and then again

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Firstly the road that we had looked forward to riding, the B500 from Freudenstadt to Baden Baden, named as the best motorcycling road in Germany, and a real beauty, as we got to about the halfway point we came across diversion signs saying the rest was shut. Our first response was to press on, it had worked before, but about a km later we came across barriers and worse still a security guard who made it clear we were going no further.

This was supposed to be the highlight of our last full day before we headed towards Calais and home.  The last leg of our trip had been the topic of discussion several times over the previous few weeks. We had been to this area on 3 previous occasions although great, nothing new and compared to all the previous places we had visited a little underwhelming. But there was always the B500 to get excited about, and now regrettably, there wasn’t. Neither of us wanted the adventure to fizzle out but also neither of us wanted to prolong it just for the sake of it. With the enjoyment of riding the B500 taken away after about 25 km, no matter how good it had been, our minds were made up.

Even though it would be a long ride we were heading for home. The diversion occurred deep in the Black Forest and we were diverted down minor roads very steep and quite slippy from the morning rain. A minor mishap with Andy’s bike delayed us a little but once back on major roads we started the mile munching that was to be the order of the day.

Taking  toll roads to speed up the process and at a total cost of 32 Euros we arrived in Calais at about 6pm. We hastily booked onto the first ferry and it’s homeward bound.

The journey today has not been accompanied with the continuous chatter, so familiar on other rides. Instead we rode in almost complete silence, both I suspect reflecting on our experiences over the last 27 days but also a little miserable that it was ending in such an uninspiring way.

So there it is,  the last blog from us Dad. We’ve enjoyed doing it as it’s made us document this very special journey we two brothers did together.  We also enjoyed doing it as it made us feel closer to you, and if you couldn’t be with us, and it’s some time since I last saw you ride a bike, then this was the next best thing. It’s back to the phone calls every few days and listening to us rave on about the things we saw but who knows maybe we’ll do another trip and take you along again?

We love you Dad!

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After a quick breakfast we set off at about 8 am. We wanted to head towards the Grossglockner alpine pass in Austria but although the forecast looked good when we looked last night and again this morning it was currently closed to motorcycles .  Andy was feeling down as I know he wanted to ride the it so I suggested we head towards Udine in Italy, and then look at the forecast and reassess.

The road through Slovenia was very green with lots of trees, farmland and grass in contrast to the rocky terrain of Croatia.   Prepared with vehicle docs and passports in hand for the border between Slovenia and Italy we forgot that once inside the European Union there were no more border checks so we were pleasantly surprised when we saw the sign ‘Welcome to Italy’.

The Italian roads were not as good as the Slovenian and badly in need of repair but hey, we were across into our second country of the day .  The scenery was similar to that of Slovenia very green and we saw lots of vineyards very close to the road.

Arriving at Udine, wanting to be extremely quick we headed for McDonalds. On this day a software crash impacting on their procedures meant service was extremely slow so we gave up on the coffee and just took advantage of their toilets. We sat outside and started to look at our options and looking again at the Grossglockner website, for the first time in a few days said  it was open to motorcycles. The forecast was rain from 3pm so we headed off hoping to get there about 2;15pm. We needed to travel quickly though so few opportunities for photos.

As we headed through Italy we could see the Alps, massive and snow capped in the distance.  The border crossing into Austria, our third country that day, was also insignificant and seamless and we were left thinking how much simpler it was when travelling on motorcycles which can be a lengthy process of dismounting removing your helmet and finding and showing your documents.

Once in Austria the road started to climb, the views of the Alps breathtaking. The roads were good but at times challenging and busy.  We arrived at the start of the Grossglockner as planned at about 2:15, the weather perfect, blue skies and no sign of the rain or snow that was to come later. The Alpine pass is one of the most famous in Austria but it costs 28 Euros to travel the 35 km stretch of road (38 euros for cars). Money paid and with plenty of stopping points for photos we transited across the Alps, certainly a lot slower than some of the cars and motorbikes, who see it as a time to test themselves on the narrow windy roads. Although there was plenty of snow at the highest point, the lowest the temperature dropped to was about 4 degrees C and Andy who was dressed for colder weather was cooking inside his many layers.

We thoroughly enjoyed the route but with the time now pressing on once through, we looked for somewhere to stop to discuss evening accommodation. This in itself wasn’t easy but we eventually found a somewhere in the ski resort of Kitzbuhel, a place Andy remembered from Ski Sunday on TV.

At one point I had said that it appeared to be going darker earlier this side of the Alps but Andy pointed out it was probably because I was still wearing sunglasses!

As we sat drinking coffee looking for a place to stay we looked back at the Alps and we could see that the weather had changed, blue skies replaced by black and finding hotels very expensive in Austria we decided to travel to Germany, our fourth country that day where a hotel could be had for a more reasonable amount. We remounted and made our way towards Rosenheim,just across the border in Germany.  After only a few miles  the heavens opened and we had to stop to don waterproofs.

The last hour and half of riding was awful, heavy rain, poor visibility and visors that kept steaming up.  We made it though, we didn’t even see the border between Austria and Germany and apart from having to backup from a motorway slip road which without pre purchasing a vignette we were not allowed on, no real problems.

Bikes secured in the hotel underground car park we headed into Rosenheim. Fortunately the hotel was very central and only 150 meters away from lots of restaurants. We finished the day chatting to a lovely elderly gent called Jan, who told us much about the region of Bavaria we found ourselves in. It had been a long but fantastic day travelling 285 miles and passing through 4 different countries.

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However revitalised by the inclusive breakfast we headed towards the Croatian coast.

The border crossings between Bosnia and Croatia are inconsistent and today having been through two checkpoints we stowed away passports and vehicle documents only to find out there was a third check that wanted to see my documents but not my passport and Andy he just waved through.

We’ve seen quite a few road signs on our travels warning us about the local wildlife from bears, deers, wild boar but today we came across a new one Wolves. Unfortunately or maybe fortunately we didn’t spot any.

We joined the coast at Polce and then headed North. It is an amazing road and on the bike intercom we began to compare it with the Albanian Coast rode to try and work out which one we thought was best. We didn’t really come to a conclusion.  There are no real surprises on the Croatian coast, it’s just continuously awesome with glorious views almost continuously and sweeping bends which allow you to travel fairly fast.  The Albanian coast road is more dramatic and you need your wits about you with tight 180 degree turns appearing suddenly but then as you negotiate your way through the bend you will be rewarded with an amazing view which  then disappears almost as quickly as it appeared as you weave up and down and in and out of roads cut into the mountain.

We stopped at Baska Voda a small resort, for a lovely salad and just as we were chatting and eating Andy spotted the local parking warden eyeing up our bikes, apparently illegally parked. Quick to apologise we moved them 20 yds and avoided a ticket.

Leaving there we hugged the coast which until we got to Split was very quiet in our direction which meant we could enjoy the road and make good progress, stopping every now and then to take photo’s. Every now and then we would recognise a landmark from our previous Croatian experience.

From Split the roads became much busier and while the local scooter and motorbike riders ignore the no overtaking signs and travel up the centre line with speeding cars moving over allowing them to overtake, we were far more cautious.  Waiting for gaps in the oncoming traffic we would then accelerate past as many cars as we could before pulling in.

The road from Split would occasionally detour inland as it cut across bits of the coastline but for most of the time we were never very far from the very blue sea. As the clock approached 3:30 we started keeping our eyes out for signs for camp sites with Andy  eventually seeing one marked on his Satnav at a small place called Primosten. Arriving there we were pleasantly surprised to find a very good campsite right on the beach. Although the pitches are geared for the motor home market with lots of pebbles and very little soil or grass we eventually found a pitch where we could at least knock the pegs in a couple of inches. Tents erected we walked the 15 yards to the Adriatic and cooled off with a lovely refreshing swim.

Tomorrow we should leave Croatia although we haven’t yet decided the route through the Alps which is very weather dependent when on bikes.

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“Follow me” Andy said, and looking down at google maps on his phone we began walking. After about 4 or 5 minutes turning right then left  down the narrow alleyways of Budva old town we came to one of the archways that marks the exit to the old town. “This can’t be right” I said  “the restaurant is in the old town not out of it.” Replying, Andy said “well its definitely this way” and looking at google maps on his phone said “we’re actually making good progress, we’ve only 400 yds to go??!” Eventually we re-entered the old town, gave up, walked into a bar, ordered a beer and asked the barman where the Rivijero restaurant was. “Over there” he said pointing to a building less than 5 yds away. Well done Andy you got us there!

This morning we woke at a more leisurely time of 8 am, by which normally we are completing bike loading, so it’s nice to have a day off. Andy made the coffee and we set off into Budva to see the sights in daylight.

The old town is most impressive but, unfortunately for me, lost some of its charm when I found out that 90% of it had been rebuilt after the 1979 earthquake, so it’s not really authentic. After looking around for over an hour we drank coffee and ate bread sitting on the beach just outside the old town.

Walking back towards the town admiring the boats we caught a bus to Sveti Stefan to have a swim and explore the small Island there accessible by a sand bar.

Dissapointingly but for some local political reason the island has been shut for the last couple of years so we could walk over to it but not get in. It looks really interesting though and makes for  a good photo opportunity.  After a long swim we caught the bus home and after contemplating a ride, as the temperature rose into the 30s, we decided against it and decided just to chill out on Budva beach.  The evening was spent looking at how to make the most from the journey home over the next 7 or 8 days.

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The day didn’t start well. As I dismounted to shut the gate of the apartments parking lot the bike started to topple. As we have found once the bike starts to fall there’s very little you can do other than try and slow the fall. It’s something we re both struggling with. Normally the bike side stand is great for various conditions but when fully loaded if the parking spot is not level both fore and aft and sideways then you better beware.  Andy helped me up with the bike, no damage done and we tried to find the route we had planned.

It took us a little while, ending up at some dead ends with the inevitable feral dogs barking at us as we negotiated a u turn on the steep roads of Sarande, which is effectively built on the side of a steep hill that slopes down to the sea. Eventually though we were on our way.

Even if you weren’t a biker it would be hard not to enjoy this road, as round every turn there were breathtaking sights.  Of course there were also the usual distractions to navigate around, donkeys, cattle, herds (or are they flocks) of goats, and more stray dogs.  The Albanians also have a different approach to roundabouts. It appears that the vehicles joining the roundabout have priority which until we got used to it caught us off guard a couple of times.

The road climbed steeply up into the hills through small Albanian villages and then equally steeply dropped down towards the sea which as the sun shone down on it was a beautiful turquoise with the surface sparkling from the sun. Part of the journey to Vlore requires an extremely steep climb up Mount Cika with the road snaking up the mountain side and sharp 180 degree hairpin bends and steep drops at the side of the road which thankfully was not only good but also well barriered.

The views were amazing and from time to time we would stop at a parking place and take photos of the Albanian coastline.  As we climbed, the wind became stronger and every now and then a strong gust would catch you unawares and move the bike as we climbed ever higher. As we neared the highest point of the road before descending again, we rode into the clouds.

I was amazed at the number of cyclists tackling the route as it was so steep and Andy suggested that it was probably an organized event; hard enough on motorbikes in this heat, I just admired the efforts of the cyclists.

As we were on route, Andy noticed that his tyre pressures had dropped slightly so pulled in at a garage to check them and recharge if necessary. Albanian garages , much like most of the Eastern European garages, do not operate a self service system for petrol and sometimes air.  With petrol, the attendant comes over, switches on the pump with an electronic fob, fills the bike up and then gives you a receipt.  You take that to the cashier pay and in turn she gives you another receipt to hand to the attendant, no doubt the more he fills the more he gets paid.  Anyway it was one of these attendants that Andy tried to ask whether there was any air at the garage.  The attendant indicated for Andy to ride to the air station where the attendant would top up the tyres.  However either this attendant didn’t know how to operate the compressor or it wasn’t working properly because before we could do anything he’d let about 10psi out of Andy’s back tyre.  Luckily Andy stopped him before he let anymore out. No matter how hard we tried we couldn’t get him to understand that we needed air into the tyres not out, so cautiously, because of the lower than normal pressure in the tyre we moved onto find a different air source.  We must have tried about 20 different garages wasting about 2 hours before we eventually were able to pump up Andy’s tyre to the correct pressure.

As the day was now approaching 2;30 pm we decided to make the 90 minute journey up to Durres and look for accommodation there.  The journey from Vlore to Durres was largely forgettable, the landscape relatively flat and  featureless with the mountains on the horizon.  Only two points of note, firstly irrespective of how busy a road is, and some of them are really busy, you still see, cyclists, unhelmeted moped riders riding the wrong way down the side of the road. Secondly, a renowned Albanian in the 1930s invented a bomb shelter so good that he demonstrated its worthiness by standing in whilst a a tank fired a shell at it with him stood inside. He emerged shaken but alive and as a result there are hundred of these bomb shelters all over Albania and today we saw a few of them as we rode to Durres.

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The route took us initially inland with rolling hills verging on being mountains I suspect, to the North of us and views of the sea to the south.  Unbeknown to either of us one of the main crops in this area is cotton. It is very obvious at this time of year little cotton wool balls on small shrubs about the size of small rose bushes. We could see that harvesting had begun and judging by the cotton balls blowing all over the roads it’s not a particularly efficient process.

The road took us through the wetland national park Nestos. It was here we were blown away by the beauty of 3 flamingos gliding right in front of us in to land on the waters. The coral pink colour of them set against the clear blue sky, and the grace, as they appeared totally synchronised in the landing was truly magnificent. It was a really special moment but unfortunately one that we were not quick enough to capture with a camera. We did stop though and photographed the birds from a distance, swans, flamingos,  egrets, storks, herons and all sorts of water fowl all mixed together. We both wished we had time to watch longer but we wanted to press on west towards the Adriatic coast, not that we would reach it today.

The journey was fantastic a mixture of coastal roads weaving inland past beautiful lakes and then back to the coast. We were getting spoilt. At one point I communicated with Andy to stop so that I could take a photo. We pulled up in a car park right next to the sea and walked the few yards onto the beach. Idyllic!  The beach almost deserted apart from two Greek gentlemen in swimwear and deep in conversation. From the beach you could also see the town further west which up until this point had been hidden from view; beautiful houses set into the steep backdrop. The two Greek men looked at us, smiled and said almost at the same time as Andy, we should cool off and take a swim. It was an easy decision, motorcycle gear discarded we soaked up the Agean waters .

Setting off again in temperatures just pushing past 30deg C we continued west, with little conversation between us as we both took in the views presented. A brilliant ride. It was livened up a little when all of a sudden I heard Andy shouting into the headset that he had just hit a small bird that initially got stuck in the screen and then almost immediately freed itself only to fly straight into his visor. However other than the surprise factor no damage done, to Andy that is, we’re not sure how the small bird faired.

We arrived at our camp site, not quite looking as good as it did in the brochure, but adequate for our requirements at about 5:30.  Tents erected time for another dip before sampling camp site food!

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Canakkale is almost at the tip of the Gallipoli peninsular or as it is spelt in Turkey, Gelibolu.  The first 30 miles was hectic, manoeuvring through the early morning Istanbul traffic. Just as we thought we had got through the worst of it we would hit another busy patch. Eventually though the traffic peetered out to the equivalent of the M25 and we felt more comfortable. Both Andy and I have almost identical Garmin Satnavs but we have found that even though all our settings seem the same, the route they offer up is rarely the same. Perhaps because of this, and me saying “right” and Andy saying “left” we stopped at the side of the road, coincidentally, but not that we had noticed,  outside of a police station.

Whilst trying to work out a route that would avoid the HGS toll roads, which we still hadn’t worked out whether motorcycles could use them free of charge, we heard a policeman in uniform shouting at us to move away from the front of the police station. So we started up. moved about 25 yds up the road, parked and were about to resume our discussions when another policeman approached us. Andy, who still had his helmet on and couldn’t hear the conversation,  thought we were in bother. I could hear the policeman saying “I love England, I love motorcycles I am a policeman let me help you” He proceeded to show us his badge and although his English was not great he was very enthusiastic and clearly wanted to help us in any way that he could.  We tried to explain to him that we were checking the route to Gallipoli but weren’t sure whether we could use toll roads without a pre- purchased tag.  After a bit of to and fro-ing we think he got the message, because all of a sudden he said we should follow him in his car and he would get us on the right road. About 6 km he said. We jumped on the bikes and started to follow him, as the speed increased and he went faster and faster. Desperately trying to keep up with speeds often reaching over 90mph and way in excess of the limits of the roads we were travelling down he eventually slowed down and pointed us to the road that we should use; the toll road! Still unsure whether this meant we could use them without pre-paying, Andy and I thought it best not to argue and headed down the route he indicated waving our thanks and relieved we could slow down to more reasonable speeds still unsure whether we should have a prepaid electronic tag.

50 miles later we pulled up at the services and after a quick coffee we noticed a motor cyclist wearing an HGS electronic tag on his chest, the toll road pre-pay ticket.  Deciding that he would probably be a good person to ask whether the HGS tolls applied to motorcycles we approached him.

It turned out that he was a Turkish gentlemen probably about 70 riding a Chinese 250 cc motorcycle, very willing to help us but about as clueless as we were about the need for an HGS electronic tag. We pointed at the HGS badge he was wearing which prompted him into shouting questions at several Turkish people nearby, all of whom appeared to be shrugging their shoulders as to not knowing the answers to the questions he was asking. Resorting to Google translate , conversation mode, some progress was made. He didn’t know whether we needed a pass, despite him clearly having one. He didn’t know where we could purchase a pass but if we followed him he would be able to explain to anyone of authority that challenged us, that we were trying to comply with the rules if only we could understand what they were; or at least that’s what We think he was saying. Anyway for the second time that day we decided to follow someone offering to help. What a nice guy although not the best rider I’ve ever seen. He would stick in the outside, irrespective of drivers trying to get past, flashing their lights at him, and eventually forcing them to undertake to make any progress, while we watched on in horror. However we remained close to him and we passed through the HGS toll road checkpoints thankfully unchallenged. Eventually he signalled for us to turn off and pull up. Thinking this was where we went our separate ways, he surprised us by asking if we wanted to go to his home for something to eat.   We thanked him profusely but said we were keen to press on toward our final destination, so he enthusiastically shook our hands wished us well and we went our separate ways.

To get to the main side of Canakkale you pass over the largest suspension bridge in the world which is very impressive. We stopped in Canakkale for coffee and a snack  where because if it’s proximity to the ancient city of Troy was gifted the life size model of the Trojan horse used in film production which is displayed near the waterfront.

After refreshments and consulting the local tourist office we rode 30 km further down the peninsular to the ancient city of Troy. After taking a few photos there but deciding it was too hot to look around the museum we were about to return back to Canakkale to catch the ferry across the Dardanelles when Andy, by chance, noticed a nail sticking out of his tyre. Andy checked the air pressure being indicated on his motorbike dashboard which seemed normal and deciding that it was best not to pull the nail out until we were near a garage air supply we headed back to Canakkale to find a garage. Parked next to the air supply with puncture repair kit to hand we pulled out the nail and thankfully it had not pierced the inner wall of the tyre. While refuelling at the same garage however,  as is routine in Turkey, an attendant pumps the fuel then gives you the ticket to go an pay.  Leaving the pump unattended for a few seconds however, the nozzle fell out of the tank,  spraying me and the bike momentarily with fuel. He was very apologetic and stopped my seat down and it was probably only a cup of petrol, but it could have been worse. 

The day ended with us purchasing bread, ham and cheese from a supermarket, catching the ferry for the 10 minute ride across the Dardanelles. We must have just missed one as we ended up sat on the ferry for nearly 50 minutes before it finally departed. On arrival at the guest house only 5 minutes from the guest house,  we quickly unpacked before finding a table in the patio and eating our food outside. £20/ night,  twin room with breakfast, for both of us!

The weather today has been extremely hot and although not too bad when we are travelling, it can get uncomfortable after stopping. Still after the poor weather at the start we aren’t complaining.

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It wasn’t easy but we moved along quite quickly until we got about 3 miles away from a city centre hotel we had  identified as a possibility due to its price and secure parking. Traffic was now trickling along at walking speed allowing us occasional opportunities to filter down the side. We arrived at the hotel to be met by a biking enthusiast hotel manager. He told us that booking dot com had got it wrong and unfortunately they had no twin rooms only doubles. Of course it’s Turkiye so he offered us a fantastic  deal for two singles which after a short period of bartering we agreed a price and keys for money were exchanged.  The big plus was it was close to the metro, not far from the centre and had its own car park.

The afternoon and evening were spent sightseeing around Istanbul. An extremely busy city. A boat ride up the Bosphorus: shopping central at the Bazaars; seemingly magnificent mosques on the corner of every street; and a very interesting conversation with Peter, a Russian conscientious objector who has fled Russia to avoid “killing people” were the highlights.

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Constanta, our home last night, looks like it’s going to be a massive resort judging by the development that is going on, miles and miles of apartment complexes being built and advertised with prices seemingly starting at about €40k. Today is a different story however with everywhere half built and completely shut.  It does appear to be popular as a Friday night wedding venue though, with bride, groom and their guests conducting their ceremonies along with priests and entourage in half finished complexes with hastily erected neon Mr & Mrs signs; what must they have thought with two scruffy Englishmen peering in at them.

So we left the campsite at just after 8am heading towards Costinesti for breakfast. Whilst in season it looks like it could be a busy little resort but we couldn’t find a single coffee shop near to the Black Sea that was open. So we headed off to Mangalia the last town in Romania before the Bulgarian border, and hurrah we found a really great cafe overlooking the sea.

Much to Andy’s warped humour he found it very amusing that the “peasants omelette for 2 ” came all on a single plate placed before him. When I asked where mine was, the waitress shrugged and threw a knife and fork at me. Thankfully Andy shared.

A few miles after Mangalia we arrived at the border to Bulgaria. We queued for about half an hour and then with little personality the border guards waved us through.

What a contrast the Bulgarian coastline is to that in Romania.  It’s beautiful, commercialised but nice. Bulgaria, surprisingly to both of us, seems a more affluent country, better cars, towns that look more European, no horse and carts, well dressed people and not a stray dog in sight.  The road to Varna and then onto Sunny Beach was magnificent. We would drop down towards the sea and then climb up out of the towns though sweeping bends and tight hairpins to be presented with a view of the next sea side town. The temptation to stop and keep taking photos was great. It’s a pity the road surface wasn’t as good.

Arriving at Sunny Beach at about 4:30pm, we pulled up at a cafe and started searching online for a place to stay. Sunny Beach is a huge tourist destination and is akin to Benidorm.  Oh the dilemma; camping for £25 or fully inclusive at a cheap hotel on the strip for £40;  Knowing how much could be  drunk on a Saturday night, the decision was easy.

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