!) and Turkey into Asia.

We stayed two nights at Santa Rosa beach cafe near Alexandropoli to rest our aching bikes as they needed a rest. Obviously we were fine! This was the only site open as we are too early for the camping season, except for a huge Municipal campsite nearby, but that was too reminiscent of a deserted campsite from the previous night that was so spooky we chose to camp on the beach outside a friendly Taverna, where we could buy cold beer and listen to local music that sounded like a small Sitar, or as İ called it, a 'Baby Sitar'.
There was a few strange goings on in the deserted Fanari campsite and we chose not to speculate, as this only made it seem stranger by the minute. Full of empty caravans, some still had dirty washing up in the sinks, and beer ın the fridge! Your guess is as good as mine!

We had another interesting shopping experience at the local Lidl supermarket. We'd bought liquid yoghurt instead of milk and a sesame seed cake that looked like marble cake. This was added to the pizza yeast we'd bought in İtaly instead of butter!
Geoff went to town looking for the elusive internet cafe while İ had a relaxing day strolling the beach. The sea looked inviting for a swim until İ noticed thousands of gallons of brown water being pumped into the bay from a building site, leaving a long stretch of brown seawater along the coast. İ'll save the paddle for later then! Over a pork kebab that evening we decided to nip into Bulgaria as it was not too far out of the way. Little did we know that all roads North were dead ends, leading to houses or farms. Eventually we asked a man at a small town shop, who lead us to an official looking building, where from behind a large desk, perhaps the town mayor or government official sat us on a huge soft black sofa. He drew a map, explaining that although we were 5km from the border it is closed and no access. A few locals walked across there illegally but we were not to. Naturally we had to take a look!

The road wasn't too bad once the farmyard was negotiated, but after a mile or so turned to dusty gravel. Well, we'd ridden this far so carried on. The gravel turned to a narrow twisty farm track suitable for tractors but we were 'confident' if not graceful! 10km later we spotted a row of white stones marking the border with Bulgaria. There was some razor wire left in the bushes and the track heading into Bulgaria had been blocked by soil for some time. A small shack had been built by someone who must cross there regularly on foot. We took photos and İ received a text message from M-Tel welcoming me to Bulgaria. That was good enough for us, and ticked off another country. Probably the only two English guys to cross there, and definitely on English bikes! The second country we've visited and not spent a penny! The road carried on but was impassable giving us no choice but to return South back into Greece to find the nearest border with Turkey.
The main road made my bike feel as smooth as a magic carpet after the farm tracks! Geoff got stung for about the ninth time, but on the plus side, I hadn't. With the exception of getting stung for 'tax' by the Albanian border guard, no bites or stings at all for me! Mind you, Geoff did get some revenge when he stopped at some traffic lights, coughing after swallowing a small fly! Most people must think he's a nutter, doing his best impression of breakdancing on a bike in front of the Kosovan police while being stung seven times by a wasp, and coughing his lungs up at the lights in front of bewildered bus passengers who obviously couldn't hear him cough, just convulsing while eating their local wildlife. He's not a nutter, he's British don't you know, and a good laugh, from my point of view anyway!

Well we didn't need a Carnet for Turkey, just a three month visa and 15 Euros and insurance for 5 Euros. That's at bit cheaper than Macedonia at 50 Euros! Especially as we rode straight through in a few hours! İmmediately the warmth of the Turkish people equalled the warmth of the sun. The Greeks were fine but after experiencing the over friendly Albanians, they obviously prefer to mind their own business. İn Turkey we were back amongst people who waved and tooted horns wherever we went. İ was still smiling at the Turkish border guard who called me Alan Ambramovitch, because İ should support Chelsea and not Manchester United! We were happy to pronounce Manchester United as European Champions, forgetting the history between Galatsaray and United, so were not met with the same amount of glee.

Passing hundreds of rice fields and old Renault 12s, we stopped for fuel where Geoff gave biscuits to some children in a neighbouring field while İ watched the pump attendants sit smoking at the pumps! The road South avoiding İstanbul looked a good choice, especially when we saw it went all the way to Gallipoli. The town was a poor area but kept alive by the ferry to Lapseki, which we chose to cross on our way back from the war graves in the morning.
We grabbed a local map of the graves and set off after giving badges to three kids who insisted we listen to their prowess at naming football stars, some of which we actually knew, and chatted to a guy from Hackney who had returned for compulsory 1yr military service. Estuary English is taking over the world

The narrow one way road climbed steep up to the many war graves and unfortunately was a tad congested with about 100 coaches! We walked along the Australian gravestones reading the loving memorials, saw the trenches, then onto the Turkish ones before getting caught in between all the coaches making their way back down. İ'd never been so hot on a bike in my life, then İ felt a tap on my shoulder from a heavily armed guard, luckily very friendly, who directed me alongside the coaches and into the cool breeze back down the steep hills, where we found the Hotel Kum campsite. Good enough for two tired bikers, especially when the on-site restaurant sparked up the barby for probably the best food İ've ever had, except for Boot steak and ale pie in the Lake District, but that's pie obviously! We were even treated to a fabulous sunset, and watched a pond full of ferocious terrapins make a meal out of the local bread which is excellent.
Why this is off season for camping İ don't know, surely 36 degrees is hot enough?

Next morning we just caught the 11.a.m ferry from Gallipoli after Geoff found free internet access in town after İ noticed a few laptops being used there the previous day. The metal ferry floor was cambered, offering us more fun than we could handle, getting two heavy bikes onto centre stands! Osgood, a young man learning English chatted to us while we drank more Nescrappe' who seem to have the monopoly on coffee all the way from Croatia Eastwards. Which begs the question, why is there only one Monopolies commission? Osgood asked the difference between 'İ am going' 'İ have gone' and 'İ have been.' İt seems many foreigners learning English have problems with he over complicated 'past' 'present' and 'future' aspect of the language, but usually end up speaking better English than most of us!
Geoff and İ had a congratual handshake at entering Asia and headed for the nearest large town for some 'interaction' with some locals.

Biga was the next destination, simply because it's there and full of people to interact with. After riding a little further into town a man riding a Yamaha Virago stopped alongside me, shook my hand saying 'Welcome, welcome' told Geoff to follow him, and we parked in the shade next to a few bikes. Before we could be introduced to everyone, chai was served.
Teyfo owned the sports shop opposite, selling mainly Converse trainers. None in size 13, and apparently more expensive than London. He proudly showed me the hand stitched saddlebag and sissy bar cover made for him by a friend for his Virago. Volcan and Ozzy, two up on a fully luggaged yellow Suzuki GS500 had seen us earlier in town and had sent Teyfo to 'rescue us' as we looked lost! Ozzy spoke excellent English as he has a kebab shop in Ulfracome, not Ilfracome Devon. Then Ayhen, the proud owner of an old two stroke chopper, a Chinese copy of a Jawa 350 İ believe, gave us a bullet necklace each from Canakkale/Geçilmez, then grabbed a Lura, similar to a Lute but with a longer neck, from Teyfo who had been singing to us a traditional song, but was drawn away buy a customer in his shop. Ayhen played a while then gave us his best rendition of 'Knocking on heavens door' on a guitar. We had our fourth chai and Tost, a folded pizza, fantastic! We also met Savaş Dursun, the owner of İsmet Oto garage, who promised us a good price on new Michelin Anakees for the Tigers.

Teyfo, Volcan and Ozzy took us to the garage but the price of tyres, and everything else in Turkey is more expensive than England. But at least we get more chai for our trouble! Volcan needed chain lube from a nearby industrial estate, and Teyfo took the opportunity to disappear with Geoff on his Virago to look at an old Simpson bike he was interested in buying. Also showing him a secret place but that's Geoff's secret! Volcan and Ozzy had to get back to a town near İstanbul, but decided instead to show us a good beach for a swim and help us find a campsite.

The warm sea at Erdeck was the calmest yet, more like a lake, and the dozens of jellyfish didn't sting, which was nice. Off to the Albatross bar for a frosted pint, then Volcan rushed off to pick up Ayhen who was on his way to us bringing Geoff's notepad that he'd left at the tyre garage, but his bike was kaput! When they arrived, it was off to a good kebab shop for some proper local meat dishes washed down with fresh yoghurt drink. Ayhen decided to stay at the Albatross bar for a day or two, to get his bike fixed. Possibly a magneto problem and not something we could fix for him.
Volcan and Ozzy roared off along the coast considerably faster than the national speed limit, which luckily for us, was still a mystery, so our ignorance gave no problems or guilt keeping up. Except for melting tarmac, bumpy pebble dashed roads and glare from the sun, it was quite a ride for me as İ don't normally ride faster than İ can see. Campsites here are few and far between, not normally a problem for us except at this time of year, all closed. Two local old boys jumped on their yellow scooter to show us a good spot overlooking Marmara İsland, saying it's the driest İsland in the world and something to do with marble was all İ could gather as my Turkish is less than fluent. Geoff jumped on the back of the scooter to be shown an alternate spot on the beach which was perfect and already had two tents there. Ozzy bid us farewell while we waited for Volcan to pray at sunset, then we waved them off on their 300km ride in the dark to İstanbul.

The two tents on the beach were owned by two brothers who arrived four days ago on a small boat. One raked the sand for our tents while the other made chai. We sat under a solar lamp hung in a tree drinking chai, watching the sun set over the sea of Marmara. İt's a hard life this rough camping, but one we are becoming seasoned to! We heard what we guessed were dolphins breathing in the bay, and could just see them breaking the surface in the darkness. What a day!

İt's a long way to the Black Sea from here, so we left at 6a.m. following a scenic route laid out by Ozzy, alongside a 30km long lake, where we stopped for our first bad coffee of the trip so far. More Nescrappe' with powdered milk in fact. This region is similar to Northern İtaly, surprisingly mountainous and full of tiny tractors with wives and children precariously perched on the mudguards. We often see the women working the fields while the men seem to spend most of their time in the shade drinking chai.

We made good time on some of the faster main roads, reaching the Black Sea by 2.30p.m. All the coastal towns were preparing for the summer rush, but as usual were not ready for us. A man at a petrol station said 'Two campsites, one Kilometre.' Naturally our keen and honed instincts led us straight to nothing, so İ guessed at a small enclosed area which turned out to be a private housing estate by the beach. A maintenance man looked confused but perked up when he understood 'denız' and 'swim,' showed us the beach saying ok to camp. A few minutes later he returned with 'Polis' an older man named Ali who lived here but worked in Ankara for the Police. He let us pitch tents in his garden after more chai at a house opposite his, owned by his dad and his girlfriend, a teacher from Ankara, who plied us with fresh organic strawberries and honey from their garden. Ali's wife was also a teacher from Ankara. We showed them our route, then laughed at the universal inability for humans to fold a map!

We couldn't stay long as we both needed to catch up on our journals. We sat by the sea with a cold beer from the nearby shop, then Geoff realised we'd watched four sunsets over four different seas on two different continents in four days! İ doubt that would've happened if we'd planned it!

We have until the 1st June when our Russian visas begin, so we have some time on our hands for a change to just enjoy the scenery along the Black Sea coast, local hospitality and anything else interesting on our way to Trabzon where we hope to catch a ferry to Sochi, Russia.

So far we have been to 21 countries and just under 5000 miles!
England, Wales, France, Belgium, Luxembourg, Germany, Switzerland, Austria, Liechtenstein, Italy, Slovenia, Croatia, Bosnia, Kosovo, Serbia, Montenegro, Albania, Macedonia, Greece, Bulgaria and Turkey!

Just three or five to go then! Some of which appear to be quite large....İ'll let you know!

Slovenia, Croatia, Bosnia,Albania, Kosovo and Greece.

Well Slovenia wasn't much to write home about, so I won't. Nice enough, surprisingly mountainous but to make time we followed the autostrada, we wanted to reach the coast!
We had to show our passports for the first time at the Croatian border, then down to the first town we could see on the map, Rijeck. The diesel fumes from old buses filled the air and I assumed this town would not be pleasant. We parked the bikes at the marina, full of fish in the clear sea. The town was surprisingly modern with many cafes and a long pedestrianised high street. Geoff asked in a tourist office if an internet cafe was in town, only to find the internet is freely available anywhere along the high street! A stark contrast to the lack of availability in Italy, where we had to surrender our passports to use it. I proudly showed of to Geoff my prowess at ordering a toasted ham and cheese roll with ketchup, then wandered the town while he sat in the shade with his laptop. It was very hot as I admired the locals latest fashion of English slogan T-shirts and the unusual way they are translated. Such as 'Extremes Meet,' 'Dirty weekend' and 'Against.' One man approached me and apologised for Croatia beating England, It wasn't his fault, it's just that their footballers are good!

Then followed the A8 along the winding coast. This must be one of the best biking roads in the world! Constant sweeping curves for hundreds of Kilometres, with mountains to the left and the beautiful Adriatic to the right. A campsite is easy to find, they are everywhere along the coast, but because we were enjoying the ride, kept stopping when we found one, the deciding to ride to the next! A small site right on the seafront was nice enough, just in time for a rain shower. We tried our best to impress the owner by ordering our food in bad Croat, after reading the English translation. Fine until what we wanted wasn't available! Including 'scrumbled' eggs! Mixed grill? Ta muchly. My phone screen was damaged somehow so my old spare phone now has to be used. I'd brought a spare for Russia, just in case we get robbed, so at least I'd be giving away a duff phone now.

I had a bad stomach in the morning, but felt better after a shower with two huge hairy caterpillars and an ants nest. Luckily a builders bucket came in handy for the second time on the trip, this time to flush the toilet!
We rode a few Kilometres back to take photos of a fantastic little fishing hamlet we'd spotted on the way through. A few run down houses, one or two occupied in an idyllic calm little bay. A large carpet lay on the beach to dry and an old man fixing his fishing net while two ladies sat chatting over a coffee. So serene we both agreed it's a perfect place to live.

Back along the marvellous A8, a short look around the city of Split, a mixture of old run down shops and buildings, ugly apartments and modern fashion shops.
Through another 'stealth' toll booth on the A8 and a nice campsite on the cliffs. We pitched the tents at the foot of the cliffs by the sea, went for a swim in the cold but refreshing sea before retiring to the site restaurant, where a Dutchman recommended Albania but avoid Kosovo because of the political unrest at it's Independence from Bosnia. He introduced us to Milan, the site owner, and proud owner of an orange Zastava 750. He knows an opportunity when he sees one and a few phone calls later had arranged for us to meet a journalist friend of his back in Split, providing we stayed one more day for his infamous 'Fish Party.' Of course we had to accept!
We waited for an hour in the morning to meet Milan's daughter Maria, who arranged for us to meet the Journalist by a large metal sculpture of a yellow apple. Nobody in Split had heard of a yellow apple, so Geoff gave his phone to a lady in a bookshop who spoke to Ivana the journalist and arranged to meet us there. Ivana probably was the most beautiful girl in Croatia and we were smitten!
She led us to where the locals go for coffee and food, along narrow streets to a large Egyptian palace, built by the last Roman emperor for a summer house. She interviewed us over a coffee for the local newspaper, then to the yellow apple which had been removed, explaining why no-one knew where it was, then a photo shoot by the marina where we met the first English tourists. Unfortunately stereotypical, and shouting England is the best country in the world! But not as beautiful as Croatia, we hastily added to Ivana in our embarrassment.
A day certainly not wasted, and a shame we may never see ourselves in a Croatian newspaper.
Back in time for the 'Fish Party' already in full swing where Milan greeted us with a cup of his home brewed paint stripper and equally strong red wine, which actually was quite nice in comparison. An 11yr old girl named Antonia was busy serving drinks and anything else we wanted. She was a guest staying at the site and was extremely helpful, asking us English questions such as the difference between 'these' those' and 'they.' Difficult even for us! I tried two salty Anchovies for the first time, not being over impressed and glad of the fresh bread and good beer to soften the impact. A nice grilled Mackerel and very strong potato salad, followed by another Mackerel, then another. Not much choice really but only 3 Euros. We chatted to a German couple from Stuttgart who insisted we come to their house for Black Forest Gateaux. Apparently Geoff had another different kind of proposition by a younger German couple in the Gents, but given the choice, prefered the Gateaux option! The accordion I'd seen hanging over the bar last night was in full swing along with guitar gave us all the entertainment we could hope for.
I don't know what Milan put in the drink but it successfully gave us our best nights sleep and a head as overcast as the morning weather.
The Albanian border was manned by a few grumpy overweight guards who demanded a 'Tax' payment of 10 Euros each. We were annoyed and amused but after seeing the state of his office didn't mind as long as we got into Albania quickly as it was getting late. The first town was for want of a better description, a 'shithole.' Never have I seen so much filth, litter and squalor anywhere before. We didn't stop, choosing to head for the hills and somewhere to camp. Just before the next town a man on the worst motorbike you could imagine shouted to us as we passed, 'I love London.'
Ok mate no worries, but he caught me and insisted he buy us coffee. I politely refused but he said 'Hotel cheap,' I said 'No money.' He insisted, even offering to pay for hotel as he had worked in London and had money. Our choices we limited, so we went for a coffee in a nice modern cafe, one of many looking out of character with the surroundings. Jack the Albanian had worked as a plasterer in London for 5yrs between 1999 and 2004. He had built a large house with the money and talked us into staying with him and his family. We followed his noisy bike with me lighting the road for him. He had no lights, brakes or anything of use on his bike but it got him around!
He had a very nice house, and soon had us drinking his home brewed Raki, very strong! We met his kids, 3 boys, two of them twins and a young girl. Plates of food were soon served by his wife, beef, fish, cheese, olives and cucumber, all from his own smallholding behind the house. We chatted until late, used up all his hot water in his posh bathroom then I was even given his double bed to sleep while Geoff fitted nicely in one of the kids beds. Jack's sister also lived with them after divorcing her Italian husband. Jack envied us for living in London and earning good money. He was unemployed since returning home and had no way of getting back to London. We were also envious of his lifestyle, almost totally self supported and a 50 gallon waterbutt full of Raki in the front room!
We were humbled at his generosity. Next morning he gave us 3ltrs of Raki, then led us to the road where we could find a ferry to Kosovo, but not before he had a puncture. We had nothing to fix a tubed tyre and regretfully had to leave him, he assured us he'd be ok.

We wanted to pass through the next town of Puke just to say we'd been there but it was out of the way and we had an 11am ferry to catch. The road over the mountains was scenic but also the worst yet. Very hard on the bikes and us. We approached a huge dam and through the spooky dark tunnel alongside it to a small ferry terminal where we discovered the ferry wasn't until 3.30pm! Given the choice of a 5hr wait or the road back proves how bad the road was, as we chose to wait. It was an hour late setting off and took two hours longer than we expected but at least it was a nice ride through the mountains. Albanians seem to be unaware of litter as we watched a constant flow of bottles and beer cans being thrown into the water.

The dusty road from the ferry was even worse, leading us to a small town, again heaped in litter and small children chasing the bikes. The road soon improved and the last stretch into Kosovo was very good, reminiscent of Scotland.
The border crossing was the most pleasant yet. A very helpful policeman who spoke good English, translated for us to buy insurance, and chatted about Manchester United. He picked up a large black scorpion to show us. Suitably impressed. we jumped on the bikes and rode off into the pitch dark, only to be worried by a violent lightning storm, making us wonder if another war had kicked off!
Most of the fuel stations were closed but one that was open soon gave us a crowd of onlookers around the bikes. A helpful pump attendant fetched the garage owner who happily led us to a hotel to shelter from the storm. There was actually little rain but given the choice of a rough camp in the dark amongst the scorpions we agreed a hotel was a better option. Hotel MFI as I called it. Very superficial but pleasant enough. The jacuzzi worked well enough even if I couldn't fit in it very well. The floor was wet, the washbasin wasn't fixed to anything and the door handle came off. Apart from that, it was the Hilton compared to Albania. Two 12" pizzas and two beers in a posh cafe for 10 Euros! Kosovo has come a long way since the war, still some evidence of it such as piles of rubble where buildings used to be and one or two bullet ridden houses along the roads but a pleasant and friendly place, perfect for our budget. We did exceptionally well thanks to Jack in Albania, totally free for us except for the 'tax.'

We had to pay 50 Euros for insurance across Macedonia but at least the roads were good. So good in fact, at a toll booth I nearly offered my change as payment for another go! The motorway split around a mountain so we had two lanes for miles with little traffic. A steady 70 or 80mph along a winding road was without a doubt the best motorway on the world, probably. I remember thinking I'm too old with no flippin' reflexes to be clippin' apexes! Joy.
'Elf and safety hasn't reached this part of the world yet. A man with a red flag stood in the inside lane warning of works in the tunnel.
We stopped for Kelly's crisps and a cold drink in one of the many new fuel stations, spread across the country, to reflect on the ride before pressing on the the Greek border.
The road flattened out and became straight and boring. At the Greek border we met Jason from Northern England who now lives in Stockholm, who had recently travelled the world on a Harley he'd built himself. Top Bloke. The Bureau de Change had closed down and was empty. So, no change there then!

We headed for Thessaloniki and the coast to find a campsite. A man in a white BMW pointed the way around the busy ring road, even phoning an English speaking friend to help out.
We found a site eventually, hampered by darkness and bug splattered visors. Not realising we'd lost another hour putting us two hours ahead of GMT until we reached Epanomi and saw the church clock. At least the campsite restaurant was still open. We had a long day, around 300 miles, putting up the tents in record time and wolfing down a strange beef kebab steak stuffed with Feta cheese. Nice enough. We are staying here in Epanomi for a day to catch up on the blogs and rest. We've had a wander around the huge local market, had an expensive cappuccino, found a small internet cafe packed with excited noisy kids playing online games, and later should have the beach to ourselves!
We hope to enter Turkey tomorrow but there is some confusion as to whether we need a Carnet or not. We were told not but Jason seems to think we do. If we do then it's Bulgaria and the Ukraine around the top of the black sea. Maybe a few days longer but should be fun. We shall see.

Liechtenstien, Austria and Italy.

We were so close to Liechtenstien we had to pay a short visit just to tick off another country. Geoff smirked a tab and I took a photo of the border crossing and that was it, Liechtenstein. Back into Austria to Landeck to find a campsite. While waiting for a rockfall to be cleared, we got talking to a German riding a BMW K1100 who led us to the Weisserspritz sport hotel which had a campsite at the back. It was difficult keeping up with him on the twisty road, but what a road! A beautiful ski resort and probably the most scenic so far.

We tried the restaurant and the lovely blond waitress ushered us into a side room when we told her we were camping and not residing in the hotel. A nonetheless lovely room where I sampled weinerschnitzel followed by a banana split. Well, why not make the most of it? We had a drive of a 4X4 electric chair designed for full access to the surrounding area, geared towards disabled visitors. A 30.000 euro machine and very nippy, on test at the hotel. I want one. The hotel employee also imformed us that due to an unusual amount of snow the Stelvio pass was still closed, so we'll have to ride some others to make up for it.
After a cold night 3800ft up the mountainside I woke to the sound of the huge meltwater falls cascading down the mountains, watched some deer run along the valley below, away from the few houses and the benchsaw busily making a stockpile of firewood for the cold nights. I washed my clothes in the shower and left them to dry in the sun after the frost had cleared. It was actually very hot by 9.30.
We reached the Italian border by 12.45 where I managed to find some novelty braces to keep up my irritatingly loose leathers. We stumbled upon the Reschen reservior and the Romanesque church tower proundly standing above the water. The last building left standing after the fascist government decided to flood two local reserviors, lake Mittersee and Rechensee, after the 2nd world war had finished. 181 houses and farms were destroyed and 70% of the population forced to move or stay in a camp for two years, with no help at all from the government.
We headed down to Lana and found another 4 star campsite, the Arquin. This camping lark really is roughing it! I mean, the pool had closed before we could take a dip, outrageous!
A stroll around the local town to cool off after another 28C day, relaxing by the town's picturesque pond full of fish.
We packed early next morning and set off for Passo Di M. Giovo, via the bakery and the obligatory croissants!
The pass was definitely the best ride yet, and we sat amoungst the snow covered peaks with our first taste of Black Forest gateaux at the Idelweiss cafe 2096m high, (the mountain not the cafe) since we couldn't actually find any in the Black Forest! Another amazing ride down, and halfway back up again to try filming it, unsuccessfully again. The camcorder refusing to play ball for some unknown reason. A roadside brew up was in order, where I had a sudden urge to relieve myself into a discarded builders bucket, perched halfway down a steep riverbank above fast flowing rapids. Not ideal but I'd been suffering for a day or two and when you gotta go you gotta go!

The Gretl Am See campsite at lake Caldaro was our stop for the night, and what an amazing place. It's almost a resort in itself, right on the shores of the lake, full of windurfers making us look decidedly insignificant and not part of their superior talented group.
The local bar and pizzeria was the best yet, where we reflected on the state of Italian selfish driving, whle the lake reflected the state of our attire compared to the suave fashionable Italians.
I was surprised even though we were in Italy everyone still speaks German. As we are effluent in all foreign languages, it didn't matter.

Onward to Lake Garda and the Limone resort for another night camped by the shore at another excellent campsite. We even managed an hours sunbathe before a very heavy hailstorm that really tested out the tents integrity. A bit dank, but dry enough.
Onto Roverto after sampling more croissants, deciding the only way to find a favourite was to simply try them all as we go. Despite last nights rain the tents were the driest they'd been so far. Many small tractors held up the traffic amoungst miles of vineyards and olive groves. There are many Piaggio 50cc three wheel pickups that are used for carrying almost anything, except 6'6" blokes....
Passo Del Sommo for marmalade croissants, then down to Passo Di Vezzina heading for Asagio. A a large town, but nowhere to feed hungry bikers as Italians don't do Sundays.
The best days riding so far. Quite cold up in the mountains as we stopped to watch four skiers using the last dregs of snow at a ghostown ski resort. We stopped at Forza where Geoff negotiated some house spagetti at a hotel restaurant. The owners wife refused to give us a capuccino with spagetti as it was 'not possible' so we had to have water, cowering and guilty at our heathen ways. All the local towns were covered in Italian flags celebrating 300.000 Italian soldiers lost in previous wars. We didn't understand the exact details, our Italian is coming along, but cappuccino and beer is about our limit.
Onto Feltre along amazing twisty roads to Energo. Campsites are getting few and far between but we eventually found one south of Belluno, via an unnames gravel hillclimb over a mountain, where two local girls pointed us in the right direction. It was similar to the Hardknott pass in the Lake District, but potholed, rocks and gravel, good practice for Russia! A small ski resort town of Nevegal, and another four star campsite, but distinctly by Eastern European standards! We met Thomas the German cyclist who was covering around 80km a day, probably more than us. Everyone we meet is so friendly, and waving to every motorcyclist is even becoming a chore! I had little sleep that night, it was so quiet every little sound was exaggerated, persistant cuckoos and a fiercely barking dog echoing down the valley all night kept me awake.

Thomas waved us on after a few photos and disbelief at our madness, but he could understand why we need to do it. Travelling in this way brings life to your journey in a way hotels will never.
We aimed in a general direction of Trieste, passing the stunning Dolomites, and onto the most boring Roman roads imaginable. Our first McDonalds was a welcome break along the dull, busy A13, as interesting as a dialtone compared the the mountain passes we had come accustomed to, but intrinsically more interesting than our A13. Unfortunately this McDonald's didn't have internet access but as it's burgers are trademarked, easy to order in English! So off to grind out the last miles to Trieste. A view over the bay from the main road in was an extra treat after an afternoon of tiresome straights and impatient Italian drivers who will overtake at any half-chance.
A stop for a cappuccino on the seafront to admire the scenery, having to agree Italian women are the most attractive so far. The city is an amazing place, as was the fight for supremacy between hordes of scooters, lorries and tiny cars. One lorry cut across me forcing me to turn left, negotiate the one-way system, and find Geoff patiently waiting where we were rudely parted.
Almost as the Slovenian border and no sign of a campsite, we returned to the other side of town where one or two were signposted on the outskirts.
Alle Rosa is the most basic site so far, but adequate except for the low shower height that us gentlemen of higher altitude often suffer.
An evenings ride back into town searching for pizza, and a nice stroll around the beautiful city to contemplate Slovenia compared to such a affluent resort as Trieste. We guessed the wrong road back to camp that lead us high above Trieste. But what a view! The whole bay under a purple and pink sunset, mirrored by the calm sea. The campsite was only 5 miles from the city centre, so after 15 we turned around, opting to take the Autostrada back into town to follow the road we knew. Little did we realise we had turned around less than 100mtrs from the site! Geoff had his suspicions when he spotted the supermarket across the road from the site.


This morning I was really feeling the exhaustion from the mileage and lack of sleep, and was only too pleased when Geoff announced what a good idea it would be to stay for another day and find an internet cafe. Not easy trying to fit everything in before the time runs out so apologies for typing this so quickly because I know you can't read fast.....


So Trieste will have to put up with us for another day, but at least we finally found a small internet cafe after a mornings search. I bought some chain lube from a local bikeshop, after finding it tucked away on two shelves at the back behind rows of every fashion item relating to bikes imaginable. Even the full length mirror at the till, after which two customers had made full use of, buying extortionate items, made me look thin. It's not what you do or how you do it in Italy, it's all about looking good doing it!

Into Slovenia tomorrow following the coast down to Bosnia, should prove interesting!

Greetings from Austria!

After Lee and Mark had gone, it was rather subdued around the campsite. We decided to stay another night and take a break by the Stausee reservoir, further down the valley below us. After a bratwurst and coffee and loading the bikes with baguettes, cheese and ham from the supermarket in town 3 miles away, (we didn't want to ride far that day!) we headed along the Linach river, parking the bikes by the huge damn, and soaking up the morning sun by the reservoir. Two men were doing maintenance work on the damn, so we watched them drive their van out from underneath it, thinking what a great photo opportunity. After the men left, we sneaked along the private road after lifting the barrier, grabbed a few shots of the bikes at the foot of the damn, and quickly rode off back to the Michelhof Gasthaus to see if our washing was done.
Lee had kindly given us 50 euros for a nice meal, so taking full advantage, ordered steak and gooseberry pavlova. Cheers Lee!

Packing the tents early after another cold night, croissants and coffee gave us a good start to the day in a lovely cafe. The food and coffee in Germany never fails to impress.
A visit to Rheinfalls for the second time, as it was on our way, was even more spectacular than last time because we approached it from above. By this time it was very hot, and the cool spray from the falls welcome.
My satnav had water contamination in the contacts and was next to useless, until several soakings in WD40 did the trick. The bikes where filled by a young forecourt attendant just over the border in Switzerland, while the owner was eager to take photos of the bikes and our route for his gallery.
Although the satnav was working, the route it chose took us off the main road, through villages and back several times, creating a much further route than neccessary. Two of the roads were closed which didn't help our frustration, taking us along the A14 instead of the A13 which would've given us a good view of lake Bodensee. Having missed most of the scenery, a Mcdonald's came to our rescue, even giving Geoff 30mins of WI FI access for a quick blog update.
The plan was to stay the night in Liechtenstein but I saw a sign for a campsite near lake Bodensee, close to the Austrian border. Geoff's bike was handling badly, due to the front tyre only having 20Ibs of pressure. Camp Idyll is a very nice site, only let down by the nearby airport, frequented by many small aircraft, even some biplanes, probably sightseeing over the nearby alps. The local shop closed before we could buy food but luckily, the campsite was still serving, so we settled down to a pizza and draught beer. Much preferable to the draughts in the windy Black Forest.
I was woken by a plane taking off at 6.30, still tired after an early night but soon felt better after a shower. The urinals have a fly imprinted on them so you know where to aim! I thought the wash basin did also, but this one was real. Geoff was still annoyed with me from the day before afterI inadvertantly made a remark that hit a nerve. I didn't think before I spoke as I knew it meant nothing, but he was less than impressed and wanted to ride alone for a day. I wasn't too confident riding alone and meeting Geoff would be more luck than judgment, especially as the satnav was dead, later discovering a loose battery connection. I felt bad and could only apologise for my ignorance, agreeing to pick up on anything we do or say that's annoying immediately or waste time stewing instead of enjoying ourselves.
The route was planned across Austria, where we are now in an internet cafe, and plan to ride down through Liechtenstein making our way to the Pass De Stelvio, the second highest pass in the Alps. I hope we can find a campsite near the breathtaking views.
The pass should be fun on a heavy Tiger!

East good, West bad...

Geoff's just paid for another hour of internet access, so I'll make the most of it!
I can't connect my camera so photo's will have to wait...

We didn't even notice the border crossing back into France, as we skirted the border twice more before finally entering Germany.
We stopped at a popular biker cafe in the center of the Black Forest after an amazing ride around some of the steepest and twistiest roads I've ever seen. Absolutely amazing! A true biker paradise, far more bikes than cars and all very friendly.
A local biker on a Triumph Daytona who spoke excellent English, pointed us in the direction of the best road in the forest. I think it was the B500, I'll have to check, but it was fantastic. Even on a loaded Tiger I had more fun than a barrel of monkeys. The edge of my tyres finally getting the usage they deserved, but not after taking a mile or so to regain my confidence after avoiding an over zealous VW Golf sliding toward me on a hairpin....happening for the second time that day.
We aimed for Treberg until we discovered the nearest campsite was about 20 miles south. We didn't expect much as it was in the middle of nowhere, but what a perfect place to be!

The Michaelhof Gästehaus sits over 3000ft overlooking a beautiful valley. It was difficult to arrange two nights camping and an evening meal, as the landlady spoke no English, and also quite amusing watching Geoff trying loudly gesticulating unsuccessfully to enquire if Black Forest gateaux was served.
It was cold at night under a clear sky, but feeling the sunrise over the mountains soon warmed us up ready to 'nip' over the border into Switzerland, as Mark put it, carefully mapping out a route avoiding motorways, to avoid a toll. I didn't care where we went as long as it wasn't back home!
"I see," said Mark, so that's East good, West bad..."
It doesn't matter where you go, everywhere is spectacular. The small scenic towns offered immaculate streets, and perfectly presented coffee and giant pretzels in a few cafes that remained open on a Sunday.

There are still border posts, but empty, so no barbed wire to jump the Tigers over a' la Steve McQueen. Lee led us much further than we first planned, but when we accidentally discovered the Rienfalls, we had to stop and stare in awe. So much so we decided to buy more cheese and rolls from the local Co Op garage and locate a spot for lunch. And what a spot Lee found. A huge castle high in the mountain forests overlooking the Rein. All the way to Switzerland for some Camenbert....
The route back to the campsite was more then entertaining, especially when overtaking a car at ahem, 70kph officer, a pheasant strolled in front of me, showering my visor in unpleasantries as I ducked underneath it.

That evening was spent sampling Geoff's splendid Spagetti Bolognaise, and Marks noodles with added chilli for a 'kick', marvellous!

Next morning I was awoken early to the sound of tents being packed onto bikes, as Mark and Lee prepared for the 600 mile ride home. As much as we want them to stay it isn't possible. We waved them off with a big thankyou for everything, then booked another night for a break.
We should stay in Switzerland tomorrow if all goes well.
Bye for now.

In Continent weather.

It was a strange mixture of excitement and trepidation riding the bike onto the ferry. But not as strange as finding a kebab shop/internet cafe in Furtwangen, 3miles from Michelhof guesthouse/campsite where we are saying for two days to catch up on sleep and plan a route through Switzerland. Calais was where the trip really started for me. After a cold and windy night in Folkestone, meeting Lee at the Warren campsite soon cheered us up, especially after sampling the local beverages and squeezing our more than adequate frames into a taxi. Mark often compares his physique to a god, shame it's Budda's....
After the mad rush for the last 3 months planning, we could now relax and just enjoy riding the bikes.
The roads out of Calais, although very wet, were a revelation. Smooth, scenic and little traffic. Ideal for a bike. One important thing we overlooked was the fact that as May 1st was a bank holiday, all the shops and fuel stations were closed. By the time we found petrol on one of the main roads in Lille, I had 1.5lt left and Geoff 1ltr. That was close.

Lee suggested a small town in Belgium, Chimay, as the local monks are famous for their beer. A good enough reason. Geoff and I were perfectly happy allowing Lee and Mark to decide when and where we went, just so we could relax and take in the scenery. Northern France doesn't have much in the way of scenery but the roads made up for it.
Geoff found an 'English' pub in Chimay, the Queen Mary, where bikers are welcome. It was full of dummies sporting Valentino Rossi leathers and famous Belgian riders unfamiliar to us. A very surreal place, especially when the Karaoke was fired up to liven the evening. Think of the worst Eurovision songs, sung by the worst 'over refreshed' Belgians, and you'd be halfway to imagining how bad it was. As hilarious as the look on Marks face!
Some of the roads in this region were as straight as a Queens guard's expression. I think the Romans had no interest in motorcycling.

As we left Chimay, past the local livestock market admiring the array of chickens, ducks, rabbits and other game, we past an amazing array of vintage European and American cars. You don't see many old Mercedes like that one, except that one and those two.
Mark led us into Luxembourg for lunch, cheese and salami rolls, bought fresh that morning in a small village patisserie in the Ardenne region. Perfect until an enormous black cloud dampened our spirits for a few minutes. Mark looked like Sasquatch hiding under a camouflaged poncho.

We found a nice campsite alongside a fast flowing river, after a long ride down to the Black Forest. Mark and Geoff shopped for food while Lee and I did our best to negotiate the price of camping with our limited German, and the site owners broken English. A crowd of motorhomes congealed around the showerblock for a 'Folksong evening' probably contributing a great deal to the malodourous overwhelmed toilets.

The morning weather was perfect, a chance for the tents to dry out.
"Die sonne scheint mit glitzer strahl" I exclaimed. 'The sun shines with a glittering beam'
Geoff was very impressed at my grasp of German language until I explained it was simply a Kraftwerk lyric.
Apologies for any spelling mistakes, the spellcheck is in German.....