GMT Plus Three

Bye bye Biker Camp Budapest and oi oi saveloy Johnny-boy, thanks for the great company; as you can see in the pic, John's all loaded up and ready for his on-going ride into Serbia, I am humbled, I wish him well.
I really liked Budapest but I'm also happy that I'm back on the road today, hunting for new locations. Rain showers all day, some heavy, but then the weather has been overcast for the last couple of days now, in fact, I'm in the middle of an amazing thunder storm as I type.
So, 250 kilometres, due East of Budapest, I've easily crossed the border into Romania and it's still flat and featureless, but then I'm still in the Carpethian Basin and I know the Capethian Mountains will appear soon; they must as they horseshoe there way all round three sides of Hungary.
I decided yesterday that if I'm going to Romania, I have to visit Bram Stoker country, Transalvaynia, and whatsmore, it's hilly and is a good ride, according to Olav, a German biker also staying at Biker Camp.

We all possibly have the same, horse and cart-ish image of Romania, I certainly do and frankly, so far, that's kinda what it's been. It's poor here there's no doubt, roads are shocking, rusty factory's that look derelict are still grinding their cogs and spewing smoke, roadside abandoned old vehicles missing limbs, most bar and cafe signs are handpainted and not by Monet, but then I haven't seen Bucharest yet. My first major city was Oradea, a perfectly normal, reasonably pleasant place where I city-centre stopped to map read and was soon heading for Camp Vineyard in Spinus (sounds like something out of a Carry On movie). The campsite blurb read well, it's a small site with only 30 pitches, just what I like, and as I was wondering if it would be full at this time of year, guess what, my first sighting; yup, a horse and 4-wheeled, car-tyred cart, muffin-topped with an enormous amount of hay and this was in a suburb of Oradea, right outside the Audi showroom, what a contrast.

Back to the road; a glance at the GPS which shows 34 kms to destination, so I'm thinking, hoping, that that should get me to the hills I can see in the distance. All of a sudden, with 20 k's to go, I'm turning left off the first half-decent road I've been on, onto a shocker; the road looked like an impressionist painter was using various sized bits of tarmac to cover a stone-cobbled canvas and it rattled through to my bones. However, I was climbing and very excitied at this elevation as it had been pancake-flat for the last 300 kms; I'm finally in the hills and a true rural track. I approach a couple of weather-beaten shepherds, leaning on their staffs, dogs patient at their feet and as I pass, I wave, they immediately respond with matching action and yellow-teethed smiles; I find myself comfortable in these isolated hills, certainly not what I would have felt in my early, more apprenhansive, playing-it-safe days of the trip. Here it comes, proper Romania and what I'm really looking for; yes, I like the big city and need my fix every now and then but it's middle-of-nowhere countryside where my heart lies.

Village after village, I had the biggest smile on my face and maybe it was obvious because I cheerfully waved at everybody I passed and each and every person, eagerly waved back. I wondered at one point that a message had been sent ahead that I was approaching because on a couple of occasions I got waved at first. I loved that last 20 kms today, battered farm machinery that should be in a museum; flocks of geese nonchalantly crossing the road; chickens everywhere, scratching for morsals; head-scarfed old women toiling, carrying heavy loads or just sitting and watching; mucky, smiley kids, happy in their playtime and of course, me ol' horse'n'carts, (in one case, another amuzing contrast, the driver, if that's what you call them, was on a mobile phone). Terrific!

Arrive Camp Vineyard in Spinus and am immediately and warmly greeted by Klaus, a friendly faced, Moses-looking, Dutchman with a magnificent, white, Father Christmas beard. We exchange pleasantries and upon the distant sound of thunder, I take up his caravan offer for an extra 5 Euros  a night and boy, was that a good idea; the rain came down so hard I recorded the sound on my phone. Extraordinary!

As I'm unpacking, I notice Klaus and a helper who turns out to be Marcus from Nigeria, along with 3 or 4 of those mucky, smiley kids I mentioned earlier, wheel-barrowing big logs of wood across the camp. I offer to help, which is immediatley accepted, and I could do with the excercise anyway, so the next 2 hours until dark, we lug logs. The campsite has no gas so all the heat is generated by wood, 220 trees are needed every winter and right now there's no electricity, at least from the grid which is a very common occurance, so Klaus has his generators on.

The kids are fantastic, enthusiastically helpful, especially little 10 year old Nina, who was throwing around logs like a caber-tossing Scottsman; at one point, there must have been 7 of them, so I had to ask Klaus's wife, also Dutch, about the children and as I thought, their not quite orphans but might just as well be.
It's wonderful here, I've luckily struck gold again and I'm looking forward to helping with the rest of the logs tomorrow; basically, having not done any real work since I've been on the road, the physical labour is welcome.

Oh, I haven't mentioned the views, just take it from me that it's lush green rolling hills as far as you can see ... just beautiful.

I need to go as I added another hour when I crossed the border today so it's now 1.45am here and I can't understand where the time has gone but it's been good time ...

Good night x

Taxi & Town

Taxiiiiii! .... Carriage hailed and off to town John and I go. We're sitting in the back seat, John behind the driver and me, head down, internet searching for the Columbus Jazz Pub on my phone. I happen to glance up and notice vehicles ahead stopped at red lights, John chatting, our 60-something year old taxi driver looking right, out of the passenger window; we're doing about 40 mph and it becomes very clear, very quickly that he has not noticed the red light. This is all now happening very fast; in a slightly louder than talking voice, I say "brake" which has no response as it probably means 'wardrobe' in Hungarian. So "Brake!" again, a little louder this time, still nothing, so at the top of my voice and with the biggest shout, out comes "WHOOOOOOAAA!" ... Driver looks, realises, slams on the anchors, wheels screeching as we bounce over tram lines, cars stop, people stop, we stop, with 4 or 5 feet to go before the double-rear doors of a white van invite us in.
Frankly, I was fine, I guess because I was the only one aware of what was going on but the poor cab driver, well I thought I was going to have to administor CPR; John as smiley and chatty as before, we ended up laughing about it and how both of us had racked up thousands and thousands of miles on considered-dangerous two-wheeled travel without any real problems, yet a short 10 minute taxi ride ... hey, There But The Grace Of God ... Charge On!
After some soft, calm chatting with the less-shaking driver and convincing him that was why he should where his seat-belt, he is happy to continue with his fare and we steadily make our way into town. We pull up outside the pub, pay (hmmm), and as I watch the taxi drive away, I do wonder whether we were his last fare of the day or even the very last fare!

We board the Columbus Jazz Pub, which is a large wooden boat on the Danube, sit at a table on the deck, the evening air is warm, light breeze, sun already telling us that a spectacular setting is on its way; we're hungry, we're thirsty, we scoff, we slurp ... three hours later, we are replete. Excellent!

Unfortunately, what the foreground of this picture doesn't capture (well, it is a phone camera after all), is the dramatically lit buildings in all their glory up against the magnificance of the setting sun. I've said it before but Budapest at night is enchanting and magical; constantly captivating from every angle; a must see.

Back to Biker Camp in the early hours of this morning, where we cork open another and put the whole of humanity and its environment to rights, with solutions and Nobel Prize winning ideas before finally throwing in the towel, as we are now talking in Hungarian!

It's 3.30pm here now and I'm off to meet John (who is sight seeing), for coffee in town, next to the most enormous, meat, fruit and veg market I've ever seen and with produce presented like art in a gallery, in, of course, yet another sensational building. Weather still overcast with the odd very light shower but that hasn't put John off cycling to Serbia tomorrow (amazing) and me riding to Romania.

Ta ta x

Romania ... Well Nearly

OK, so told y'all about Biker Camp in Budapest, well I'm still here ... the story goes:

Monday morning, as mentioned and as planned, I pack up and load up the bike, destination Romania. Aftre two days of pure chillin', I'm keen to get back on the road and I think maybe too keen as the bike quickly reminds me of that niggling concern I still have about the vibration from the rear wheel. Yes it has lessened since the BMW garage renewed the rear wheel bearings but there really shouldn't be any vibration at all, but I convince myself that they're new bearings, probably over greased and need to bed in. Well this conversation with myself continues all the way to the border, over 200 kms, and now I'm in Romania and witness what I expected, albeit 50 kms worth, wooden shacks, rough roads, donkeys and carts, etc. Now I'm thinking what if the vibration gets worse and I break down, well Romania, bless you, is not the place to have a knackered BMW on your hands. That's it, decision made, I'm turning round and going straight back to the BMW garage in Budapest that did the work on the bike. I've managed to go from "let's just crack on" to being worried that the rear bearings are going to over-heat and shatter; I keep stopping to feel how hot the rear hub is getting; then trying to convince myself that it's the tyres and they have worn unevenly and that's what's causing the vibration. Whatever the case, there's only one way to find out and that's change the tyres, which need to be replaced in the next 2,000 kms anyway, and see if that cyres the problem. Over 500 kms later, I pull up at the garage just as they are closing, bugger! Fine. Back to Biker Camp. "Hello, me again?". Tell Susan and son, Albert, the story to which Albert, who has rebuilt many motorcycles, is now scouring my baby with a fine tooth comb. Heat from the rear axle is normal he says and he too thinks it's the tyre.

As we're talking in walks John, a young, thin Englishman, I'm guessing late 20's, who, as it turns out spent his University days and after, in Cardiff. Houses and fires, we hit it off in seconds and start preparing our mutual dinner in Biker Camp. Backgounds, histories, stories, are exchanged until gone one this morning, with, as you have already guessed, plenty of alcoholic lubrication. John, upbeat, polite, fun and always laughing, has been on the road for two months and is also on two wheels, however, his doesn't have an engine! Have seen one or two pedaling tourers on my travels but this is the first I have met and quickly understand why he is thin and wirey, with that slightly concave looking body that no doubt, reflects his riding poistion. He tells me that he was quite porky when he left Cardiff but we worked out that if he's on the saddle for a good 10 hours a day, cycling about 100 kms, he must be burning well over 4,000 calories in that time and given his measely budget he's simply not eating enough, obviously. He's lost over two stone. So I've decided that tonight will be a treat for both of us and once I've finished this blog and John has collected his serviced cycle from the shop, we're off to town, the Columbus Jazz Boat, live music, fat steaks, gushings of slurp, on the Danube. Really looking forward to going out and have a vibrating BMW to thank for it. By the way, I understand that when you're travelling and especially when you're pedaling, weight is important, but take a look at John's tent in the pic ... "Wanna come back to my place?!"

Back to this morning and a 45 minute wait at the garage for the manager to arrive to then tell me he doesn't have my tyres in stock, however, he gives me the address of a Yamaha garage that should have them. Long story short and a good chunk of the day later, the bike has new boots and frankly has never ridden sweeter, no vibrations, nothing; I've known it but didn't realise a worn, dodgy tyre can have that much impact. Anyway, all done and touch wood, the bike is now ready to take on the next 10 to 15,000 kilometres without interuption. Hoo-bloody-rah!

Right, off to town now and to PARTY!

Or as The Mask would say ...

P-A-R-T-why? Coz I ... gotta!

Biker Camp Budapest

As you know from yesterday's brief blog, I found and am staying at this biker mad household about 5 kms from the centre of Budapest. Today I sadly find out as Susan, the lady of the house, is showing me the Biker Pub they have created in the cellar, that her husband died on motorcycle that she was also on when it was in an accident 7 years ago. There are still 5 motorbikes of different makes and ages in their garage and maybe welcoming bikers to her home is her way of paying homage to the memory of her late husband; whatever the reason, Susan and her son (who's just

ridden off on a Suzuki GSXR 1000) are both warmly welcoming and equally friendly.
The weather is still iffy, although not raining and the sun is shinning but accompanied by a gusting wind that needs a second layer to keep warm. Consequently, I decided to stay on campus today which again, is so very pleasant; lovely wet showers and a well equipped kitchen, which turned out to be a bonus as I can now have a luvly cuppa whenever I want (must buy a camping stove).

As it turned out, I was able to help out some lovely people back home with a website given the wifi connection available here, so it ended up being a very fruitful day, as you can see from my pic ... working lunch!
I've stayed in fancy hotels, regrettably in hindsight, on this trip, each of which could not supply an internet connection in the room so you had to sit in reception to log-on or if it was available in the room you had to pay silly money for the privilege of using it; yet here I can get a wifi signal in my tent at the end of the garden and it's free. By the way, it's 10 Euros a night all in, to stay here; a half litre can of beer is 1 Euro, litre of wine 5 Euros, you just mark what you've had on an honesty board and only 10 minutes from the centre of town ... I may never leave!

Oh, a couple of Slovenian bikers arrived today, how dare they disrupt my garden camp, very nice couple actually and no, that's not one of them in the picture, it is, of course, a beer drinking, motorcycling, mole gnome.
Also washed a load of clothes today in what looked like a re-constructed milk churn but it did an excellent job ... up to the nose, sweet as a rose, up to the light, shinning bright ... terribly sad that I can still repeat TV commercials from when I was a kid yet now and then, half way through a sentence and I can't remember the name of someone I met last week!

While typing I'm munching on the leftovers from lunch which I acquired from the local shop, quite a double feast for 6 Euros with enough for breakfast too and no chilli-cheese this time. I'm getting better at buying food in countries where the language looks the same any way up and they do like spice here, paprika and chillis everywhere.

I'll stay here another day and get the maps out tomorrow to research a route to Romania, even though I have invitations from lovely Germans and Austrians that I have met along the way, I don't feel ready to turn around yet and head back toward home. Yes, it's been 6 weeks but I'm still hungry for more.

I shall trot on now, and trot I will to the oom-pah-pah music emanating from the restaurant two doors down where a coach load of tourists have poured in for a knees-up. It does sound quite fun, might go and put my head round the door and get a 'quanta la mera' going. Ole!

Oh yes, Hungarian joke, said (in a very strong accent) on the Hop-On-Hop-Off tour bus I was 'stuck-to-the-plastic-seat' on, ... "old Hungarian's used to say that the reason Adam Clarke built the tunnel leading to the Chain Bridge was so they could push the bridge into the tunnel when it rained" ... laugh! well I nearly wet myself! Theses Hungarian's hey, must be all that paprika!

Better go now so that you can laugh it off too .... nite nite x

Budapest

Budapest, as mentioned, rich in its history and culture, magnificent in its architecture ... I'll let the pics below do the talking.


Quick update ... after a delightful evening with Anton and Karin, the Swedish, South Africa to Sweden bikers, who cooked up a very tasty farewell dinner in the apartment they had rented, I woke this morning still tired after a storm interrupted sleep. Checked-out of the hotel, walked and coffee-shopped before picking up the bike; all good-ish, don't know that I'm totally happy about the new rear bearing but I'll give it a few kilometres first before passing judgement. Rest of the bike is perfect and singing sweetly. Weather has turned stormy so will stay put and let it pass. Found an excellent place to camp. A motorcycle-mad and biker-friendly, mother and son, who have basically given over their garden to bikers where my tent is now pitched; the garage has been converted into shower rooms, toilets, and kitchen. Facilities include washing machine, BBQ, chairs, tables, loungers, etc and a fridge full of beer, wine, etc with an honesty board for marking what you've consumed. It really is excellent and 5 kilometres from Budapest city centre. Perfect place to hang out.

Please excuse the brief, bland and plain script but will put better 'pen to paper' when I have something more substantial to say. Enjoy the pictures although an iPhone can never bring the best out of this city ...

Hungry For Hungary

A very late start yesterday after writing an extensive blog had me straight to the highway for an upright ride all the way to Budapest.
Oh a deserved mention of the small hotel in Lasko which had no problems at all in serving me a full breakfast at 11.30am even though my 'included on the price' breakfast time had closed an hour and a half earlier. Thank you.

Another reason for the highway route is that a vibration is emanating from the rear of the bike when leaning through corners and has worsened in the last 1,000 kms which I'm hoping is a tyre or wheel balance issue but as it disappears when the bike is upright I think it's more likely a worn bearing. That's going to be expensive but ho hum!

Although the journey was uneventful, I did learn that the difference between east and west Slovenia is chalk and cheese; the pivotal point is its capital Ljubljana, so if you ever make it to Slovenia, stay east. Consequently, I didn't feel so bad about taking the near pencil-straight road all the way to Budapest; the landscape was frankly bland, flat and featureless except for some large lakes on entry into Hungary, but I have been unbelievably spoilt to date, however, Budapest is a spectacle to behold both by day and spectacularly lite up at night.

Outstanding architecture that continues building after building taking full advantage of the river Danube and the contours of the land. Parliament, Kings Palace, Opera houses, museums, government buildings, libraries, monuments, bridges, the list is endless and each one offering its own unique historic flavour; I cannot overstate the beauty of Budapest and the brochures are probably correct, it may well be 'the most beautiful city in Europe'. It hums and buzzes until the early hours with entertainment that ranges from classics to jazz, contemporary to pop and constant soundbites of live gypsy music, the theme tune of Hungary, filter from clubs and pubs.

As in any major city, there are restaurants galore serving all cuisines to a high standard and at very reasonable prices, it's quite cheap here, but unfortunately punctuated with your usual street corner crap (Mac's, Burger King, etc). It's early days but I get the impression that Hungary is all about Budapest but I'm yet to see much of its countryside, so stand ready to be corrected.
It's 36 degreesC here today which I'm told is unusual but is welcomingly expected to cool off in the next couple of days which is good because I'm here until at least Friday. Why?
Well the bike needs a service and after a friendly visit to BMW this morning and thankfully, an effort on there part to do the work although they are full, it does turn out to be a worn bearing and a two day wait for the part. Add in a complete fluids change as the bike is now two years old and I'm probably looking at a 200,000 Forint bill, that's about 600 quid, but other than new tyres that I'll need in a couple of thousand kilometres time, I'll be machinery set, to complete my travels whenever that will be; for now I am bike-less until Friday afternoon. Boooo!-

Not planned, but I've managed to catch up with Anton and Karin (the Swedish couple I met in Croatia), as we have been keeping in contact about our respective travels and as it was Anton's birthday yesterday, we will celebrate tonight in the delightful garden restaurant I've found perfectly placed on a rocky peak over-looking the Danube and lights of the city. It'll be fun and I'm looking forward to meeting them again.

I must start taking some pics of this wonderful city to show you, so more to come ...



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Helloooo Slovenia

Up, packed, loaded and on the road nice and early. Fifteen minutes later, I'm nonchalantly waved through the south-western border post by a bored customs officer into Slovenia; a small country you can ride across in 3 hours (via autostrada) and has a population of only 2 million people but boy, nice things do come in small packages.

Initially, the glorious Dordogne-esk look of Istria, Croatia continues across the border but soon Slovenia stamps its own mark. Incredibly green, magnificent landscape, steep-sided valleys, some with large farmed plains, most with rivers and yet it still has that spread-out, uncluttered feel. I have the GPS heading for the lake and gorges of Bled, in the north-west, close to the border and I'm so glad I

answered "No" to the "Do you want to avoid unpaved roads?" question. The alternative was to go round the mountains but I was going over them. Regularly placed road signs showing a motorcyclist falling off his bike as a reminder, warn of  winding roads that often climbed rapidly and narrow at the same time before descending at a similar rate. According to the GPS stats, I covered 363 kms today with a 'moving-time' 7 hours 16 minutes; that's basically an average speed around 30 mph which gives you an idea of today's terrain. Proper adventure motorcycling, with at least a third of that distance on gravel mountain tracks, standing on the pegs, gripping the tank with my knees, dodging rain-cut channels, as the bike slides and snakes constantly looking for grip, it was fantastic. I was very tired last night after the days ride (hence the blog this morning) and I can certainly feel the after-effects of the ride in my forearms and legs. Not just the riding but the extraordinary topography of the place; the elevation from one valley to the next can be anything up to 700 metres, like a huge staircase but you don't know if the next step is up or down.

Each valley has its own small, spread-out community; chalet style homes and farm buildings flecked with small, shuttered windows, each with boxes overflowing with red and pink flowers; every dwelling has a fruit and vegetable garden, some with vines; small herds of cattle dotted everywhere, the road included, vintage farm machinery working the land, their drivers smile and wave ... it was perfect, a land that the technological, rushing West has left alone, a place where time has stopped ... I slowed to a snails pace, at one point, free-wheeling, not wanting the sound of the engine to disturb the rich peace ... I took it all in, it made me smile and feel contented ... Slovenia is wonderful.

The people are so friendly, like Frank, a road-worker who introduces himself, interested in where I've travelled from, I chat with him while waiting for him to flip his lollipop sign from 'stop' to 'go'.
I stop for lunch at the sweetest restaurant. I ask the incredibly friendly Marino what should I eat and of course, that freshness that I have experienced all morning is about to become a culinary reality,

the trout from the river that flows 10 meters from my table, the coarsely mashed potato mixed with onion and the crisp, mixed salad all from the garden in front of me. We talk about the 1,000's of food miles that our supermarket products have travelled, well I'm looking  at my lunch ingredients that collectively couldn't qualify for the London 2012 Olympics 100 metres event ... my lunch wouldn't make it to the finishing line! It had taste, it was delicious in it's simplicity.

As I continue to head north on mountain roads the temperature drops a little as I get closer to the Alps and remember Marino's comment of "we had snow in June on some peaks which is very unusual", thinking I may have to stop and swap my jeans for my bike trousers, but soon after "You have reached your destination" says TomTom.

The lake at Bled is liquid delight and an obvious tourist attraction but its church supporting island and surrounding hill-top villages were a pleasure to behold as I sipped coffee with a rolly. I rode round the waters a while, stopping on occasion, then pointed to the centre of Slovenia and its capital Ljubljana where I intended to stay for one night. On arrival I am slightly surprised at the cost of the rooms given that everything else had been so cheap, so I rode around the city for a bit to get a feel and then headed east, toward Hungary until I found somewhere to stay, which I did in Lasko.

Much more to say about yesterday but I'm off to Budapest, Hungary today and it's over 500 kms away so I will have to get going soon.

Sunset Over Italy From Croatia

Thank you ...

... and good night x

Chilly Chilli-tastic

Good morning campers ... Campers?
The wind is now gusting with gusto, temperatures down and there was the odd shower overnight with a storm due later today. As you can see from the forecast rain map it's pretty much the same all over Europe and the UK. The tent, bless her, has survived unlike the larger one next to me that was flapping like a flag and needed attention during the night from it's inhabitants.
Having already decided to wait out the weather, I lay-in this morning but when I popped my hay-stacked head out the front door this morning (like I have any other doors!), literally half the population of this campsite has vanished overnight. Maybe it's a Sunday thing or that wasn't the sound of rampaging wind last night but an alien spaceship or they know something I don't. As I enjoy my second cappuccino in the campsite cafe, I watch even more leaving and no new campers replacing them. If this keeps up I'll have the place to myself. Yippee!






Not much to say as I wait for the weather other than last nights supper that had me giggling to myself. Went to the local mini-market for some bits and returned to the 'porch' of the tent. Laid on my tea-towel from Bolsena (Italy), a bottle of very drinkable, cheap-as-chips red, fresh bread, etc. The 'what I hope' are sardines looking at the picture on the can, turns out to be a delicious tuna and vegetable mix in a tomato sauce. So here I am, cross-legged, at the entrance to my canvas villa, scoffing from a sardine-like can, it's lid curled up like a false eyelash, resembling an alley cat in a waste bin. Couldn't be happier.
Main course done, so cheese and biscuits obviously.
Well, I thought the safe-bet Dairy Lee looking spread cheese, all individually wrapped, perfect for on-the-road travel, was the easy choice. Cor blimey! First bite and I all but ran and dived into the cold sea fully clothed. I had failed to notice the large picture of a chilli on the cheese box; doh! bit of a give-away that. After my mouth calmed down to a gentle smouldering, it was actually rather nice so I flamed my way through three more triangles. With music from my iPhone as perfect company followed by Billy Connolly's Radio 4 Desert Island Discs podcast, it was lights outs.

Another great day ... Slovenia tomorrow.

Happy Father's Day Dad and Happy Birthday sis x

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Ride and Meet

As you can see I'm pitched and parked, 20 steps from the sea, in a campsite close to Umag. Umag is the western most point of Croatia, close to the Slovenian border; Rijeka and Pula are the other two points that make up a triangle of land (two sides, coast) which is some of the best countryside I have riden through.

But let's rewind before I tell you about the journey north. After a delicious dinner at the konoba in Skradin, Monicka sat with me for coffee. Monicka is 24, married, owns and runs the konoba along with her husband; in the 3 days I was there she did not stop, a dynamo of a woman who does everything, incredible work rate. I asked about the war and how she was effected by it; this is when she got us both a coffee and told me her story. Five years old, with parents, grandmother, one older and one younger sibling, all living in a house in the hills, 2 kms away. It's early 90's and the Serbians are less than 10 kms away and approaching fast; they have no choice but must leave with whatever they can carry. They sleep in caves for the first few nights as they watch villages being burnt to the ground, their own included and eventually find refuge on an island of safety further south although bombs that over-chute the mainland continue to explode in the sea close by. I am summarising the story as parts are too sad but it gladly finishes with nearly all of them back in their government rebuilt house in the hills. I was spell-bound by Monicka's story and her upbeat attitude and find it even more staggering that it took place less than 20 years ago. When will we ever learn.

As I head north initially through the mountains on my way to the coast road, Monicka's story still with me, it becomes very apparent why nearly everything is new, of course most of it is less than 20 years old!
After 100 kms of sparse landscape, somewhat industrial, the road ends and I take a short ferry ride. On the ferry I meet Anton and Karin, beautiful people, young, charming and Swedish, touring on a battered BMW 650 motorcycle. We rode together for another 100kms or so along the coast then stopped for lunch.
"So where have you come from?" I ask.
"South Africa" they say.
You could have knocked me over with a feather.
The short story starts with them living 600 kms apart in Sweden and deciding to spend more time with eachother. Late 2009, they sell what little they have, fly to Morocco and buy a 50cc motorcycle which they ride to Tanzania!!! That's the equivalent of mowing your lawn with a pair of scissors. Their money runs out by the summer of 2010 so they go back to Sweden for 6 months to replenish. January this year, they fly to Cape Town, by a more substantial bike for the journey back to Sweden. Outstanding! I could have listened to them for a week, they ask me to join them, believe me I nearly did but feel the need to see more Croatia and want to go more East that North. Even now, I wonder, should I have gone?! But what a story, what journey, what an adventure, fantastic. I didn't take a picture, damn!, but we exchanged details and fondly farewelled ... I am humbled.

Another hour's riding and I enter the 'triangle' I mentioned earlier. Breathtakingly beautiful, winding roads, rushing rivers surrounded by extremely lush, richly green, deciduously clad, rolling hills ...

Ride and meet, this is what this trip is all about .... I'm in nirvana again.



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Not Today ...

Way too much to say and I need to think about it.
400 kms of riding, first hand experiences of the recent Yugoslav war and a young Swedish couple who sold all they had and have been on the road for over a year. Amazing stories that have had me in awe, in tears and humbled ... but not today, got to get my head round it all.

Back in my tent,
Cozy, content,
under a tree,
Next to the sea.

Food and wine bought,
happy in thought,
two-wheel tired,
nearly retired,

when the day breaks,
I'll write and create,
But now what I long
iPhone music and song

Good night to you all
Sleep well with night fall
lay-in, don't pretend
Enjoy your weekend x


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Krka National Park

Today was tourist day and I boarded the "Majika Danica", a beautiful, wooden craft that was to take me, among others, to the waterfalls in the Krka National Park; a 30 minute, scenic journey that I wished was a lot longer. If the cap'n had shouted "Sod it, let's go around the Mediterranean", I wouldn't have got off!
A short queue, to pay the 95 Kuna's (about 12 quid) to get in and within 100 metres you can hear the rushing water.
The area was only formed as a National Park in 1985 to ultimately protect the Krka River and now caters not just to tourists but serves

scientific, educational, cultural and recreational interests too. The official blurb:
"With its seven travertine (limestone) waterfalls and a total drop of 242m, the Krka River is a natural and karst phenomenon. The living work of the Krka National Park is very rich and diverse, with numerous endemic, rare and threatened species. The diversity of the plant life, 860 recorded species, attracts both experts and visitors."
There is no denying that the whole area is simply beautiful and the

inquisitive way the river runs through this porous rock is just charming.

What I did really appreciate is the visitor-friendly way they have organised and planned the walks and paths through this spectacular scenery. UK Health & Safety would have a field day here and frankly completely ruin the experience.
Whether it's being allowed to swim in the crystal-clear waterfall pools, walk its barrier-less board-walks or buying delicious home-made produce from the locals

 (see pics below), they all help take you right to the heart of its nature.
It was a truly relaxing and comforting time, would have been the best place to pitch my tent; the thought was tingling but unfortunately no campsites are near.
The slow wooden boat back to Skradin allowed enough time to take it all in; I am at peace.

After a little ziz back at the konoba, I'm now sitting in their garden, slurping on a bottle of red from Sladic Plavina, the next village down the road from here, and the smells from their wood-burning stove and grill, combined with the fact I haven't eaten all day in expectation of this mighty feast, has me chewing on the corner of my laptop.

Wow, the feast arrives, should have been piped in .... I have to go, enjoy your evening.

What a lovely day ...

Skradin

OK, lakeside Skradin, sweet as a nut ... why is that a saying; wait I'll Google it .... really shouldn't have gone to the internet for an answer ... "a Scottish lady peeing up her husband's kilt" ... first answer (love the use of Lady). Second: London's East End, nut, short for dough-nut hence sugar coated sweetness. For me, it's those honey coated cashews you can get in Tesco's ...

Anyway, where was I, oh yes Skradin; according to the internet, I find that Skradin is on the edge of the Krka National Park and Bill Gates comes here every summer according to Forbes, thanks, really helpful; spoke to locals .... take a boat to the waterfalls, then an island where there is a Franciscan monestary, and make sure you take one of the old wooden vessels. Thank you ... I do love technology but often there's nothing better than conversation.
As I'm typing, the bar I'm in is playing 'all that old stuff' ... just had 'Loved Ones' by Cliff Richard followed by ABBA's 'Waterloo' ... why do I know all the words and never owned a single or album of either. Oh Christ .... "You gotta speed it up, you gotta turn it down ..." have you 'Made Your Mind Up' !!!!!!
I'm seriously giggle like cockatoo (no answers necessary). Bizzarely excellent!

Seriously, I love this place and have already told Monicka, who, of course, speaks perfect English, that I will stay at "Marija" for two more nights. So, after a ride in to the surrounding hills (stunning) I return for a light, port-side snack, "In Dubrovnik, I tasted a walnut liqueur, do you have some?". Well if the look from the waiter was any blanker he could have been a formaldehyde subject of Damien Hurst. Try again "What do you the locals drink as a liqueur?" "Kraskovic" "Excellent, I'll have one of those" not realising what in God's name he had said with all these sssh's and ccch's going on. But, but, but .............. an orangy, Amaretto looking liquid arrived and I was immediately transported back to my youth in Cardiff .... BUBBLE-GUM! It both smelled and tasted of Bazooka Joes, remember them with their comic strip inside. (Thanks Mandy). Faaaaaaantastic! I seriously have to buy a bottle of this stuff and bring it back otherwise you simply won't believe me .... it's bloody bubble-gum.

But I digress .... a couple of heavy down pours today passed by this afternoon, (as forecasted, also for tomorrow) but they were short and dried up quickly without spoiling anything, so I have booked a boat for the waterfalls, etc., tomorrow and will be taking my swimmies as you can apparently swim amongst the falls. This is no Niagara in case you're wondering.

Gonna go now, but even though I should have waxed elequant about the pine-clad backdrop to this 'sweet as a nut' town ... it has simply been a BUBBLE-GUM DAY!

Ta ta x

Facebook/Twitter

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you can friend request me on www.facebook.com/twistandgo
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Aye-thang-yaw.

Back On The Road

It's good to be back on the road and today was a real pleasure; the very biker-conscious Croatian drivers (like France) are quite sedate as a rule but that could be because the Police here are zero-tolerant, I'm told. Also, it was really great to see so many fellow-touring motorcyclists today, more in one day than I have seen this whole trip and all of us acknowledging each other with that biker aplomb.
Back to the road and its rubber-friendly tarmac that made easy work of the coast-road's sweeps and bends, and because they were not too testing, I soon got into cruising mode or armchair-riding as I call it. Armchair because the riding position of the R1200GS is upright and comfortable but also, because of her low-down torque and formidable engine braking you can basically stay in top gear and throttle your way through everything while taking in the surroundings.
A couple of rain showers did nothing to lessen the beauty of Croatia's mountains that create its rugged coastline, enhanced by many hooked peninsulas and islands of all shapes and sizes that freckle Croatia's long face. Fishing villages, walled fortresses and hillside villas have that classic Mediterranean feel; the landscape generally oozes Tuscan tones as personified by the army of upright, pencil-thin Cypress trees, the signature of Tuscany. Although there is obvious investment in sea-view villas and apartments, it doesn't feel spoilt (yet) and I do wonder if Croatia is the new Italy.

So, by midday, I've knocked up over 200 kms and during the 2nd quite heavy rain shower, I stopped for a coffee only to realise my sleeping bag sleeve isn't very waterproof and my nights bed might just as well be a bath. So a quick map consultation had me heading inland over the mountains to a lake destination.

About 100 kms north of Split, a beautiful old narrow-laned, lakeside village called Skradin, had me sold on entry and as I tethered up my ride to take a closer look, an elderly lady with one of those faces that tells a thousand stories, says from her first floor balcony, "you want room, zimmer?". I have happened to coincidently pulled up outside a 'konoba'. Although it sounds like it should be a 'knocking-shop', it is in fact a Croatian B&B, like the Agri-Tourismo's in Italy, wonderfully welcoming, family run and all for 28 Euros a night. Perfect answer to my soggy problem.

Once settled, I strolled the stone lanes a short distance to the lake only to find to my astonishment a number of multi-million pound yachts backed-up to the paved shore. All a bit strange really, given that the very rural road to get here had me passing vintage farm machinery, donkeys and at one point, inching my way through a flock of sheep. After conversation, it becomes obvious that this freshwater lake connects to the sea and is one of the fancied moorings for the 'plimsoled'.
I love lakes and this is another beauty; I will stay for a couple of days and absorb.

Oh, actually went into Bosnia Herzegovina today; thought I'd taken a wrong turn when I saw Customs. If you look closely at the Croatian map, Bosnia actually has about 20 kms of coastline which must be a port access thing given the signs I saw, but did have me resetting the GPS and double-checking the origami map. In fact, the southern strip of Croatian land is so thin at times, you could reach the border by doing the Spilt's (pun intended and no I didn't even attempt the gymnastics as I'd already knocked over two Bosnians with my nose when I looked right at a T-junction).

OK, a chapeau-de-nuit is on its way, then I shall sleep soundly, so laku noć x



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Goodbye Dubrovnik

Final day in Dubrovnik and off I go for what I hope to be a glorious lunch in the mountains. The venue is about 40 kms south (not much further to the border) most of which is via the spectacular coast road before I turn left into the hills.
With about 3 kms to go I see in the distance a beautiful spot which I hope is the venue; I wasn't disappointed. The closer I got to Restaurant Konavoski-Dvori the better the surroundings.

As I walked down the stone stairs onto the large courtyard of the restaurant, I could hear the rush of the fresh, clear mountain water, as it broke a series of small weirs. Simply idillic, I could not have asked for more, the pics give you some idea; the dappled sunlight through the lush green canopy complimented the music of the water perfectly.

I won't go into detail about the food but suffice to say that the trout fillet starter and the slow-roasted 'under the iron bell' lamb was dribblingly scrumptious. The potatoes must get a mention as they reminded me of my Mesmama's (Armenian grandmother's) cooking, a meal unto themselves.

What a perfect culinary and picturesque end to my time in Dubrovnik.

After a few hours back at the hotel, dozingly looking at maps, I'm now back in the old town at Orlando's. Pauola and Alain (see pic) that mum'n'son team I mentioned, have very kindly made me a little snack even though their kitchen is closed, which has put me in the perfect mood (glass or two) for the classical quartet that I have booked for 9. Whilst here, and you really could not make his up, I was talking with Alain about the hundreds of swallows that constantly swoop and dive with such elegant agility, around the towers and lanes of the old town and how there was no evidence of bird-poop ... PLOP! ... I kid you not, equidistantly between him and I, and straight into my wine like Tom Daley was deposited a swallow's lunch! Bloody funny and a little spooky!

Back on the road tomorrow morning and looking forward to it.

PS Concert was a musical massage; piano, flute, violin and double bass; candlelight and intimate; another magical moment.

Wedding Photos

For those that have been asking, here's a link to more photos of the wedding I was at in Italy ...

http://s1093.photobucket.com/albums/i422/Voicetrax/Italy%20Wedding/?albumview=slideshow

Just One More For The Road ...

As the sun set's over Dubrovnik and I delicately saver (scoff) my hotel restaurant chicken and chips on the terrace, I have decided to make one last culinary and cultural venture. Today, I have had my arm easily twisted by a very friendly mum'n'son team that I have come to know over the last few days; they run Orlando's, a delightful, comfortable cafe that I frequent whenever I need a caffeine hit which seems to be often on this trip (I think I've mentioned it already).
It turns out that they are members of the same family that owns Proto where I had that fab dinner last night and what's more, they have another establishment about 40 kms south that was an old mill. Well, after Nikse showed me the pictures, I was sold so tomorrow I will ride the mountains to Konavle where this traditional restaurant along with its nationally dressed staff, is to be found.
Although I only intended to be here for a couple of days, it has turned out to be twice that time as Dubrovnik has me smitten, so just one more day for the road is well worth it. I will feast a fine lunch tomorrow in a Croatian stylie and then make preparations to head north on Tuesday morning, up what portends to be a spectacular coastline. I shall return to camping and beans before I completely exhaust my funds and my belly no longer glides into my leathers (not that it ever glided, maybe globbed, but never glided). Besides, I'm getting that itchy feeling again, ye olde antsy-in-the-pantsy, and even though I've been on little daily excursions here and there, it's the idea of heading somewhere new that creates the need to go.

Early night tonight, once I've seen the highlights of today's F1 Canadian Grand Prix, the MotoGP's at Silverstone and the Le Mans 24 Hour ... maybe not so early then ... toodle-pip x

Pizza to Proto

When I finished yesterday's blog I was, as mentioned, in need of sustenance only to find that the hotel restaurant was closed. Didn't really want to go into town on my lazy day so, after some discussion with reception (great and very helpful chaps, by the way), a pizza was delivered to my room along with a couple of bottled beers and I scoffed like a Viking. Sacrilegious and somewhat naughty but a perfect munch.
Today was an equally lazy start, as I really don't need the beach; any darker and I'll have to change my passport photo, so I jeaned and T-shirted the bike to my new fav cafe, Orlando's, in the old town and spent 3 hours people watching. A spin back to the hotel, watched the Canadian F1 practise then a taxi back to old town for a classical concert.
A conversation with the cab driver had me B-lined for Proto, a restaurant if you like fish he says, and was his advise the best I've had.

I found Proto and it had London prices written all over it, but you just gotta treat yourself now and then, hey!
Lobster salad to start, a bitter sweet conglomeration of tastes that had me singing (in my head), but the sole fillets, wrapped in wafer-thin bacon, had an aroma that, in itself, was enough to satisfy. I am truly in heaven and this is, without debate, one of the best meals I have ever had. Filip, my waiter, is one of those 'if I ever owned a restaurant' kinda waiter's and the location is perfect.

On to the concert in a small, ornate church, a beautiful, intimate setting that is soon blessed with an unusual trio, at least for me. A purse-lipped, blonde pony-tailed attractive lady in black, reeding a deeply resonating bassoon; a grey, wire-haired  elderly gentleman who eloquently percolated his flute and the delicate chimes of the harpsichord played by, without being insulting, a bob-haired, spectacled headmistress. Purcell, Bach, Mozart, Rossini and Bizet, at one point, had me in tears ... A truly magical evening.
Thank you Dubrovnik, I love you x