On the road to no-where.

For me, the first few days setting off alone into the unknown are fraught with emotion and doubt. It doesn't help to remember it's the same every time, or rather it does but doesn't diminish the problem. I won't beat about the bush, this phenomenon has been compounded by the shit I've had to deal with in the last few years. Not wanting to harp on about my loss or my physical limitations, I won't however ignore these facts, they are after all the events of recent life which define the being I am at present. Rather than being psychologically and emotionally battered and bruised, I'd prefer to describe myself at tender when it comes to these aspects of my life. I've gone through the worst, but couldn't describe myself as having gotten over things. That is never going to happen when it comes to losing a son who was, and remains, so precious to me, Still when I write such things it's with a tear in my eye, but I'm not about to lose it, to find myself inconsolable, not in public anyway. (Photo: Pretty means of generating power - Service station, somewhere in Germany)

So am I up for the challenge, can I bring this bold adventure to fruition? There's no doubt it'll be the toughest such journey I will have made to date, and I am only talking about making it overland to and through Tibet. The mileage is less than that of my Americas trip (Americas Motorcycle Tour - A Tragedy Unfolds) and I don't think the ride across Siberia will be any more demanding than riding through the Rockies.But when it comes down to it Mongolia screams of harsh terrain, sustained dirt and sand, few facilities and fewer second chances if I screw things up. Am I prepared? Am I buggery! With any luck I will be by the time I get there though. A week or so ago I had a series of flashbacks of some of the rides I made in the Americas, they staggered me, it came as a great surprise that I'd tackled such demanding rides with no qualms at all. So I shouldn't be so hard on my own abilities. The fact is, my physical prowess is much better sat astride a bike than it is on my own two feet; my head needs to absorb such information, then it will be less likely to work against me. In a nutshell, I'm no where near ready for the challenge ahead, but I hope to be by the time I meet each obstacle. (Photo: Cool country lane - Road to Zielona Gora, Poland)

Thursday was a doddle, all I had to do was ride 50 miles from my brother Clint's to Hull and board the ferry. Being the first bike on board I was set on being the last bike off, no problem really, most ferries I've been on get the bikes off first. What I didn't bank on was a multiple squadrons of Harleys swamping the decks, apart from being blinded by the dazzling chrome it took forever for them to dress the part, so they looked like roughy toughy outlaws. I don't think any one of them was below 50 yrs old, it almost made me wonder if I was missing something; oh yeah, it's called a mid-life crisis! But each to his own, I wont slag off genuine outlaws, but these tossers were laughable. I watched with humour as one struggled with his toppling hog, the only problem was it was toppling my way, and I was next in line. A picture of dominoes came instantly to mind, as I thought of which pieces of his precious Harley I was going to rip off in payment of the damage to my bike. But no, a very proficient deckhand came to his rescue. Now if he'd fallen the other way I would have been rolling around with laughter, his group of six all sat to his right. It can happen to anyone, it only makes me laugh when someone is posing so atrociously. (Photo: Forest home and snack stand - Zielona Gora, Poland)

I'll make myself extremely unpopular if I denigrate all those with Harleys, suffice to say, it isn't what you've got it's how you use it. If you have a Harley and use is as a knob extension then shame on you, whatever your age, whatever your sex. All of us who are into our bikes have preferences, mine is for bikes that can circumnavigate the globe, with the exception of big heavy one's who don't handle off-road very well.I purposely don't mention BMWs here, because I'm so acutely embarrassed that I now find myself sat astride a BM. If it proves to be a sack of shit, please laugh long, laugh loud, you may have the last laugh! Hitting a foreign language suddenly is daunting, and you don't get much more sudden than rolling off a ferry. French I can handle, Spanish also, but this was the first time I've ever stepped foot into Dutch territory; yes folks, I've never even been to the Dam. It wasn't even German, which I don't understand but have gotten used to driving with. The only name I recognised was Amsterdam, and at least had the where withal to realise the port is not the city. All the same, I followed signs for the city blindly until having the sense to buy a map of Holland. That made life much easier, without delay I was on the correct toad and headed towards Germany on the E30, which would take me all the way to Poland. (Photo: Enchanting evening - Niela Nowa, Poland)

I have learnt some lessons, there were no sleepless nights, no long days of riding without breaks, no starvation or dehydration. am I getting wise, or am I getting boring? I prefer the wisdom of my present method to tackling long haul rides, it's far more conducive to maintaining a good average mileage. Though minimum of 280 miles since hitting the continent isn't bad, most of this was purely motorway riding at over 80 mph. A slight problem with my eyelids refusing to stay open ensured fairly regular breaks. And as I promised folk, hotels have been used each night so far, I'm waiting until I get away from civilisation before I rough it. At only half the price, and a secure garage to lock the bike in, I think I prefer the Polish option of a hotel. True, they didn't have such lovely meals on offer when I arrived, the breakfast was bloody awful, but their internet was flawless, and the room was clean and comfortable with a lovely balcony view. On the whole Poland is pretty run down, but that's a dichotomy, much leaves a lot to be desired while the rest is on the ball, up and coming in every modern way. You can see the failures, can sense the insecurity, yet it's very much a developing country. Some have, many others haven't; no different than the Uk then, really! (Photo; Poland countryside)

In Wroclaw, no not Warsaw, I stumbled across a bikerfest, a day of biker mayhem at the local BP station. They had closed down the filling station and set up a roadshow of stunt riders and mobile dynojet rolling road, to the delight of the local sport bike fanatics. Despite the fact that Harleys are more common here than Jap super bikes, there was a good turn out. I didn't stay long, attracting the attention of two guys in rapid succession was enough. I guess it goes without saying, whenever I declare the mission I'm on the response is one of surprise, disbelief, admiration and envy, in any combination of those. If nothing else I'd like to think I can open people's minds to the opportunities life presents, if you're open to the possibilities. They don't suit everyone, and I would advocate you all sell up and ship out, that would make the world a much smaller place for me. So please folks, keep your noses to the grindstone, work hard, save for your retirement and leave the exploring to me. I'll keep you enthralled! (Photo: Making a temporary home home - somewhere in Poland)