I got absolutely soooooo fed up with waiting on the Iranian Consulate, and trying to solve border problems with China, that I just had to go for it.
The trip will be shorter for sure, but at least there IS a trip.
The likely alternative would mean always planning and never doing.
Once the decision was made, everything came about with dizzying speed.
As I type this, I’m sitting in an apartment not far from the Slovakian border.
Below is the route covered up to this point.
Monday had me heading to Folkstone to board the train and make my first trip through the Channel Tunnel.
Very easy, but not much of a view.
35 minutes and I was riding in the land of Francois Truffaut and Pom Bears.
I had always planned on a swift passage through Western Europe to reduce costs, so it was a heavy day of motorway riding. Related to costs though, I was pleased to discover that motorcycles are exempt from tolls.
Flew through Belgium without even sampling the chocolate, and didn’t notice that I’d put a toe into The Netherlands until I’d arrived in Germany.
The first night was in the picturesque town of Boppard, not far from Frankfurt.
No real activity though, as it was Bank Holiday, and not much happens there on a Monday anyway, so it was a sort of double-whammy of dull, but I was shattered from the heavy days riding anyway, so any thoughts of Oompah bands, girls with giant beer glasses, or guys walking around in leather lederhosen were far from my tired mind.
Although I gather you can get that kind of action in any number of East London bars every weekend.
A hostel with four bunks in a room, but a single garage for the bike.
My wheels had it better than I did.
Bright and early Tuesday, and it’s on the road again, heading for Nürnberg.
Lots more motorway, and two McDonald’s later, and I was at the apartment.
If me and the bike were having a competition, then I just evened the score.
Nice single room for me, but an open car park for the bike.
The downside was hauling all the bags up to the first floor for security, and then re-loading Wednesday morning.
Traveller (as my bike has been christened) was sulking. A couple of times while on idle, the engine would cut out and the gauge lights all went out.
Thankfully the tantrum didn’t last long and has not been repeated.
So far…
Wednesday saw me crossing the Czech border.
I was expecting some sort of checkpoint, but there was just a little sign.
All one big happy Europe it seems.
Except on the currency..
No Euros in The Czech Republic.
They use the Koruna.
Of which I have none!
Thanks heavens for the Revolut card I was talked into..
The roads were far better than I had been lead to believe, and much of the country I was driving through looked like it had come straight out of a fairytale.
Forests, little villages, shrines on the way out of towns…
The third night’s accommodation had Traveller and me equally pampered.
It looked like one of those French Napoleonic farms, surrounded by a wall, but rustic as can be.
Arrrrggghhhh! Accidental Self-Portrait!
The owner showed me to the apartment, which was amazing, indicated the ex-stable where my mount could spend the night, and then went and sat by his very own lake, looking out over the water.
And that seems to be his life.
And quite happy he seems too.
Due to the constant rushing from one point on a map to another, I have yet to discover anything resembling night-life, and today was no different as I hurtled across The Czech Republic to Vilémovice, a few miles from the Slovakian border.
This is a habit I have to break, or my strongest memories of this trip will be the variety of service stations I’ve seen since embarking on this adventure.
The expensive places are in the rear view mirror.
It’s time to slow down.
Let’s see what Slovakia has to offer.
(image from 'ItchyBoots.com')
No, I don't suppose it will look like this, but we can all dream..
