Super Loopy

Stunning photos & great narrative again, keep up the good work

But less pics of Brian in his jocks & more of pretty girls please

And the maestro of words & pictures is back

Superb as always - thanks for taking the time to tell us your travel tales . . . and as jockster says, less pictures of your travel buddy in his smalls (though I really did belly laugh when I saw that last photo )

SteveT



PS - no mention of a "chaff-ometer yet!)

I hope the bikes have been able to sleep with all the noise. They've got a busy day ahead. I head out early looking for the white stuff again but everywhere is closed. Perhaps they were all out last night.





Getting out of Tirana is a lot easier than getting in thank God and after randomly stopping at the same fuel station I did in 2018 we're out the city and headed for the coast road. After a couple of hours its time to grace a random cafe with our presence so I just touch the breaks at the first awning I see and in we go.





Its very busy .. and its full of nanas .. surely a good sign





I go inside and start chatting up the nanas, I reckon I'm reaching that time of life. They're all really friendly and jibber jabbering away, smiling and giggling. I ask the oldest, and prettiest lady to sign my helmet. She doesn't even hesitate.



Then she starts touching my hands and my forehead and sort of chanting some sing song words to me. She lets out a massive smile and holds my face in both her hands. I'm obviously looking a bit confused because a young woman comes over from the bar and tells me that the old lady has just blessed me! I don't think I've ever been blessed before.. amazing. I give her smooth warm face a kiss and we're off. I just nip to the toilet to check .. nope .. the blessing didn't reach that far .. never mind ..

Get to the coast road and swim south on the most glorious, sinuous and spectacular part of the journey so far. Forget the Croatia coast road, it's a lot lot better down here.











And just to add a bit of fun, we hit the squiggles I remember sitting in the dark at home and zooming in on Google Maps







Get to to the outskirts of Sarende and stop for some fuel. Albania is generally pretty poor so I assume the 4 Lambos and 3 Ferraris that pull in behind us are the local bad lads turning their drugs and people smuggling into rubber and fuel. The cars look like they've been driven through Twats'R'Us and are covered in stickers and shiny tasteless wraps. The blokes driving look like they have to shave their eyelids, all small and hairy and wiry, like Wooki-etts. Keep you distance and just go. Thats a whole different world I want nothing to do with.

Get to the hotel which is on a road front near the beach. I asked to use the parking, and I booked this place weeks ago. It seems though that the boss has decided to bump us in favour of some Serbian bikers arriving later this evening. I'm not happy but things like this are bound to happen and there really is fuck all you can do. Thats why a few of us bought locks and chains. Tie the horses up outside and hope they're there in the morning



It's not at all bad here. These places are not everyone's cup of tea, but I'm happy to spend a few hours wandering about and relaxing in the sunshine.











If ever I'm reincarnated, I don't want to come back as a foot. Feet get a really bad deal, especially mine. Locked in an airless dark hot and sweaty place for hours on end. I like to treat them when I can.. and I can today.. so I take them for a delicious lukewarm salt bath.





Relive it

The road from Sarende climbs and twists and snakes up and over the mountains and pretty soon we're at the border with Greece.







A quick thump from the stamp and we're in. I've not been to northern Greece before and before I came I looked at the maps for some interesting roads. It looks like the cartographer either had Parkinsons or was pissed out their head.. and thats the way it turns out to be. The GPS committee sat for some time yesterday and agreed a route that seems to contain no straight longer than 100m. I just remember the day as being like one long speed wobble the bars never ever being still even for a moment. Take a look at the relive and you'll see.

















We're in Kastraki tonight and approaching it really reminds me of Close Encounters of the third Kind. Solid mountains of rock just standing clear of the ground with lots of monasteries perched on top. It feels more like the USA than Greece. Anyway, I take the Richard Drafus suite and start practicing the tune on my travel keyboard just in case .. now how does it go again ..







4





Everyone is worried about their head bearing the next day due to their overactivity in the mountains yesterday, plus we've got a way to go today. We'll all just take the quick and easy route down to Pireas and give our concentration batteries a chance to recharge. Give them a day off and just cruise down in the heat.

But first a quick scoot up to the top of the mountain for some tourist spotting.. and try to get another language on my helmet







Now.. I explained the rules to this lady. I told her.. girls only.. real girls.. none with penises .. no 'Mike identifying as Mable' .. but she still broke them and put both her AND her boyfriends name on my helmet.. this is the last picture ever taken of her .. she was warned . And I couldn't get the name off the helmet so he had to go and get a sex change that afternoon. Be warned. Those are the rules.. no exceptions!



Stop for the first time in Greece for Coffee and cake and fuel. Someone has made a mistake on the pumps though. I'm sure its just a slip of a finger .. but it appears these pumps are suppling molten gold rather than petrol. Fuck its expensive. And they double fuck you by disabling the cutout and letting you pour £100's worth all over the forecourt too.







Time for drugs I think ..



Easy riding all the way down to Athens and then into the melee of any big capital city. Athens looks odd from the motorway though, all very low rise and sprawling. Not as I expected at all. Pireas is south of the city and its the only place I could find with parking in the whole of the city. It's one of those underground car parks that looks like it was built by Swampy and his mate after the hotel was built above. It also goes down about 4 stories into the dark until you can feel the heat of the earth's core. I absolutely hate these places. You just know the builders never got the proper plans out the envelope. They just dug a big hole and got their mate to prop it all up with columns of feta cheese. They all just feel like an accident waiting to happen. Good job I travel light. I grab my little bag and swim to the surface as quick as I can.













Take a wander down to the harbour to watch the world go by before the sun goes to bed. The Greeks sure love their boats.









We're having a day off. Time to go and see some culture. And to get a shave. I never shave myself when I'm away. I like to take my life in my hands and get some random bloke to hold a blade to my throat just to feel alive. The older I get the harder it gets to get a kick out of anything. Kick me.. nope. kick me HARD... HARDER!!! Nope .. maybe there is something wrong with me.. I dunno. I live two lives and I step from one to the other when I go away on the bike.. then step back from sauntering down an alley in Bratislava in the dark .. to laying on the couch watching Eastenders .. and there is nothing in between. My wife just says hello like I've come back from the supermarket and its situation normal within 2 minutes. Anyway.. where was I. I like being wet shaved. Maybe it’s the fear that this barber will be a descendant of Sweeney Todd and my life will end in spurt of my jugular and a demonic smile from a barbaric barber.

Someone tells me there is a barista that has been perfectly pored into a pair of tight jeans just down the street so I go for what could be my last coffee .. its all part of the illusion ..



I'm in Greece so I'm expecting a Greek barber, but it proves unexpectedly difficult to find one willing. In the end the only one willing is an Iranian immigrant who proceeds to give me at least a dozen near death experiences as he skids and bumps the blade across my throat with all the subtlety of someone pealing an apple. He then proceeds to pour what feels like battery acid into every open cut and gives it all a vigorous rub to really make sure each and every nerve ending joins the fun. Fuck I'm sore, and as I walk back I feel little streams of pain as the sweat adds salt to the wounds.

And this bloke didn't help by laughing at me



Mind you .. look a the bike he was riding ..



Maybe he had converted it to electric judging by the spare battery .. take a bit of a wander round the streets to give the camera a bit of exercise











I really dont feel like opening all my pores and liquidating 50% of my bodyweight today but its got to be done. Take the train into the city and wander up to the Acropolis. They've got the builders back in it seems. Why didn't they build it properly in the first place? Its heaving and its hot and if I really want to see ancient ruins I just have to look at the two blokes I've walked here with





7











On the way back Brian takes me to a taverna and fills me with 20 pints of ouzo in order to kidnap me and accompany him into the depths of Mordor to check his tyre pressures.



You can tell there is a problem when he presses the gauge to the valve and there is just a weedy little fart .. he has some of those shit cheap Japanese tubeless tyre conversions and they've obviously committed Hari-kari. Buggery fuck wombles..

Hey.

Fabulous write up, fabulous pictures.

Brilliant trip report,thanks for posting

Kimbo

We've got a boat to catch but its not until 8pm so we've got a day to waste. I booked the ferries a few weeks ago but the process was quite protracted and I'm concerned. The website was up, down, inside out, backwards, and never the same twice. Trying to pick tickets was like trying to pay darts on a trawler in the middle of a storm in the north sea. I walk down to the docks to the office and collect printed tickets, which are all in Steve's name as he was the first rider on the list. Steve has gone home. This could be interesting. Changing the booking seems impossible so we'll just have to rock up and see what gives.

First we need to sort Brian's tyre. There are a lot of bike shops round here. One of the riders has booked an oil change for his Tenere so I wander down and see if they can sort the tyre.. but no. They don't have tubes it seems. They are a Yamaha dealer, and stock bikes with tubes .. I dunno. I'm going to change the habit of a lifetime and push some goo into my tyre in the hope it can seal the split in the band.



Then get a coffee at a place that sounds like it was opened just for me



Luckily there is a pukka tyre fitter not too far away. He's an old racer with pictures of his endeavours all over the walls. He takes the tyre off and has a laugh at the tubeless solution inside. He's seen it a few times before.. which is telling in itself. It only cost about £2.50.. how good do you think it's going to be! I wouldn't ride to the end of the drive .. which in my case is approximately 5 ft.. with it, let alone Greece and beyond. We go for a coffee across the road and the bloke tells me to move my bike directly in front of his door as its a very high crime area. Perhaps my bike really is safer in Mordor than out on the street after all.



Its absolutely roasting outside, too hot to be walking about wasting time so we decamp to reception, pile up our belongings and wait. I decide to repack, it doesn't take long. All my clothes and my shoes fit inside a small bag that I live out of.





About 6 we all wander down to the docks and go to board. There is a ship here with the back door open, which is good, and they accept our tickets which is even better. Go to get the keys to our cabins and the shitfest devil decides to make an appearance. I was wondering where he had been. I hoped .. well.. never mind ..

There were going to be 6 of us and I've booked one full cabin of 4 and two of us in another 4 bed cabin. The 4 is fine. The 2 isn't. It's a women only cabin. The booking system has let me book 2 men into a women only cabin.. ummmm. I can tell the eyes staring at me from behind the screen that saying I'm identifying as 'Madge' today and that I demand they respect my chosen identity. I could do that.. but I think I'd find myself drinking sea water within about 10 seconds of saying it. The creature behind the glass is identifying as a she-devil and presently the plexiglass seems to be protecting me more than her .. the conversation is over.. I can't use that cabin. 'Can you look to transfer me?' Of course she cant, that would be far too efficient. I have to get off the ship, go to the dock and find the ticket portacabin. I get there and I'm only 50% by fluid weight compared to when I started. The ticket girl takes pity and hands me some water and towels... and tells me she cannot change the booking without the other part of my ticket.. that was torn off when we boarded. So I have to go back onto the ship and ask for the stub. One very dirty look and 10 minutes later and I've got the stub and I'm back at the cabin. There are absolutely no spare cabin spaces. Well that was well worth all that trouble then. They give me a seat but thats not going to work. I'll just have to lay on the floor somewhere. Still. We're all on board at stage one of the journey and thats all that matters.











We're off. Night falls and I choose the cleanest bit of carpet I can see and just get horizontal. I've got my full kit on and right now its a fully charged sweat sponge. I spend a fractious few hours with teenage dreams of nights on random floors covered in party food and discarded clothes before peeling myself off the stain on the carpet and raising the others from their beds. The ship docks at 5:30 in Chios just as the sun begins the daily struggle to lift itself off the horizon and slowly drag its mass into the sky.





The dockside cafes are geared up to bring half dead bodies back to life. They rush out like paramedics and administer strong coffee through drips and wave warm confectionary under our noses until we come round and join the human race again.. and pay of course. Turkey is just across the water from here and the next ferry.. all being well.. leaves at 8:30 from just up the dock. Another set of tickets booked on the internet during a fractious late night internet session. All I can do is cross my fingers and wait.

We wander up to the dock and queue for the ferry. Its right there in front of us. We have to go through some immigration check before we can board. 'Do you have insurance?'. 'Nope. We're going to get it on the other side'. Maybe a look crosses his face. Maybe he deliberates about whether to drop us in the shit or not.. but either way he lets us through. After some confusion about them thinking we had unconfirmed tickets they let us board and we're on our way across the water to Cesme in Turkey.









Before we left I tried to find out about getting insurance here. I've been to Turkey before and you get it at the border no problem. But here I read you need to leave the bike and go into town to get it then come and retrieve the bike. I talked to the others about it. I KNOW I read it.. but self-confidence can be shattered in a blink of an eye when confronted by someone at a border in uniform. And so it goes today..

We get through the immigration no problem but at customs they want to see insurance. I say we're going to get it in town but the customs bloke declares, 'Turkey doesn't issue insurance to foreign vehicles any more. Not for the last two years. You're going to need to sort insurance out yourself', redirects us to a small cafe in a nomansland holding area and walks off. My self-confidence has evaporated. It's shattered on the floor. When did I last come? 2018, so more than 2 years ago. And how old was that post? More than 2 years? Quite probably... fuck... so what do we do now? I have a quick google.. there are insurance agents in town.. but the bloke said .. I dunno.. One of the riders has got Turkey on his green card. He is riding a bike bought through a company in Italy. That company gives us a contact for someone who can help and who we get in contact with but it could be a protracted process. And then, as if by magic, someone from the cafe points us to a young bloke with a laptop who works for the local tourist agency. It's almost like they planned it.

Anyway, he says he can do it for us. Hooray. We're saved. He gets on the web and off he goes. Apparently the process can only be done with a Turkish credit card. So he takes all our details. Price is €50 for 90 days which is fine. OK. Click the button please. Time to go

5 minutes later he appears with paperwork. One piece of paperwork. He says they have taken the money for 4 bikes but only sent the insurance for the first bike. Great. Given my experiences with the Turkish ferry websites I'm inclined to believe him, but again, maybe I'm just a perfect mark. So now he's in contact with both the bank and the insurance to get the €150 back. He shows me his bank statement with the 4 withdrawals on.. I'm in deep by now.. I'll believe anything. We wait a few hours.. then a few more. He talks to the bank (or his uncle) on speakerphone to get updates. The answer is basically fuck knows. Could be today. Could be tomorrow. He wont apply for the other 3 bikes again until he has the money back.

The natives are getting restless by this point.. and they suspect we're being played. I like to think I'm not, I generally like to give people the benefit of the doubt but, wether this is a scam or not we're not going anywhere until this is sorted out. We're stuck. So I resort to the last rule of negotiating. I give up and throw money at the problem. My own money. I wave €150 in cash at him and tell him that he can have that. He can keep it. But he needs to reapply for the insurance a single bike at a time.. and he has to do it now. And surprise surprise, 10 minutes later we all have insurance in our hands and we can leave the building. We arrived about 9 and it's now getting on for 4pm.

We have only about 100 miles to run from here so its straight onto the motorway and south to Ephesus. Park the bikes behind a highly secure locked metal gate, go for a swim, trip on a tortoise and go for dinner.















You have to register for an HGS card to use the motorways here so the next morning after breakfast its a trip to the local PTT office to register. Only takes 5 minutes but as an outsider you can't use the app so we just load the cards up and hope for the best. I think you can stop at motorway services and check them anyway. We wont be on any motorways for weeks yet but we could have been tagged last night.











We're heading south to the coast today. I'm prepared to be bored.. prepare for the worst and hope for the best .. and sometimes the best happens









Hot and sticky. Just the way we like it. One of the riders has couriered for the Turkish WRC rally and has suggested a tiny place in the mountains on the coast. Its up a stupidly steep and twisty climb like all the best places are. Everything is trying to discourage you from getting there. The surface is frequently shot to pieces and covered in oil from any truck stupid enough to try its luck but the risk is worth the reward. A little B&B built into the side of the mountain and a terrace with a 30 mile ultra high definition widescreen display currently showing a slowly setting sun.

I love this trip

The view at breakfast is just as good as at dinner.



I like this place.. I think this bloke does too .. he arrived 30 years ago and liked it so much he stayed ever since ..



We're hugging the coast today all the way round to Antalya.. riding with one foot in the lovely blue water ..











It's yet another curvy sensuous road wiggling and dancing its way along the water's edge, you can almost hear the music in the air and feel the rhythm in the road. I can feel my helmet begin to pull me in one particular direction. We come to a junction and it spins to the right on my head leaving blind and with no other option to turn inside and follow the path it's chosen down to a small cafe perched up some steps.







Her name means 'flower' and she leaves a little bud on my helmet.. I think I'll leave that sentence just as it is ..

After much refreshment its back on the road towards Atalya. The road gets ever more busy as we get closer. It's very hot and very very windy and at lunch we stop on the beach.

There are some Russian ladies there, they're the only ones sturdy enough not to have been blown into the sea.









One is a pure Russian and the other is a Ukraine/Russia mix. They both live here permanently. The Ruskraine lady is really nice. She is quite shy but we stand together on the beach and chat away about two totally different lives and watch turtles play in the surf. It's all too easy to make generalisations and I'm just as guilty as the next man but in truth, the reality is often a lot more complicated. This lady is conflicted and one side of her brain is at war with the other, it can't be easy.

Atalya is tourist central and its packed tight. Approaching most cities looks exactly the same and you're hunting the 5% that is different.. the original city .. the heart. Just like Sarajevo. Its just another scrappy city until the last km then it all changes. Its the same here. I'm not hopeful about this place at all at the moment though. The Satnav is saying its less than an km and we're still hemmed in and sweating like pigs. Riding at walking speed with the thick metal tide. 'Turn right' Right.. OK.. but there is a barrier.. and a hut here. This isn't a road. Turns out the old city is gated and closed to traffic but if you're staying in they will open the barrier and let you ride your bike through the maze of tight narrow streets along with the throngs of tutting tourists. It's a very delicate operation and by the time we get to the hotel the bikes and the riders are approaching meltdown.

Good hoteliers are adept at defusing tourist time bombs though. A free beer in the shade on a comfortable couch, clean white sheets and a shower. Everything quick and simple, no waiting about dripping sweat on the tiles. No stupid questions. All that can wait until later.

















In the morning we're getting ready and someone has been through the bikes overnight. Small things, but often stuff that's travelled with you for years, or useful things you have no hope of replacing out on the road. You can only strip them down so far though.

We're off early and we quietly ride out through toy town. It's well before tourist o'clock and the streets are empty and clear and we plot a route out into the mountains. It all starts out fine, smiles set to max and bikes on auto pilot. I've been really surprised at the amount of twisty riding we've done this far and its the same today with the bikes spending most their time on one ear or the other.

Stop for Chai .. I like mine with milk ..













As soon as we leave it starts to rain. The road is shiny. Its one of the shiniest roads I've ever seen in my life. I'm going round a corner and I can see a full reflection of the opposing cars in the road surface. When it really starts to rain it's like riding on ice. I am properly shitting myself for about an hour, tiptoeing about, sliding everywhere, looking death in the face every five minutes. I've not had an experience like that for quite a while.

Then as soon as it started.. it ends and we're back on the black mirror.



We're headed for Göreme today. To the caves and the balloons. Göreme itself is an odd place. If Meerkats were human sized, they would live in a place like this. You would expect with the amount of tourist traffic that it would be shiny and clean but the road is all up for miles and its a dusty dirty ride through the centre before trying to find your specific cave. It's a labyrinth of tiny roads wound between the rocks and it can be like looking for a needle in a haystack. But it's all worth the trouble just for the views.











We've got a day off to look around. It really is an odd place. I'm just following my nose and we go into a village with a cave system obvious from the road. This one was apparently occupied until an earthquake some time in the 60s. It has the remains of a 6th century church right at the top so just for shits and giggles we climb up in 35 degree heat and full kit for a look. I don't get much out of looking at these old places .. but I do believe that as people wander through life they leave tiny parts of their souls behind that can hide in cracks, soak into the rocks, into the earth. Sometimes I like to close my eyes and just let my body listen.. let it tune in.. I'm convinced there is stuff beyond our five senses and I'm aways keen to feed in when I can. Places like this that have experienced so much emotion over such a long time are a good place to do it. Or, alternatively its the crutch I lean on ever more heavily as I get older.. I do wonder where I've left bits of my soul though.. by now I must have scattered it just about everywhere.









One of the riders wants to head out into the scrub and sand to look at some formations in the distance. Do I really want to leave the safety and security of the solid black stuff under my wheels? Not really TBH, I'm not a particularly confident off roader at the best of times and a lot of this looks like narrow overgrown goat tracks from here. I have a secret mechanism for randomly flipping a coin in my head and I set it off. Heads... right .. here we go then. Shit or bust time. The front rider has taken all his luggage off and is very quick and confident as we chase up and down and round the rocks, through the soft (and thankfully shallow) sand and dried up stream beds. The only way I can make myself do this sometimes is to ride in the middle. Trying to keep up with the bloke in front while trying not to hold up the rider behind. It concentrates my mind and stops me hitting the emergency stop button. Its like everything in life though.. no risk .. no reward.



I can hear my tyres kiss the tarmac when we head back to town. A big wet Frenchy .. glad to be back I can feel my inspiration waining again and I need to not let it drop any further. Keeping everything straight and level in my head on trips like this my first priority. We've all got a lot of alone time on the road, time to let my mind give me pleasure or pain, keep the demons under control or let them run riot. We're all the same. Out minds can be our best friends or our worst enemies. Anyway.. exactly when did I qualify as a psychiatrist. My treatment today is an hours walk with the camera..

Fabulous.
I know it's a rude question so I apologise in advance but would you mind me asking how long the trip took & roughly what it cost?
I have a big birthday next year and am wrestling with where to go on the bike to celebrate it. Turkey & Iran are on my list of potentials but reading this brilliant RR has added another half dozen or more.
TY again.

Tommy Gunn said:

Fabulous.
I know it's a rude question so I apologise in advance but would you mind me asking how long the trip took & roughly what it cost?
I have a big birthday next year and am wrestling with where to go on the bike to celebrate it. Turkey & Iran are on my list of potentials but reading this brilliant RR has added another half dozen or more.
TY again.

Click to expand...

No problem We were away for about 7 weeks total. As for prices, then that's more difficult. It depends on so much. There level of accommodation you're comfy with. Are you sharing or alone. How many MPG your bike does. If you eat out or raid supermarkets. On a trip like this I charge a daily rate and typically I'm even or loose in Europe and I gain it back when we're out of Europe so, again, it depends where you're going. Turkey for example can be really really cheap when you are out the tourist areas but European prices when you're in. Likewise fuel price varies massively. The most we saw was about 2.5 Euros a litre in Greece and maybe £1.35 in Armenia. Places like Iran will cost a lot more because you need a guide as a uk passport holder too. And realistically it takes a while to get there so 3 weeks or so isn't enough.

Give me a shout if I can help you though

Brilliant, TY.

Right.. my bloody mojo is acting like a stroppy teen. Refusing to get out of bed before 12, walking round with a face like someone thats just found out they have the smallest dick in the class, grunting and refusing to communicate. My mojo is my biggest problem. He's a spoilt brat, a bit of a twat to be perfectly honest. On the trip so far he'll just occasionally just look up .. mutter 'whatever' .. and go straight back to sleep. The only ways to stimulate him out of his stupor are either a shot from a taser or something new to look at. I want to try the taser.. I've often wondered what that feels like ..

But luckily for him, from today we're heading out into unknown territory for a while. We're heading into the mountains to see the Nemrut Heads. That's about as far as my research often goes. It's on the route. There is a road. 2 out of 2. Let's go.

As I'm eating my breakfast I get a text from Steve, the rider that went home in Germany. He's had a load more episodes, including one so bad he called his daughter out to help him.. who insisted he go to A&E.. who diagnosed him with Sepsis. 42 degrees temperature and close to organ failure. He's in ICU hooked up to drips as they bring him back from the brink. Fuck..

Out of Cappadocia in the rain. No balloons today. The brightly coloured balls of hot air that usually welcome in the day have been replaced by dark clouds of lead and slate. The cool and wet is a bit of a relief and gives you something to think about until thoughts of coffee butt in. The road is pretty desolate and it's another polished shitter too. Even the trucks and cars are taking it really easy up and over the hills. I'm peculiarly enjoying it today though. It's quite cold, it's wet and it's windy. Its not a day you would choose to ride and that's maybe why I like it. It's a good contrast against all the beautiful hot easy riding we've had so far and it makes you appreciate it.



And another reason my mojo has joined me up at the controls is that we're leaving the main tourist border behind us. Escaping the traps. Checking out and going more our own way. Of course we're not alone. Many many people come this way but as the isolation increases and the bad lands that sit next to Turkey get closer you get a different type of traveller.

Stop at a cafe for a break and its virtually deserted.







And get cake.. can a block of pure sugar and honey and what looks like shredded wheat .. or maybe beard .. be called a cake? My tongue has quickly recalibrate itself the moment it enters my mouth for fear of me being overtaken by the sugar rush. Honey is a huge industry out here.



The heads are way up on a 7000ft mountain top in the middle of bum fuck nowhere and so getting there is not as straightforward as I thought. Imagine a road builder with one big FUCK OFF brush that he dips once in tarmac and pulls all the way to the heads some 50 miles away. At first the brush is full of tarmac.. all lovely and smooth



Then as we get further away from the pot of tar, the strip gets narrower and narrower..



and narrower





until the tar all buts runs out and you wonder if you're really on the right road. It gets stupid steep with lots of very tight switchbacks .. like those paths up from some beaches .. I remember it almost disappearing entirely for a while and getting like a footpath through some trees.. but then all of a sudden you meet the road started by the other bloke on the other side of the mountains and it all starts to improve again until very near the heads you reach a long brick paved section. Its stupid steep again but the views open out, the sphincter starts to relax and you just sit back and enjoy.







You'd think there would be loads of accommodation around a site like this but no. We're in a very basic place whose Booking.com pictures were taken on film back in the 80s I reckon. It's falling apart at the seams and the swimming pool is empty and full of rubbish. The glass on the office door is smashed and the rooms are pretty basic but who cares. This is an evening where the worst of times just unexpectedly turns into the best of times. You think you'll remember it for one reason, but you will remember it forever for another.

We haven't really planned how we'll get up to the heads. Maybe try to ride up in the morning. So I speak to the owner and ask if they organise anything. She says if we want to go, then we want to go at sunset and we have to leave now. They have an old transit they can take us up in. £12.50. Sounds fair enough.. that's only just over £60 for the 5 of us.. but no .. thats £12.50 total. Thats a bag of fish and chips.

So we all quickly get into civvies and get in the van. The route up is very very steep and the bloke can't loose any momentum anywhere. About 10km later we arrive at a concrete building and the driver takes us in to get our tickets. Sunset isn't for a couple of hours yet and we all think we'll have a quick look and bugger off quick style.

There are quite a few people here .. bussed in from towns to the south, drawn to these weird objects way up on top of the mountain. The sun is beginning its evening ritual now and the light is changing quickly.. I walk to the edge of the balcony and look out.. it feels like I'm flying





I'm absolutely not into any of this spiritual nonsense .. but places like this are again appealing to senses beyond the normal 5. Its busy with people.. but it feels like every person has other souls along for company .. you can almost hear their voices or the movement of their feet as we all head out and up the long long long climb up to the heads. 7000ft isn't that high but the path is long and steep with very big steps. Lots of people are resting/dying on the way and talking quickly gives way to the sounds of panting and deep breaths.

And here they are. Nothing special really. Not on their own anyway. Some consider these 2000 statues as the 8th wonder of the ancient world. Originally the heads stood on the bodies but at some point they were separated and placed on the ground in front. As I look at them I can't help wondering if I am looking at them.. or if they are looking at me.







The whole experience is getting inside me. Way up on the top of a mountain in the middle of nowhere people toiled and sweated and worked themselves to death for this for who knows what reason. Fuck what a lucky twat I am to be right here right now ..

People are gathering to watch the sunset, sitting on the rocks, some singing, all with faces painted deep orange as the last of the suns rays make their 90 million mile journey to their eyes.

For me its a peculiarly pleasurable experience that I wont ever forget, and I think some of the others think likewise.





Back at the hotel we have a simple dinner by candle light as the power decides to cut out then we all disappear into the darkness of the night.

Next morning I'm woken by the sounds of birds swooping and eating on the wing just outside the windows. Watching their shadows chase across the curtains is quite mesmerising







When we were coming down the mountain last night we were overtaken by a group of kids and their dad having a race, and they're here this morning having breakfast. They're British and they're travelling round in a big converted van. Him, his wife and FOUR kids. He is in the army and is currently stationed in Turkey on one of these pseudo missions that exist the world over to give soldiers something to do when they're not fighting. I think by the looks of it, his mission is some sort of NATO breeding program.

I really like moments like this. A simple breakfast in rough accommodation with the sun shining and looking forward to yesterday's ride in reverse. We really wanted to go south and east from here but ukgov advises against it, and the soldier says its best to keep away from there at the moment.







Riding a route in reverse is always a completely different experience. The views are all different, the wind is different, the smells are different, but all just as good if not better than the journey in

















We're headed for Elâzığ today so just a short hop. Another random provincial city but I often like these places more than the brand name places. They're not pretending to be anything, or keep a 1000 year legacy alive, they're just going about their business.









Today's hotel is the polar opposite of yesterday. Functional,, clean, comfortable, and completely characterless. But its just a means to an end, a waypoint on the journey. It will have its memories like everything else but they will fade a lot faster than the rest.





There is a car in the car park that looks to have had a 'functional' respray





Looks like my level of handiwork..

Take a wander round the town to try and find some stuff for my verruca thats started to really hurt. BTW.. if you need to know the translation for verruca its 'take your sweaty shoe and sock off and put your foot on the pharmacy countertop and point'. Worked for me ..











Time for another shave I think. We're now in the middle of Turkey and you would think that all I can find would be old Turkish barbers with 200 years of experience. Walk into the barbers and the only bloke available is a 10 year old Iranian immigrant. Ho hum .. I like to let fate decide as much as I can so I sit down and expect the worst. I don’t think they get that many tourists here because as soon as we start we're mobbed by all his mates. The shop is full and the bloke is having trouble finding elbow room to get round me. I'm having a dozen simultaneous GoogleTranslate conversations and trying to keep still and avoid a razor/jugular moment. The shave is another in a long line of disappointments but its the experience that counts.



It takes ages walking about looking for somewhere to eat but eventually we spot something above a parade of shops. It smells of stale ashtrays and spilt drinks but maybe thats the way the locals like it. Still, it has a couple of enthusiastic young waitresses. Strange though. I knew the Turkish were hairy, but this is the first time I've seen a girl with a moustache on her nipple.

We're still heading east today, out towards Iran. I'm not sure what to expect. Today's destination is Van, and we'll be riding along the huge lake that bares its name. Looking at pictures it seems quite remote and isolated but the roads out here are mostly pretty good and as journey times shrink, then more people make them so we'll see.

Try as I might I can't recall any memories from the morning, I even looked in the recycle bin, so it must have been pretty flat and dull. Lots of stop/start and waiting at traffic lights in the heat. The caffeine gauge is reading just above the red.. loads of time yet .. but sooo many times have I driven past something that looks like it won the 'best cake and coffee in the country' award 3 years running and then found nothing except places selling reheated camel pats and brown water for the next 100 miles.. so this time I stop. I always feel a lot of responsibility when I do this. The place could be absolutely shit and they nicked the award sign from somewhere 50 miles down the road. But before I know it there are 4 other bikes stopped and dismounting. Luckily for me this place is a cake Mecca and looks like it will extend its award run to 4 years no problem .. and it does a mean menemen. Fuck i love this stuff



And the locals are beginning to look a lot more Arabic.. to my untrained eye anyway.. I get the impression that the women round here are maybe not equal to the men. This young lady was being bossed about left right and centre when the men sat and talked.. and she was so surprised when I asked to take her picture. You could read her face like a book and it was at least chapter 20 by the time I pressed the button. There are people I absolutely cannot make any eye contact with.. and there are people like this lady when I just want to lock on to it.. to have a silent conversation.. read and write through my eyes and come to an understanding. It all happens in a few seconds. I nod goodbye, she flashes smile and I'm gone..



More petrol .. more pumps .. more men sat around talking .. same same but different





By the time we get to lake Van the road and the scenery changes, greenery all around fed by the water and lovely sweeping roads to keep your eyes awake and your tyres warm.





Stop at a place for lunch .. it must be good because all the flies come here.. and skinny cats with one eye. I go in to look at the kitchen and there is a bloke chopping loads of meat with a big fuck off knife. It stinks like a school changing room after a football match..







It tastes good though. Eating anything at places like this is always a game of chance. Anyway .. I go to the loo .. wash my feet and pray that it comes out in lumps and not Bisto fashion



Then ask this bloke if I can count the lines on his face



Get to the hotel and its always the same apprehension as when I choose a stop anywhere. I've not been to any of these places before and the selection is made by looking at tiny photos on a small piece of glass that don't always translate well into reality when you arrive. Personally I'm happy enough with the place.. but then I'd be happy if there were 4 posts in the ground, a corrugated iron roof and a dubious mattress on the floor .. The staff look like they've been freshly minted out of a tottie machine and the rooms are clean .. what more do you need







This place is out of town and its too far by foot unless you're doing a sponsored charity walk so I take a wander down to the nearest scrappy beach to watch kids riding a white horse on the sand, and the locals doing what families the world over do .. chat.. eat .. and entertain the kids.



We're headed for Kars.. skirting up the border with Iran. There is an old church that we just want to take a look at in Doğubeyazıt.. which for some reason has become known amongst the group as dogbiscuit..

We're on our way, and we're running pretty close to the border when we stop for the usual. The place looks good but the town looks a bit of a war zone, and it definitely has quite a fizzy atmosphere about it. Lots of feral kids running wild and people staring from under heavy black eyebrows. We park the bikes on the pavement right outside the place. We would take them inside if we could.. thats the way it feels. I like these places, and my Mojo loves them.. a slightly unstable atmosphere and a tiny bit of tension..

I go in and sure enough there is cake and proper coffee machines



So I order and wait. We're like animals in the zoo. Kids faces pressed against the glass.. swapping all the time.. moving about for a better view. There is one in particular child that catches my eye..

10 minutes and nothing. There are people coming in and getting served but we're still waiting. I go and give the waiter another prod.. yep.. in a minute.. but that minute never ends. Another 10 minutes and they clearly don't want our custom so we pop sticks and join the throng outside.

I turn my head and look down and for just a fraction of a second I lock eyes with possibly the most beautiful face I have ever seen in my life.. the girl that kept going in and out of focus through the dirty glass.. she's filthy and her hair is all dull with dirt but she has eyes just like the famous National Geographic lady. Her eyes are like two huge bright green raindrops that have just landed in the dust of her face. They are just incredible.. they pierce right through you. And just like that they are gone and disappearing down an alleyway. Fate has given her everything.. yet fate has given her nothing.

Head up towards Dogbiscuit. Its an inhospitable area for all forms of life out here



Get to the town. Jesus .. we were thinking about staying here but I think there are 5 brains in 5 helmets thinking exactly the same things as we pick our way through the tight busy streets. All the GPSs stop working as we get inside. Maybe some jamming coming from the Iranian side. But the church is visible on the hill behind.

Maybe I'm not tuned in today, maybe my sixth sense is asleep, or maybe this place has been completely abandoned by people and souls alike but I get no feeling from it whatsoever. It just feels dead, abandoned, and completely empty.









One thing that isn't dead is my appetite. The meal I shared with the flies the other day has passed though and taken every single ounce of nourishment out of me on its way. We noticed a carpet factory just down the road with a cafe on the side .. 'Ararat View' .. yep .. seems a fair description





And once again .. the eyes have it ..



You tend to forget just where you are sometimes. You forget that the view just the other side of your sunglasses is in fact reality, not just a program on a TV screen .. actual reality.. and that this is where Noah had to put his shoes on and finally set foot on dry land.





We're chasing the day today and the weather is coming in as we get closer to Kars. It's getting dark, it's cold, its raining and I'm counting down the clicks one by one.







Get close to the hotel and my satnav again puts itself in 'embarrassment' mode. Sometimes it will show a little path through what looks like a park or a pedestrian area and I'll happily follow it .. its usually only a few 100m max before it relocates onto a road but this evening its on a mission and its taken me to a fountain in the middle of a park.. and there is a policeman there .. with a finger pointing in the other direction. Far play mate .. my next turn looks like it was going to be through the flower bed anyway. Back across the park and onto a road and round the back to an out of the way hotel on the river.





Complete with a bed fit for a princess ..

On the off-chance that you go from Kars to the Georgian border keep an eye out for the Vario top box I lost in 2014 please
There’s a reward for anyone who finds it

We wander about trying to find our way to a restaurant in the cold and rain. Decisions about which one is best quickly change to just find one that's open and we end up at another random table with another random menu but with no english this time. A bloke is across the other side sitting with a woman, not eating, looking like he owns the place. He wanders over and you just know from his face that whatever profession he is in involves a lot of bullshit. And so it proves to be. He's friendly and helpful don't get me wrong but all the stuff in between is for his own entertainment and kudos. He is a mate of the owner and we play to his ego and sit him down to ask him some questions.

We're planning to try and get into Azerbaijan but from what we read the border is closed to tourists. We're also looking for status updates on the 3 potential Turkey/Georgia borders we can choose from tomorrow. As luck would have it at that moment another mate of the family comes in and joins us. He's something to do with the Turkish border force.. and he knows some mates that are truck drivers going into Azerbaijan. He tells us the closest Georgian border opened 2 days ago, so thats good, and after calling his mate he says the Azerbaijan border is open too .. but I'm not convinced. I know its open for commercial traffic but tourist traffic is another matter. Billy Bullshit is convinced its open to us and it will all be fine and he'll personally assure our entry. He tells us the border point to use and the procedure.. puffs out his chest like he's just saved all of our lives and gives one of those smiles that make you want to punch him in the face...

I ask him about his wife .. or who I assume is his wife who is sat next to him. This bloke is maybe early 60s, overweight and with a set of 2nd hand random teeth bought cheap from a tooth fairy. Yet he virtually spits his drink out .. 'Her! This woman?' and he points at her. 'I don't go for fat old women like this.. '... yep.... a c*nt is a c*nt in any country ..

Next morning and its still a bit miserable. Go out to the bike before breakfast and find another stray dog looking for affection. We saw a lot of these last night and they all have tags in their ears .. or what used to be their ears. I've seen this before out here.. the dogs have their ears cropped. I've heard stories of it being to do with fights with bears .. or for health reasons .. or mainly just tradition.. but I'm not a fan and I doubt the dogs are either. Anyway I get 100% more breakfast than I need and feed it to the dog.. who then refuses to leave my side.. I thought it was going to get on the back as I left







The GPS maps have got all their one way roads back to front and we've already ridden 20 miles by the time we climb out of the town towards the border.. someone has been up all night painting these fields green .. and they've done an excellent job





The road to the border is a long spur so if it’s not open we're going to be mightily pissed. Its a lovely ride .. which is good.. but there is hardly any traffic.. which could be bad



The beasts all need feeding and so we pull into a petrol station in a tiny village and watch the cows come home.







This petrol station is one of the strangest ones I've been to for a while. It sells everything from tractor tyres to washing machines to hoovers to kids bikes .. and I think its the first petrol station in my life to offer us all a hot cup of chai as we decide if I can fit a tractor tire on the back of the Ktm











The road from here is like an escalator taking us high into the clouds round the rims of vast valleys then down roller coaster twisties covered in gravel and dirt. Its a high concentration high risk high reward ride that fully exercises my smile muscles at one end and my sphincter muscles at the other.

As we get close to the border we meet all the trucks. Lots and lots and lots of trucks.. all parked up waiting. Not usually a good sign. Get to the front and the border is shut .. I originally wrote shit there .. yep .. that too. It looks like they tried to open the border a bit early. Maybe a year early .. It's all still under construction and a couple of hours ago a big transformer transformed itself into a firework and went boom. Farty tit wank..

So there are people stuck both sides, some in nomansland, and all systems are down. It's pointless asking anyone when it might be back, they're obviously working on it, all you can do it break out the patience suppositories and sit .. carefully .. down to wait.

There is a makeshift cafe in the bushes and we decamp to decide a plan. It's about 120 miles back where we came from then down to the next border, and another load of extra miles in Georgia to get back up to where we're staying. But you need a plan or a target.. a decision point. OK, it's about 10:30, if it's not open by 12 we're gone.



Maybe 40 minutes later there are stirrings and mumblings and people are returning to their vehicles. Looks like the leccy is back on but as is usual with these things its a case of hurry up and wait. Computers have to raise themselves from their slumbers and shake hands with all their mates before we can do anything, and these computers either sleep really deeply or they have a shit loads of mates. Eventually they're fully awake and we're shuffling slowly through the dust to the little window where our future lies. Then through the melay we go down to customs. There are queues from all directions but we turn down the britishness and fight our way through to the front and get the clearance we need to leave. Well.. all the others do.. but I don't. 'Problem.. you have a fine'. What? I've paid the HGS and we've had no beef with the police.. but then I remember the last time I was here. I got a speeding fine that we tried to pay at the time but couldn't work out how so left without doing it. Perhaps its that ..

But he prints out a piece of paper with the fine on, and its a strange amount.. a cursory amount hardly worth getting out of bed for .. I calculate it in my head .. then I do it again.. and again to check. It's about £1.20? WTF is that all about!



Anyway, this is usually when the panic sets it. All the bloke does is point his finger back to where I've just come from. 'Go pay'. Where? Who? What? Bollocks .. the others get on with getting into Georgia and I walk back up to the border post and try to find what I'm supposed to do with this. Eventually someone points me at a small window in a hut. A closed window, in a closed, unoccupied hut. Fantastic.. just perfect.. it's Kebab o'clock so I assume the occupant is somewhere necking some fatty meat. I wait.. and wait .. then I wait some more. I can see the others have all left and gone into Georgia but I'm stuck.

I hear noises.. shuffling .. the window opens.. there is a human on the other side with his hand out .. at last.. I hand him my paperwork.. his hand hits the keyboard .. and ... and nothing .. the power has tripped out again. Oh how I laughed ..





By the time I pay and get back to customs I assume the riders are already at the hotel, having saunas and massages. Lounging on soft feather beds and eating delicious dumplings but I'm wrong. They've all waited for me up at the petrol station where they sell insurance. They're fed and watered and ready to ride so I get my insurance and we're off.



We're just entering the first post-apocalyptic village, its down on its arse and it doesn't look as if it can fall any lower. Dark and foreboding with houses hiding their shame behind thick bushes and trees. I'm following a rider and I see a dog enter the scene from the right. Quite a big dog. A dog with a death wish. A wish it wants to exercise right now. It proceeds to run straight in front of the rider and like 2 straight lines destined to cross he hits it hard. Luckily the dog doesn't go under the wheel but bounces off to the side as the riders wobbles and gets the bike back under control. I hate watching these events unfold.. but this time the bread falls butter side up.

Its a relatively short ride to Borjomi that nestles in the cleavage between two mountains before we twist and climb up to the ski resort of Bakuriani. Most ski resorts aren't so attractive without a blanket of snow to hide all their warts and scars, and this place is no exception. The whole place is pretty sad and the hotel has more stray dogs than guests.

















We're only staying here because we want to ride the Tskhratskaro pass. We've been asking people about the pass for a while. What state its in and how dangerous it is. We've had a lot of people say its pretty bad but a few people have told us its passable in a 4x4 and that we should be ok. Just that we need to take our passports. Only one way to find out anyway. We'll try it in the morning.

Well .. some of us will ...

It seems that Brians meal at the petrol station was 90% poison. You've heard of Novichok.. well this was Bowelunblock. A much much more potent substance that instantly opens all exits and launches bodily fluids at full flow. No orifice can resist the power of Bowelunblock.. no fart flap can stand in its way ..

Poor fella. I wake in the night and all I can see in the pitch blackness is a glowing red arsehole making its way from the bed to the bog to the bed to the bog all night long. When I wake up I think I've died and gone to the great sewer in the sky .. the air is thick with fumes and the toilet is breathing hard from a full night of swallowing .. I go down to reception and put an emergency call in for more toilet rolls then I walk into the laundry and shout "INCOMMING".

Brian isn't going anywhere .. he's going to be bum to bowl all day .. so we need a plan B. We have a couple of spare days and I've deliberately not booked any hotels for today in case we had problems at the Armenia border so I just rebook for tonight and we decide to do the pass and loop back here and hope Brian is ok. Plan C is stand Brian on his head, stick a funnel in his bum and pour concrete in. Let's hope it doesn't come to that.

The four of us head up towards the pass expecting the worst. Well.. I can definitely think of worse places I could be ..







Get to the top and there is a police station, and a shepherd and fuck all else for miles around.







The pass is pretty straightforward and whoever added an entry for it on the worlds most dangerous roads must get scared even pulling back the covers of their bed. If you're here, do it. It's a lovely lovely ride.











Having said that, I only stop to photograph the nice easy bits. The rest of the time I'm just holding on, avoiding the biggest rocks and holes, and generally just desperately trying to not break either myself or the bike. I always mentally kiss the the tarmac the second my wheels hit it. I find off road riding a perverse love/hate experience. I hate it when I'm doing it and I love it when I finish.

Its well past tummy rumble o'clock when we get to the other end so we head into the town to play the lunch lottery. Finding one is easy .. I point to my stomach and someone replies by pointing to a hole in a wall. This hole in the wall is serving HUGE donna kebabs which you can buy in 3", 6" or 12" sizes. There is absolutely no way I'm ordering a 12" anything ever from anyone, so I go for a 6.





There is a lady working a production line of them and throwing in generous quantities of evil looking items that will be sure to test the seal on my back door. I'm hoping to avoid becoming a SpaceX Arse rocket like Brian. Its really tasty to be fair but the clientele here aren't looking too friendly so we bolt our food down and leave quick sticks.

I recognise the street from a previous visit. Its one that fades from half decent at one end to absolute shit and destruction at the other as it heads for the Armenia border. We'll be back this way tomorrow but today we'll take the scenic route looping back to our hotel and hopefully a fully watertight Brian.

I'm glad to see the pothole men have been hard at work too. They take their job really seriously round here









The ride back is a peach. It runs like a droplet of water down a woman's body, up and down, round and round, smooth and curvaceous all the way from the head to the foot of the mountains.











Quick stop back at Cleavage for a few pictures









Before the curvy climb back to the resort. This is Georgia, the satnav constantly looks like an etch-a-sketch in the hands of a 2 year old.



Maybe I should move here. I'm thinking of making an offer on this place.

https://stupiderstravels.com/2022/IMG_9390

[IMG]https://stupiderstravels.com/2022/IMG_9391_2.jpg

My offer is to bring some petrol and some matches ..

There are a few nice places around, but they are few and far between.



We head out for dinner and end up walking so far that we wear away most of our legs and have to stumble in on our stumps. The place is empty but open, and it seems to be the only option in a 200 mile radius. While we're waiting the bloke offers us some Georgian Whisky from an unmarked bottle in a fridge. He gives us about a 4 shot glass and it has to down in one.



JE)(*£$%£$%$S Ch*@£R@T AL(@£@£@Y ... What the fuck just happened. It tastes mike avgas. I reckon he's syphoned it out a jet fighter.. I was wondering what that SU27 was doing parked on the forecourt. What possesses you to throw a load of completely unknown fluid from an unknown person down your neck? For fully 5 minutes feel no effect whatsoever. All good.. I'm 100% ok.. I can talk and move my head with no problem. I have a bite of something to eat and BANG .. whatever I've eaten must be the fuse that sets of the biggest instant headfuck I've ever had. Its like someone has pulled out my vertical hold.. I'm all over the place and have some sort of delay between moving my head and hands, and the signal actually reaching my brain. What with this and the kaboom kebab I had earlier I'm fully expecting my insides to spit the bummy tonight.

Anyway.. in better news .. we walk back to the hotel in the dark and young Brian seems to have risen from the dead. He's wearing a pair of concrete underpants but he says he's ready to ride

Brilliant.

enjoying this!

Next morning I pick Brian up, shake him about, squeeze him tight and check him for damp patches. Some of the jobs I have to do .. anyway, it seems he's holding water and he's ready to ride.

Get some fuel from another petrol station with one attendant and a dozen 'in attendance' sitting round chewing the fat.





We're retracing the sinuous roads we went on yesterday and they're just as delicious in the opposite direction. Except there seems to be more cake shops on this side of the road.





The trouble is they put sweet and savoury next to each other and you end up just buying blind. I end up with a super sweet filling in one roll and a disgusting dead dog's dick in the other. I should have just gone for the mushroom.

I saw this bloke unloading and he had some real monsters. I was pointing and laughing .. then he went into the front seat and casually pulled out this MASSIVE porn star mushroom. If this one is magic I'm going to be flying all the way to Armenia ..



I just cannot stomach the dog's dick so I stop in the first lay-by where there are a couple of dogs waiting for a bus. Again, no ears poor things. He doesn't even look at the food, he just swallows it before his mate even makes a move.



Stop for fuel .. maybe I can just suck it all up from the forecourt. The bloody place is awash with the stuff. Only trouble is its diesel. Probably ok for a BMW tractor but not for something with the two big chesticles banging about under my bollocks.

This trip is an odd one when I think about it. How many long range travel motorcycle groups don't include a GS of some sort? Not many I bet. Still .. at least that means we can cross a weak bridge if we come to one.





And here is the culprit for the diesel. A knackered old tank with the flow control of a woman with 50 children.



We head on through the town to the Armenia border. Last time I was here the road was a shit fest and looked more like a Red Bull special stage than a highway. Its all mended now though .. easy peasy..



Georgia exit is still just a tin shed, but it’s a quick and simple process to leave. Blimey..we'll be into Armenia and Yerevan in time for lunch .. perfect..

Or not. As spanners go.. someone routed about, found the biggest fuck off one they could find from an earth mover, took 3 people to carry it to the Armenian customs post and just threw it in the works about 10 minutes before we arrived. She was about 5 foot tall with by far the worst case of OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHCD I have ever seen.

I've been through here before, as proven by the fact I was detained at immigration saying the bike was still in Armenia and had never left.. ummmmm.. so that took a while to sort out but wasn't the actual root of our problem.

The process is simple. You pay a fee of about $15 as a temporary import duty and the bloke gives you a slip. You take the slip, and you fill in a customs temporary import form. The exact same form you fill in on the Russian border. Simple form. Not much to it at all. Even the Russians only take 10 minutes to process it.. but not here. Not today. Not when inch high do or die is on duty. There are 5 of us. An hour tops but no. This woman is checking .. double checking .. tripple checking.. every single line then when she gets to the bottom she goes through it all again. And again. She really has a problem and it's obvious to everyone. First form takes about 45 minutes to do and the queue is building up. Second form.. 50 minutes... people are getting seriously pissed and traffic is really building up outside even though this border sees hardly any traffic. Someone with a big hat on eventually comes in and sees the problem, grabs someone from another room and drags him through to man another desk. Trouble is inch high has started another one of our forms .. she's started so she'll finnnnnnnniiiiiiiiiiiissssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. And now she's passing her forms to the other bloke for him to check them too. FFS!!!! There is going to be a riot very shortly. We've got a bit of a ride to Yerevan and the sun is beginning to fall. We should have been out of here ages ago. 4 hours after we started, we're all through, insured and on our way. All I have to do is follow the pink line to my bed. I have to follow the pink line because that is the only thing on my GPS. No other roads, nothing at all. Just a pink worm. WTF is that about. I've never seen that before ..



Still, we're in. Let's go. The roads near the border are surprisingly good. They look pretty new and they twist and roll south over the landscape like a racetrack. A racetrack with no barriers and no direction arrows or warning signs. I come to the brow of one hill and within a millisecond I know I'm in big trouble. My brain has assumed the road goes straight on but someone decided a sharp left turn would be better at this point. I can see a slither of black going left and a big drop into a field straight ahead. So its the field then.. thats decision 1. Sit upright and ride/fly into the field. Probably exit the bike in a disorderly fashion and arrange my bones across the scenery with a trail of blood and guts someone can follow to collect all the parts and put them in a bag to send home and be put in the compost bin.

Option 1 is considered for a fraction but then right at the last minute the little autopilot in my head decides he likes his ship just the way it is and decides to try for option 2. Hard on all the brakes and push the bike onto the floor with my boot keeping it steady. The lean angle ABS pulsing and 'stuff' scratching on the road I think I'm out the seat for a second road surfing with my boot and holding the bars and then I'm round. Spit out the mouth full of adrenaline and let my eyes deflate back to their normal size. Fuck that was close.. Perhaps the best lesson I was ever taught. Target fixation. Don't do it, much easier said than done. Look where you want to go, even if whatever you're on is going in a different direction. If I'm honest I don't really remember exactly what happened except the panic, the ABS, the boot on the floor and the scraping noises .. I think Brian behind me just thought I was showing off.

Follow the road towards Yerevan .. the pink worm .. still no roads but the satnav still seems to know the way. The country is obviously down trodden and backward but is making steps towards modernity. Lots of new petrol stations at least. I guess they can't easily convert the newer (still old) cars to LPG so easily. The landscape is impressive and different to Georgia too. Let's see how good the coffee is.



And the answer is fucking disgusting. If it wasn't for the lady with the almond shaped eyes smiling at me I'd have spat the lot on the floor.





Fuck.. I'd only just got used to the other squiggles in Georgia. Now I've got a whole lot of new squiggles to learn.





Yerevan is a big city. It has roads everywhere. Big roads little roads side roads fast roads roundabouts and all the other stuff you usually expect to see on a sat nav, but I still just have the worm and nothing else. I'm in front as some of the others have lost mapping altogether. So in we go. Trying to follow a line with absolutely no references through a big unknown city is quite tricky. The traffic is a BITCH too. All the bikes are getting very very hot again and as we get close to the hotel the roads are full of very bad men wearing their black shiny Mercedes and Range Rover coats. Touch one of them and you're likely to be polishing the exhaust manifold with your tongue. We get to where the GPS says the hotel is and there is a hotel there, but it has a different name. Its in a nest of tiny residential roads and alleyways and footpaths that we follow for a couple of minutes before admitting defeat, stopping, and hunting on foot, only to discover that the original place is actually where we're staying but that it 'shares' its name with another hotel, but whose name is nowhere to be seen.. which is nice. And Brian decides to lay his bike down for a rest too. It did look very tired to be fair. We all go round collecting our senses of humour from the floor where we've thrown them and track back through the maze to check in.



Its pretty late now and we're all ratty and hangry so we go out to the street with the biggest concentration of bad man mobiles and just pick the first place we find.



Fried Khokhob .. ok then ..



A quick wander round near the hotel to find an ATM







and a few bottles of beer to help me sleep ..



I wake up early and go for a wander. I like to see a city rubbing its eyes and stretching before its overrun with people ruining the views.





















I didn't know birds had mortgages ..



Yerevan is a money box like any capital. You live on inside its not so bad. On the outside you just throw your money in and never see any come out. The hotel breakfast is good but the coffee is shocking so I go out on a hunt. Bastard.. this looks my kind of place. The barista is from Palestine and hoping to make her way to Europe, and I reckon I'm paying for half her journey by giving her £4 for a coffee..





Back at the hotel my GPS seems to have slept well and remembered where it put all the roads. I copy the card to all the other XTs and as if by magic they all pop into life. Thank fuck for that.

As we're leaving they send out an 'all-tottie' email and tell them to come to reception and sign my helmet .. which is nice





They're a really nice bunch. All speak perfect English too. The education system must be doing something right round here.

We're heading south today to Goris. As you ride out the city your eyes are constantly drawn to the west where Mt Ararat sticks its head above the clouds and soaks in the morning sunshine



Its no surprise there are lots of churches round here, and one in particular was built with a front seat view











There is another well known church across some mountains and there is a decent cafe close by so we head over the pass where the clouds are not fluffy and white, but black and smoky coughed up by ancient trucks struggling to stay alive. The views are worth it though









The road up to the church is all in a state of destruction. Its been ripped up tarmac is being laid but there is a section of nasty loose rocks like a ball pit which I try and the bike decides to turn itself 180 degrees on. Decision made.. fuck that shit. I'm going for lunch. A couple of the others make it but young Brian decides his bike needs 2 quick lie downs before he can have lunch.





The ride to Goris is like watching a strip tease from mother nature. Little signs of very attractive views appear and disappear. Mountain ridges and low clouds conspire to confuse you as you get closer and closer until you suddenly fall down into Goris and the landscape hits you in the eyeballs











Goris is quite a big town but the money knife has spread the wealth very thinly. I really like these places though. They're properly characterful. They are just for locals and if you come here you do so on those terms. Take it leave it. Like it or loath it. And I like it.

Its cash only at the hotel so I have to go on an ATM hunt. I find one that isn't working then another that will only give a small amount then another by a supermarket where there are loads of people watching while I take out 2 weeks wages in a big wad. I don't feel threatened thought. Maybe my spider sense is broken but this place feels quite welcoming.

















Like a lot of these places it has shops that sell everything from birthing pools to eyebrow pencils.. plus the biggest tool shop I've seen for years





So we decide to go and see if we can get some wheels to make a stabiliser for Brian's bike





Plus a pair of boots .. just in case we get lucky

Great reading about this adventure.

I like the Omega shop front. Never seen one like that before.

Excellent write-up, keep it coming