Oh To Be Towed

On my way back to Rabat, Morocco

With the sun beating down on a 35deg C ( 95 f ) day and the heat off the asphalt coming in waves I casually thought to myself, as I passed a car stopped on the side of the road, what would I do if my motorbike broke down here? I was about to find out - with a little hesitation of the motor then a huge backfire the motor quit and I coasted to a stop - oh S#*T

I pushed Moto Naranja into a poor excuse for shade and weighed my options.

I decided to see what vehicles were passing with the hope of finding a pickup truck or even a donkey cart, anything to get me to a town. Out of the shimmering heat appear a tow truck!! I have heard about mirages appearing to stranded travellers in the desert but this was ridiculous.

Within 10 minutes of breaking down here I was on my way to Rabat with Abdellati. With the miracle of a smartish phone I was dropped off at a mechanics shop that works on Husqvarna off-road race bikes. My bike will now spend the winter with these two very competent French mechanics.

Well things could certainly have been worse because here is where I was riding the day before. This riverbed section of my route was loose sand and gravel for a distance of about ten miles - a lot of fun but one thing is for sure and that is there certainly was no Abdellati in his tow truck coming along here.

I did find a few good roads 

My Morocco adventure started in Tangier, after taking the ferry over from Algeciras in Spain. 

I mapped out a route from Tangier to Chefchaouen on back roads. Morocco has spent
a lot of money on infrastructure since I was last here ( 40 years ago !! ) and even a lot of the small rural roads have been paved. This area is the start of the Rif mountains and the main cash crop is weed, hash, marijuana, dagga, grass, -- my mind wanders as I pass through vast field of this green plant.

Chefchaouen

Chefchaouen is known as the "Blue City" with much of the old town painted this beautiful azure blue - very calming and charming. Evidently there was a large Jewish population in the town that painted their houses this color and slowly the rest of the town adopted this color as their own. 

 

On the way to Fez

Bab Bou Jeloud - Blue Gate

The ornate Blue Gate is the entrance to the old medina in Fez. This is a magnificent city with some incredibly architecture and also the heart of the leather industry that Morocco is renowned for.

STOP or at least Pause

Riding out of Fez I realized that my knowledge of the Arabic language was growing in leaps and bounds after managing to interpret that this was a STOP sign.

Rush hour on the trail

Near Midelt

I had some of my best riding on a track for which I had GPS directions from Midelt to Gourrama

This section threw everything at me from hard gravel to deep sand in the canyon ( earlier photo) I was concerned about having enough gas, especially as there was conflicting information about how far it was to Gourrama. It was also getting late in the afternoon and I was so looking forward to a shower after a very dusty ride.

Embraced by the locals

I stopped in a small village where I was told I could get gas and managed to buy 5 liters from the small store.

I made it to Gourrama just at dusk only to find that there was not a hotel, hostel or a place to stay in the town, which was surprising as it was fair sized. Not wanting to go back out into the desert to camp I started making enquiries at the gas station. The attendant, like all Moroccans was incredibly friendly and even offered for me to sleep on his bed in the petrol station. There was a new building right next door that, although unfinished, looked like apartments or a hotel. Then like magic a gentleman appeared who was the manager for the soon to be hotel and just like that I had a bed for the night, a hot shower and parking for Moto Naranja in the still to be completed lobby. As it worked out this was my last day riding in Morocco.

Duoro River Porto, Portugal

From the desert of Morocco to the beautiful city of Porto in Portugal was quite a sudden change. After having found a great workshop in Rabat and with a diagnosis of no compression which probably spelled new piston and rings I boarded a plane for Porto to meet up with my daughter Erin. Erin was there for a week helping to organize a music event.

A couple of days of good food, good music and great company I boarded a flight back to Colorado, via Frankfurt. After many hours of flying, and just a half hour to go we had to divert to Billings, Montana as the Denver airport was shut down due to a wild summer thunderstorm. Anyway fire trucks and many flashing lights greeted us in Billings as they took on more fuel while sitting on the runway. The ground crew could be seen taking photos of this huge Lufthansa 787 dwarfing their buildings at the tiny Billings airport - I suspect not a sight they see very often.

Now back home in Eldorado Springs my 2023 motorcycle adventure is at an end. Stay tuned in 2024 as my moto needs to be collected before the end of March in Morocco because the temporary import permit is only for 6 months after which Moto Naranja turns into a pumpkin.

Tilting at Windmills

 

Moto Naranja has been pulled out of mothballs, or maybe I should say cobwebs after spending a relaxing year in a shed in Grenoble, France. With a creaky start to my next adventure, due to a good dose of Covid, I felt a little like this old knight on his aging steed. South through France following the Trans European Trail ( TET ) I passed through Andorra into Spain where the windmills are now high tech wind generators. 

Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité

The first night on the road I spent in the little French town of Die, which some may remember was where I got to in 2020 just as the Covid epidemic started closing down the known world. In the shadow of the old church I came across this play being enacted and as far as I could gather it was something about that time in the late 18th century where they were lopping off aristocratic heads at an alarming rate.

Aermacchi Harley Davidson

I found this old beauty in some French town. Aermacchi was an Italian aircraft company that built Harleys under licence.

The Maestrazgo Region of Spain

It was great to get back onto the dirt roads with surprises around every corner and little villages looking like they were made for a movie set.

The sad thing was that many of these magnificent places were almost deserted, although it seemed that a lot of the buildings were well maintained. 

I quick stop for some repairs amongst the olive groves to sort out an electrical problem. Without power to keep all my navigation devices working, wandering around the Spanish countryside became a little tricky.

This was a typical farm track that I found myself riding on in northern Spain -fun riding. All may seem idyllic in this agricultural region, however apart from olives the main product is Parma ham. Now along with delicious ham comes a malodorous bi-product that at times had my eyes watering which was just not so bueno.

Hotel Reina Cristina

Just to prove that I do once in a while get a shower, here is a photo of an amazing old hotel I am spending a couple of nights at in Algeciras, Spain before catching a ferry across the Straits of Gibraltar to Morocco. 

Coming Home

Life was good back then

Life was a lot easier before we had to have all the specific gear for our chosen sports. I found this photo on the wall of my hotel in Söll Austria, the town in which Maggie and I lived for a winter way back in 1982.

Muñeca on Hohe Salve mountain above Söll

Coming back to Austria for the first time in over 40 years was like coming home for me and I even met up with a few friends from those days of yore.

Making Hay

It is incredible to see that hay making on the steep mountain slopes is still done partially by hand with the grass on the very steep sections being cut by scythe. The smell of the fresh cut grass while hiking around these mountains was intoxicating.

Red Bull Romaniacs

Before arriving in Austria I spent a week with my brother and a couple other South Africans watching the Red Bull Romaniacs offroad race in Romania. It is amazing to see the world's top riders competing in what is considered to be the toughest dirt bike race on the planet.

Exhausting!

Prologue in Sibiu

Ferocious bears 

While driving between spectator points in the mountains we came across this sign warning us about the vicious European brown bears.

Terrifying

This beast obviously did not get the memo about baring his murderous fangs when tourists come around the corner.

The Eiger

From Austria I rode through Switzerland with a stop in Grindelwald and a hike in the shadow of the north face of the Eiger. What is known as the Jungfrau region is absolutely magnificent. With gondolas and cogged railways running up the mountains it is easy to reach the hanging glaciers before a leisurely hike back downhill with stop at a picturesque alm for a tea on the way.

I am now in Grenoble France, staying with my friends Alan and Fay with my moto safely stored in their shed where it will remain for another year before being released for another adventure.

Looking forward to getting home to Colorado to see family and friends tomorrow

Vlad the Impaler

Vlad III of Transylvania

 Vlad III, Prince of Wallachia in present day Romania earned the nickname "Impaler" for his preferred method of dispatching his enemies and anyone he found to be tiresome. Vlad was the real life character that inspired Bram Stoker to create Dracula who in comparison was a veritable saint. 

If done right the impaled could live for up to 48 hours whilst Vlad had supper as he watched.

Now Vlad who had a few wives, at least one of which jumped off the castle balcony, decided to take Katarina of Brasov as a lover. Imagine how the conversation went with Katarina's father :- So Vlad what is your intention with my daughter? Well actually Mr Katarina's Dad it is to Imp....

Anyway enough of the history lesson.

Bram Castle

Bram Castle in Transylvania is where our arch villain Dracula supposedly hung out.

Peles Castle

A much more interesting castle in the same area is Peles Castle which was built for King Carol I.

Brasov

I found the town of Brasov in the same region of Transylvania to be absolutely enchanting and ended up spending five nights there.

Zip Line

Just outside the city of Brasov is a large natural area leading up the Seven Ladders Canyon. The three kilometers back through the forest can be a whole lot of fun when you take the zip line. In fact it is a series of 36 different zip lines that very often transition from one to the next way up on a platform perched in the top of a fir tree. With nobody to help fixing the pulley to the line you have to make sure you get it right which causes a bit of anxiety for the first couple.

High mountain Shepherd

Way above treeline there were large flocks of sheep which were always attended by a shepherd and a pack of dogs that would come charging at me as I passed.

A friendly dog ( I think)

Endless trails

Incredible riding

I have got to say that Romania has provided for some of the best riding that I have had on this trip with narrow farm tracks that are up in the tundra before plunging back down into the thick forests.

Hobbit House

And how about my own little Hobbit house to spend the night in. It was leaning at such an angle that my neighbors commented that it looked like it was on a side stand.

Transfagarasan Highway

And of course no trip to Romania would be complete without a ride on the Transfagarasan Highway. Built during the 1970s by the communist dictator Nicolae Ceausescu this was considered a strategic military road should the country be invaded by the USSR.

Lost and Found

Riding Jacket

What is my riding jacket doing sitting in the middle of a grassy trail in Bulgaria you may ask. Well it is a long story that reminds me a bit of what happens when you play a Country Song in reverse - You get your house back, you get your pickup truck back and inevitably your girlfriend too.

After having come from Turkey and spent way too much time on good paved roads it was time to get back onto some fun dirt but I had not completely anticipated what havoc the recent heavy rains had caused.

Washed out

After a steep climb that took nearly an hour on what looked like a washed out river bed but was in fact a road, I came out on a ridge. From there it looked like the trail was a little flatter as it moved back into forest, but as it became less defined and muddier and slipperyer (
 is that a word ) my struggles really began.

With the temperature and humidity in the forest were way up there and after numerous "offs" the trail kinda faded out. Picking up a fully loaded moto in muddy conditions often entails removing the panniers to reduce the weight but after doing this many times I was rapidly running out of energy. I decided to turn around and find another way out of the area. This is what I found

My kinda trail

Back down into the valley after 20 km of riding on tracks like the picture above restored my spirits a little but as I came into the town of Varshets my engine did a huge backfire and quit on me. Luckily this was right outside a very much communist era hotel that I checked into after filling out a long form for international guests. Getting my muddy bags off the bike and into the hotel I discovered that somehow my riding jacket was no longer strapped to the side of one of the bags. These jackets are used not only for protection against the elements but also for protection in case of a fall and are not an inexpensive piece of equipment. I was not happy - hot, tired, mud covered, leg cramps from dehydration, no jacket and a motorcycle that in my mind was now F***ed.

Sunflowers

There is always something to cheer me up and thinking back on the day there was a lot of good riding and some amazing sights like the fields of sunflowers that are cultivated throughout this region. Once in a better mood I started to research online into the possible cause of my bike problem. I came upon a forum with an obscure post from about two years before where a rider had what seemed to be a similar problem where the rubber engine intake had become loose, taken in air, and blew off the throttle body when it backfired. 

The next morning early I was up and had the bike apart and put back together before breakfast and had it running like a charm. I then looked back on photos from the day before and could see at what point I still had my jacket on the bike. I rode back about and hour and a half to the point in the forest where it got really slippery and then walked for about twenty minutes and there it was in the middle of the grassy trail !!  And so back to the start of the country music song.

Wow

The next day on the road to the Romanian border I came across this signpost. It seemed like drastic measures to ensure that you stopped at the traffic light. 

I crossed into Romania using the bridge across the Danube at Vidin and then followed the river through a very fertile flood-plain the the capital Bucharest.

The city was known as the Paris of the east before the communist times and there are some magnificent buildings in the old town but these gives way to wide boulevards and ugly apartment blocks. Vast areas of the city were flattened on orders of the dictator Nicolae Ceausescu and characterless buildings like the 1000 room parliament building, that I will be visiting this afternoon, were erected.