I had visions of wild camping in the mountains, under the pyramids or next to babbling streams, but its not really quite like that, maybe later in the trip. You are constantly aware of noises, changes in the light, though now I am less bothered, especially when I am really tired or cold or wet!

I was tucked away in a corner wide open field in my tent, reading my book, as always my eyes becoming heavy all too quickly and, after only two pages I have to give up and succumb to sleep, after removing another spider and a millipede from my tent I begin tucking myself into my sleeping bag, infuriatingly fiddling with the bags zipper! Just as I am nodding off a wild pig scurries past my tent. Then, I hear car doors slam, voices....they are close I guess 50m, probably three people maybe two...I sit up penned in to my sleeping bag, eyes wide!

Then, gun shots two of them...
OH
MY
GOD!

I sit wondering what to do, I rip open the sleeping bag and grab my glasses and head torch and with my torch still turned off I peer out through the tent door. There are two more shots and followed quickly by another two. I get out of the tent and cower behind my motorbike for cover, my brain frantically trying to decide what to do, contemplating what I will do when I get shot. Do I go towards them, blow my cover and hope they don't mistake my torch for an animals eye, or stay put and hope I don't get shot...

There is a moments pause, maybe they will leave.... Then three shots fire and pine needles fall all around me I'm going to die Two more shots and more pine needles They are shooting this way!I run off up the field in the opposite direction still wondering what to do. I turn on my head torch so I can keep an eye on my things though I am too far away to really see.

Moments later they move into a clearing, not too far from the tent and call over I walk over sheepishly, they are talking to me but of course I don't understand. I reach them and they ask to turn off the haedtorch (it is very bright!) and they shine there mobile phones in my face to see me. They take me to their car and offer me a beer....I wonder if they plan to kill me, I try and explain that I am camping. One guy is on his phone continuously....I take them to my bike to show them where I am. Eventually they get hold of an interpreter and I talk with them on the phone. 'Talk to me' the voice says, I explain the situation and give the phone back to the shooter. The phone is given back and the first question they ask is 'are these people bothering you? Do you need food, water? This is a dangerous place' - no kidding - 'there are wild pigs' - Yeah kept me awake last night.

e-mail addresses are exchanged, a gift of beads given (now residing on my handlebar) autographs asked for and photos taken and I return to my tent for slightly sleepness night!

I also have spent some time in Istanbul, where I managed to finally obtain some parts for the bike from a VERY helpful bike shop called Tekay Moto They drove all over the place to get me parts!

Here I was also point blank refused a Syrian Visa, no surprises there, but I am told by the embassy in Britain that there is another place where it is possible for me to obtain one with no problems!

Aye aye aye!

Basically, Greece has been one Yamaha dealer after another! Trying to obtain a new chain and sprockets before they disintegrate. I kept being optimistic thinking the next garage will have it, after-all they sell the bike here. I am currently contemplating backtracking, ordering it and taking some sort of detour, but the weather is far from great, my rucksack is as good as empty as I'm back to wearing everything, which is a great disappointment after the nice warmth of Albania where I wore no motorcycle boots or trousers and could remove my fleece for the first time!

I hadn't really planned where to visit in Greece, Athens seemed to far south, so I wandered the roads detouring in to little villages here and there, asking locals what was good to the east but the response seemed to be that of fear "I don't go there! I am too busy, I never leave my shop!!" Maybe they thought I was the dodgy character and I even had a woman shouting at an old man who was talking to me ...I imagined she was saying "DON'T TALK TO THAT BUM!!", but the Greeks do like to shout a lot, and always seem to be arguing!

I stayed in a lovely apartment in Halakdiki for two days, called Ocean View Hotel, completely free of charge thanks to a lovely, lovely German lady; Marion (and her dog Victor!), I was desperate for a place to stay and she saved my bacon when things were looking pretty bleak! Thanks so much for everything Marion! You can view her hotel's website here

Then horror of horrors, having just set up my tent in a small wood, down a dirt track away from the town, I was pretty desperate for a camp site and had to settle with this one, though I was thinking how I liked it least of all my sites. As I connected the hose on my petrol stove I heard car tires on the rocky track, oh crap!, 25m away and closing, I'm busted this time, I knew this would happen The path was raised slightly above my site in the sparse wood, I crouched frozen next to my stove, tent and bike, Can I drop the tent in time....no chance, how did I not hear it coming?!the car came closer and closer, car headlight was all over me, 15m, 10m, 5m! and on it went passed, perhaps it didn't see me in this low spot? I should move....somewhere.... sod that, it's dark and I'm hungry so I stayed, leaving early; before sunrise, it was very, very windy and I got little sleep.

Anyway, I won't babble on and on (like usual...or have I already) so check out the photos and a very short and pointless video below which is not so great as you can hardly see me!



Shortly after this video, riding this dirt road I came to some cows in the road (quite common) and swerved to avoid one, just as I did so all hell broke loose, the bike bucked up and swerved and I felt like I was being pulled by my left shoulderCrap, the back box has fallen off, it's too bumpy I knew this would happen...I stop....no, back box is still there.... one of the straps had wrapped around the rear hub, then in to the chain and rear sprocket, and snapped (approx. 2.2tonnes) luckily the hub was intact and I was quite soon back on the road, though a teensy bit shaken as I was in the middle of nowhere again, stupid detours!! "Hello, AA.... where am I....mmm, well, I turned down a dirt track 2 hours ago, took a left, then a right then right again and stopped for lunch on a little boulder...."

Turkey next, but maybe I have to go backwards to get these damn parts.....

Approaching the coast of Albania on the ferry I wonder why I haven't even looked at the map, I have no idea where I am going! As we get closer I realise that it looks like any other port and maybe Albania will be just another European country. I pay the guards, 1 euro to get my passport, then see another four control points and I'm in, I'm in Albania!

Lavazh are everywhere, "car washes", and petrol stations....they seem to charge the same price as in euros and I wonder if maybe they take euros... I see an ATM standing lonely at the side of the road and go to see what the deal is...I can withdraw 1000 upto 40,000 LEK, I take 3,000 not knowing what I have taken out.

Riding a long a fairly good road, with only occasional pot holes and craters and floods of water, I decide to try to head for the coast for a breakfast stop, as soon as I leave the main road I am riding dirt and stone tracks, the bike takes a pounding and I wonder how much it can take, and if my luggage can cling on....I stop at a roundabout of sorts, people sitting and talking, others riding past on horse and cart, mules carrying massive quantities of grass and behind me a deluxe cafe like any in italy. I stop and start eating near the road, the owner of the cafe comes out with a bottle of water and puts it on the wall besdide me, I offer to pay, but no charge, so I offer to buy a coffee. I sit and drink it, then go to pay; only 50 LEK, jesus, how much did I take out?!! Im only here for a day or so. I grab one of the three 1000LEK notes I took out earlier and the owner sees it and says, "ah...OK" ...a free coffee too, I am starting to like Albania.

I ride on down this dirt track for a while, then on and on it goes, and on, I've missed turning somewhere, but I don't do going backwards, plus it can't be that far, I've been on here for hours. I stop and ask a guy for directions, jesus, I'm miles away from the main road and running low on petrol. I ride on, and around the corner a massive BP petrol station, in the middle of absolutely nowhere, I stop and owner comes out and asks me many questions, among which "what are you doing HERE!".

Riding on I stop to take photos, children come up tp me and are almost touching me, they get so close, I say "hello" and they gawp open mouthed and just utter a "whuh?". I laugh and say goodbye.

I see an olive picker later on and ask if I can camp in his field, no problems, just no fires! He gives me some olives and some fuit too!

The next day I ride mainly highways, a little bored and aimless. In the afternoon I stop for water and wonder where will I camp tonight, packing the water away I hear the unmistakable sound of a BMW twin, I watch the rider fly past its a motorcycle tourer he stops and turns around hes turning round He asks how I am doing he is talking english to me. Dirk Shaefer a German rider is just completing an eight month circumnavigation of the med coast solo. He and I chat for a long while beside the road. We ride back up the spectacular mountain pass and take inumerable photos, then we head to a hotel back down the road for a coffee, a coffee becomes a meal and a night in the hotel spinning tales, though I wonder how mine are lame compared to his Algerian adventures. Dirk is a great person to talk to and I consider heading back with him to Marseilles, but in the end worry about the cost of going this way and that and also how my 10horsepower is no match for Dirk's 110hp!!

Riding south through Albania is spectacular riding and I am happy I chose to carry on, but wonder throughout the day how Dirk is fairing and keep checking my mirrors hoping to see him having changed his mind, but it doesn't happen and I am sad that night to be alone again....maybe he will join me in the future?!

Into Greece now....carnet issue should be ok, next hurdle is Syrian visa....

A VERY special thanks to Dirk for everything he provided, I can't thank you enough for your generosity!!! Hope to see you again so I can repay you!

The story from the last week or so has been that of trying to find a place to sleep, for not much money! This has led to some really late nights, but also to meeting some great people at "Agritourismos", farm houses that have beds, I guess these started off as grape picking rooms which were let out to guests during the none picking season but have since developed into their own thing, closer to hotels in some cases! I have stayed at about four of them, sometimes for completely free, with free food, sometimes camping and sometimes in the rooms!

I rode to Rome, and got very wet, my little tent unable to cope with the deluge, then through a moonscape toward the Bari. On the way I stopped to take a million pictures, and on one stop noticed to my horror the sleeping bag was not where it was supposed to be - on the bike!! I rode frantically back the way I had came, running on zero fuel after 15km I found three Italian guys holding the bag with a big grin and a beer later I rode off bag in hand, but couldn't lose the feeling of leaving something behind! Riding into Bari on a straight deserted road I saw a girl sitting in the sun by the side of the road, then another two under a tree....prostitutes...this place is desolate! I rode into Bari wandering if this is what Italy has to offer then Albania is going to be quite another story! And was filled with large amounts of doubt and fear! I tried to find the information centre, forgetting I had a city plan on my italy map! Finding it minutes too late, Chioso. trying to find a campsite or agritourismo, I stopped and forked out 43Euros for a room....not happy...the next day I made it to the information centre and found that the campsite I was looking for was open!! AHHH! I spent the rest of the day trying to buy parts for the motorbike with no luck in four yamaha shops! I rode to the campsite, 15km I was told, turned out to be 50km! And it was infact not open, but chioso!! I went all the way back to Bari to try and find a hostel, but could not find it and gave up, camping in a grape field. Getting into my sleeping bag the last thing I bumped my head on was a watering system hose....I hope I dont get soacked! Needless to say, I got little sleep. Then I got a puncture!!! But, unbeleivably, this was outside a tyre shop!! Still, I fixed it myself, and hopefully it will hold for a while!?

Today I should catch the ferry to Albania, wondering quite what I will find on the other side of the water, where will I sleep, where will I get petrol, money....food?

This was stupid idea.

.....I am quite unlucky

After leaving the delights of Grindelwald, I wasn't sure what to do, waiting around for my carnet. I decided to head upto Berchtesgaden, in southern Germany, the home of Hitler's "Eagles Nest", his lair high in the Alps. There was a bus to the top, but this costs money so I asked about walking "ooh, it is 1.5km!" said the information lady, who it turns out has a fairly poor grasp of the english language and on gauging distances. One and half hours or so later I made it, in deep fog, damp and sweaty in motorbike gear, 1834m altitude.

Then off to St. Moritz, I had a chilly night at -8ºC in a -7ºC "extreme limit" sleeping bag and so headed south to the warmer Dolomites in Italy, it was a bit warmer and I did the worst hike ever! The path followed a long, long land slide, so I essentially just climbed a scree slope all day. I saw some wild deer mind you.

I rode about about 43 mountain passes and turned approximately 4000 hairpins, one pass had 33 on the way down alone! And had kids throwing rocks at my tent, so I gave them an english lesson.

Then off to Lake Garda, where it was warm! Apparantly all the camp sites were closed, but a lovely english coach tour group told me otherwise and I found one open eventually. Here I decided to make a list of "Perfect Moments" after taking a dip in the lake (bit nippy) and cooking my dinner on a beach watching a lone fisherman.

Then joy, of joys, my carnet was on it's way! So off to it's collection point from my father's company supplier, Formeco, in Noventa Padovana, near Venice. Unfortunately there is a teeny descrepancy in the engine number, so I am completely stuffed for the time being. Thank you to Stefano to letting me do this, and showing interest in the trip and even offering a meal at his home! However, Peter had beaten him to it and even let me stay the night...this later turned to three nights! Peter not only fed me some fantastic food (treating me to octopus, squid and shark after me mentioning how disgusting it looked on the market! It was actually very good!) and great coffee (which to him was quite normal!) but also gave me lots of information on how to get here and there! I can't thank him and Francessca enough, it was a lovely time and hopefully the smell of my feet has left the house now, too?! Whilst I was there I popped into Venice and met up with two of my lovely neighbours from home, Ken and Carol King, they fed me as well, I must look skinny, pizza and over expensive salad and even a very nice ice cream cornet, we took a great walk around Venice (and Vietnam it seemed).

I left Peter's heading South, to Firenze and San Gimingiano, where I went through the worlds most boring arae (which Peter had warned me about) and ate the most boring bread, with no salt it tastes of nothing....which Peter had also warned me of!! I couldn't find a campsite open, or a "agritismo" (farm house) but eventually found one who let me camp for free! So I treated myself to my first beer (that I have bought!!) and a breakfast! In the night I was nudged by some animal who tried to roll me over!

I have been absolutely soaked by rain, and today I should make Siena where I can wash my socks and dry my things! My boots are pretty much destroyed and they smell horrifically!

Once done I will pop to Rome, then Bari to catch a ferry to Albania. At some point before Syria I will probably need a new carnet and a visa for Syria, so the problems are really just starting!

Where does one begin? In fact I don't think I can write about it concisely without going on and on in book like fashion, like the grape story...though I wonder if there is that much to tell or if it just seems so, everything is so difficult to take in and absorb, with things changing constantly, and the Swiss scenery changing with every turn....

The highlight has to have been Grindlewald, where I spent the last three days, and did two big hikes in the mountains. I have read a lot about this area and to actually be here was just unbelievable, for me anyway, plus it turned out to be just I had imagined as I was worried it would be some massive, sprawling city in the mountains filled with bustle and stress. Luckily it wasn't, has only 4000 population, but I assume the tourist population is much, much higher, even in low season.

The first day I decided to hike up to the Eiger Sletscher (glacier) (which I have probably spelt incorrectly), which is about 2320m or so. On the way I met Sarah, a pretty, blond Swiss girl, who works as nurse in Bern, though originally from Zurich. I did well to keep up with Sarah! She was great company on a spectacular hike, she fed me chocolate and even bought me ice cream at "Eigerland", (also known as Kleine Scheidegg, think Disneyland on a mountain... a train station, restaurants and souvenir shops a little way down from the glacier, though having said that I was glad for the ice cream! Stupidly I didn't get Sarah's contact details - so if you are reading this, perhaps send me your e-mail address!

The next day I decide to hike up to "First" (2100m ish) and "Faulhorn"(2680m) and in the process "Bussalp" (1800m), by the time I reached Bussalp, which came first along the route, I was really tired, and 600m below Faulhorn I struggling to move, 10 steps, stop, 10 steps, stop, part of the sole of my shoe rips off, I lose the trail and can eventually see people on it; MILES away. I carve my own path and make it to the top, I want another ice cream like yesterday and more besides, but there is no such luck here!

I take a short walk over to "First" and then down, down, down to Grindlewald, as soon as I reach the tent my legs become seized and my left knee clicks in pain. I sit there cooking my lovely pasta and coffee, legs becoming ever stiffer, cow bells chiming a merry tune and I think happily over the past days, I think about how I could live in Switzerland and will be very sad to leave Grindelwald. Though I also realise just how lucky I am.

I know also that the Middle East and Africa loom ever closer and wonder if I can put off heading that way any longer!! Though I am delayed by my carnet (a document I need to enter Africa), another story in itself, hopefully I will pick it up near Venice and then there is nothing stopping me, except all the problems I know that will come!

PS nescafe coffee costs about £7. Absurd.

Bent double over another stubborn grape vine, I cut my left hand for the sixth time that morning, Jean-Pierre the farm owner appears instantly from nowhere holding out white tape to cover the wound and he disappears as quickly back to the fray! My back in agony, exhausted and coughing with a cold, I look up to try and see the end of my row of grape vines, I can`t see it, but i estimate that it is at least ten miles away, or so it seems! I wonder if I`m being to negative, as always.

"Anglais"...it`s Steve, a big burly French guy with a skinhead requesting my collection of grape, though he doesn't look quite so tough at the moment, sweat oozing from every pore, his feet torn to pieces by the mountain and the fifty kilos on his back, in fact he looks about ready to cry! Steve became porter by default due to his inability to pick grapes at anything less than three times faster than anyone else, causing problems for the would be porter having to walk miles to catch up with Steve whilst the rest of us drag our feet!

I lunge for my bucket and force my back to uncurl to lift it and it`s all too meager contents. I take a second to look around, it really is beautiful here, others are chatting, singing, laughing. Dion a giant Dutch Pseudo Englishman is quoting British films, a comparatively tiny Dutch guy named Job is repeatedly asking me if "it`s good, huh?" in his quest to reach his goal of saying it 300 times in 24 hours!

Before I can enjoy it all too much Jean-Pierre appears again and starts attacking my row of grape, clearing three bushes before I am able to put my bucket back down. Then I realise that I've lost my serrapette, my hook shaped knife for cutting the grape from the plant...is it on the floor, in the bush...absolute panic, I`m already miles behind.

Just then, a quite buzzing and an unintelligible shout in French, I along with all others in the room are awoken as the fluorescent lights hum into action, it`s 6am. I was dreaming of grapes, again! Our room stinks. Beer bottles, clothes, bags and people everywhere!! Time to fill up on bread and jam and coffee. We drive at warp speed to the vineyard with Jean-Pierre, though this time it`s no dream! Pick grape until 6pm or so, shower -hopefully first so it is warm - and eat. Then I try not to be a complete social retard with some really nice people, fall asleep and repeat.

There was some strange pleasure in becoming completely exhausted, in pain with nice people! As I set off after the harvest, almost dropping the bike, saved by Mataas (spelling? and thank you!) and riding off down the road I realised three things, it was super, I was really tired and I should have appreciated it more at the time.

But it's great to be back on the bike!

Click the image to view the photos from grape picking!

Grape pickers can download these images, small size HERE

Hi all,

Just in Munich and after the comforts of the few days at Martin's felt a bit lonely again, but luckily met a great chap called Fred from Netherlands on a push bike who fed me spicy sausage and beers and said "it's on me, it's always nice when someone buys you something if you are on a long journey!", it was but the company in the bitter cold was better, it hit -1ºC and a pair of dutch motorcyclists asked me if I was expecting it to be THIS cold, "hell no!". Still it makes it super easy peasy to pack as I'm wearing absolutely all my clothes., remember I have a 50mph wind to contend with all day too!

So from Martins I visited the Eifel forest (great riding, hairpins etc and where I met Fred), Bastogne (scene of epic WWII battle), someplace near Karlsrhue in Germany and some more great riding in some wine district of Germany, who knows where? and now in a tiny place near Munich. Apparently I turned up for the time of the Oktoberfest so it is heaving with folks and I even got to see the massive parade this morning - talk about luck!! On the unlucky side, the ADAC was closed for me to obtain a vital piece of paperwork (a carnet), so that has to wait until tomorrow so I might be pushed for time to get to Lyon for the grape picking!

TI have just been lost for about an hour as I didn't actually know where I was staying, it has since become apparent it is called Seefeld, if only I'd known! Met a British colonel whose wife made me coffee here too, and some Germans have commented how far I have come! Little do they know....

Also, rode a road which had 12 petrol stations in a row, one after the other, which I found highly bizarre.

There is probably more I have forgotten, but for now....(no more photos as I don't carry a USB).

I can't believe it's only been nine or ten days since I left home, it feels like months and not without tribulations!

I really cannot describe how difficult the first few days were, I thought about throwing it all in and hit depths of loneliness that I never knew were possible, knowing each day further I travelled I'd have to travel an extra day back!

I dreamt I was in my own bed and when I woke to find that actually I was in a cold wet tent I was less than amused! But then, one day something clicked, my tent appeared to be huge instead of small, my bags could Carry more and the seat had more room....and things have changed and now I really feel I am in the trip now and it is superb! I really just can't believe I am doing it!

Though, I was told by another motorcyclist who'd "done" Africa, that the trip won't begin until then..Africa that is.

Already having suffered a puncture, dropped the bike twice and had the rear brake seize into a locked on position and now the bike making a noise it really shouldn't be making...but at least it drowns out my singing....I'm starting to think that things can be done to overcome these problems, and better: I can do (some of) them myself!

Best Moment: German family bringing me tea and cakes, "Schollettes" I think whilst I waited for quite some time for Martin to complete his monster commute from work!

Worst Moment: Dropping my cooked pasta everywhere at the campsite in Bayeux.

To get a good idea of what has been happening so far then the best bet is to check out the photos, I don't want to blabber, click the one in this post to open up the new album in the gallery!

I have a job starting on the 26th September (*shocked gasps*), picking wine grapes near Lyon France, lasting about 10 days (that#s enough work for me!) so that's my next main stop, going via Bastogne and the Ardennes Forest.

I'll try and update the map soon, but it's a right caper, though I have diligently GPS points from each night...

I meant to say some thank yous before I left, but I was too busy being terrified to complete the task, so you can see these in a new post below.

And also, more recent thank yous to Martin who has been extremely terrific in letting me stay in his lovely apartment and being so helpful and kind!! and also Yamaha Dortmund who serviced my bike (within minutes of me arriving!), letting me watch them in the workshop and teaching me a few things AND giving me coffee, it is the best motorcycle shop I have ever seen!

I could write reams already, but that would never do...

Thanks to the following people;

Tom, Alan and Sally at Wylie & Holland Motorcycles for all their help,
Nurse Glenys for taking care of all my innoculations,
John Powell at Austin Engineering for some parts,
Chris for helping prep the bike and letting me just hang out! It was so good to see you!
Pete Warren for the lugagge side spacers (and infinite patience in face of my long indecision),
Trina Jones for offering support should I ever need it,
Anyone who has shown some interest,and shown some support,
Mike (although I may have got his name very wrong) from Marches Motorcycle training, for helping me pass my test and changing my mindset about being able to do the trip...well at least start.
My sister and (dare I say it) brother-in-law Brendan for a great good bye meal!


Special thanks to;
My good buddy Rich for being superb when the chips were down, and for being completely unselfish when I decided to do this trip (instead of the push-cycle) and for just putting up with my indecision and stress head. I can't wish him enough luck in the future, I really, really, really hope you find some happiness and good adventures, it's about time we both had some luck. Sorry for the way it turned out. Hope to catch up in Egypt.

Me mam and dad who've had to put up with me moping about feeling absolutely miserable because of a sore leg that won't go away (I'm really sorry) and for letting me live in their nice house.

Hope I haven't forgotten anyone.

Well, the good news is that my license has arrived!!

Yee ha.

The bad news is that I suppose now I have to go!!

Jeepers.

So, Nick leaves Sunday. 10am. (ish!)

The ugly news is I've been a victim to credit fraud (again). So now I have no debit card and no internet banking.

A special thanks go out to the rectum who stole my money.

I am applying to Guinness to have a world record for most unlucky person, I'm feeling optimistic.

The bike is packed, just about.... But, unfortunately, my riding license is seemingly lost in the post, somewhere in the royal mail network....so once resolved I will hopefully leave, I think I have just about all I need, though I'm now just eager to get moving!

My first night will be spent near Stonehenge, and as I won't sleep at all through the night due to absolute terror of the imminent doom that it is the trip and complete loneliness, I should at least be able to get some hopefully nice sunrise photos of the stone circle.... though I am told we have monsoon weather for 10 days.

So Wednesday departure at best, but perhaps I'll wait until next week, when I can have a better send off from my family (otherwise they'll be in work and that just won't do!).

Ho hum.

At last I've passed my motorcycle riding test - on the second attempt - the first attempt was the proverbial nightmare, though the DVLA tester clearly didn't like me as he asked me to do a U-turn in the waiting room...well, not really but the road was really flippin narrow! Luckily the second tester was a gent, helpful and encouraging, though I was still very nervous!

All that is left to do now is leave, and about a million other things in amongst changing my pants every five minutes...I'm quite nervous now, especially as now I am riding solo. Today the bike was to some degree taken apart and now I can begin making some minor modifications to it to help it withstand the abuse, likely crashes and also take the luggage.

My sister is getting married at the end of August so I better stick around for that or I may be thrown out from the family!

I am starting a "donate your underpants appeal" so feel free to let me know if you can help!

Thanks to all those who are reading.

Motorbike arrives! A Yamaha YBR 125cc. Feels a darn sight better than the Chit-Un-Ma used on the CBT! But am only able to reach a pitiful 40mph whilst running the engine in! Still, this just means the quicker I rack up some miles the quicker I can go!

A very special thanks go to Wylie and Holland Motorcycles who were great help and a pleasure to work with, and super patient.

Time to practise some U-turns, emergency stops and hill-starts ready for the practical test!

One step closer, the theory test has been passed!

As Dave - our instructor for the day - reached for his thirty-second cigarette with a quivering hand, muttering “God save us”. Dudley Franks (real name; unknown) puts in his 473rd lap of the training pad, his butt crack showing, balance faltering. Rich and I were doing our motorcycle CBT’s – the most basic motorcycle training and road assessment of sorts. Eventually Dudley got it, sort of. I must say I felt sorry for the guy, when things start going wrong, they just get worse as the pressure mounts exponentially.

I was nervous. But looking in my rear view mirror and seeing Rich smiling excitedly and revving his “Chit.Un.Ma 125cc” with glee quickly put my mind at rest. With the mornings test pad session complete we got chance to talk a little with Dudley and another learner, Rodney Rollban (real name; unknown) before the afternoons session. Rodney was from a nearby town that floods annually almost without fail and we were discussing if Rodney lived on the flood plain. Dudley chirped in “I don’t know why people there don’t build massive flood protective stone walls around their houses, *this* high, with a big metal gate that lifts up so you can get in and out. That would solve the flood problem. I could make a fortune. I don’t know why people don’t do that”. Dudley wasn’t exactly the brightest of chaps. “Wouldn’t you just move house?” I asked with raised eyebrow. Dudley repeated the plan, as if I hadn’t realised the ingeniousness of it the first time. Rich foolishly entered the conversation “The water would just come up the drains”. Mere words and commonsense couldn’t knock young Dudley down, however, and it dawned on everyone soon thereafter that there was no winning over this argument and anyway, the sausage sandwiches were waiting.

The afternoon road session saw us split into two separate pairs; luckily Rich and I were kept together. Apart from nearly being hit head-on by a car on the wrong side of the road it went well. We escaped unscathed to receive a CBT apiece, stage one complete. We are not quite sure how young Dudley faired.