My decision to break the journey up in Zaragoza was made not only because I heard it was a cool city and wanted to check it out, but because it’s only a relatively sedate 200 miles (320km or so) to Barcelona from there. I’m not too hungry at breakfast, so I load up on fruit and coffee, check out and I’m out of the hotel and out of the city by 9am.
Continue reading “From Zaragoza to Barcelona (via Hades?)”
Despite the late finish the previous evening, I roll out of bed at 7am as usual, pull on jeans, a t shirt and flip flops and make my way down to breakfast. This is the most upmarket hotel I’ve stayed in during the trip, delusionally boasting 4 stars, and easily the worst. Breakfast is a wilted, dry and tasteless affair. The coffee is probably the most awful I’ve had in two decades, although not as bad as one I’d tasted in a Northern Irish prison early in my career as a justice reformer.
Continue reading “The Long Ride South (part 4: Zaragoza)”
I roll out of Vitoria-Gasteiz and towards León. The distance to be covered is not too great: I am travelling to Leon to meet with a business contact, Jorge, and have planned my stops to try and arrive in the mid afternoon so as to be able to get my bearings and catch my breath before we meet. He has suggested I take the National Routes instead of the motorway, and having learned what I have on previous trips, obviously I take his suggestion and join one upon leaving the city.
Continue reading “The Long Ride South (part 3: León)”
“The future’s uncertain and the end is always near”, sang Jim Morrison. Bikers generally like The Doors, perhaps because the essence of Jim’s poetry speaks to us at a visceral level. Perhaps. The future is indeed uncertain as I set off from Bordeaux towards my next intended stop in Vitoria-Gasteiz.
Continue reading “The Long Ride South (part 2: a Brush with Death)”
A profound treatise on solitude.
Much like Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance is not really about Zen or indeed motorcycle maintenance, so Russia. Mongolia. Motorbike. Me. is not really about Continue reading “Book Review: “Russia. Mongolia. Motorbike. Me.” by Nick Sanders”
There is a strong wind but the skies are clear. The scenic route from the West Country back to London goes via the A38 and the A303 which runs through picturesque Wiltshire. It takes in several Stone, Bronze and Iron age sites and monuments, the most significant one of these being Continue reading “The Best is Yet to Come”
It takes only a few minutes to get from one side of Santander to the other. At the waterfront near the ferry port there is Continue reading “The Pilgrim Returns”
Guernica is a few sombre miles behind me when I espy something I’d not seen before in real life: a Continue reading “Biscay Blues”
The reason for which all of the interactions on this trip so far have been so rich is their intensity, from my perspective, due to Continue reading “Echoes of Guernica”
The morning comes and I am still undecided as to which way to head. I type a random address in Santander into the satnav to see which routes are available. There are several, via Continue reading “Back in the Basque Country”
Solitude and loneliness are different things. During a few nights, on my own in a pension or guesthouse bedroom, I experience Continue reading “My Echo, My Shadow and Me”
My body is changing visibly and invisibly. The neck muscles are Continue reading “Liberté de Lyon”
I have no real plan from Prague onwards, except to try and get to Castelnaud for the weekend. Munich is in a convenient location on the map, and my time Continue reading “Austrian High, Swiss Low”
Moving south along the Autobahn towards Dresden, rolling at a comfortable velocity somewhere in the high Continue reading “Prague Autumn; Bavaria Bound”
Today is the first day without the threat of rain anywhere along my route, so the waterproofs are happily packed away. Breakfast is Continue reading “I’m Not a Donut”
The morning entails the routine which is becoming familiar: shower, repack everything, vitamins, sun block, gear. I say my goodbyes and head out. A fuel stop a few kilometres beyond Amsterdam. The previous Continue reading “Rocking Reeperbahn”
One is jolted awake by loud distorted bird noises being piped through the ship’s radio. In a pitch black room which appears to be swaying Continue reading “‘Dam It”
Setting off from Zenith Motorcycles after final checks, I swing by Halfords who sold me a faulty single barrel pump. A shop assitant, Sin, is extremely helpful and replaces it with a working one without qualms. I roll to the border of our neighbourhood escorted by my best friend Yvonne on her Suzuki Van Van. She turns West, I turn Continue reading “The Norse Emissary”
Planning is for sensible people. My own planning has consisted of putting a few waypoints into Google Maps and having dinner with a motorcycling living legend, who specifically advised me not to overplan. Continue reading “Planning, Prepping, Packing”
History shuddered. A creaking three-hundred-year-old economic model collided with
Continue reading “Ted Simon Tells It Like It Is”
Blac Ridere 