SV-Wolf's Bike Blog

[sv-wolf]

I'm glad you like it, blues. I love their music. And the oud is a beautiful instrument.

[sv-wolf]

I've got to share this.

If you have been on the site for any length of time you will know I'm a Danny Macaskill fan. He is now 29 and I'm frankly surprised that he has survived this long. Here is his latest vid. It seems he has finally got some money behind him to make this. As usual, the vid is a vehicle for him to show off some of his set-piece skills, but who can complain when his skills are as remarkable as this. There are also some stunning shots of the Isle of Skye (off the West coast of Scotland) where he grew up.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xQ_IQS3 ... e=youtu.be

If you like this and haven't seen this guy before, here is an earlier vid which really highlights his incredible handling skills and motor control.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cj6ho1-G6tw

[sv-wolf]

I shall be leaving home on 12 March for my trip. It's settled. Having left everything till the last minute - as is my habit - I'm now in a frantic rush to get everything done in time: there are visas to consider, travel insurance to be bought, routes to be planned, medical issues to be sorted, an IDP to be obtained, a camera to be chosen, issues about internet connectivity to be resolved, more mods to be made on the bike (oh yes, there's the small issue of the bike!), currencies to be researched, people to be kept in touch (I'll be visiting several friends en route), travel gear to be bought, translation apps to be considered, the house to be sorted, subscriptions to be cancelled, and all sorts of silly little things to be sorted out - like working out how to charge items from a 12 volt mobile source rather than the mains. I do keep remembering, though, that Nathan Millward planned a trip half way round the world in two days (courtesy of Australian visa control), and set off with a plastic crate bungied to the back of his 105cc postie bike. Anything can be done if you put your mind to it. He did say though that he cried himself to sleep every night for the first couple of weeks. I'm hoping not to have to do that.

I'm settling myself into the journey slowly. The first leg will be a trip up to the Orkney Islands (to the north of Scotland) to see the equinoctal eclipse. I doubt that the moon would wait for me if I were late, so 12 March start is not negotiable. For this first part of the trip, I'll be accompanied by a friend, possibly on his ancient (truly ancient) BMW. Once back on the mainland, we'll go our separate ways, he back home and me to take a trip through the Highlands before catching a ferry over to Ireland. In Ireland, I'll stay for a couple of days with my wife's daughter and her family and then ride on down 'The wild Atlantic way' which follows the nooks and crannies of the Irish Western seaboard to the ferry port at Rosslare where I'll finally make it over onto the continent - and into foreign parts.

I don't even have a route sorted yet. I know more or less where I want to go, but I'm not sure yet how best to connect up the dots. I need to be in the right places at the right time of the year. I don't want to be in Turkey at the height of the summer or it will be too hot for walking. I don't want to be in the Pamirs in the winter or it will be too cold for biking. You see my problem. And I have another issue: I'm a greedy bastrd. I want to do everything, see everything and go everywhere. Disciplining my imagination has never been easy for me. Here though are the countries I most want to visit:

Scotland*, Ireland*, Netherlands*, Czech Republic*, Romania*, Solvenia*, Serbia, Croatia*, Macedonia, Greece, Turkey*, Georgia*, Armenia, Russia*, Turkmenistan, Kazakhstan*, Uzbekistan*, Tajikistan,* Kyrgyzstan*, Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, Poland. The ones with stars are definites. The others I am prepared to miss if I run out of time or things become difficult.

With great regret, I've given up trying to get into Iran. It will just be too expensive.

I've planned this as a round trip. Apart from short ferry crossings (from GB to Ireland, from Ireland to France and then either from Turkey across the Black Sea to Russia, or from Azerbaijan across the Caspian Sea to Turkmenistan), the route is entirely overland - no major sea crossings, and no shipping costs. The more money I can conserve, the more time I will have on the road. If, however, my money holds out, the other possibility is to travel onwards through Mongolia and Russia to the Pacific seabord and then fly or ship the bike across to Central America. From there I'd make my way home via Mexico, the USA and Canada. I'm sad not to be able to include S-E Asia (I've always wanted to see Vietnam and Laos), but I'm pretty sure two sea crossings would be beyond my budget. Another time, perhaps!

One plus in all this is that none of the countries I will be visiting require a carnet. As the price of a carnet from the UK has just gone through the roof, that too will mean more travelling time.

I've just had word from Zen Overland, and they tell me that the DR will soon be ready, so I will be going back down to pick it up in seven or eight days. Possibly! The British Met Office is predicting Arctic conditions for the next couple of weeks. We shall see.

OK, I'm off up town now to sort out some medical issues for travel, followed by an hour at the gym...

[sv-wolf]

Just wanted to share this.

This is the record of a motorcycle journey through the Bartang valley in the high Pamirs. It belongs firmly in the category of motorcycle journeys that I will never take. I don't have the skill or the nerve to do anything like this, or the strength any more, but I'm insanely jealous of anyone that does. This is a page from one of the Horizons Unlimited forums. Scroll down to Oo-Seb-oo's second post to see photographs of some severe but breathtaking mountain scenery, and to read an account of an eye-watering one-day motorcycling adventure.

http://www.horizonsunlimited.com/hubb/n ... -kul-71858

[sv-wolf]

The promised winter weather from the Arctic has finally arrived in the South of England. Temperatures have plummeted to -2C, the roads are covered with a sprinkling of snow, and, no doubt, the entire infrastructure of British society is about to fall apart. Despite our variable and unpredictable weather, we do not cope well with snow. To be blunt, we don't cope with it at all. I'm surprised my train home from Stevenage this afternoon wasn't cancelled. The bad news for me, though, is that, if the snow piles up, I may have to delay my trip to Somerset to pick up the DR next week. That's frustrating! I've been itching to see her in her new overland kit, and can't wait to get my paws on her to find out how she handles.

The main reason for my trip to Stevenage, was to get a dental check before I go. My dentist has always looked after me pretty well, and with all due respect to her Kyrgyzstani colleagues, if there is any work to be done on my teeth, I'd rather she did it. I'm not sure what style of dentistry is practiced in Central Asia, and I know for a fact that there is no NHS in Kyrgyzstan.

While I was in Stevenage, I took a trip to the only decent camera shop in this area and spent over an hour in conversation with a helpful assistant, called Matthew. Matthew is young, pale, intelligent, nerdy - in the best kind of way - and has a nervous giggle. As a result of his advice, I came home, at last, with my new camera. I am now feeling as excited as a kid with a new toy. The camera is a mid-range compact, a Fugifilm X30, with an impressive array of bells and whistles - impressive to someone like me, who has not the haziest idea of what a lot of them do. (Thanks for your advice, Doc. I found that really helpful.) My task now is to find an adaptor to charge the lithium battery directly from the bike. I did consider buying a mini photo printer with it. I like to take portraits when I'm travelling, and it would be good to be able to give printed copies to people as a thank you gift. I'll think on't.

When I posted my list of things-to-do at the beginning of the week, I forgot to include: 'investigate purchase of a tic extractor'. I hadn’t reckoned on this small item until two nights ago when I read an account of camping in the grasslands of Central Asia. If a tic makes friends with you, there are a number of things you must not do. But, I will fret further upon this in silence.

I've also been advised by a private healthcare agency that I need to get vaccinated against two very nasty tic-borne diseases: tic-borne encephalitis and Japanese encephalitis. I’m not sure who pays professionals to give people this kind of information, but they can stuff it! I looked up both diseases. Japanese encephalitis it is not a serious problem in Central Asia, only further East, and the vaccine for it contains a live virus. I thought live-virus vaccines had been abandoned years ago. Given that the disease is not a big problem where I'm going, I would probably have a greater chance of dying from the vaccine than from the disease. As for tic-borne encephalitis – it only exists in the very north of Kazakhstan and only has a short season when it is live. By the time I get there, the season will be over.

Other vaccinations, though, will be tricky. The fact is, I've never had one - for anything. Most infants of my generation were given a smallpox vaccination shortly after birth, but my parents never mentioned it when we discussed the issue, so I think it is unlikely I had it. And given the violent reactions I have had to a range of medications prescribed in my teens and twenties, I’ve never wanted one. I’ve travelled fairly widely over the years, and relied on other kinds of protection, so far without mishap. But, this time is different: I will be miles from anywhere; a road accident with cuts and abrasions could leave me open to infection; keeping clean will not always be easy; and I am also camping out a lot. I’m going to get some conventional advice on Monday from my GP surgery, and some unconventional advice on Tuesday. I’ll take it from there.

[blues2cruise]

Another tic ailment is Lyme disease.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lyme_disease

Perhaps your doctor would write a prescription (and you could get it filled for the appropriate anti biotic) prior to your trip....just in case.

the roads are covered with a sprinkling of snow, and, no doubt, the entire infrastructure of British society is about to fall apart

Sounds about the same Vancouver. hahahahahahahaha. It's so pathetic.

[sv-wolf]

Hi Blues. There are apparently no vaccines or other preventatives for Lyme disease. The best way not to get it is to make sure you don't get bitten. It's primarily a disease of Europe and America, not of the Middle East or Central Asia where I will be for most of the time, so I only have a chance of encountering it ( I'm hoping I won't) on the way out and the way back home. At the moment I am still debating whether to have any vaccinations at all.

More profoundly frustrating than the matter of vaccines is the issue of visas. I will need them for Russia, Turkey, Armenia, Azerbaijan, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan and Turkmenistan. I'll also need one for Belarus if I travel that way. Turkey and Armenia appear to be easy, and Russia reasonably so; the others are becoming something of a nightmare.

Consider this: unless you book an expensive tour guide, the only way you can get into Turkmenistan is on a transit visa. I don't want to book a tour guide, so a transit visa will have to serve. With this precious stamp in your passport you get three to five days to travel through the country, but your point of exit must be to a state which is different to the one where you came in. So far, so good. Given that there are very few roads and lots and lots of desert in Turkmenistan, when it comes to a route, there isn't a lot of choice, and the speediest way through involves a minimum ride of 470 miles. To get your visa you have to state the exact date of arrival and departure, then whether you get a three day or five day visa depends on the unfathomable will of the Turkmen authorities.

Now here’s a problem. I will be travelling to Turkmenistan from Baku in Azerbaijan via the notoriously unpredictable Caspian ferry. So there is no way that I can guarantee to arrive in Turkmenistan on the day specified in my visa. If the ferry is two days late, I can still get in but, assuming the visa is for five days, I then only have three days to get through the country before it runs out. If it is three days late, I have two days left. Turkmenistan is full of amazing things to see (like the surreal capital city of Ashgabat, and the giant natural gas pits which burn constantly out in the desert), so I don’t want to miss everything because of a frantic dash to the next border. I don't want to, but it may be out of my hands. If, on the other hand, the ferry delivers me to Turkmenistan early, I'm told I will be made to wait in the arrival area until my visa start date. That could be one day or two. The best advice on this eventuality I've found so far advises me to take plenty of food.

Here’s another problem. I need visas for both Azerbaijan and Turkmenistan. Before issuing a Turkmen visa, the authorities there often demand to see visas from the states I will be entering and exiting from (Azerbaijan and Uzbekistan). This is to make sure I will not be returning the same way as I came. But before I can get an Azerbaijani visa, the Azerbaijan authorities often demand to see a visa from the country I am going to, i.e. Turkmenistan. Get it? Catch 22! To resolve this issue, if it occurs, I’m told, generally requires a lot of patience, persistence and polite noise making.

Then there is another issue, minor-seeming by comparison. I can’t get the visas while I am still in the UK, because they have to be used within 30 days of issue, and I will not be in Azerbaijan till at least 2 ½ months after I leave home. That means I will have to get them from the Turkmen and Azerbaijani embassies in Istanbul, Ankara or elsewhere closer to the border. Hanging around some large city for an additional week or so while they are processed is not ideal, but I've given myself a talking to and decided to treat this as all part of the adventure!

Getting a Russian visa has been a doddle in comparison (expensive, but a doddle).

[blues2cruise]

Sheesh. Why do they have to make it so difficult? They should be glad you're spending money to help their economy.

They obviously don't like tourism.

[totalmotorcycle]

Wow, Scotland*, Ireland*, Netherlands*, Czech Republic*, Romania*, Solvenia*, Serbia, Croatia*, Macedonia, Greece, Turkey*, Georgia*, Armenia, Russia*, Turkmenistan, Kazakhstan*, Uzbekistan*, Tajikistan,* Kyrgyzstan*, Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, Poland!

You go man! What a really cool adventure that will be for you! Your new X30 camera will come in handy and I can't wait to see some of your adventure photos...

Wowzers, that is amazing.

Mike

[sv-wolf]

Thanks Mike for the encouragement. In the last few weeks this thing has at last become a reality in my mind and my anxiety levels have started to rise. A lot of 'what if's' keep surfacing. I'm concentrating hard on other things, though. Once I set off, I'll be fine.

But that Arctic weather we are still supposed to be having... Yes, temperatures have fallen this week, dipping into minus figures overnight. And, yes, snow has fallen (twice) under cover of darkness and melted away again the following day. And we have also had some hard morning frosts. But I still haven't had a chance to use those snowshoes I bought three years ago, and the kids are struggling to find enough snow to make snowballs on their way to school. Arctic weather? It all depends what you mean. The polar caps really must be melting fast.

But, if the ambient temperatures have been tolerable, on a motorcycle it has still been bloody cold. Riding the 150 miles home from Somerset yesterday turned out to be one of my more painful motorcycling experiences.

Gabriel had rung from Wells to say the work on the DR was complete, and the bike was ready for me to collect. I’d planned this trip carefully: I'd travel down Friday morning by train and bus, arriving early so that I could ride home while there was still a sun in the sky. I’d wear plenty of layers and take two pairs of inner gloves, one silk, one wool. Gabriel had fitted a screen, a 25-litre tank and a pair of wrap-around hand guards to the DR which would help keep the cold air off me. I’d make frequent stops at service stations for hot drinks.

On the day, things started to go wrong immediately. My train to London was held up for half-an-hour which had a knock on effect on all my connections, so I didn’t get down to Wells till half-past-two and it was nearly four o'clock by the time I left.

I'll be fine, I thought.

But I wasn't. After forty minutes of riding I was already chilled to the core. My hands were the worst. By the time I neared Warminister (a certain irony in the name, I thought), they felt like they were being hit by hammers. The pain was so intense I began to feel nauseous, then giddy, and then all my concentration went in an explosion of physical distress. I pulled in at one of the small, anonymous service stations you find everywhere in the south of England, staggered into the restaurant, and collapsed behind a table. For five minutes I stared blindly at the menu, trying not to look like someone who wanted to writhe in his seat and bash his head against a wall. That kind of pain is totalitarian: it wipes out almost all rational consciousness. Then, as the hammers and nausea began to subside, two thoughts bore in on me: I hadn't yet completed a quarter of my journey, and it was going to get colder from now on. I should leave soon - but I was in no state to get back on the bike for another hour.

I ordered a meal, ate it slowly and allowed time for something approaching normality to return. Only 'Emergency Plan A' would get me home. I've described this before on TMW but not recently, so bear with me if you have already heard it. Having paid for my meal I found a cubicle in one of the loos. The first thing you do when implementing plan A is to put on all your kit including your lid. (That's seriously important.) Then, pulling a long, unbroken strip of toilet paper off the roll and folding it sideways, you wind it round and round and up and down each finger of your right hand, one at a time. That done, you push the whole mummified bunch-of-five into your glove before it can unravel. With one hand already gloved, repeating the process on the other is much trickier. Over the years, though, I’ve become a master of this little-known art.

The main thing is that it works very well - better than anything else I know, other than heated gloves - and for the next forty minutes of the journey my hands remained cosy-warm. After that, they started to get a little cold again, but without the hammers. Night had now fallen and temperatures were beginning to plunge. So, while my hands remained pain free, the rest of me was getting profoundly chilled. I stiffened up on the bike, and counted off the stages of my journey the way I count off the minutes on the cardio machine in the gym when I'm going through the pain barrier: A63, A303, M3, M25, South Mimms roundabout... I took another break 20 miles from home at South Mimms, completely done in. I must have fallen asleep for several hours in front of my cup of tea, because when I opened my eyes, it had gone cold, and except for a couple of policemen in high-vis jackets drinking coffee at a nearby table, the huge restaurant concourse was bleak and empty. By the time I got home, it had gone 10 o’clock.

In one way, I guess I was lucky. If the cloudless sky meant that it was bitterly cold, it also meant that there was no snowfall that night. Snow would have been the final challenge, and would probably have sent me scuttling to the nearest Travelodge for the night. Today, I'm genuinely surprised that my fingers have recovered sufficiently for me to type this, and even more surprised that my hands are not covered in chilblains, though they do feel a little stiff and sore.

As for the DR, Gabriel did a good job. Apart from the adjustable screen, the 25-litre tank and the hand guards, he’s added a pair of halogen headlights, a Renthal bar, a better fuel filter, a bash plate, a headlight guard and a rack for panniers. (The panniers themselves are being hand-made and will be couriered to me later.) The halogen lights look brilliant. He’s also welded a larger plate to the foot of the side stand for parking off-road in soft conditions. And that's the only thing that doesn't work. It has effectively lengthened the stand so that the parked bike is now only stable on an absolutely flat surface (like his workshop floor). If I try to park it at the side of a road with an ordinary camber, it won’t stay upright. In fact, I can’t even get off it safely in those conditions. It will have to go back. Down to Wells. But not, I hasten to add, until the days (and evenings) are longer and warmer.