Shirley: It’s Canadian Thanksgiving and friends have invited us all to a hunting cabin in the wilds. I’m not so sure about this hunting thing, but Cath assures us there’ll be no hunting over Thanksgiving.
The cabin is hidden in the forest, at the end of a long bumpy fire trail. I’m glad we’re in Les’s 4WD and not on the bike. The fall colours are more vibrant here, further north. The cabin looks like something out of a movie, a log cabin with just two rooms, one with a couple of bunk beds and one with a wood stove, tables and some couches. There’s no running water, no electricity and no toilet, other than old drop toilet in the outhouse.
There seems to be a lot of talk about guns, something that makes me feel very uncomfortable. The family are going skeet shooting. I decline an invitation to join them. So do Brian, Cath and Les. We go for a wander, kicking our feet through the autumn leaves. It’s something we don’t see to this extent in Melbourne.
Cath and I spy a chipmunk, a tiny, industrious animal busying himself in the undergrowth and dashing up and down the trees. We try and get him to take food from us, but he’s a little nervous.
After a very uncomfortable night, all bunked down in the tiny cabin, it’s Thanksgiving Sunday. Like the US, turkey is on the menu. The wood fire stove is stoked to cook the bird and all the trimmings. The beers are flowing; even the skeet shooters are drinking.
Someone sets up a can right near the cabin for target practice, in between sips of beer. A teenage boy takes aim at the chipmunk in the tree and hits it. I can’t believe my eyes. Cath is horrified. The boy has to shoot the little chipmunk again to kill it.
Yesterday we were watching this little fellow playing in the leaves and trying to get him to come up to us. No one but us seems concerned by this. What kind of people are these?
We eat the turkey and it’s okay but it’s not a festive occasion. Once we finish dinner we head off back to Toronto, a night earlier than originally planned. The edge has been taken off the weekend for the four of us.
At home I get an email from our house sitter, Sonia, to say our cat Emily is losing weight and she will take her to the vet. That tips me over and I cry myself to sleep. Killing for sport just doesn’t fit with my life.
Brian: The bike’s washed and ready to go to the airport for the flight to Manchester. Cath and Les’s car is off the road so a friend Peter drives Cath in his Mercedes and we follow behind. I’ve run the bike low on fuel and hope there’s enough to get us to the airport. As the kilometres tick by I stress until we turn into the freight terminal. There are limits to how much fuel we can have in the bike to fly it. There’s no way it’s over that limit.
I expect the usual long delays and problems with the paperwork instead I find pleasant and efficient staff who get the paperwork organised in less than half an hour. Unlike Bogota airport there’s a concrete ramp to get the bike into the holding area rather than a bit of board. All I have to do is disconnect the battery and tape up the positive terminal. Simple.
Now the bike’s out of the way, I go online to sort out the ferry from Europe to Egypt. The other night I couldn’t find any listings and it’s the same today. No matter where I try all the ferries have been suspended because of the problems in Syria. This isn’t good. There’s one other thing I can try and that’s a ferry that goes from Turkey to Egypt.
I know there’s a bit of reluctance with Shirl about this leg of the journey but she’s being very positive, pushing me to try other options.
It’s October 10 and the northern winter isn’t that far away. If I can track down the ferry from Turkey it’ll be a rush to get from the UK, across France, Germany, Austria, the old Yugoslavia and Greece. It’s more than 3,500 kilometres but it’s doable. The weather will be turning against us, which is something else we need to consider.
Shirley: It’s Brian’s birthday and we’re flying to the UK for the next leg of our adventure. This whole ferry thing is a worry. He’s determined to get through Africa but it’s looking less and less likely. The Arab Spring seems to causing us a few problems.
We could get into Morocco without a problem but to ride across North Africa isn’t so easy. Since the fall of Gaddafi in 2011 Libya is very difficult to travel through independently. The authorities don’t recommend travelling through Algeria and we’d need to be careful in Tunisia. Riding south from Morocco isn’t an option. The Taliban are very active in western Africa and it would be way too dangerous. Brian’s going to keep on the ferry from Turkey. That may be the option.
•
We don’t want Les and Cathy to park and come into the airport with us to avoid the long goodbyes. As it is I cry a little when we say goodbye. So does Cath and even Les has a tear. Saying goodbye is the hardest part of these trips. Cath and I hit it off from the first day we met at the Overland Expo in Arizona in May. Hopefully we’ll see them in Australia one day soon when they’re on their motorcycle trip around the world.
Our trip, so far, has taken us through 19 countries in South, Central and North America — 64,130 kilometres.
The best laid plans …
12 October – 5 December 2012
Brian: Öhlins has organised for the replacement shocker to be fitted at Kais Suspension, a family business that specialises in Öhlins shockers for race bikes, in Manchester. It doesn’t take long for them to fit the new one, a later model of the one that snapped in British Columbia so many months ago. They even clean the one that’s come off the bike and organise to ship it home for us. Service with a smile — thanks Öhlins.
We’re spending a couple of days with our friend Liz and her husband Jed in Manchester. We met Liz through our good buddy Phil in Australia a couple of years ago. She’s gregarious and loves a laugh. We hit it off immediately. Liz welcomes us with champagne and that sets the tone of our time together, wining and dining our way through the northern city.
Even though Liz is bored to sobs by soccer she takes us to the Manchester United home ground. It’s actually an interesting tour of the change rooms, premium seats, manager’s box and the hallowed turf. You can look at, but can’t touch, the turf, it’s so precious. You can buy literally anything in Manchester United colours in the shop. For once Shirl has no interest in spending money. It had to happen.
Shirley: It’s doctor time again. We took six months worth of medication with us from Australia, topped that up in Texas and now it’s time to check out the National Health system. We presume we’ll be covered because we’re Australian citizens travelling on Australian passports; after all, Australia is still part of the Commonwealth.
Not so. Reciprocal rights only apply to holders of EU passports. The Commonwealth doesn’t count for much anymore. We don’t even have our own queue at the airport.
We pay £65 (about $110) to go to the doctor and for our scripts, then another £60 (about $95) for six months’ worth of drugs. This includes the malarial medication we’ll need in Africa and a top-up of our broad-based antibiotics that we keep for emergencies. It’s still cheaper than Australia. And the good news is that Brian’s blood pressure is perfect.
It’s been a great couple of days but we need to get on the road and Brian needs to track down the ferry from Turkey to Egypt.
On our way to London we pick up some spares for the audio system in our helmets and new pannier bagliners. The months on the road are taking their toll, with the old ones ripping at the seams.
•
Back in 2003, at the start of our ride, we met Trent and Jacqui Whitta at the Horizons Unlimited meeting in England. These young, friendly Kiwis have been living in the UK for more than a decade, apart from the couple of years they packed everything up, got on their bikes and rode home to New Zealand. It wasn’t long before they flew back to London where the work opportunities were so much better. It was a chance meeting at Horizons Unlimited but it’s grown into a firm friendship even though, yet again, there’s an age difference of about 15 years. They’ve visited us in Australia and we’ve stayed with them here in London a few times o
ver the last 10 years.
Since we last saw them, Trent and Jacqui have adopted four-year-old Summer and six-year-old Martin, and we’re excited about getting to meet them. These kids haven’t had the best start in life and Jacqui and Trent have so much to offer.
Our timing couldn’t be better. Trent’s picked the kids up from school and Jacqui is walking down the street when we arrive. The kids are amazing. They’ve been told all about us, but the thing that they’re most interested in is the bike, especially Martin, who’s bike mad.
The years since we last met just fade away as we talk and talk and then talk a bit more.
Brian: When the kids leave for school and Jacqui and Trent for work I hit the computer. I’m now in two minds about this next ride. Reading other travellers’ blogs and the Horizons Unlimited webpage it seems that getting a motorcycle through Egyptian customs can be tricky, to say the least. It has to be registered in Egypt but that’s the easy part. From what I can find out there are palms to be greased at every turn and even that doesn’t mean an easy transition from freight item to on the road.
Shirl and I have discussed all the options. One is flying the bike from London to Cairo. The physical act of flying the bike isn’t a deterrent, but the bureaucracy and bribes at the other end are. Not being with the bike has got to pose more problems than being with it on a ferry, and the ferries from Italy are definitely not running.
The ‘ride across North Africa’ option is too difficult because of the new regime in Libya. Dictators certainly make getting across difficult countries a lot easier. (Just joking.)
The other option is the ferry from Turkey. We could dash across Europe in a few weeks to get to Turkey but why would we bother? After a year on the road that doesn’t seem at all appealing. And there’s the question of weather. We’ll need to get over mountains and winter is around the corner.
And from what I’ve been reading there’s no guarantee that ferry will be running anyway. There seem to be problems with its schedule too.
•
Jacqui’s brother, Peter, comes around for dinner. We met Peter at the same Horizons meeting. This tall, thin biker is very relaxed about life. Back in 2004 he travelled across the world to work with a bike tour company in Goa, India. We stayed with Pete there and he’s stayed with us in Melbourne. It’s an amazing night, like we’ve always known the trio and see them every day — not every couple of years.
Shirley: Our second camera has given up the ghost. Luckily, the son of a good friend of ours in Melbourne, Kim, is working for Canon UK and organises the latest model of our little camera. Even though it’s compact and idiot proof it’s got a fantastic zoom which is just what we’ll need when we go on safari in Africa — if we ever work out how to get there.
•
On Sunday morning Brian takes Martin and Summer for a little ride on our bike, starting in the laneway at the back of the house. Summer gets on the tank and Martin on the back. They both have good bike helmets and boots and just love it. Summer can only go around the block and not on the streets. When it’s time to get off she cries because she isn’t big enough to be on the bike on the road. She says it just isn’t fair. It must be hard being four.
Brian: It’s decision time. The final straw is reading that the ferry from Turkey to Egypt is involved in a financial dispute and it’s not clear when it will begin running again. I’ve heard that some travellers had cleared customs and were in the holding yard at the terminal when the news came through and are stuck there.
No ferry from Italy; doubtful ferry from Turkey. To fly is certainly possible but the bike might be held up in red tape. A transit visa through Libya would only give us three days to get across the country and we’d need a Libyan guide, which would mean paying for him and his car.
If it was the start of our trip I’d probably bluster my way through, but it’s not. We’ve been on the road for a year and I’m missing my extended family, especially my boys, their wives and the five grandchildren.
We’ll fly the bike to Johannesburg and explore southern Africa before heading home. That’s giving us the best of both worlds — safari without the stress.
Shirley: I know Brian is bitterly disappointed and I’m surprised by my own feelings. While riding through Africa was something I was concerned about, I’m upset we won’t get to Egypt. Before my sister, Fran, died from cancer in 1996 we’d planned to visit Egypt together with our husbands. It was one of the ‘if onlys’ in her life. She didn’t get to see the pyramids. It’s something I’ve always vowed to do and now I’m worried that we won’t see them either. Brian promises to take me to visit the pyramids one day, to fulfil Fran’s dream.
Brian: We’re going riding now while we sort out getting the bike from the UK to South Africa. We head south to Winchester to visit Ollie, who we met in Alaska. Then it’s the coast of Cornwall. It’s getting cold already but we’re going to make the most of it.
I’ve been checking out places to visit in this part of England and found Tintagel, where the legend of King Arthur was born. The roads for the last 16 kilometres are so narrow and enclosed I have to take extra care going around blind corners. Stone walls are only centimetres from the road. There’s no run off so I hang wide on every turn. I think the GPS has finally lost the plot as we track onto narrower and narrower roads and lanes.
The ruins of Tintagel Castle, perched on the windswept headland, look down on the town which I discover is the home of the Cornish pasty, one of my favourite snack foods. Shirl’s had her fill of Tex Mex in the US now it’s time for my tastebuds. There’s a shop on every corner selling these tasty little pastry parcels. I want to check them all out before I decide where to make my purchase.
While we’re wandering Shirl spies a photo of Martin Clunes as ‘Doc Martin’ in a shop window. Surely this isn’t the fictitious town of Portwenn from the Doc Martin television fame? She’s filled with enthusiasm, tracking down the facts.
Port Isaac’s the town and it’s only about 15 kilometres down the coast. There’s no stopping her now. The Cornish pasty has to wait.
Shirley: I love Doc Martin. Riding into Port Isaac it’s obvious I’m not the only one. Brian rides down a narrow street towards the water and we can only just squeeze through the crowds of pedestrians. I’m not sure if the road is open to traffic, but that doesn’t deter Brian.
I’m rapt. There’s the school where Louisa works and across the bay is Doc Martin’s home and the surgery.
There’s certainly nowhere to park so we ride back through the crowds and find a car park on the edge of the cliff. Walking to town we pass a coffee shop that has posters of Martin Clunes in the window and sells exorbitantly priced tea towels bearing his image.
Past the ‘school’, which is actually a restaurant, we get to ‘Mrs Tishell’s pharmacy’, which is an ice cream and lolly shop. The owners are proud of their part in the series and boast that the television crew takes over their shop and the residence for the duration of the filming. They even appear as extras in the doctor’s surgery. We’re also let in on a secret. They can sell souvenirs with a line drawing of the ‘Doc’ but not with a photo of Martin Clunes. The reason why? Only the coffee shop at the top of town has paid for the rights to use Martin’s image.
Now we better get back to Tintagel so Brian can get that Cornish pasty.
Brian: It’s taking some organising but it looks like we’ll be able to fly the bike from London Heathrow to Johannesburg. The only drama, as far as I’m concerned, is the need for the bike to be in a crate rather than roll on/roll off like the flight to get here from Canada. I’ll fight that battle, but now we’re heading to Europe for a few of weeks.
Getting there is simple. We take the train. We’re held back until all the cars and buses are on the Channel Tunnel train. On board we put the bike on the side stand, leave it in first gear and park the nose into the side of the carriage. Thirty-five minutes later we’re in Calais. Shirl fills in the time reading the French phrasebook.
It’
s bloody cold in Calais — just 5°C and there’s snow on the side of the road. This reinforces our decision not to make the dash to Turkey. It’s too late in the season.
We’re on our way to visit friends in Frankfurt. We take the scenic route through Bruges and Maastricht, made famous by André Rieu. They’re both rather beautiful towns, filled with history and fine buildings.
The rain is pelting down when we get to the junction of the Moselle and Rhine Rivers at Koblenz. It’s so cold my fingers are freezing even with the heated handgrips on. Next stop is St Goar, a picturesque 16th century town on the banks of the Rhine.
Overnight a message comes through from my old mate Brett; his dad, Roger, passed away after a long illness. Brett and I grew up together and Roger was a huge influence on me. Brett was there for me when my dad died and was one of the pallbearers at his funeral. It makes me feel so far from home, not being there for Brett. Sad days.
Shirley: We first met Tonya Stevens in the early 1990s through the Fitzroy Football Club when she was barely out of her teens, a dedicated young woman with a passion for the ill-fated football club and workers’ rights through her job in the trade union movement. Now she’s glamorous, very much the European sophisticate, working as a tour guide of her adopted home in Frankfurt. Her husband, former Victorian politician André Haermeyer, has retired from politics and seems to be thriving on life in the country of his birth.
They arrived in Frankfurt with their most prized possessions, Munchy and Paris, two very spoilt Australian cats. Their apartment is bright and airy with two balconies, one covered in wire mesh, making it a safe outdoor area for the cats.
We enjoy Andre and Tonya’s company from the minute we walk in the door. They couldn’t be better hosts. We’re treated to the local speciality, apfelwein served in a bembel, and traditional küchen (cake) served with champagne rather than coffee. Of course, we sample sausage in bread rolls. And for a special treat we go to the Mozart Café where the milkshakes have real chocolate mixed with the milk and the hot chocolate has a dash of chocolate liqueur.
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