TUNISIA The ride there but flight back

[lost@sea]

For those that are following. I will stop riding my bike and start putting fingers to keyboard again, I had a bad case of writers block or something like that.

Thanks to those that have posted and glad you are enjoying mine and Shads little adventure.

 

[Shadwell]

The only way I can see al finishing this is if he gets so much abuse about being a lazy twat that he is shamed into finishing something he has started. so please do me a favour and send him loads of abuse to finish it. Or for the PC amongst you some encouragement which hopefully have the same affect

Or alternatively if you don care either way read something else))

 

[Ogmios]

Yeah right!
get it done ya lazy fecker!

Just dont click on that Gambia thing at the bottom of my sig.

's not easy ya know - real life keeps getting in the way. He has my sympathies.
So

 

[lost@sea]

Day 14

Packing up camp was by now second nature, wake up, brew up, pack up and disappear. However we had started to get rid of our combustible rubbish by burning so

Step 1; gather some small dried twigs and bushes
2 pile rubbish on top
3 smother in petrol
4 light, without loosing the hair on the back of your hand (much harder than it sounds)
5 watch the rubbish disappear
6 saddle up and ride.

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Heading north we were getting closer to the coast. There was a stark contrast in traffic conditions as well as the driver's level of road sense. The roads where extremely busy with overloaded trucks and coaches. We had more than our fair share of close calls. Oncoming cars would try to over take a bigger vehicle putting them onto are side of the road, they did not seem to realize or care that the 2 motorbikes heading towards them where traveling at 60mph and not the usual 15mph that the locals on clapped out old scooters seem to ride.

This caused us to slam on brakes far to often as we had nowhere to go, which is fine if you are riding a nice shiny BMW F800GS but when your on an ancient old Tenere and the breaks are less than effective….. I often found myself diving onto the hard shoulder to avoid Shad and the idiots heading towards us.

This permanent high level of concentration was making us both hungry. With Little Chef's being hard to come by we opted for the local option again, well why not it is cheap, well cooked and far better than the UK's motorway sandwiches.

Lining the side of the road was a series of small café's that had several sheep in different states of well being from tied happily munching on straw, to hanging from a pole with their throats cut and bleeding into a box all the way up to completely skinned ready for the pot.

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Parking up we found a cleanish sort of table, pointed to a bleeding sheep and made it known we would like a big piece of her.
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Our master butcher/chef/waiter brought over a couple of cokes and salad and 10 minutes later we get a plate of fat, bone, gristle and the smallest hint of meat.
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Shad and me gave each other a look that had undertones of this could be the last meal we have, before we spend the rest of our holiday sat on a toilet. But hey ho in for a penny, in for a pound and we tuck in.

This was the only time we felt we got ripped off on the trip, when we asked for the bill he wanted the equivalent of £20 which does not seem much but when you consider what we had been getting for about £1.80 only a couple of miles up the road we thought it was a bit steep.

I think the issue was that because everyone had been so honest up til then we just did not expect to get conned just for being a tourist.

Stopping for fuel a couple of hours later my bike would not start! After a few bump starts she gets going and we head towards one of the largest amphitheaters outside of Rome. I find it fascinating walking round all the history that surrounds it, the views, the lovely looking Swedish tour guide)))
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Shad hates touristy stuff so he stayed in a café outside the amphitheater looking after the bikes and drinking a few cups of the local mint tea and coffee.
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Leaving the amphitheater trying to start my bike again is a no goer, there is no power in the battery, fearing the worst I start to pull the bike apart follow wires and find a loose connection on the battery. All tightend up, but still not enough power to start her. Bump starting is just not happening and it has started to rain and the back wheel just keeps slipping. Time to find a garage and some jump leads. Will my beautiful old girl ever give me a break.

Time was getting on and it was pissing it down and knowing the trouble we had finding somewhere to camp in Tunis we make a decision to head to Sousse and grab a bit of comfort in the form of a nice 5* hotel and why not, we had achieved most of the stuff we wanted to except get further south which was taken out of our control by the Army patrols. This had put us 2 days ahead of schedule so we thought what the hell, lets have a bit of comfort for a few days.

Turning up in Sousse to the biggest thunderstorm they have had In 20 years was an experience in itself. There were junctions covered in 3 foot of standing water. We were having great fun accelerating through them and watching the bow wave we created until we realized it was raw sewage we were riding through.

Finding the hotel strip on the sea front I head into a lovely clean looking 5 star hotel, "2 rooms 3 nights please" I said, without looking at the diary but looking me up and down "sorry but we are full".

I don’t twig that Tunisia is devoid of tourists and all the hotels must have rooms so I move onto the next posh hotel this time they are only able to offer me 1 night. This process is repeated for the next 2 hotels, only when I reach the 3* star hotel at the end of the strip do I have any luck, £30 half board.

It is not until we have left our passport at the desk we are sat down in the bar with all our bags and a pint of cold beer in our hands that we notice a circle of tourists avoiding us and I realize those other places where not full but they didn’t want us 2 smelly blokes staying there.

We retire to shower and change and then spend the night getting pissed in the bar.

 

[lost@sea]

Day 15

The next 2 days were a bit of a blur really. We had a great laugh with some Russians who turned out to be riot police from St Petersburg. They practically had no English and my Russian is not the best but somehow through the Vodka Veil we managed to understand each other.

Waking up with a mild hang over but in a bed with crisp sheets was a welcome change and then to get a shower was just heaven. Today was all about pool time and relaxing in the sun. Having never been on a package holiday it was entertaining to watch the hotel reps try to get people up to play games or if you like, to make complete idiot of themselves in the name of entertainment, I am far too boring to join in with the antics but quite enjoyed watching.

After a couple of trips to the bar it finally dawned on us that when checking in if one of us had gone all inclusive we could of saved a pretty penny, lesson learnt for next time.

Lunch and dinner was taken in the main restaurant which had plenty of choice but after spending the last 2 weeks with just the 2 of us sat around a stove, having to barge and elbow fight to the counters was a little frustrating. But it was nice to enjoy a beer or 2 with a meal. All about change of scenery.

The night was spent sat at the edge of the pool just out of reach of the main stage where the procession of under skilled performers were putting on the evenings entertainment.

I don’t want to seem a killjoy as I can appreciate how and why families come away on things like this but it is not just my thing (yet). However.... a few more beers later and yes I was up there strutting my stuff and throwing shapes like i was star dancer in a Wham video.


Day 16

Being the last ones in for breakfast has it advantages, no queue. The thought of spending another day by the pool was to much for either of us to contemplate and I had one last thing to tick of on my list, the Roman ruins at Dougga.

A slow start to the morning, checking over the bikes we planned a route on the map then faced the traffic. It is the first time since having all the work done on the bike that I have ridden her without luggage. It was almost a pleasure she felt so light and nimble I thought I could throw her into any corner and survive. Fortunately the roads never allowed the space or speed. It would no doubt have ended badly.

As we got close to Dougga we could see the ruins up a track past a small white security hut. Where this little jolly fellow of a man came wobbling out waving for us to stop so we could pay our admittance fee and informed us if we wanted to take pictures it would be extra. Parking the bikes up slipping the camera into a pocket without paying the photo fee we make the marathon walk in biking gear up the track to the ruins. I even manage to drag shad with me, all be it reluctantly but even he was stood there open jawed at these old buildings. Yet again because of the recent troubles in Tunisia we had the whole place to ourselves, which was amazing.
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As you can see there was no photos of the hotel, I can't even remember what it was called but with hindsight I think I would be happy to stay in a hotel for a couple of nights on a trip again but my heart definitely prefers to be in the middle of nowhere with just the bike, my tent and the bugs.

 

[lost@sea]

Day 17

10 litres of oil

Oops Getting ahead of my self here. Once back at the hotel after our visit to the ruins we decided to have a good feed then an early night getting ready for the next days travels. We managed 1 of the 2 things unfortunately the Russian coppers turned up again and although we tried to make our excuses and leave, it never happened and another night of vodka and hand communication ensued.

Waking up to the scream going on in my head is a very bad way for the day to start. My alarm was telling me it was 8am I don’t remember setting the alarm, getting back to my room or pretty much anything else after 3am. This was going to be a mission of a day. Giving Shad a knock, then a bang on the door hoping that he was in a better state than me. Oh shit neither of us are in good shape, in fact I would say Shad was worse than me. Looks like I would be doing the navigation and lead role today.

Showering, eating then drinking about 20 litres of water whilst loading the bikes made us both feel a little better, at least we were able to function (note to self, don't drink and expect to be fine driving in 35 degree heat the next morning)). Shad then managed to do a forward somersault down some steps whilst carrying his bags, maybe we will leave it a few more hours before we leave I think.

The ride up to Tunis was hot and sweaty, I didn’t want to be on the bike this morning. Getting to Tunis we could see the port off in the distance but we just could not find the access road. After an hour of darting up and down streets highways and bouncing across train tracks we make it just in time to join the endless queues for customs.

Everything sorted bikes strapped down on the ferry we see our second lot of bike travelers, all clean and shiny compared to our dirt boxes.
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Shad disappears to the room while I have a walk around this rust bucket of a ship with screaming kids and parents who where letting them run riot. I find a quiet spot for an old mans half hour with a book. This is pretty much how the day ends.

Day 18

11 litre oil

Funny how we all keep to a routine, breakfast of sticky cake and a cold coke we plan our route home, 3-4 days zig zaging Europe to get us back to the tunnel. I catch up on the last few days of the diary

(it has been a pain in the arse to keep on top of these notes but I wanted to have a crack at this ride report and now I am coming to the end of it I suppose it has been well worth it)

Getting off the ferry and on the out skirts of Genova we stop for fuel and I top up the oil on the bike. Shad returns with a tomato and cheese bake, bloody lovely. It has started to rain so on goes the wet weather gear and I put away my light summer gloves and opt for my armored waterproof pair. I feel hot uncomfortable and cumbersome after being so lightly dressed for the last 2 weeks but I suppose that has to be expected in Europe.

Leaving the garage there is an upward climb from sea level in to the mountain range. Sky starts to show her dislike of this new terrain and slows down to 40mph not good when you have coaches coming up behind you at 60mph. I suffer this for about 10 miles, I could see Shad speeding up checking his mirrors hoping that I was able to keep up then drop back.

Something, or more likely lots of things where just not right and I had to stop and have a look. Pulling over to the hard shoulder, tool kit out and the laborious process of fault finding begins. We where unable to deduce what was wrong so it was going to be a long old ride back to the UK at 40mph, memories of Morocco coming back to haunt me.

I tried to start her for ages, there was plenty of power in the battery but she just did not want to go. It was as if she knew we were back in Europe and all she had to do was refuse to budge and I would call the breakdown service who would give her some much needed help.

Feeling very hacked off I slump to the floor not knowing what to do. I had had enough of fighting with her trying to keep her going but she had won, bitch.

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I resigned myself to calling professional help. International AA took an hour to reach me, then another half an hour to get through the toll road as we had not stopped for a ticket but instead sailed through an open toll barrier to join the motorway.

Back at the garage we had no more luck than I'd had at the side of the road. The bloke gets it across to me in Italian that he cant fix it and that he will have to take it to a Yamaha garage in the morning. Me and shad have a chat and realize this is not going to be a quick fix like I was praying for. It is decided that Shad will make for home by himself while I stay spend the night in a hotel dining on Pizza and coke. I did not feel like a beer, it just did not seem right. I just hoped the Yamaha garage could fix her and I could be on my way sometime tomorrow.

I will let Shad tell his story of the trip home himself;

1900 hrs

Al's bike had really let him down this afternoon, or had it? We had just ridden about 3000 miles around Tunisia with no breakdown cover and the bike, although not perfect had carried him without much problem. We get back to mainland Europe, where we know we can get help and within a few miles the bike lets go. I think maybe somehow it knew it was back in safety and decided now it can just stop and have a rest.

I had decided enough was enough and I was going to shoot for home. I was gutted for Al but deep down I did not think he had any chance of getting the bike going again and if I stayed I would still end up riding back on my own so off I set.

It was bucketing down with rain so I donned my waterproofs and set off west. West I hear you wonder, well I did not want to be messing about in the high Alps in the dark so decided to hit the E80 to Marseille then hang a right and head north through France on the E15.

I had a good sleep during the day so no stopping til home.

2030 hrs

Got to Marseille and decided on the first fuel stop, I had covered about 180 miles on the tank of fuel, not bad I thought. It was pitch black by now and the temperature had dropped so another jacket went on. I was now going to head north on a bigger motorway so I thought I would crank the pace up. It was still raining but I pushed on at 95 - 110 MPH. After an hour or so I looked down WTF my fuel light is on again. that can't be right I thought, I have only done 100 miles. Luckily a petrol station came into view so I pulled in and sure enough I had to put 14 litres of fuel in. The extra speed really drank the fuel so I decided to stick to around 70 for the rest of the trip.

0100 hrs

I was up to about fuel stop 3 or 4 by now, the rain was still falling and I was bloody freezing. I had every bit of warm kit I possessed on. Other than the cold I was feeling good though so onwards and upwards as they say.

0300 hrs

I was somewhere between Lyon and Dijon, still freezing, still loving being on the roads on my own with a purpose in life. Got to get home, Got to get home.

0600 hrs

Reims came into view, I had lost count of fill ups, Red Bulls and packs of sandwiches I had eaten. Time for a change "ill have a double espresso please monsieur". This is going to be one major sugar crash when I get home.

0900hrs

I rolled into Calais, bought the ticket for the train and rolled straight on. Beautiful French efficiency. Stepping off the bike I sat down, blinked and was immediately woken by some French bloke saying "we are in Dover, you have to get off".

1210 hrs.

I rolled up to my house in Bury St Edmunds in East Anglia, tired, happy and absolutely knackered.

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I had covered 1043 miles in 17 hours at an average speed of over 60 MPH. The BMW had not missed a beat and given me immense pleasure and satisfaction along the way.

Right where we going next Al. How about Turkey?

Day 19

Leaving the €40 rip off hotel I walk the mile back down to the garage where my bike has already been loaded into the back of a van ready to take us both to a Yamaha man. I had to pay the €200 recovery fee but hopefully my insurance will cover that.

Once at Yam man he pokes and prods and drains fuel which comes out dirty at first, great me thinks dirty fuel, new fuel I will be back on the road. no!!

Fuel sorted, it is now running clean must have just been dirty pipes, next the oil nothing on the dipstick I try to tell him how much I have used but I only know up to 10 in Italian. I try to make him understand I have used 14 litres in three weeks,

Yam man shakes his head, obviously not understanding, and gives me a look that say’s don’t you know you have to top up the oil every day, if only he new. He try’s one last thing of turning over the engine by the crank there is no resistance. He shrugs pulls his fingers across his throat then pushes the bike to the corner of his yard.

So what happens next, here I am in Italy not knowing what to do. In a way it was a relief. The bike was out of action so the worry of what was wrong, how I was going to get her fixed was solved for me. I just had to concentrate on getting us both home, that seemed the easy option for me. After a few phone calls to the insurance company, asking them if it was possible to get a hire van and drive us home they decided that was not possible but they would sort it.

In the end a taxi was arranged to get me to the nearest airport, which happened to be France. My bike would then be picked up and transported back to Norwich.

It was a very sad journey home. I felt like a cheat, I had done this journey, ridden thousands of miles and here I am getting a plane, it wouldn’t have been so bad if I could of at least driven but a couple of hours in the air and I would be home. My attitude towards Sky had changed. At first I felt hatred and anger for her as she had let me down on the last leg then I realized she had done bloody well to last this long to get me back into Europe where I had insurance cover. She is going to get some extra love and attention once back.



As it is now August 2012 I have only just gotten round to getting her worked on. The engine is out, the head is of. The main problem was that because I had the wrong air fuel mixture after the dyno jetting the piston had black soot which became too thick then broke off getting caught between one of the valves creating a gap from where the gasses passing through melted the valve.

It has in no way put me off riding on long trips and yes I think it will be turkey this year. 7000miles in 3 weeks.

Just got to get a reliable bike now, KTM maybe)))).

Thanks to those that have read the report especially with the long gaps between each posting.

 

[Shadwell]

Nice one Al, I am glad you got around to finishing this.

Just get your ass back here for the end of August so we are not late going on the turkey trip))

 

[(RIP) DitchWater]

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I know that feeling when you're sat on the road looking at a bike that will not start.

Great report and well done to both of you.