The Epic Delivery - Johannesburg to London in 39 days. 4 GS's. 4 Pizzas.

We did the trip in 2007 and while we posted the ride reports on other forms we never shared it with this forum - I cant imagaine why as we ended in London and one of the riders is from London!
Anyway - we have finally produced a DVD which we are selling under the vendor section and respecting how forums work I've got to earn my keep and will post below the entire ride report from our epic adventure through Africa and Europe - all 60 odd pages of it. The report is the actual one we posted as we were doing the trip so please excuse the tenses if they sound out of kilter. So here goes...

Ever heard of a bad idea after 6 beers?

Well, what started as a planned trip through Europe with my mate Curt, ended in a planned 39 day mad dash through Africa from Johannesburg to London. Oh yes… with a 30kg offroad freezer strapped to my GS adventure. With four pizzas inside them.

Look… maybe it was more like 12 beers.

Some backround is probably required at this point.

I run a pizza franchise in South Africa and have been riding a GS for about 5 years, which is the same time I have been riding a bike. A have one broken leg as evidence of my learning curve and the destructive force of a boxer cylinder head as it gently comes to rest on it’s side after a 120kph back wheel slide. I don’t try that anymore.

My Dad is 64 and rides a standard 1200 as the adenture is too high for him. He too has a broken leg for his efforts. And collarbone. And wrist. All in one accident.

Then there is Curt, which is where all this madness started. He lives a cushy lifestyle in the UK and used to ride a 1100S. He has been riding most of his live, but never set a footpeg offroad. He doesn’t have a spleen as part of his leanring curve when a truck ran over him and his bike. He reckons it wasn’t that bad because he got a free helicopter flip (he can be pretty tight) and a succesfull MVA claim, which he used to buy a car.

Jay is the reallky odd one. We asked him to be the support vehicle for this trip which he graciously declined and instead the thought that we nay have more fun then him, prompted him (after at least 6 beers) to buy a 1200 adventure and join us. The thing is… Jay had never ridden a motorcycle in his life. Not even a scooter.

This also meant that we had no support vehicle… bet hey who needs a support vehicle? Not after 6 beers at least.

Then some way through our planning we had the daft idea that we could get some publicity by delivering a pizza to the South African ambassador in London. And wouldn’t it be great if we tried to set a record for the fastest motorcylcle trip from Mandela Bridge in Johannesburg, to Tower Bridge in London. (again, I fear more than 6 beers were behind that idea) And that’s how I ended up with a 30kg freezer strapped to the back of my bike, and just 39 days to get it through the 15000kms of beuracray, gravel, sand and dust that is Africa.

So that’s what this ride report is about. Four riders, four pizzas, and our attempt to overcome our own ignorance about the magnitude of getting four GS’s through Africa and Europe.

Although we do have a website it would be a cop out for us to just point you there so we will post the ride reports and pictures from the site here. If you do want to go to the site the url is http://www.theepicscooterspizzadeliv...a/progress.htm .

A disclaimer: this is not punt about the business but rather an attempt at sharing what must surely be a dream for any male with red blood coursing through his veins. I am starting to send this from half way through Africa, Aswan in the southern tip of Egypt. Since we are still on this world record stint, time does not allow for a complete rewriting of the reports so I will post them as they appear on the site. Jay takes credit for most of the ride reports, and curt and I share video and picture duties.

So… back to the story.

The Route
The route roughly mimics the route an F16 would take were it delivering a pizza from JHB to London. Straight Up! The route will see us travel through eastern Botswana, the length of Zambia and then into Tanzania. Kenya next and then onto the Ethiopian highlands. From there the plan was to head east into Sudan, doing our best to avoid (or ride over) the bandits in the region. A short 18 hour ferry trip takes us into Egypt and then once we get to Cairo we head east along the coast of northern Africa through Libya and into Tunisia. At Tunis we hop over the ocean in a ferry that drops us off in the home of pizza – Italy. In Italy Luigi will deliver a pizza to his 94 year old mother celebrating the 40th year since Luigi left Italy. After that we traverse the Italian Alps and push through to Paris, after which the next stop will be London.15000km. 33 riding days. Over 500km per riding day. 4 sore butts.

Our departure from just below Mandela bridge was the stuff of wet dreams - police escourts (for all the right reasons this time) and speed!
This is the vid from our departure.

http://www.theepicscooterspizzadeliv...a/pod/pod1.htm

Our first border crossing into Botswana and we already broke our first rule - no night riding in Africa. Going through so many countries we simply opted for USD and Euros for currency and then changed at each border. Predictably, we got shafted on more than a few exchange rates but you can always change money at a border in Africa.

Day two was a long day - 800 plus kilometres through Botswana to the kazangula border post where we boarded a ferry to take us across the mighty Zambezi River.



The ferry can take one truck at a time. The queue of trucks (which we skipped) was over a kilometre long.


__________________

Most border crossings require one of us to watch the bikes to prevent theft, while the rest go in an do the mountains of paperwork, including the Carnet. Since I have ahelmet cam mounted I can record and narrate in the helmet without getting locked up in a Sudanese jail for all eternity.
There are "fixers" hanging around at each border which will direct you the relevant offices, which become more and more detached the further north you go.



The ride through Zambia was at warp speed and our first troubles started in Southern Tanzania, on this road. It took us 8 hours to do 260kms from Iringa to Dodoma.



This is the firs ride report we posted after this hell trip.

From Dodoma, Southern Tanzania.
5th September 2007

Pre-dawn in the hilltop top town of Iringa and the Mullahs had begun their wailing call to invite the faithful to wake and pray. I found myself awoken unceremoniously from an exhausted sleep. Now, to be clear, I invest a great deal of effort in having no opinion on most matters of a religious nature but as I lay in bed pondering the cause of my early wake up, it occurred to me how the first tiff between Christian and Muslim may have arisen. I can imagine an early Christian sticking his head out of his window to yell at the first Mullah that got it in his head to start wailing from a tower at 4 AM one fine morning in early history and bang there you have it – several millennia of misunderstandings
Iringa is the bigger town in southern, central Tanzania and proved to be a colorful home for four weary pizza crusaders for a night that was spent uploading content for web site, video and radio via our Blue Sky Satellite Data Terminal. To give some context to the town, a quote from the ‘Lonely Planet Guide to Africa’ describes a local restaurant, ‘Hast Tast Too’ as one of Iringa’s highlights. We beat a hasty path to this apparent Mecca after having it recommended by two American students busy establishing a girls school outside of Iringa. ‘Hasty Tasty Too’ turned out to be a run down 10 seater café on a dilapidated corner of Iringa’s main road. Not to be deterred by appearances, we charged in and soon fell into deep conversation with Mike, a large fellow originally from Boston, USA, and his Tanzanian wife and 3 charming kids. With assurances from Mike that the food would not disappoint, we tucked into welcome and well deserved meals while being regaled by tails of his more than 20 years in Tanzania aiding developing farmers with their livelihoods.
With our bellies once again obscuring our feet, we fell back into the Isimilia hotel, where we finished our labors and fell into a nervous sleep.
Nervous, only because we had committed to taking our bikes on the first serious patch of dirt, the next morning. The wild 260 km track of corrugations and rocks between Iringa and Dodoma was to be the first real challenge to our heavily loaded GS 1200 bike’s weighing in at around 400 kg each, with rider. We were each apprehensive as to how our ‘big girls’ would handle the indignities of a Tanzanian dirt track and did not have to wait long find out.

9 hours later, our dusk stained faces lit up at the sight of Dodoma. We had survived our first wild African dirt, ‘survive’ being the operative word. Dignity had been an optional extra for the day’s riding. Some of us arrived with it intact, others of has had spilled our lunch carts all over the sandy track and had put in some heavy lifting practice. Curt had tackled his first dirt on a GS ever and considering, had done well with only a single spill and a few near misses. At 15h00, we were famished, too tired to continue onwards to Arusha and only too keen to be adopted by a gentlemanly Tanzanian saint by the name of Wallace, who happened to own the Capital Park Café in Dodoma’s Nyerere park. Wallace sorted us out with a solid shot to the arm of chicken and chips which was panning out to be our staple African meal. He then drove us to a ‘safe, quite and cheap’ motel of his recommendation and made sure that we were settled and happy. An absolute gentleman - we were privileged to have met him.
Unfortunately we have lost 500 km from today’s route plan with our slow progress on the dirt. Tomorrow, onwards to a big, big day and a 1000 km ride to Arusha in Tanzania’s North. Time is becoming of the essence if we are to get to Nairobi in time to have our bike’s serviced and our tires changed in preparation for the push into North Africa.

This was the Oasis that Wallace owned in Dodoma. He is an ex-policeman that was given this concession in Capital park which has statue of Nyerere at it;s centre. personally I think the GS's give it the sparkle it lacked...



Oh yes... we met the ex-president of Zambia during one of our refuelling stops. Kenneth Kaunda was genuinely taken back by Luigi attempting this trip.

We ate at "Hasty tasty too" in Iringa and this is where we were warned about the road we had just travelled - given the shock that was to blow we should have listened to local knowledge.


Some photos of the road from Iringa to Dodoma - our first hell road. This road was to prove to be our first rear shock absorber breaker.

Lots of bridges over the river that should have been...


It would turn out that this donkey cart would get to our intended destination before us.


Curt picking his bike up after his first fall of the trip. Not bad considering he had never done an offorad kilometre before and not bad considering he had never ridden his bike before this trip. He bought it in SA and Carlo rode it in for him to it's first service.


The video after Curts little bike fall in the sand. (opens in a separate window)
http://www.theepicscooterspizzadelivery.co.za/pod/pod6.htm

this one is from my headcam

http://www.theepicscooterspizzadelivery.co.za/pod/pod7.htm


Our lunch break at half way. 140kms in 4 four hours. Temparature was about 35 degrees. In the shade we think.


The best way to be riding a GS - upright and on the throttle.


Not an insanely technical road but with over 75kgs of packed weight per bike and a sandy road, the edge always looked too close...


Our meal in Dodoma - manna from heaven after the day we had had. Chicken and chips was to be the staple up the equator.

This is the second ride report:

Dodoma to Arusha. 960kms. No rearshock absorber. One bouncy day!


When the German engineers at BMW Motorrad conceived the GS Adventure, I would suggest that they started with a massive rear shock absorber, bolted on some wheels, whipped an engine out of the first small car they came across and tacked this on, just to show they could.
The thing, you see, is that when the rear shock absorber on a GS goes, it is not an event that it easily ignored. This became abundantly clear to our group of four Pizzateers when we stopped to breath in the magnificent sunrise between Dodoma, the political capital of Tanzania and the Indian ocean coast to be greeted by the unmistakable drip, drip of hydraulic fluid from under the bike carrying the freezer.
Clearly the previous day’s punishment on the dirt from Iringa to Dodoma had been too much for the heavily laden bike and she was going to make us pay the price. And pay we did, Carlo rode the increasingly unridable beast over 900 km of Tanzanian roads and through the first puncture of the trip as we made a dash for Arusha, under the skirts of Kilimanjaro. By the time Uhuru peak stuck its head coyly from behind its veil of clouds, the ailing GS was bucking and side stepping like a crazed rodeo bull. To add to the excitement, the East African sun was racing for cover behind Kilimanjaro’s uglier sister, Mt Meru, bloodying Uhuru’s snowy flanks with a warning that we would be finishing our journey in the dark.
We were not disappointed, travelling at night on East African roads is a fate that should only be reserved for the criminally insane and the terminally stupid. We are not of the former group, which only leaves the latter option. Arusha is a mad house of weaving, hooting traffic and mildly psychotic pedestrians mixed in with a gentle infusion of milling goats and the odd cow. None, of the above, you will appreciate, being of the highly reflective sort. By the time we found sanctuary at the Link Hotel, we had nearly lost Luigi to a traffic inspired disaster in a concrete drainage canal that left our nerves badly jangled and in need of alchoholic consolation. Even the fact that the hotel was fully booked, could not persuade us back onto the seething road and we managed to impress on management the wisdom of allowing us to pitch our tents on the lawn outside the hotel bar.
So it was, that the hotel patrons all shared the wonders of changing out a busted GS shock with the spare shock that we had cleverly thought to bring along with us.
We had made good time today with just over 960 km under our belts to show for our efforts and almost back on schedule, with the Namanga border post and Nairobi in our sights for the next morning. It looked like we would make our critical date with ‘Mashikiri Motors’ in Nairobi and the tyre change and service that our bikes needed to carry us into North Africa.

The road to Arusha was lush and long.


It was while posing for this photo that Luigi spotted some fluid leaking from my shock... the start of a long and bouncy day


With over 900kms to do lunch was always going to be short stop...


Bread, bananas and nik naks...


Along the way Jay was exploring all options in case another shock went..


We pushed too hard to get to Arusha and ended up there in the dark. The traffic is nothing short of manic and after nearly crashing a few times we decided to pull into the first hotel... and not move for love nor money. Trouble is they had no room and we had to camp in the courtyard.


It was here that we changed the shock... the first time took about 45 minutes. Not bad we thought for first timers. Where did we get the shock? We carried two extra ones...

Ride report three.

Arusha, Tanzania to Nairobi, Kenya

7 September 2007

Goats are a staple feature of the Masai landscape. I suspect that they are exceptionally useful creatures providing meat, milk, skin and probably the occasional solice to a lonely herd boy. No doubt, they also allow your average Masai tribesman to show off his cows in front of jealous neighbors for longer while he uses up his goats for the serious business of staying alive in the arid northern Tanzanian landscape.

The other thing about goats is that they make for lousy traction under a motorbike, a fact that Carlo nearly illustrated as we ran between Meru and Kilimanjaro for the Namanga border post into Kenya on the 8th day of our Epic Delivery.

Whether he bunny hopped over the startled creature or actually swerved is still a matter of debate amongst the team. For sure, there is one goat in the shadows of Kilimanjaro with an ever so slight knobbly pattern showing down one flank. That would make number 3 for Carlo. Puncture, shock absorber and now goat - let’s hope his tally rests here.

The border post into Kenya shrunk into our rear view mirrors with almost no incident bar some robber barons trying to sheist us with counterfeit 3rd party insurance.

We could almost taste Nairobi ahead of us and the prospect of a half a day out of the saddle.

Nothing that I have experienced previously could have prepared me for the traffic maelstrom that greeted us as far as 20 km outside of Nairobi. The sheer physics of trying to squeeze so many dilapidated skoro skoro’s, heavy trucks and battered 4x4’s onto Nairobi’s crumbling roads and endless roundabouts is enough to make the mind boggle.

We were lucky in that we were able to locate our destination without serious incident and get the all important work going on the bikes. In the short time that we stayed in Nairobi, we were to meet a collection of the most incredible and generous people that anyone could have been privileged to meet. From our mechanical angel, Mike, the boss man of Mashikiri Motors to Ian, Jamey and the other crazed young Kenyans and of course Nish and Jeremy – good friends of Curt’s brother, Brett. We were swept up in a blaze of action, servicing bikes, organizing forex, 3rd party insurance, resupplies for the road ahead, unpacking and repacking bikes, dinner, drinks, more drinks and bravely – one more drink.

Our experience on the dirt in Tanzania had struck a religious chord in each of us and of course the Lord helps those who travel light. All of us tore into our bikes with fundamentalist fervor, determined not to be the next Epic Rider to blow a shock and have to wrestle an unwilling steer over the Ethiopian border. Inevitably, this resulted in a pile of previously ‘essential’ items on the workshop floor that needed transportation home which was duly organized by one of our willing flock of Nairobi angels.

With less sleep than I might have liked and Gandhi’s flip flop clenched firmly between my teeth (I swear it was that last drink that did it !) we were ready to turn our bikes back into the stream of Nairobi traffic and fight our way north to Mt Kenya and an overnight stop at Nanyuki to gird our loins for possibly the most challenging section of road that our frozen pizza’s would have to face – the tortured track from Isiola to Moyale on the Ethiopian border. We were now lighter, wiser and mentally refreshed after our grueling run up to Nairobi from Johannesburg. North Africa – here we come !
__________________

car said:

Anyway - we have finally produced a DVD which we are selling under the vendor section and respecting how forums work

Click to expand...

RR looks good. You'll need to subscribe to sell anything on here though. A mod will be along soon.

Thanks for the heads up Dansin. Have subscribed lest we get flamed for trying to peddle our almost ill-gotten wares.

The Tanzania/Kenya border was one of the easiest we have been through. We didn;t even use a fixer for this one but it took two hours nonetheless.


Mount Kenya keeps a watchfull eye the going on in Nairobi


I must warn you about Mike Harrison at Mashiriki motors - he does what he says - we arrived in Nairobi through the mad traffic in the afternoon. In three or four hours he arranged to have our bikes oil changed, rear tyres changed, arranged forex, got a quote from DHL to send stuff back home as we were too heavy, arranged COMESA 3rd party insurance, and still had time for a quick lunch with us.


We stayed at the Karen Campsite in Nairobi. Well worth it - out of the traffic and owned by a freindly bunch of people. It is an overlanders stopover so a great place to get information about roads etc either north or south bound.


The menu at the Karen campsite. Little were we to know that just two days later, stranded in the middle of nowwhere, that this would be the only option.


It gets really hot in a topbox! We forgot these is Jays topbox for two days while in Nairobi!


The expat community in Nairobi is enormous and well resourced. If you can think it they can probably arrange it. This was at the double inn - owned by the lady in the centre bottom. They make a horrible (only for me it seemed) vodka and honey shooter. Big hangover the next day...

And the last one before we left Nairobi. I cam across this poster stuck on an overlander truck that was being stores at the Karen campsite. It is an Itlian translation of the advert that Henry Shackleton placed when looking for volunteers his 1914 South Pole expedition. Translated it reads:

"We are looking for men
for an expedition of great adventure.
Modest Pay. Extreme cold.
Long months of total darkness.
Constant danger.
Return home not gauranteed.
Honour and acknolwdgement
in the event of success."

Too beautiful!!

With our bikes serviced, our load lightened by the shedding of all stuff we hadn't used to date we prepared for the hell road in northern Kenya. Bandits, potholes corrugations. The plan was Nairobi to Nanyuki, a small stretch, as we had left Nairobi late and then take two days to so the 500km of offroad in the northern frontier...

Here is our ride report from the Nairobi - Nanyuki leg.

Nairobi to Nanyuki
8 September 2007

Trying to exit from Nairobi, for Nanyuki, it occurred to me why there are so many cars in the city. I suspect strongly that at any one time, a significant percentage of them have been driving aimlessly for days looking for a route out of the sprawling African metropolis. This city seems to suck you in and then hold on to you like quick sand. One confusing and congested traffic circle after the next, with hooters being used more as sonar devices than as warning signals. Thank goodness for our Garmin GPS’, I can imagine us having to eventually pull over and take up Kenyan wives and basket weaving in desperation at not being able to leave the city had it not been for our trusty Garmin Zumos.
An uneventful ride up to Nanyuki at the foot of Mt Kenya and a speedy crossing of the Equator which we stopped on to take pictures and dodge unruly hawkers that had apparently taken ownership of the Equator and were executing their duties as custodians of the imaginary line very seriously.
An early stop at the Sportman’s Arms Hotel outside of Nanyuki which has turned out to be a great spot to catch up on our chores and organize the Gigabytes of stills pictures and video and audio footage that we are building up to document our trip and keep our sponsors forking out the cash.
Tomorrow, a big day – Nanyuki to Marsabit, only 260 km, but apparently a road that has made grown

Finally at the equator. The mythical line. We actually did test the water draining out a hole and believe it or not 20m each side of the line the water did drain out in opposite directions, and in the middle it did not turn at all - just drained out.

The road from Nanyuki to Isiolo is tarred and then from Isiolo to Marsabit it is helluva pretty. It needs to be to make up for the corrugations. The road is fairly tricky for a heavy bike - a bit of sand, loose gravel, some areas of lots of sand and then the corrugations.... and more corrugations.


Our very optimistic GPS thought we would do the 333 from Nanyuki to Marsabit in a little over 4 hours. As it turned out it was closer to 24 hours to reach Marsabit.


Old world meets new...


The view from Meriele where we were stranded...

Nanyuki, Kenya to Merielle, Kenya.
9 September 2007

It has been said that in Africa, if it can go wrong, it will go wrong …. We are reflecting on these words here in an earth floored hut in Merille village. This is Al-azwad Hotel (‘Black’ hotel in Arabic). We have crossed from the Samburu tribe lands into the lands of the Rendille people. We would not know this except for the eloquent explanation of our Somali host, Mohammed, who is the owner and operator of this establishment. We are 120 km from Marsabit and 142 km from Isiola on a tortured road that has met us head on and bested us in a game of corrugations and rocks that no BMW engineer could have anticipated from his carpeted office in Munich. No less than two of the four bikes have blown their rear shock absorbers and we suspect that a third is on its way. This is despite the furious unpacking of unnecessary weight from the bikes in Nairobi. This road is like no other that we have encountered before. The corrugations need to be experienced to be believed and we have certainly experienced it and we are believers.
We cannot get over 25 km an hour with the shocks gone on our bikes and we run the danger of damaging our bikes irreparably by cracking a shock mounting or worse, a bike frame. We flag down a landrover stuffed to the brim with friendly, well armed military looking gentlemen who inform us that we are only a few kilometers from the next village. After some intense debate, we are clear that the best of a bad crop of options is to get our bikes onto a truck and make a run for the Moyale border post where we are hoping that the tar will start and give us reprieve enough to drive our wounded bikes as far as Addis Adaba, the capital of Ethiopia. First problem – how to find a truck both big enough and available enough to load four 300 kg motorcycles out here in one of the wildest places I have yet experienced ? Second problem, when we find a truck, where do we get two GS shock absorbers to replace our busted ones anywhere in Africa outside of South Africa ? Time to start working our satellite phones like our lives depend on it (and they probably do). After a few dead ends and voice messages, we get hold of Tamryn, Carlo’s wife, who starts trying to rouse the right people out of their South African Sunday afternoons. Nothing more we can do on that issue, we are in Tamryn’s hands.
Next challenge, find aforementioned truck. We set off for the pomised village and are not disappointed when we find the village of Merille a few kilometers up the road with, who would believe it, an 8 ton truck idling at the side of the road. Not so easy, we fall into deep negotiation with several serious looking gentleman, one of whom claims to own the truck, the other to be driving it and the chief negotiator who turns out to be a school teacher and several local spectators for good measure. The problem, as we soon find out, is that there are 150 irritable goats already occupying the truck, with an urgent appointment to keep at the Nairobi markets a full day and night’s drive to the south.
With Luigi heading up our negotiating team, we fall into an excruciatingly slow and insufferably polite African dance of bluff, parry and counterbluff. Feeling first for the scope of the deal then testing the extent of our need, taking a measure of our desperation, gently probing to ascertain just how much money we might have available to us before closing in ever deceasing circles on a vague offer of service and a price that might be acceptable to start disagreeing with.

This was at first our meeting and negoating room and once that part had been sorted out it became our hotel room until the goat truck arrived....


Luigi always seems to get the best attention in Africa. Age is invaluable - well actually its value was one goat truck - to be exact.


Having not eaten since the previou night the 4pm offer of goat ribs and a potato seemd like manna - until we tried it. Strangely goat was to feature a few more times during the next few days.


The inside of our hotel...

During the frist part of the trip we had been spending 9-11 hours per day in the saddle and Curts ass was starting to take the pain. Here is his version of how sore his anoos was...

http://www.theepicscooterspizzadelivery.co.za/pod/pod3.htm