"They'll take your bike and sell your body for sex"

Montenegro -one of several cruise ships moored

Montenegro is very similar to Croatia, beautiful countryside, less affluent perhaps and some more litter. Pretty much the same and nothing much to say really.

Then I meet Wolfgang. Wolfgang is from Austria and is en-route to west coast of Greece on his BMW for a few weeks. We end up in same hotel and chat about Albania. Someone said to me "They'll take your bike and sell your body for sex", they might have referred to someone else's body but I'll go with that for now. "Maybe it's best we go together, safety in numbers and all that"! So we decide to get away early in morning and charge across this unknown land to Greece. I'm not too bothered either way but as I'm falling behind in schedule realise this might be an opportunity to catch up.

Wolfgang & his GS1200

We cross the border and the first thing we notice is deterioration in the roads. There is piles of rubbish lying around. The people don't seem to care. There are toilet smells of the dodgy tummy kind. There are cars spewing oily smoke. Hang on, this is familiar, but its not Asia its Albania.

We work out that we can reach Greece before 5pm tonight if we keep up the pace. I'm scanning hotels and towns as we travel, wondering if I had a breakdown, would i want to stay there. I don't relish the thought and prefer to think about getting out the other end today. This is not the stuff of adventurers Steven. Then I pretend to myself that it wouldn't bother me either way. Yes I'll go with this thought for now.

Petrol stations everywhere

One thing is clear here, you will never walk far to get petrol if you run out. every 1 or 2 km it seems, has a new sparkling petrol station. The petrol isn't much cheaper so it must be good business. Even in the middle of nowhere, small villages and towns have petrol stations to rival any busy motorway services in the world. Then there is the smell of oil. Is it from the truck in front, my bike is leaking? No it's the countryside. I've failed to notice that the small steel towers dotted around the place are in actual fact oil wells. This dawns on me as I pass a small lake contaminated with by products of oil, or full of oil, or full of something. It didn't smell too good.

The roads are interesting too. We have 200 kms of fast dual carriageway. Then 200 kms of small narrow winding roads, then 100 kms of fast dual carriageway etc. We have roads under construction, gravel, pot holes, puddles. Some bends have melted to form blobs, especially on the mountainous sharp hairpin corners with sheer drops to one side. Very comforting. Then there are the cars. Brand new dealerships alongside the many petrol stations, Mercedes, BMW, even Opel. There are many UK registration plates. Like an idiot I wave to several of the drivers as they must surely recognise my UK plates. They don't wave back. Why the hell not? Then I realise in my idiocy that the "Snap on" tools van registered in Bradford was not brought here to supply tools, the 5 series beemer from London was not on temporary holiday. This is the place where stolen cars get amnesty it seems. The plain faced drivers and passengers don't smile much.

Stop at petrol station for coffee

We get our first taste of off road riding. Short and gravel, but long enough to realise my Tiger is NOT an off road bike. Its OK staying up for the moment, the tyres grip enough. But the suspension is way too hard and short to take on the really rough stuff. I'm pretending its OK as Wolfgang on the more suitable agricultural GS1200 has his first off road experience and seems to like it. I just stand up, try to look as if I know what I'm doing and carry on. I will have to pick and choose my route through Pakistan very carefully or lose all nuts and bolts and equipment from my steed. (I'm thinking about softening suspension and other technical stuff now)

With one hundred kilometres to go to the border we come across gravel. This is the main route to Greece? Surely not! we must be on the wrong road. but both of us check our maps and it is indeed the main road. I don't fancy another 100 kms of this stuff. Holes, gravel, puddles and slow moving oily trucks. Horrible. We'll never get there before dark sets in. I don't relish the thought of setting up camp in one of these rubbish strewn fields surrounded by oil, car thieves and apparent sex traffickers.

Passing another petrol station

It lasted for 10 minutes and were were back on reasonable tarmac. I wasn't worried at all! Huh :)






When we enter Greece were rewarded with fast winding roads suitable for landing a 747 with room to spare. Greek man;"You drive through Albania OK, they not steal your bikes"? "Oh No of course not", we joke, "didn't believe that for a minute" we add.

We find a lovely wee hotel near a beautiful lake. Cold beer solves all, pizza for tea and I'm fast asleep before 9:30.

Next:
Greece is skint but can still afford spray paint.

Camping in Croatia

When you cross a border, you learn that its safest to drive slowly, whilst you pick up on the driving habits and attitude from others. Italy taught me to watch my arse. Get out of the way quickly. Croatia has taught me to do all the above but ignore the ridiculously slow speed limits. I assumed 60 meant 60kph. The drivers here seem to add  a '1' to the '60'.

View from my tent

I'm still feeling a bit down after saying goodbye my wife again so plump for the comfort of my tent in a campsite on the coast. I'm impressed with the low cost of things here. I buy a cheap bottle of wine and pour most of it down the drain. It may be cheap at $1.50 a litre but petrol  is more expensive and probably tastes a lot better. Then I discover Croatian Cabernet Sauvignon. $5 and on a par with the most expensive Australian Coonawarra or French Burgundy. Delicious, especially with the local cheese. Heaven!

I've secured a beautiful spot which looks out on to the Adriatic sea and decide that I should drop in for a swim. Drop-in, is exactly what happened, trying to tip to around the boulders, I slipped on my right foot, bashed my left toe on a rock and split the nail, fell on my arse in shallow water whilst a crowd of Croatian beach sunbathers watched in amusement. Well I think they were amused, no one seems to smile much here. I've lost all dignity but try to look as if I don't care. No one believes me.

If I'm not entertaining the locals with my beach antics I'm trying not to drop my overladen bike in the gravel. Why is there always a crowd watching when you make a mistake turning your bike. I didn't drop it but managed to look a bit of a tube recovering from a near miss. Definately not cool. The locals still don't laugh, maybe they understand.


I head south on the coast roads and discover Europes best kept secret. This is absolutely amazing countryside, scenery, endless empty winding roads, beautiful seaside villages and ports.
As I drive the route towards Split I'm bowled over by this country. This is better than France, nearly as good as Scotland surely. Hmmm OK maybe not that good. :)

Beautiful Croatia

Heres another thing.
In Italy, France and Croatia, the people and culture grow up on two wheels, they understand. The car and truck drivers make way, move over, allow you to pass. They are apologetic if they dont see you coming up from behind. Even parking is easy. Cars pay for each space, bikes (and mostly scooters) are given the best places to park at no charge. Hey Australia! Wake up!

Happy again!

I just wish the Croatians would cheer up a bit. I have finally!

Oh, before I forget. I entered a naturalist campground by mistake, not that I've got anything to hide but I do wish some people would put clothes on. I nearly dropped my bike with shock. It wasn't full of beautiful beach babes and handsome hunks, more chunky middle aged chunks and spaniels ears. I did consider joining in for a bit but decided I would probably fit right in.

Next:
"They'll take your bike and sell your body for sex in Albania"

I have it in my hand

Finally. At last. I have the bit of paper in my hand. My long lost Carnet de Passage has finally arrived. We meet in romantic Venice. Its so nice that the carnet has flown my lovely wife over as well.

I've driven up from La Spezia, mostly on Autostrada to save time after leaving the mountainous regions . It's bloody hot and I'm struggling to cope. How on earth will I deal with this in Pakistan? I've resorted to removing my jacket and gloves to try and cool down. I can't remove my new boots which are surely designed for the arctic. My feet must be glowing red by now.

A few watering stops and a break in the weather help me all the way to a nice hotel in Mestri. Nearby Venice is 10 minutes by bus and a Mestri hotel room is about a third of the price. Makes too much sense to me. I take my boots off and nearby, some small creatures die.

Lorraine flies in tomorrow morning and I'll be there to meet her. She has my long awaited Carnet de Passage document, the paperwork I need to get into Asian countries.

So this is my first time in Venice and Venice by day, well, not very impressed really.There are lots of people being busy, busy. endless confused tourists dragging suitcases on wheels around side streets. Canals in between old run down buildings, rubbish in bags and bins awaiting the garbage boat. We've walked for ages in and out of the continuous maze of small back streets, tired out we head back to our hotel unimpressed, perhaps too tired.

I was going to leave with the impression that Venice was crap. Have you seen a nightclub through the day? Same thing, looks crap but when dark falls, the place comes to life.

Venice transforms into a magical place at night. Music playing, food cooking, lights, atmosphere, smiles and happy. It takes me a while to realise this place by day is totally different by night. I actually get it now. Lovely place.

Through the day, the water taxi is crowded, hot and smelly. By night it becomes a romantic cruise in cool air whilst you pass along the canals, windows glances of chandeliers, book cases, lights glimmering on the water. I attempt to try and capture it on my camera but it doesn't matter really. I love the place now. What a change a day makes!
We simply wander around Venice. That's all we needed really.
I've had a brilliant time with my wife  but sadly, it comes to an end in the morning.




This trip has seen lots of goodbyes. I'm slightly miserable now. She leaves in a taxi for the airport as I pack the last of my gear on the bike. The heavens open and piss an entire lake on me just to add to my misery.

The rain falls like never before, I get soaked trying to put on my waterproofs. Then when I set off, soaked, with waterproofs over, the rain stops and under the blazing sun I'm a one man steam sauna. God is really taking the piss here!

Next:
Naked Camping in Croatia..

Welcome to Italy. Get a move on!

Menton to La Spezia

I'm not considered a slow driver often but when I cross into Italy using the Autostrada, I'm astounded by the change in driving habits. In France, everything moves quickly and it all works, drivers have patience and wait their turn. In Italy, this changes as I notice cars, trucks, vans and old ladies in small Fiats so close to my back tyre, I'm starting to get a wee bit nervous. "Gett outta my way"! is what I'm feeling from the cars behind me


This is not right surely. I accelerate to current motorway speeds and find that even at 180kms/hour there is still some dude trying to push me into the bushes. "Getta outta my way"! Love it!
I'm going to head for the North West cost of Italy. La Spezia. This will be the first time I've camped in my new tent.

First time camper

I've found this amazing camping place just north of La Spezia. Get this, to get there you drive north through a single track tunnel. you can only go when the traffic lights change. OK. Then I notice the sign states something like 00:20:40 on every hour. The tunnels are so long that you can only enter every 20 minutes. This explains the long queue. I'll show you the video later.

The tunnel used to be for trains only and is not well lit. Not good if you cannot get your sunglasses off in time, the whole world disappears and I'm in a panic to get my sunnies off to make sure I emerge from the other end. I know there is a campsite along here but I didn't expect an opening on the side of the tunnel wall to open out to a campsite. I've nearly missed it but hit the brakes in time and find myself turning quickly into an opening before Luigi runs me down with his Fiat van. It opens onto a lovely lagoon with camp pitches along the side, leather skinned sun bathers, umbrellas and a bar! Excellent.

The Mediterranean from Italy

Next: Guess what I get in Venice?

The Best Biking Roads in the world?

on the way to Col la Bonnette

If anyone asks me where the best roads for biking are. France is my reply. So I'm so happy to be here in the South east, in the French Alps. Bike heaven.

This is a nation that appreciates two wheels, has plenty of twisty roads, courteous drivers and loads of bike friendly places to stop. I have to remind myself many times that the bike is heavely loaded and I need to make it safely across to the other side of the world so take it easy. It's very difficult not to lose yourself in the sheer pleasure of this place. I love it.

Menton hotel

I'm on my way down to Menton on the Mediterranean sea. This is next door to Monaco but a lot lot cheaper. The weather is perfect, the roads perfect and I'm feeling good. I'm passing through Besacon and Briancon. The hotels are fairly good value here, around 50 Euros for the night. This changes further south but I fancy a wee bit of luxury before the camping begins. I find a place across from the beach, it has a veranda, secure bike parking, a bar and beautiful view across to Africa.

I've driven around 2100kms from Perth Scotland. The bike is good, the weather is good and I'm feeling good if a bit tired. This really feels like a holiday, not a big adventure.

Next: Welcome to Italy. Get outta ma way or i runna you over!