Round 1: Eastern Europe

Sarajevo

We have a day off in Sarajevo. What a great city. I walk almost 20km on the day off. Round and round. It's ace- a first class place and very relaxed. Great vibe. Nice bars as I've said, and good places to eat. We stay at the recommended Hotel Hecco, which is fine, a ten minute amble from the old town. It's adequate and pretty cheap with good covered parking.

Here’s the Parliament building which you might recall the pictures of it being on fire during the Bosnian war, with the famous yellow Holiday Inn opposite where Martin Bell sent his broadcasts from. I remember it well and it is strange to be here.

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The scars of the war are everywhere :(

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My eyes have been giving me problems, and worse still I've managed to scratch my sun visor on the helmet so that it is not really useable. Very frustrating. I'd been using a pair of old Oakleys but they were pinching on the back of my head and it was a bit wearing. So I looked to source a new pair of sunglasses, and get these hooky Ray-Bans in the Bazaar there.

Wanted look: Top Gun. Attained Look: Spud Gun. I also bought a nice red T-Shirt with 'Sarajevo' and a silly little cartoon man on it. The lady didn't have XXL for a fat knacker, but she had one specially printed up for me. I feel happy and sad at the same time.

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Time to start heading North tomorrow.
 
Sarajevo to Osijek

I find my Lonely Planet book stuffed where it shouldn't be in my packing. Apologies to the people of Romania.

Well now. Lonely Planet's extensive view of Eastern Croatia is summarised as thus: Zero. Nothing. Nada.
Not to be deterred by some trustafarian called Pippa, we decide to explore the place. We didn't really know we wanted Osijek, we just wanted to head North as time was a' callin.

The route out of Sarajevo is quite superb. I'm running out of superlatives to use, as you’ve probably guessed. It is a ten minute run through town, and then a fifteen minute run off to where the going gets really good. Why can't all capital cities be like this! Once we've cleared the suburbs the resultant run is quite, quite beautiful. I took a leaf from another thread here and slowed down a little (plus I'm worried about the gearbox) but the result was something rather special.

We run through the hill, back to the flat lands and more lovely fields of Sunflowers, crossing in to Croatia once again. We land in Osijek and it looks like a fine place so we'll stay. Dave drops his KTM on the front of a Mercedes whilst we're jockeying around to get to the hotel. Thankfully there's no real damage and the fella couldn't have been nicer. How sweet.

After gaining excellent modest accommodation at the Pension of the Hotel Waldinger we wander off for beers. Again, we're the right side of the tightwad index: Plenty of beers, wine and a good meal (and it was excellent, actually) for two for less than £30. We have pre-dinner drinks at a hotel by the river, accompanied by some heavy Zither from the local band. A sweet girl from the hotel enters us to a tombola. Again, we're initally flummoxed with our 'what do you want or how much' views, but the simple answer is nothing.. 'Would you like to enter the tombola?'
Dave wins a daft whistle, and I get a large Osijek beer branded hand on a stick. Very handy. She also gives me a rather splendid bottle opener because I'm from London. You gotta get those perks while you can :)

:beerjug:
 
Osijek to Uzghorod

If we were going to sample the brief delights of the Ukraine, we'd better shake a legski. But, as has been consistent throughout this trip, one wasn't going to 'knock one's pipe out' with all of that preparation stuff.

The drive North out of Osijek is straight forward, and half an hour in we're into Hungary with no fuss. We've resigned ourselves to the fact we're going to need to cover some miles today, so Motorway will be a fair amount. Over the border we stop at a truckstop for a Vignette. It's a piece of till-roll, but it is personally tailored to your registration. I have some Fiorint and it just covers the two vignettes and a cheese roll. We decide to change our international currency description from 'groat' to 'klopek'.

I've been criticised for looking miserable in picture of my on board footage on Facebook and here (Micky) so ner, and this is for you :)

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Hitting the M6 towards Budapest and the going is very, very quiet. The Hungarian road is excellently organised and the surfaces first class. We must have seen just a few other cars and rattle along nicely at 130kmh, stopping short of Budapest at a 'Mol' Petrol station. A very good place to stop- free internet and folks who are pleased to see us. We run into a Slovakian lad and his mate on a Suzuki Burgmann who are on the way back to Bratislava and chat for a while.

It's toasty hot- still 35 degrees indicated and my eyes are drying out very quickly in the heat. Quite wearing.

The Motorway takes you in to Budapest with little choice for a ring road style detour, so we get to see Budapest and have a ride along the river. We don't find much traffic and pop out the otherside on to the M3. There are stops for water on the Motorways- very wise in the heat. We stop. A biking pal once gave me a good tip- if you wet your neck scarf then it is cooling when you ride. I've extended this in the heat on this trip to my gloves, the inside of my lid, a sweat band, and finally now to tipping the water all over myself. It does really work though.

We stop at another petrol station. I've been carrying Dave's jacket, and my own, and plus other things hitched to the load. As we're heading off we're distracted by some total dick who decides to park right against me, in the middle of the petrol station blocking the exit to the pump. It flusters me for a moment. I inform the inhabitants of the car that the driver is 'a fucking idiot' who stare blankly back. I head out. Little did I know I forgot to tie back the straps in and as I pull on to the Motorway I lose Ortlieb bag and my camelbak thingy to the Tarmac. I don't know it- back up to 80mph and look in the mirror, Dave is not there. I sort of get something is wrong and turn around, and there is a blank pannier with fortunately with my inner jacket still loose on having not blown away. I stop on the hard shoulder and curse a lot :( Who's the idiot now then :blast
Dave rolls up about 5 mins later, cleverly balancing my bag stuff on his lap, motorcycling equivalent of seal with a beach ball. That's a real result.
We noticed that at a water stop earlier, these folks don't seem engaged in organised parking.

Our own personal motorway again. Scrabble in Hungarian must be a riot.

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What self respecting 1200 owner hasn't been on a trip to Tescos then? :D

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We cross into Slovakia. It's an open border. Garmin is again on some sort of crazy one. Despite looking for the fastest route out to Uzghorod, it takes us on bendy roads, through gypsy villages (very odd) off down single lane tracks, goodness knows what. It's quite entertaining but not I fear the fastest route.

We reach the Ukraine border at around 7.30 and there's a huge queue. We're a bit miffed and conversation is prickly. Natural I suppose. I have a wander up to the front and find a second queue. Not to be put off, we just fire on up. That's better, we must have knocked an hour off in that single jump. Getting out of Slovakia is just as painful as getting in to Ukraine. A nice lady from customs comes and goes over the bike, wanting to know how much Petrol we have in the tank, mileage of the bike. I have, of course, no idea what the hell she wants re: the Petrol, so she brings over another guard who politely puts me right.
After about 20 minutes there we get to Passport Control on the Slovakian side. A very sweet border guard apologises- 'you should have come yesterday' she said 'we're just very busy tonight'.

We get through now to the Ukraine side. A military checkpoint and a guy gives us a sort of raffle ticket with the registration number of the bike on it. We move forward to customs, and there's a tall stick like fellow, looking like fido dido from the old 7-up adverts waving a paddle.
He moves us about a bit. We wait. And wait some more. He then comes to look at the bike and wants to see in the top box. He finds my medical kit. He looks carefully at what is within and looks at me suspiciously. I don't understand what he wants. I say 'Paracetomol'. He keeps looking at the packaging and pointing and I don't have the language, granted, but Jesus, this bloke is totally bloody gormless.
Eventually he summons his boss. Olegski saunters over, takes a look and says 'It's Paracetomol'. Fido replaces everything and throws it in the top box. He looks some more, using the words 'lekky lekky lekky', I have no idea what he wants. I am trying desperately not to laugh. Dave catches my eye and it gets worse. I can only imagine I am wearing some sort of painful contorted face, a bit like the stroke advert.

Finally after Passport control, where next Olegski is a whole lot more jolly, and says 'Biker club?', we get sent to a final military checkpoint where the guy gestures for us to go in to the distance and pull a wheelie. Ah, the friendlier side of Ukraine :)

So we're here, behind the corrugated curtain.

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Uzghorod is right on the border, so we've no trouble getting in to town, apart from Garmin's continued acid trip. I decide to navigate manually and the hotel is easily found. Secure parking, a reasonably nice room aside from zany carpet, but the mandatory shower where the housing is broken (I think the last five hotels have all had the same thing).

With the border taking an hour plus, and the faffing, plus losing an hour it is now 10.30pm.

Not to be deterred we set off in the murk of the town for beer and hopefully food. We find a pizza place that still serves and we get food and beers. Our waitress is getting a hard time from another waitress; she's working her cods off and is trying so hard poor thing. We give her the US 20 dollar bill we'd been reserving for the bribing of Mr Plod, should it have been required.
Weird. Every bloke in the place is totally pissed. The girls all look bored, no wonder.

Not wanting to give up now we ask the manager of the place for somewhere else to drink that is open. She gets us a taxi and instructs the driver. We're taken across the dim pot holed streets in a dingy Hyundai with no clutch. That was luxury. We have beers. The return journey is in a Lada Estate car to which the term 'totally knackered' is understatement of the century. The driver smiles though.

I also post the Ukraine pic of the bike by the sign on my Facebook status. Among the responses to my epic global travels is this little gem. Stuff my old boots :D

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My left eye is now getting super painful.

The Ukraine is getting two very pissed thumbs up :bow :beer:
 
Quote ... "I've been criticised for looking miserable in picture of my on board footage on Facebook and here (Micky) so ner, and this is for you"

So I wasn't on my own then Rob :eek:

Keep it coming :thumb

:beerjug:
 
Uzghorod to Krakow

It was only a quick dip in to Ukraine, despite a short sortie it has been an experience and good fun.

An early start without knowing too much what to expect from the biking day ahead, aside from anticipated joy at the border exit which didn't disappoint as predicted and another hour of my life I won't get back. Back at the hotel the little man had looked after our bikes from his eagle eyed caravan position and we had breakfast with the former Soviet influence of service of total indifference. All was good though. It's still hot- 32 degrees by the time we're in the saddle just after 10am.

Ukraine has a chain of Petrol stations called 'Wog'. Ooh, the chuckles.

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Eventually we cross back in to Slovakia and we're back into the Eurozone with 95 at EUR 1.54 a litre. Should have filled up at Wog. I get chatting to a local guy at the Petrol Station. 'It's so nice to see visitors here' he says 'we never see anyone'. We spend a while and he's a good fellow. I ask him about a good route towards Poland and Krakow; he peers at the GPS and gives me pointers, which turn out splendidly. Excellent fast roads flowing roads as we link up the National Park areas. We pop up in Poland by Lake Czorsztynskie, evidently a keen getaway spot, passing some festival or other and hoardes of flip-flop clad weekend revellers.

We take another stop and I've not got into the routine of placing a mineral water bottle over my eye and pouring it on to soothe the pain, sort of looking up through a watery telescope. I sure get some odd looks, but it works.

Shortly after resuming we hit our first traffic jam in 4,000 miles on the Route 47 heading towards Krakow :) It's all good though, a bit of a novelty actually. The traffic parts and lets us go through, everyone is very happy for us to filter and pass; there's a notable improvement in the driving.

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To Krakow. The route in to town is quick and rapid. Poles, it seems, don't slow down in town. We stay in the Royal Hotel, recommended from this Parish. Bikes shut away in a courtyard and the place is just fine with everyone really friendly and helpful. It's just a stone throw from the old town. We have a few Tyskies punctuated with the odd Lech (the beer, not the activity) and watch Spain batter Italy. There's a group of Italians in, all family together, and they're mortified, can't help feeling sorry for them.
We find a small place just after midnight for tasty Beef Stroganoff and more Tyskie and retire in a suitable haze.

Given the surroundings we take a day off and sit in the old town square having a very extended lunch and drinking cocktails. I did buy a 'I love Krakow' sticker but there's not a lot else to tell. High quality me-time, don't you know.

My left eye didn't open on its own this morning, I sort of had to prise it open. It's very tender. A pharmacy is found and drops recommended. I hope they work, not sure I fancy another 1500 miles on one eye.

Mileage from home to Krakow now stands at 4,200.
 
Krakow to Bialystock

We're bound for the Baltic states, so the natural place is towards.. Well that way, innit, up and to the right. We accept that it'll be a day of munching some miles, and so settle in to do some boring motoring. We head out of Krakow Northbound, planning to swerve around Warsaw to the right and see how we go.

The Polish roads are OK but don't seem terribly well organised. You would find a two lane stretch that would head over a blind summit, into a curve and road narrowing to a single lane, with predictable worries. Not great. Also, there was startlingly little amount of dual carriageway sections between the first and second cities. A lot of drivers seemed bored and distracted on the road towards Warsaw. I followed a guy in an Audi for quite a while, and I think he was just about doing everything else but paying attention to driving.

We learn new road language such as 'Roboty Drogowe' and 'Uwaga'. Ah, the joys of international road travel.

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It didn't seem so long before we saw the inevitable.

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We stop for lunch at a place called Warka, home to another Polish beer. Sadly that is off limits. We have dumplings and pancakes.

Back to the road. As we move North East there is a startlingly high volume of HGV traffic and we participate in what feels to be the first national 'Lorry Overtaking Championships'. They're everywhere, but very considerate, moving over to let us pass, indicating to help us get by where we can go. It feels like this is the territory for professional drivers to operate properly.

We spend a lot of time with this kind of view..

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To Bialystock and we haul up at a Best Western. A good dinner and a cocktail and we conclude todays' dead day of expected boring motoring hadn't been that boring at all. Not exactly stunning roads, but plenty to keep you on your toes, and the compliant nature of the traffic just egged you on to keep going. We reflect on some comments on the Gser site about the bad standard of motoring in Poland. True, in the towns it seems alarming with cars zipping past kiddies on bicycles at 60mph, but compared to where we've been it is blessed relief.

I catch up with the news. I'm a bit out of date, having deliberately ignored as much as possible. Harry Redknapp has been sacked and now replaced by Andreas Villas-Hatstand. Andy Murray is still a miserable looking git. A Turkish jet has been shot down over Syria. Interesting.. we saw three jets heading east whilst we were back in Bandirma.. but that was a while ago now.
 
Excellent, Rob.. keep it coming :thumb

If you fancy losing another 3-hours of your life, try cutting the corner and heading into Belarus :eek:

No mossies yet? Look forward to the forests :surrender
 
Uzghorod to Krakow

We stay in the Royal Hotel, recommended from this Parish. Bikes shut away in a courtyard and the place is just fine with everyone really friendly and helpful. .

You didn't get told you were blocking the bin lorry in the yard then :rolleyes:
 
This just gets better and better.:thumb Keep up the good work Rob.:beerjug:
 
Thanks again for all of the comments, much appreciated :thumb

:beerjug:

If you fancy losing another 3-hours of your life, try cutting the corner and heading into Belarus :eek:

Well, we didn't bother safe in the knowledge you got thrown out :aidan

No mossies yet? Look forward to the forests :surrender

Oh, erm, yeah. I forgot. Now where did I put that bite cream? :confused:

You didn't get told you were blocking the bin lorry in the yard then :rolleyes:

They did shuffle us about there. Funny, I'm glad I checked specifically with the guy at the time and made sure because I could see a 'you'll have to shift it mate' moment coming. Still no problems and we left everything on the bike. :thumb
 
Something I'd sent had gotten lost in the post.

Hi Rob

Pleased to be a microcosm of the report. It never did turn up....

Great reading and inspiring stuff. The missus just caught me having a read and stressed "You're stuck here with us!" I think she could see the wonderlust from another room.

Enjoy!
 
great fun reading this

best £12 I ever spent

Thats a 1200 that is :D
 
Come on, stop having a good time and give us an update:aidan
 
Cheers again for the comments.. more coming up folks :thumb2
 
Bialystok to Vilnius

A relatively short day this. It's a jolly good breakfast at the hotel: Self made bacon roll, much to the bemusement of the staff in me wrecking their ciabatta presentation, requesting ketchup and making a mess.

The biking day starts as much of the previous day had finished- the good Lorry Overtakers' guide. We get some dual carriageway outside the city and are doing a steady 80 or so when some cabbage on a Honda comes past me in the gap between the armco and me, i.e. not very much at all at a 100 or so. I see him coming and it all panning out so I'm not shocked, otherwise I would have been if I was in a daydream. His name I think is 'Jozef' because he has it stencilled on the back of his Givi top box, the useless fecker. Anyway, he slows to sling a left turn across the other carriageway and crosses over. I give lots of friendly toots to catch his eye, and as he crosses and looks back I turn my friendly wave into a massive wanker gesture. He had a double take and a little wobble. Twat. If I'd have not spied him coming and veered just a little bit it would have been nasty.

We leave Jozef to ponder his MotoGP career and branch out east to cross over into Lithuania. We hit another scenic spot for Poles up by the lakes in the border and stop for a quick drink before we say goodbye Poland. We have 14 Zlotys/Klopeks to dispose of, so it's go mad time, buying lots of soft drinks and miscellaneous crap. We still can't seem to hit the target, so that's more smash in the tank bag. Dave makes the acquaintance of an ex-professional Polish footballer and his wife who now live in Australia.

We cross in to Lithuania. Again, no border; the area time past looks to have had a mighty presence, with installations, look out posts, lots of outbuildings, but now there is nothing and everything is rotting away rather sadly. It is raining a little bit so I don’t bother to mess about with the country sign photo.

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In Poland we saw only two active Police on the roads. One bike at an accident, and a stray Volvo, so I can't report a massive presence there. Lots of speed cameras forward facing though, so top tip: Don't write your name and address on the front of your Tour X, and all will be dandy.

As I am reminded by Lonely Planet, we're now in the back garden of Europe's worst drivers and highest road death rate on the continent. There's a noticable deterioration on the roads, but traffic is too slim to notice.

It starts to rain heavily as we get in to Vilnius, but thankfully Garmin is playing ball and the run in from the main road is really simple. The traffic becomes erratic and difficult. Luckily I'd booked a hotel outside the old town (tightwad) and it has parking, so all is mellow. We have a tourist wander and install ourselves in Zoe's bar and grill where we eat well and drink a few cocktails. At 9pm we're good for nowt so it is time to collapse.

Today is only the second day since day 6, Croatia that the tempertature has been below 30 degrees for any length of time whatsoever. Not complaining, mind.
Total Miles from London to Vilnius stands at 5,219. Eye much better; gearbox clunk has not worsened but watching brief remains.

Oh.. And one other thing.. 'In Your Pocket' guides are superb. Track them down, they're normally free at hotels or you can download them.
 
Vilnius to Smiltene

It's an 'It's-a-knockout' mision to dislodge the bikes, get them out of the parking area, through the barrier, on to the main road cobbles before we can get out of here. All works out fine, so we're out of Vilnius to a 'Neste' Petrol Station. We don't like Neste. We like Shell, Lukoil, OMV, BP (Or whatever wobbly Polish name they use, it's like 'Winfieldy' or something), MOL, Statoil, any of the Albanian ones. Not Neste. It has people working in it. Lord only knows what they do. You have to undertake a Krypton Factor style search to find and use the machine to pay and pre-authorise what you need. Net result: I get a full tank from a 100 klopeks, Dave loses patience understandably and ends up with a thimble full.

We head out. It's raining hard but we're getting on with it, until my Wunderlich crash bar bag decides to do a runner yet again. This time I see it happen. Good grief. It irks me, because I really have been careful to attach it fully after the Romania debacle. The bloody thing has got my disc lock in it though, so I think, I should at least give it a go to try and fetch. It's a decent detour back to where I can cross the dual carriageway back to go even further to where I can do the U turn. I spy it in the middle of the road as I fly past doubling back and thankfully it's still there when I get back around again. Not good though, here's me tap dancing amongst the traffic, in the pissing rain, in Europe's most dangerous motoring territory, to go and get a stupid little bag. You're reading this though, so it works out.
Note: Wunderlich, I want to talk to you. Before then the cable ties are coming out though.

Still raining, we cross over into Latvia. We're doing OK. We take a kind of a motorway, which has been repaired so many times the GS at 70mph is vaguely remimniscant of a spacehopper. It kind of works though so on we go.
We stop off and draw some local funds and go to a deli-coffee shop affair. I've a very good Latvian friend; unfortunately the only phrase she has ever taught me is 'I'm looking for Strawberry Jam', and I can’t imagine that will help. I don't even try it, as the woman behind the counter definitely isn't pleased to see us.

We're left with a relatively long trawl though middle Latvia. The roads become more minor, until we approach a strange road sign. A black road with a white road at the top of it. What could that mean?

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Ahhhh.. That's what it means, as we hit it at 60. Fu-fu-fu-ffffffff---gravel!!!!

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Latvia. The Gravel Lover's paradise, number one destination in this years edition of 'The Good Gravel Guide'. You lot can forget poncing around in Morocco; go to Latvia, you'll get all the off-piste gravel parlava you want plus a bit more. Fine gravel, heavy gravel, mahoosive gravel, gravel in sand, roads under construction gravel, suicidal sand rutted tracks with a light gravel dressing. You name it, you got it. Oh, and chuck in the odd bulldozer track for that teeth rattling cherry on the cake.

We must have done 70km on unmade roads. At first it is all good fun, then OK, but as the roads deteriorate it gets harder and harder. You get some light relief through villages, but then it's back with a vengance. I'm no great off roader and it tells, espcially with my bike with all of the shite on it. In the wet sandy parts, where roads are mid-build it gets really tough. We stop and then stop again, the second stop I'm having enough for a bit. Fortunately we do about another 5km and then it's good old concrete all the way, even with all of the crazy patching it's really rather nice.

We get to Smiltene early in the evening. Why Smiltene? Well, I have a wedding to go to. We're being looked after by locals and it's splendid. The bikes are stowed in the wood shed. Beers, more beer, food, more food. Lovely, and In the company of the lovely Inga.
What a very nice place indeed.

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The weather has cleared up and we're sitting in the pleasant evening. We realise its nearly midnight, still lovely and light. Stark contrast to the 9pm disappearing light of Bandirma. How far North we've come now, we're sort of UK equivalent Aberdeen'ish.
I collapse off to bed, really tired, but sleep fabulously.
 


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