Ktm Gigolo

Life on a KTM Adventure is much like life as a gigolo... I assume... much of the time one ride is much the same as any other.. going through the motions.. nothing special... same old same old... arriving on time ... satisfied but not sated. Sometimes the ride will rock your world.. grab you by every nerve ending you have and shake you hard.. mirror every move you make in perfect synchronicity and take you screaming over the line exhausted and bathed in sweat. Sometimes the ride will be lumpy, loose and uncomfortable.. unpredictable .. painful even.. accompanied by strange noises and unpleasant hot smells.. and sometimes you seriously wonder if you will get to the line without your riding partner expiring underneath you... This is the story of a KTM gigolo.

It all started so well. Me and one other ride out to Asia, meet a few others for a while then head to a far flung foreign port to ship the bikes home. I've got all the visas.. I've got the carnet .. everything is ready to go. Three days before I leave. I'll just check where the engine number is. I know it will be checked against the carnet. I get down on my hands and knees and take a look..



OK then ... I just lay on my back in the garage.. this could be a problem.. I bought the bike off a bloke that had it from new.. how the fuck do I end up with a bike with no engine number.. apart from the obvious. Jesus.. I need a plan...

On my last trip to Russia I threw the bike down the road ... well ... sand.. and really crumpled and bent the pannier rails. Jesse rails are made from a cheese/chocolate alloy and you only have to fart near them and they bend .. even a small fart will do it. I asked around and found a fabricator in a shed just up the road that builds wings for airliners by night and helps restore old aircraft by day. I got him to copy my pannier rails but in 16mm solid steel bar.







Hard as nails... I also had him knock me up a rack to mount my spare tyres and make them easier to carry.





So.. Plan A.. call the fabricator with the engine number and dimensions of the area to cover .. he gives me a call with 1 day to go .. "ready". I go and collect them and file the ends round ..



Stick it on ..



Well ... that looks ... ummmm. Maybe if it was a 1916 Sopwith Pup that would be believable but I don't want some bored border guard with a huge mustache and a sharp pencil telling me to bugger off and refusing me entry, leaving me trying to get the bike back from the middle of bum fuck nowhere..

12 hours to go... I've got plans B to G but they'd all involve trying to find people to help me on the road .. then I have another thought. I actually know someone with access to an engraver don't I? Yes I do. One phone call and a 20 minute journey and I'm getting some aluminium plates made..



That should be enough. I get some liquid metal and stick one of the plates on .. straight on the side of the cylinder .. in plain view.. give it as long as possible to get roughed up.. it will be fine... what could possibly go wrong.

It's a sunny Sunday and I'm off again. I kiss my wife goodbye.. just like I was going to the shops... I won't speak to her for a while... We have a pact when I'm away. I don't call unless I have added significant shit to a far flung foreign fan. She is happier to believe I'm riding in lovely warm sunshine all day every day on good roads with absolutely no other traffic.. and who am I to tell her otherwise..

I meet my riding buddy on the M25, go to Folkestone, take the train..



This trip is not my usual format. We have a vague plan and we have particular places we need to be at particular times but the rest of the time we will just be winging it... that and I'm taking the kicking in my own pocket this time. I'm keen to run the wallet raping gauntlet of Europe ASAP.. fast forward ... just a blur of tarmac and beds. It's just like re-reading the first chapter of my favorite book ..

First stop Reims, a beautiful city, but the stop is outside in an industrial area that could be anywhere, the usual collection of anonymous buildings and fast food outlets .. and an instantly forgettable pink hotel....F1 themed .. it's the pits .. next..





Berlin .. an Air BnB south of the city. Put the bike in the motorway slot.. pull the trigger .. hold it down









Christ traveling through Europe overland is expensive.. all the service stations seem to have gone the way of BMW garages .. splashing loads of cash of expensive chrome and ducting and 'themes' .. and green plastic cows .. then having to charge shit loads to pay for it all.. jesus.. I feel a rant coming on .. I was talking to a bloke in B&Q a while ago about this .. 'read The Age of Absurdity by Michael Foley' .. so I did.. 'Buy more shit or we're all fucked' seems to be the general theme..

Anyway ..on these trips I have must admit I have a drinking problem.. and the further from home I go.. the worse it gets... "Hello... my name's Jason.. and I'm a Milkaholic". I cannot resist it. Ideally I would take a friendly Friesian with a huge set of udders as a pillion.. that would be perfect... At home I probably drink 3/4 pints a day, maybe more. How many calcium units is that? Whatever it is I certainly qualify as a binge drinker. So whenever I see it .. I buy it .. and never one at a time ..



Get to the AirBnB and meet our host Zoltan. Zoltan.. I was expecting a Heinz or Ernst, not Zoltan. Such is the diversity of Europe that Zoltan is from Hungary. He is a mechanical engineer and works in the car industry. We're chatting about engines and I ask him about the shallow pistons on the Ktm.. "Oh... they're good.. but they're not a long term solution" .. that my friend is just exactly what I want to hear as I head off into the wilderness on a bike with an engine of seemingly unknown provenance and mileage.. thanks.



Someone has knocked the s off of beds .. its a double. My riding buddy booked it.. ..a bit presumptuous.. this is only our second night together .. oh well.. what happens on tour .. next..



I get up and before we set off I have to have a word with my wallet. It's run away and hidden in my socks. It's sitting there quivering in fear and it won't come out. It knows today it's going to be subjected to toll torture and vignette hell and it doesn't want to go. All I can do is promise it will be over soon and that I will treat it a lot more gently in a few days .. just tickle it with pretty foreign currencies .. not stick my fist up its arse and pull huge sums out kicking and screaming the way they do at the toll booths... its not convinced.. it won't come out so I grab the sock and shake it until it pops out and starts running round the room like a mouse dropped from a cat's mouth .. desperately looking for sanctuary.. I feel it's pain ..

Out of Berlin in the soft morning light and south over the mountains on roads paved with gold .. or at least they should be .. through long tunnels lined with €500 notes down into the beauty of Slovakia and across to small village outside Zagreb.













Whatever the flavor.. whatever the price .. it has to me mine.. the true sign of addiction



My buddy booked the room tonight .. twin beds .. we must have fallen out .. or I'm not as good as I thought I was ..





Croatia is shut today .. national holiday .. fuck .. how am I going to get my milk? I wasn't prepared for this.. maybe I can find a doctor ... get some condensed milk on prescription .. just to take the edge off..

The woman renting us the room see's I'm in trouble.. she can see me sweating and shaking .. she knows I'm close to an episode .. so she drives to her mum's house and gets me some milky medicine.. it's warm ..possibly body temperature . not the way I like it .. not since I was 2 months old anyway .. but I'm in no position to complain.. phew .. that was close..

Wake up.. walk out the room .. someone has been in and stuck some adverts on the doors ... looks like milk addiction therapy to me .. something I'd definitely be interested in anyway ..



Out and south we go. Croatia is weird country.. all concentrated on the coast it seems.. like Canada is concentrated along the border. Out in the middle there isn't much of anything.. and we're going through the middle.. It's getting hot now.. proper hot..stupid hot.. why the fuck am I wearing leathers hot. Stop just shy of the Bosnia border for some lunch. Time to start introducing random brown slop to my diet and they have just the thing on the menu.







Get down to the first border of the trip.. this is going to be a theme for the next few days. Sweating in hot queues of metal, finding your way round a maze of windows.. filling in forms .. the Bosnia border is pretty straight forward though. Insurance is mandatory so go to the nana-in-a-box first and flash some dollars then a quick stamp and on our way towards Sarajevo.













It's only day three .. time for a problem by now surely .. do I have to wait until I'm properly in the middle of the desert .. surely the shit and happens brothers are travelling with me.. I'm sure I saw their visas somewhere .. ahhhhh here they are ... that fuck for that ..

Traffic is crawling as we approach Sarajevo and the Bitch is getting hot. Proper hot. This shouldn't be happening hot. The fan is running constantly but the bars are still going up. Then I just stall it ... just for a laugh .. I choose the biggest busiest junction obviously .. why not .. I'll just press this little button and all will be well .. ok.. I'll just press it again... ooooooooooooooo ... look at all these amber lights ... soooooooo pretty .... The Bitch refuses to start.. and then she starts warning at me that if I press that button one more time she's going to start self harming .. I don't even read the messages .. My mind is already into 'oh fuck' mode and going through getting the bike home from here.. There are a few other warning lights on now too so I just push the bike through the traffic .. only stopping briefly to have an argument with a fat hairy munter that had fallen out of an ugly tree, hit all the branches, then gone up for another 5 goes .. and throw it in the gutter ... its a good job I'm not on the side of a mountain .. it could easily be at the bottom by now ... BITCH.. The trouble is she is possessed by the devil... FACT

I was having some issues with her when I was preparing for the trip .. I'd had enough .. time to put her out of my misery .. so I took her up the road to an abandoned building... filled the place with petrol ... set fire to it .. came back in the morning and this is what I found..




Untouched ... i expected to find some baby dragons in the ashes ... all she wants to do is fuck with my mind ..

So I give her 10 minutes.. approach her quietly with my head bowed and my hands pressed together and press the starter... success. Warning lights are still on and she's running like a pig but we get down to the hotel and I leave it outside half hoping it will be gone in the morning. Go for a walk round Sarajevo old town... I've been through here before and I really like it. It has history and atmosphere and bullet holes seeping out of the walls.. and beautiful women everywhere you turn.. I spent a lot of time turning .. no pictures though .. I feel like I've definitely gone through the perv age threshold .. from 'daddy' to 'grandad'..





















Not sure about the food though.. I think this one has come straight from the pavement to the plate ..



Get up in the morning and the Bitch is still outside. There are scorch marks on the surrounding pavement where I presume she has torched prospective thieves just to amuse herself in the night .. whatever .. she seems to be back to normal self ... another of her mind fuck tricks .. so we head off out into the countryside towards Serbia.

Bosnia is a very beautiful country in parts. Lakes and mountains and huge meadows full of wild flowers.. good roads too











Stop for coffee ..cake .. and a caress for my helmet ..





.. and a caress for my helmet ..



Doh .. wrong … picture



Out of Bosnia, into Serbia and on towards Belgrade.. just another big collection of concrete and tarmac chaos .. It's proper PROPER hot and we're stopping every 10m for cold drinks .. we stop at a petrol station and I go in to buy some cold coffee .. another one of my addictions .. and always purchased in multiples ..



There is a really unusual looking girl behind the counter and I ask her if I can take her picture.. she looks like a cat .. she must have the smallest mouth I've ever seen .. I think one lipstick would last her a lifetime .. she won't have it though .. she just flicks her tail, hisses and scratches her nails down the curtains .. very strange .. lovely coat though ..

I remember Belgrade as being a wild west style city with out of control traffic and real edgy vibe about it but I think it's got it act together now, tied it shoelaces properly, straightened its tie, sorted out it's behaviour and been for an interview at the EU headmasters office about joining the club... its a real shame.. still I did manage to get over myself for a few minutes and get the tottieometer out ..























I'm out hunting for milk.. but I find a motorbike... an old Honda previously owned by a monk .. the current rider used to be friends with the (now) monk and bought it recently as a 'non-runner'.. that hadn't been turned over for the last 20 years. He poured oil down the plug holes and gently teased it back and forth over a few weeks until it was free.. then it just started. He's polished it within an inch of it's life and it sounds lovely... not for me though.. far too reliable..



I still managed to get my milk though .. .thanks for asking ..



Serbia seems to have nothing of the natural beauty of Bosnia but it's an interesting place none the less. The buildings the Americans bombed back in 1999 are still 'as was' .. sitting as a reminder to behave themselves. We're come to a small town and it's at least 20m since the last drink so we stop in the town square and immediately get invited for a coffee from a man celebrating his birthday. He's in the army and says he remembers riding a scooter down this road and having a cruise missile fly just over his head and hit the base just a couple of 100m from where we're sitting.. lucky he wasn't early for work that day ..







I didn’t know Alec Baldwin had a Serbian brother ..



Just like all my other addictions .. I like multiples ..



I'm hoping to meeting my old mate Brian in Sofia today. Get to the Bulgarian border and it's a car park. I have a real problem at borders overcoming my British gene.. I feel I have to queue.. it's a compulsion.. I just cannot help it. My travel buddy isn't affected by this problem and would happily push in at the front but we agree on a compromise and push in half way.. as the actress said to the bishop ..



The Bitch is getting hot again. Yesterday coming into Serbia she was glowing red .. proper pissed.. and she has started loosing coolant now too. This time I pushed her through the border in 37 degrees and full leathers .. I'm sure I could see her smirking ..

Down to Sofia and another game of spot the difference .. one city merging into the next .. we're moving fast.. eyes on a destination over the horizon..

Get to the hotel.. knock on the door next to mine and Brian appears. My old mate has been down to Greece and is on his way back. Always good to see him. He never looks a day older .. he's always looked 95 ..







Out and heading south.. we're looking for breakfast .. and at last we see signs of leaving Euroland ..



That and the fact that MacDonalds don't do breakfast here..

Stop for fuel and I see a woman who is not exactly hiding the fact that her jumper lumps are straining at their leash .. her nipples are in danger of popping off like champagne corks .. perhaps if I just gently wiggle them between my thumb and finger ..





Out of Bulgaria and into Turkey. I'm carrying a drone and I'm not sure it's allowed so I hide it .. somewhere they'll never look .. unless they have a special drone sniffing dog .. I always worry though .. it's like Midnight Express .. are they going to feel my heartbeat .. see the pulse in my neck ... fuck no .. the bloke just remotely inspects them from his chair in the shade .. and we're away. Time to get started ..

Brilliant.......

Nice to see Fook Mi and Fook Yu out and about again too

Excellent read. More please.

photos not visible ???

Splendid

welcome back.... I had a feeling there was one of your trip reports on the way..

Great Pictures��

Marvellous....

Orange Greetings

Greetings my Brother in Orange!

It seems we share at least THREE interests!!

Awesome write up, look forward to much much more

(PS Istanbul is fantastic, driving is APPALLING tho )

*Gets long beer from fridge, and pulls up chair.

Another great thread starting up....

Hell yes

Thanks boys. I put the first part up to force me to do the others .. it helps me fight the post trip blues, and seeing the pictures again makes me realise what a stupidly lucky fucker I am .. I think I will arrive at Heavens Gates and be presented with a massive bill .. this much good fortune can't come free surely ..

Pt 2 .. I'm on it .. but how many parts will there be ..

Hurry up!

Turkey. I've not spent much time here.. I'm searching for pastures new ... I've still got the mojo no-go feeling .. I need a kick in the eyeballs .. a stiff new scent up the nose .. something to grab my attention.. but right now I just need to stay alive. We get to Istanbul and head for the old city. This place seems to be about 300% over populated .. the thermometer has gone into the comedy zone and my bladder is on lockdown to stop me loosing any more fluid. The Bitch is unhappy again and I don't blame her.. tiny tight streets that it's impossible to filter through.. creeping and crawling ... sweating and swearing through the maze. I don't stall it this time but it's feeling nasty .. like it's running on 3 cylinders .. yes .. I know ... thanks

The Hotel is right next to the Blue Mosque and the calls to prayer are going out as we arrive... drawing the faithful out from the cool sanctuary of the shadows. We follow the crowd .. follow the call .. follow the sunset ..













We walk down to the water and look across the Bosporus .. look at Asia.. look at our future..

"Shit loads of history round here" .. I'm sure that's how they start all the bus tours.. everyone and his wife has been through here and left something to be remembered by. A nice atmosphere and a real melting pot of people. The only downside is the constant pestering.. the length of my temper is directly opposite to the air temperature. I just give up at the first hurdle .. the first restaurant .. the first place I can find cold liquid and try to replace the 50% of my bodyweight I lost on the way in. The 50% that is currently dipping out of my leathers and making the hotel room smell like a gym changing room..

This trip is a lot earlier in the year than I would normally go as I need to get back in time for my baby girl's wedding. Consequently its a LOT hotter than usual. I'm happy with the cold. I'm never happier than when I'm covered in goose pimples, my tummy banana has run away and hidden in its cave and my nipples could pierce armour plating. The heat is different, especially as its now pushing 40 degrees. I'd much rather sweat than bleed though so I'll just have to get used to it. I've done it before but it takes a while to get used to it. Milk is the secret. Milk is the secret to everything.. and I can still find it here.. on the black market .. I just have to check it's not camels .. or horse.

We have a rest day here but the next day is a long one so my buddy buggers off to Ankara to split it in two. I haven't shaved in a week and my whiskers are in danger of getting tangled in the wheels. I've promised myself a shave at a proper Turkish barbers so I hunt one down, dragging my beard along the pavement behind me. These blokes know what they're doing .. I think the average Turk's face is like the Forth Road Bridge .. they have to shave them in teams .. one barber at a time is not enough and they just end up chasing bristles across their face..only to find another wave of stubble where they shaved 2 minutes ago. I'm a one man job though .. an easy job .. he could probably do it with his eyes shut .. perhaps not though .. not this time .. I'm not quite ready to die..

He spends more time rubbing cream into my face than I usually spend on the whole deal .. this would cost a fortune back at home, I'd have had to sign a dozen wavers, he would be wearing high vis and safely goggles and the walls would be covered in small signs from B&Q with pictures of decapitated bodies and blood .. but out here he just puts in a blade and goes straight for the jugular. My face is super smooth.. it feels like cling film .. almost slippery smooth .. but he's not happy so back out with the cream for round 2 .. and then the wax. I don't think he'll be happy until he sees my skull. Wax all over my ears and under my eyes... then he gets 2 ear buds dips them in the bowl and sticks them up my nose .. JEEEEEEEEESSUS ...



For years now my hair follicles have been emigrating from my head and relocating in my nostrils .. so pulling them out involved him putting his feet on my cheeks and yanking with all his strength.. the result.. well I won't scare you by showing you what they looked like .. he just took them into the kitchen and put them in a cup of hot water and gave me this .. maybe they're all made this way ..



These 2 were clean shaven when I came in 20 minutes ago ..



Next day I go for a walk round the city. A lot of the pleasure of these trips comes from taking pictures. Today it's not working.. you can't force it .. I get really frustrated .. and lost. I like getting lost though. I don't get lost enough.. even though lots of people tell me I should ..





















Out of Istanbul.. across the bridge .. and into Asia ..





and... and nothing .. I'm really surprised how sparsely populated Turkey is .. and blank .. get out the city and just you and the tarmac.. and nothing.. except the wind. Turkey likes it's flags.. the bigger the better.. and the wind enjoys playing with them.



No matter how hard I think I cannot remember anything about the ride that day .. nothing .. my mind obviously didn't see anything worth wasting memory on .. not until the sun stated falling and the landscape was brushed with soft yellow light ..

I was really low on fuel, out on an A road and there was just nothing and nobody about anywhere. I hoped the GPS was lying to me.. or I was going to be walking.. I'm going over a new bridge and I see what looks like an abandoned fuel station off the road with no obvious path to it. I'm not in a position to pass up any opportunity so I get off the road, ride through a small abandoned village and under the bridge .. just follow my nose. Get to the station and there is a light on. Someone appears and looks at me like he hasn't seen a human for weeks. The pump is working though .. the fuel is probably 40 years old .. and leaded .. but who cares.. I go to put my helmet back on but he gestures to me .. would I like a drink? Why not .. I follow him out through a derelict shop to a small kitchen where he makes me some tea.. we go back to the sofas and just sit in silence for 20 minutes watching a film on a grainy TV set.. I think he just wants company.. I think he's the only person for miles around .. its times like this that makes trips for me. Nice tea too ..





We shake hands and nod .. smile and wave .. and off into towards the setting sun



I'm meeting my mate in Cappadocia, the place with the caves and the balloons. It's well hidden though and you don't see it until you're right on top of it.



Looks like a bad case of rock worm to me... Cappadocia though is tourist central as you can imagine. I meet up with my mate and he drags me to his cave .. I like what he's done with the place ..







We're taking a day off here to have a ride around the different locations. I've been on the bike 1 minute.. I get to the bottom of the road and turn right.. something felt weird .. something isn't right .. so I stop. I see shit and happens .. or the Fuckall brothers .. running away and falling over themselves laughing .. Oh... brilliant...





The day the Ktm designer decided where to put the ignition switch he obviously left his brain in a bin. The switch is in the yolk in front of the bars.. so when you move the bars .. if you've got anything other than a single key in the ignition.. like a keyring for example (what WAS I thinking) with another key on .. then .. if you're luckily enough to be carrying the Fuckall brothers .. things can get wedged like a shove penny machine and just snap the top of the key off .. which is nice. Fuck I've only been away a bloody week .. I CAN start the bike with the stub and some pliers as long as I hold the fob close to the ignition .. I really fancy doing that for the next 6/7 weeks .. out with the spare... when I get hold of shit and happens ..

So .. off we go .. again .. there are houses built into the rocks, there are houses built right on the tops of rocks, and someone recently discovered a set of underground caves 6 storeys deep too. I went to level 1 and freaked out .. it was like running about in someones bowel.. all dark and tight and smelly.. impressive though

[video]http://stupiderstravels.com/2019/Cappodcia.mp4[/video]

We wanted to go up in a balloon but the wind is still blowing hard and looks like it will be for the next few days so we take a Turkish bath instead. You have a quick sauna then you're taken into a big room where a health and safety inspector would run out of ink in 10 seconds flat. The room is about 200 degrees for a start, full of fat blokes in skirts .. singing. That's a health and safety issue right there. In the centre is a raised square area where soap is liberally applied by aforementioned fat hairy singing blokes. The whole place is tiled, it's all sharp square edges, and the it's awash with soap bubbles. It takes all my concentration to walk 2 meters to my allocated fat bloke without my legs going all 'baby giraffe' on me... once you reach the safety of the table you can just relax .. listen to the singing .. look up at the amazing tiled ceiling with the suns rays casting tunnels of bright light through the steam .. and get liberally soaped by a fat bloke .. go on .. you know you want too.. then into a big communal bubbling bath for a while where you can fart with impunity. Lastly you can be beaten and stretched and tortured for an hour by very angry man who has sharpened his elbows on an angle grinder and just loves making people scream. I'd recommend it.



Get up and out.. into the blankness. The camera isn't interested.. it's just not worth trying when it's in this mood.. We're heading north to the black sea coast and we've a way to go. Going to take a while. What we really need is a delay.. seems shit and happens are riding with my mate today .. fuck they've been busy ..

We get stopped by the police at a checkpoint. We're all legal and stuff .. insured .. international licences .. should be absolutely no problem. I'm first .. I'm through .. I look round and the policeman is on the phone .. that's not a good sign. Problem 1 .. someone has entered his plate as a O not a 0. This happens all the time. I have a 1.. and it's often an I on the documents.. Problem 2 is they have his number plate down as a car. Maybe they only saw it from behind .. it's an easy mistake to make .. anyway, this causes mucho problemo..

About an hour and 50 phone calls to various official offices later, the details have been updated and we're on our way again. Time to get some squiggles on my helmet ..







Fuck this is dull... sooo soo soooo dull .. I'm riding with one eye open to save the other from the pain of looking at it .. we get stopped for speeding .. just to relieve the boredom ..







You have to have these null days .. you have to have the yin and the yang. I'm a spoiled twat right? Yes I am.. I know I am .. but it doesn't help. We get to a petrol station.. running late. There are a load of old men sitting having a chat and a fag. One of them speaks really good English. He's a dentist and specialises in teeth tourists. We've been looking at the map and decided we have time to skip into Armenia but there are no border crossings from Turkey. I ask him why ... he talks a big intake of breath and off he goes .. full rant .. I wish I'd taken more notice in history lessons .. then I'd have kept my mouth shut. 10 minutes later .. I wish I'd never asked ... 30 minutes later .. I really really really wish I had been born without any ears ..

By the time we get to the coast its getting dark. The town we're at is built on a 60% angle.. I think it was originally built on the level then tilted .. all the roads are at hideous lean angles, regardless of their direction. Come to a turning and the left peg is nearly touching the road, but put your right foot down and you'll be lucky to touch tarmac. Scares the shit out of me.

I'm feeling really restless and I don't know what I want. I get like this sometimes on these trips .. just passing the days .. head in a spin .. like an addict looking for a fix .. and Turkey isn't doing it for me.









Follow the coast road east. I've no doubt I've not seen the best of Turkey but I'll really not miss it. Just time for a few more squiggles and we're out













Get into Georgia and it's immediately a different world.. and a much better one. The second we're through we're set on by the hawkers.. insurance .. yes .. you .. random bloke .. yep .. I'll just hand you my passport and V5 and some dollars and you can disappear into a random hole somewhere round the corner and sort it out for me while I sit in the shade and drink. You .. you look trustworthy .. change this funny money into your funny money will you .. I should really check it .. but my bothered-ometer just isn't working in this heat. Luckily my documents come back to me 15 minutes later together with some pink paper covered in writing I don't understand. Perfect.

We get up the coast a bit and stop at the first beach for lunch.





And I take a quick dip in the Black Sea to cool off .. ahhhhhhhhhhhhh .that's better..



One of my riding buddies mates has recommended a route across the south of Georgia towards Armenia so we head into the mountains to Khulo looking for some relief from the heat. Take the a nice twisty road up to Khulo and look for a bed. The place is dead but we're still told the hotels are full. It has quite an unfriendly atmosphere about it.. strange stares and quiet when we walk past .. but I like that. Gives some of my 6th, 7th and 8th senses some exercise.. we end up down the road out of town in hostel perched on the mountainside.



Take a wander about and look for something to eat. Go into a shop that looks like the last delivery was sometime in 1940.



The only place we could find with stuff not past it's sell by date was the off licence





We're off to Armenia.. the road up to Khulo was as good as advertised .. I'm looking forward to more. The second we leave the town the road turns to proper shit and stays that way for the next 2 hours. Very steep and very loose .. like my bowels. It's Georgia FFS, what did I expect. Still, nice views when I can take my eyes off the road.





By the time we get to tarmac the bikes are really tired .. time for a little lie down ..



Get into town and go for breakfast and the feeling is the same as in Khulo.. but if you persist long enough you'll get a smile .. sort of ..





We're heading for the Armenia border. Looks like there are 3 to choose from, but we go for the closest. The road is up. We perch on a thin strip of tarmac as we try to go against the trucks.. the BMW gets its bum fondled by a trailer and nearly goes over the edge ...



Get up to the Armenia border. Is it open? We were prepared for queues but we're the only ones here. Not another bugger in sight. Go in and bang on a window.. wake up the guard.. get a sleepy stamp in my passport then go for some insurance. They're all sat around eating their dinner. I rub my stomach .. 2 hands pop out through the glass .. one has my insurance .. the other has a sandwich.. that's a first











We're headed down to Yerevan, one of the worlds continuously inhabited cities .. bet you didn't know that.. I didn't .. We're only just a few minutes inside, always the most dangerous time, and we're pulled for speeding. The locals are living in poverty with fences made from crashed cars but the police can still afford radar and video. It's a nice clip to be fair .. some good fast overtaking .. I wonder if I could buy it off him for my blog .. he starts by showing us the chart of the fines and we're at the top. This is where he would usually smile and get his buddy to sit in the back so I could put the money in the slot and we could be on our way .. usually..

This bloke is different.. he really wants the money. I wasn't expecting that. He's getting quite wound up about it .. and me offering him £20 hasn't helped. We haven't got any more cash so he phones up someone at headquarters and get an earful. We're threatened with the removal of our driving licences until we pay .. we need to respect the law .. even though there are locals driving past us with their feet to the floor and smoke pouring out the back like a challenger tank. We go to plan B, just go quiet. He's really pissed though and starts shouting down the phone and getting all red in the face. His little mate has to take over before he explodes. We explain that this is all the money we have, and we're leaving tomorrow, and eventually they take the £20 I offered him in the first place .. and get no ticket .. WTF was that all about .. proper good cop bad cop ..

First big town and it's been proper pissing down. The roads are awash. There are huge 6ft x 4ft open metal grills in the road taking the floodwater, and bikes if you're not careful or you approach them at the wrong angle. Where is that health and safety bloke .. . I'm pulling away from some lights and a huge dog comes running out from the side of the road. It's times like this that can finish the trip in an instant. It's not just playing, it wants a piece of me. I brake hard and hit the back of it and it lets out a big yelp and stumbles straight into the path of a oncoming car .. game over ..

Get to Yerevan and into the city centre. Nice city, and a complete contrast to the countryside. We're staying in an old ground floor apartment block. The landlord tells us not to leave things within reach of open windows as they're likely to go missing. No chance of bringing the bikes inside so they have to take their chances chained up outside. It doesn't feel at all threatening and the locals are really friendly. We take a wander round the square in the evening amongst all the locals. Feels a lot like Russia, everyone out for a walk and a chat. I like the feeling round here.







I'm up early, just in case I have to start filling in a stolen bike police report but they're still there. Stretching and yawning in the early morning sun.

Marvellous read...


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

Crackin good read.

Had a dispute with Turkish Polis myself. Thought we were arguing over a £70fine (no helmet)
Polis fellah unholstered his pistol.
I paid up straight away....

Aterwards discovered I'd been fined 70p !!! Doh!!!

Looking forward to more on this write-up

Tummy banana

Top notch read and photos to match.

Bring on the next instalments.

Brill! Great read, thanks !