While James was purchasing tax disks, insurance and bike kit, I had started doing my own 'preparation' for our new mode of transport, which, English Teacher style, meant reading as many books on motorbike travel as I could download. All the authors wax lyrical about the virtues of being on a motorcycle on an overland trip. There is a much quoted line from
Zen and the Art of Motor Cycle Maintenance which says that driving a car is like watching a movie, but that being on a motorcycle is like being
in the movie. In
Jupiter's Travels, Ted Simon likens it to flying. In
Long Way Round Ewan McGregor says being on a bike "taught me what it means to be fully alive to the world". In
Lois on the Loose (my personal favourite- a biker chick tale), Lois says she can't think of
anything more exciting than rolling off the ferry to explore a new place on two wheels. Needless to say I was looking forward to roaring down the road to my own internal sound track of
Born to be Wild- and maybe even singing it out loud, while I stood on the foot pegs and gave passers by the victory sign (unlikely, but you have to dream). But first, there was the not-so-wild business of packing.
Packing for an overland trip is an art and, knowing from our previous Land Cruiser journeys, it is one that you never fully master. Well, until the last day of the trip, where, finally, everything has its place and all the superfluous stuff has been jettisoned, and all the stuff you need is nestled neatly away in draws and boxes. It's doubly tricky on a bike. Especially when you are not sure if you are a biker or a hiker, camper or glamper. We had too much stuff! Our organisation system was basically bags into 3 panniers: dry bags, compression sacks, stuff sacks......it was like a unpacking a deflated Russian doll just to find the tooth paste. The weird thing was that we could never quite get the packing system the same each time, even though we had exactly no more and no less stuff. The solution, when you have left over bits, is to wear them. This led to some interesting fashion statements out there on the road, mainly sported by yours truely.
I smiled bravely as we rode away from Liz and Bruce's place in Holt, slightly toxic and a few kilos heavier from their fabulous hospitality. But just a few kilometres down the road, I was wondering what I had gotten myself into......the words to
Born to be Wild were a little vague now in my memory. And there was next to zero chance of getting up on the foot pegs. And I was thinking, what on earth were all those writers actually on about. Flying? Movies? Alive? Well maybe, if you mean by being alive you are are bloody freezing, even though fifteen minutes ago you were sweating away as you adorned yourself with all the stuff that make motorcycling safe and 'comfortable': the padded/ armoured jeans; the many layers underneath the already bulky motor cycle jacket to stay warm; the boots; the gloves; the balaclava; the helmet....bloody hell...... I was more padded that the Michelin man. Second of all, my bum was already hurting, because I was intent on being the perfect still pillion (When I posted a pic of the bike on face book, someone-Allan, I think it was you- replied that we should be ready to run a lot of red lights as James' feet "weren't gonna touch the ground on that one", which, let's not beat around the bush, is kind of true. James is (sorry James) a bit
short and the bike is a
beast: there is no room for mucking around once you are up on the back if you are not to be dropped (For the record, which happened one time only, and that was because of a clutch issue, not a dodgy driver or pathetic pillion). Thirdly, my hair tie had worked its way loose and blond hair was flying all over the place, and bits were tickling my nose. Fourthly- Was that a slug in my ear? Possibly from where I had carelessly left the helmet on the ground earlier? I could go on with my tale of novice biker woes. Lets just say the hour or so to our first coffee stop was a bit grim. Best to get out of the cold of the UK and head to sunny Europe and get some kilometres under the belt ASAP!
James had decided that he would ride the 2000 kms to Venice solo and that I would fly from London (how well James knows me!) and that he would pick me up at the airport. We hadn't gotten around to getting sim cards or anything (crap seasoned travelers as we are....), so it was a bit worrying when James wasn't at the airport, especially given that he had practically done an endurance ride: 2000 km in 36 hours- ferry and sleeping time included. Luckily we had plan B- meet where we were staying- which worked out fine. When I saw James, the first thing he said to me was "don't ever let me do anything like that again"(could James be getting a little more sensible, and dare I say it, older?). He did look exhausted. A long ride in cold conditions- see the pic below!
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| James writes his initials in the ice on the seat in the morning in Austria. |
So, we were in Venice. Beautiful, sinking city of a billion tourists. You can sit on the canal and listen to the gondoliers singing.....and the sounds of wheelie cases being pulled up and down the cobbled streets (no taxis!). You could barely move in San Marco square and the queues to get into San Marco itself were massive. Luckily we didn't feel the need to do anything touristy (I have been before, James doesn't care for churches) so we spent the day wandering the back streets, stopping for
cappuchino and pastries, then, later for
cicchetti (the Italian version of tapas- mainly very yummy little sandwiches) and glasses of
Processco in bars that spilled out onto the canal walls. It really is a beautiful and enchanting city.
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| Breakfast in Venice |
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| San Marco Square |
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| Overlooking the Grand Canal |
So then it was goodbye to Italy and straight through Slovenia and into Croatia. An important role I had as the pillion was to pay the tolls as we went though them, which takes on a slightly more complicated dimension in a bike than in a car. I had it all well thought out: money in the right hand pocket- just needed to take off the glove so you could manage the zipper, get the money out, pay, pocket the change, glove back on and you are off. The important thing here is
not to drop the glove, 'cause if you do you have to get on and off to retrieve it. Bear in mind that you have yet to fully master your high leg kick in the mounting of the bike so that you can get on and off gracefully, and you are not loving the captive audience in the cars waiting impatiently so that they can get through the toll booth.......
Naturally, I dropped the glove.
It wasn't my only 'job'. Others included: making hand signals to tell James when his indicator was still on; giving the advice 'drive on the left/right' (as applicable- and actually saving our lives once!); and ensuring that we never bashed helmets, even with the KTM 990's jerky gears. Not just a passenger here!
But, the occupations of being a full time pillion aside, once we got away from the motorways I started to relax and was beginning to actually understand what the fuss was about with this motorcycle business. And now, 3000kms later, I am a full convert (ready to get a motorcycle licence converted). It really is an amazing way to travel. One of the first things I noticed was the smells. Yes, when you are in a car you can wind the window down, but somehow on a bike, the smell of a place seems amplified and thus this way becomes lodged in your memory. I smell lavender now and I think of Havar and the purple haze as we drove onto the island; the smell of sea salt and I am back in Ston eating Oysters.
And, on a bike, there is no dozing in the passenger seat....as I am inclined to do (do this in parts of Africa, and indeed Europe and you are incline to miss entire countries- I know this-shamefully- first hand). No chance! You really do feel connected with the outside world.......especially when in the elements.
Our first rainstorm revealed to me a fundamental error in our preparations....... I had not been involved enough (too busy reading those bloody books!) and I had let James order my waterproof over suit. James is, by nature, thrifty, and....... well.....just see below the result!
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Neon waterproofs .............oh the glamour.
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There was a bit of rain in those first few days, as well as bits of sunshine and glorious coastal roads. The sea is unbelievably blue in the Adriatic. On Easter Sunday, in a deluge, we took shelter under the canopy in a closed cafe-and the owners came down and opened up to give us a coffee and some boiled eggs (Easter tradition). At the service station the jolly attendant was drinking rum and coke- and would not let us leave till we joined him. Croatia is a country made for biking and they do seem to love bikers and especially our KTM, which, lets be honest, is a very cool looking bike. Shiny, orange and lovely. Unfortunately the owners were not quite as cool......compared to some other bikers we encountered we were positively daggy, especially with out hotched potched together kit from James and Chris' stuff. I had serious kit envy.
We headed as far south as we could, hoping to beat the rainy weather, and the weather did improve, though we did have a few drenchings in Oravic and Korcula, gorgeous little towns surrounded by that perfect blue sea.
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| Korcula old town on the cusp on a rainstorm |
Dubrovnik was a little grey, but it didn't diminish the beauty of this spectacular walled city. Walking the walls and peering down into the day to day life of its inhabitants was fascinating, as was seeing the filming of the Game of Thrones (probably) down below in the harbour as we were perched on the city walls. Must find out what all the fuss is about and start watching it!
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| City Walls |
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| Dubrovnik |
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| More of the 2 km's of city walls |
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| Dubrovnik from the fort |
We then headed North again, making our way up the coast line. We loved Ston, a walled town, with restored ramparts. We also loved its fabulous seafood- the oysters and mussels we had here were some of our favourite eating experiences of the whole trip.
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| Yum! |
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| Climbing the city walls in Ston- hot work in bike gear |
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| Croatia's 'Great Wall of China" |
We were then on for a bit of island hopping- stunning coastal roads, plenty of fresh seafood and very cool walking. Croatia really does have it all. If you can drop everything tomorrow and just go there, you should! (If you have been there, go again!)
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| James on the ferry |
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| Mljet Island |
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| An old fashioned 'selfie".....camera balanced on a rock with timer- bit off centre..... |
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| Overlooking Mljet Lakes |
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| Deserted coves on Cres |
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| View from 'Sweaty' (Sveti) Nicola on Hvar Island |
It was then back to the mainland for more beauty and hiking in Kaka and Paklenica National Parks, stunning places, especially Paklenica with its dramatic gorges and cliffs.
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| Falls at Kaka |
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| Hiking in Paklenica |
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| Gorge at Paklenica |
And then we got to Plitvic..........wow! What a place. We spent two days walking the trails- in rain or sun it was always stunning. And the GPS led drive (had it accidentally on walk mode for a bit- whoops, but excellent) on the way out was one of the best days riding ever. Through the muddy tracks of the forest, across the high farming plains, down to the coast overlooking the sepia coloured islands, framed against that cobalt sea. Biking was made for this. I wished we had a helmet cam or Go-Pro so many times in Croatia , to capture the magic while on the move.
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| View from the main falls |
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| The main falls- fab at all angels |
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| There had been so much rain parts were flooded- shoes off- freezing water! |
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| Incredible panoramas |
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| And more |
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| The perfect waterfall? |
And of course, alongside the hiking and biking there was excellent eating and drinking! It took us a while to discover the best of Croatian wines, but we loved the Dingbac Red . The food was delicious. We had a memorable few days on Cres trying to find the best lamb in Croatia. And then of course, there were the truffles in Istria and Dalmatian smoked ham and Pag island cheese......I could go on!
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| Cres' best lamb |
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| Yummy squid was on many menus |
So it was after a month in Croatia that we said good bye. A fabulous place with lovely people. I haven't really been able to do it justice and the notes I wrote were so full of the beauty of the place that I haven't been able to convey here, I think I may have to come back to this entry when I have more time, as it really was amazing. Also, this is written over one month retrospectively (expect a deluge of blogging in the next few days as I get my act together) as well as being in a post Isle of Wight Festival daze.....more later.
