Wow, how the real world has caught up with us, and fast! Our stop in Vienna several weeks ago opened a big can of worms, aptly labelled “reality”. We tried our best to jam the worms back in again and seal it shut by jumping on the bike and continuing west, but here we are back in Vienna, without a bike. We abandoned it in London to tend to some more reality related business which has taken longer than expected; we’ve since had to postpone our return flight by at least a week. The flip side is that this has provided a wonderful opportunity to update you on the most recent leg of our journey.
The Western European leg itself has been more about catching up with friends and family rather than being tourists. If you look at the map, you can see that for the most part we’d not taken a particularly interesting route to achieve this, but it wasn’t without it’s highlights.
The first stop was St. Gallen in Switzerland to visit Joanne, a former work colleague of Monica’s. Joanne’s husband is Swiss and the family had flown from Australia for a holiday.
Two things can be said from the outset about Switzerland. Firstly, it’s mind-blowingly beautiful; every corner you turn seems like you’ve entered into a postcard.
Secondly, it’s wallet-blowingly expensive; we paid nearly €40 for the privilege of pitching our tent on one occasion. Needless to say we didn’t stick around longer than necessary. We did however meet a fantastic French couple at said camp site who were touring on their BMW K1200. It would be an understatement to suggest that Moni was a little envious of Dominique’s pillion seat on the luxury tourer, and Vincent very kindly offered her the chance to test it out for herself. I suspect, if I succumb to Moni’s requirements of a motorcycle, my next bike might be from the K series…
Our trip towards Germany took us through some incredible mountain roads, some of which were cobbled – definitely a surface I’m not used to tipping the bike over into.
We skirted through the Black Forest in the south western corner of Germany before crossing the Rhine into France to spend the night in a heavily German influenced town called Turckheim. Famed for it’s wine and it’s storks, a good time was had by all.
Unfortunately I’d noticed a very disconcerting wobble whilst riding over the previous two days and I feared that the Old Girl’s final drive was about to give up on me. Without Drew’s expert advice on hand, I put the bike on it’s centre stand to take a short video which I sent to Drew for his appraisal.
He was as fearful as I was and advised that I ride no further than absolutely necessary. Moni and I decided it would be easier to turn back to Germany for some expert advice rather than try our luck in France; Moni speaks German, and being the Old Girl’s birthplace we expected parts to be easier to come by. So back over the Rhine we went to the nearest town with a service centre: Freiburg.
Freiburg is famed for it’s open waterways called Bächle, which flow through the streets and date back to the 13th century. Strolling around the city’s old quarter made for a pleasant distraction whilst the bike was getting her dose of TLC.
The team at Motorrad Zentrum Freiburg were absolutely amazing – they offered to put the bike on the hoist immediately to inspect the problem. Surprisingly (but thankfully) their mechanic gave the final drive a clean bill of health and suggested that the wobble might be due to my extremely worn tyre. I was hoping to make it to London on the old tyre, but the side by side comparison shot confirms that this was the right time to change it.
So with fresh rubber we were back over the Rhine (again) and heading westwards towards the UK. Disappointingly, northern France was bland to ride through. Towns were small, void of character and often people too. To make matters even less inspiring we were caught in some pretty miserable weather.
France became nothing more than a commute. It did provide a great opportunity to reflect on what I’d achieved over the last couple of months – originally England was our end goal, and now that we were only a day away the reality of travelling so far across the world was setting in.
We decided to take the shuttle train under the channel to the UK and although this was more expensive than we’d expected (€120 one way), it was certainly an interesting experience. You literally drive into the train and 35 minutes later you drive out the other end in another country! Not wanting to disappoint us, England greeted us with a not-so-warm and rainy welcome.
We were due to meet my sister in the afternoon, but with a bit of time to kill before she finished work we thought we’d ride by some of London’s sights.
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Although the ride has grown bigger than originally planned, in it's inception it was Melbourne to London – and here I am after 30,140kms. Even I find it hard to believe. Wish Drew was here to share it . . #blokesonspokes #adventuremotorcycling #bmwgs #advrider #r1150gs #makelifearide #bigben #london #melbournetolondon #30000kms
What a stupid idea this turned out to be. London has the worst traffic congestion of anywhere I’ve ridden through in the last 30,000kms. It took over an hour for us to ride 10kms through the city despite the fact that I was lane splitting wherever possible. And of course, once in the city we had to get back out again!
After covering 25kms in three hours in heavy traffic, rolling into Jenny’s street in Shepherd’s Bush felt nearly as good as going for a swim in a pool of beer. And this was almost what I got as Jen showered me in champagne on our arrival. Fantastic to see her again and great that she acknowledged the achievement of riding across the world.
A social, non bike related couple of days were spent in London catching up with friends from all over the world.
The social agenda required that we get back on the bike and continue west towards Ireland. Enroute to Wales we stopped in Warwick to say hello to my cousin Rachel and her family. To their father’s dismay the girls took quite a liking to the bike.
Before we knew it we were rolling off yet another ferry in another country. No time was lost getting straight to the heart of Irish culture: Guinness. After smashing a few pints at the St James’s Gate Brewery we spent a very hospitable night with Mich, a good friend from Melbourne who’d recently moved back to Ireland.
The following day we stopped in at a small town called Shercock to say g’day to “our man” Colm, of Darwin to Douglas fame. We met Colm and his riding partner Ed on the Thai/Myanmar border some 20,000kms ago. Almost by chance, we met again in Pakistan and travelled together as a gang of four across two thirds of the country. It was great to see Colm in his natural environment, on the farm!
Finally, after riding 30,932kms towards the setting sun, we arrived at the journey’s most westerly point; Falcarragh, a small coastal town in the north western corner of Ireland. Here we met Adrian and his partner Lou, two very good friends from Melbourne. They’ve taken a sabbatical to spend some quality time with Ado’s family and it was fantastic to get an insight into traditional Irish farm & family life, even if we could only understand half of what was being said! It’s a spectacular stretch of coastline and we spent a great couple of days taking in all the area had to offer, including of course, more Guinness.
After 5 months and 16 days of travelling west it was finally time to turn the bike around in the opposite direction. With no time to spare we were straight back to London to catch our flight to Vienna where we now sit. Western Europe has been a whirlwind of preparing to settle in Austria, social catch ups and eating up the kilometres in between each social engagement. The real world has started to dominate our thoughts and actions, and sometimes I forget that technically the journey’s not quite over yet – I just need to get back to London to get the bike! It’s also easy to forget that I’ve almost completed a dream hatched a decade ago with my best mate in a share house in Melbourne, 32,000kms away. I think now might be the time to start planning for the next one, and cheers to that…