The journey

Murphy's law ensures that the weather is perfect all week, but exactly when I want to leave on Thursday afternoon it starts to piss down like there is no tomorrow. I stop at a supermarket in Aurillac. While I do some shopping the rain outside turns into a deluge. The rain is hammering so loud on the roof that it is next to impossible to understand anyone in here.
Outside the parking lot is flooded five inches deep.
Ten miles on some young kid with an old diesel Peugeot has learned the hard way why there is a law regarding the minimum thread depth for vehicle tyres; aquaplaning made him spinning off the road and wrecking his old banger beyond repair. He is also collecting plenty of Brownie points with local cops; I can see in the faces of those "Flics" how much they appreciate to spend this afternoon in the gushing rain guiding the traffic around the crash site - all because of that silly kid.
At the pass of Lioran the road climbs to approximately a mile above sea level. A massive wall of water is pouring out of the clouds. Thunder and lightning make the biking here even more exciting.
Halfway up the pass I actually hit the cloudbase and disappear into the thunderstorm. Visibility is down to a hundred feet. Beforehand the flashes of lightening were mostly above me. That I now can see them on my starboard side and even below me adds another pinch of adrenalin to this soggy experience.
Luckily on the other side of the pass the weather improves. I stop briefly to re-grease the drivechain and then I am off again. By 6 pm I am at Nick's place.
For this weekend I have the place to myself. It will be nice to live with all mod-cons for a few days.

It is drizzling in Clermont-Ferrand this Monday morning. I leave Nick's place early, before 9 am. My route leads roughly North-northeast. The weather forecast predicts a rapid improvement of the weather on my way north.
And they are right, just after bypassing Riom on the eastern orbital the rain stops and at Autun the sun comes out.
The mileage is clocking up fast; Allier, Saône-et-Loire and Côte d'Or, the departments of central Burgundy including Langres with its impressive fortifications are virtually flashing past, and before noon I am in the Champagne once more. At Neufchâteau I then enter the Lorraine region, precisely the Vosges department. After the flat countryside of Champagne this is an area much more to my liking. The source of the Maas river is just a few miles to the South from here. If you like to take a look at my exact course you can download the route here.
At Toul I have reached the Moselle river once more. A few miles onwards the Meurthe (Maas) river pours into the Moselle just north of Nancy. This is the beginning of the heavily industrialized area centering around the towns of Metz and Thionville. Needless to say that I reach that area at about 5 pm, just in time for the rush hour. While I am sitting before a red light I hear police klaxons coming up from behind. Then a motorbike appears in my rear mirrors at an absolutely incredible fast speed. The guy riding the bike just bypasses all of us dozy geezers waiting for the lights to turn green. He jumps the red light and disappears like a rocket down the highway. I can't see much of him at his speed, but the sound of his engine can not be mistaken; a big Ducati! Seconds later two police motorbikes shoot past us at an equally lunatic speed.
Three madmen, each propelled by a quarter ton of steel, let loose within such a densely populated town. A recipe for disaster, I suppose. In any other country the cops would let the biker get away, because a speed chase under these circumstances is just too dangerous. But these frog cops are drooling with testosterone. Their total absence of protective clothing probably gives them just that extra kick.
You may think that this is possibly a rare instance, but I can say that this is the second time I have witnessed a braindead biker being chased by French motorbike cops who give a toss for Joe Publics safety.
Finally I am out of the jams and Luxembourg. It is September, and at about half past seven in the evening it gets dark. Doing stretches of over 600 km like today can result in being still on the bike after dusk. Biking at night is something I try to avoid at all costs. But my timing is perfect and at 7 pm I reach the bridge over the Sauer river that separates Bollendorf in Germany from Luxembourg. But the bridge is under reconstruction, so I have to do a ten-mile diversion via Echternach. At the Bollendorf youth hostel they are nearly fully booked. But due to a late cancellation I get the last free room they have.

After all those miles yesterday I slept like a rock. Today's distance is 520 km and you can download that trip here. To avoid arriving rather late at Guntrams place I have decided to do a significant stretch of the distance on those famous German Autobahns. But I will not miss on biking through those Eifel mountain range. The road from Bitburg to Ahrweiler must be rated as one of the best biker routes in Germany. I am also passing the famous Nürburgring race track. When they have no races going on, they allow Joe Public to race the family saloon car around the track This apparently is good business for the local tow truck drivers and wrecker yards. That braindead biker from yesterday could have pulled out all stops here quite legally, too.
South of Cologne I join the Autobahn. Near Oberhausen I come along a giant traffic jam. I team up with two Dutch bikers and together we bypass those endless miles of queuing cars until we finally reach the cause of he problem; the Autobahn has three lanes in each direction. Two lanes are closed for resurfacing. And inside the building works a major road merges onto the Autobahn. Result: mayhem. Why can't these dosy Krauts just close on lane at a time? Or, if this can't be done for technical reasons, then why don't they do the work at night?
Let's do some simple math here: every vehicle with more than two wheels will loose one hour in the jam. Let's assume the monetary value lost is 5 Euros per car and 15 Euros per truck. Let us further assume that 20000 cars and 7000 trucks get jammed here every day. I would reckon that another 10000 cars and 3000 trucks take a diversion because of the roadworks, but they of course still loose the money in extra fuel and loss of time. This calculation adds up to a daily loss of threehundredthousand Euros. The roadworks are scheduled for six weeks. The total money wasted uselessly comes to more than 12 million Euros, payable by all these frustrated geezers around me here in the jam.
If next time you talk to some Kraut complaining about how bad things are in Germany, then remind him that most of their problems are just as "Home-made in Germany" as this frustrating traffic jam is.
By 5 pm I am at Guntrams place. He is living in a suburb of Barssel called "Roggenberg". This Frisian countryside is flat as a pancake and I have not seen anything resembling a "berg" for over 100 miles. I consult the GPS; it states that it is four feet above sea level. Considering that it is mounted on the dash I'd say it is about four feet above the ground.
Guntram explains: apparently the surrounding countryside is actually a few feet below sea level and it is just the dyke which prevents the sea from flooding the whole area. But Roggenberg is (as the GPS tells me) is just above sea level. This qualifies it from the viewpoint of the locals for the title "berg". Hmmmh, where I come from we have the Chasseral, about a mile high. That we classify as a hill. Opposite I had the Mont_Blanc, about three miles high. That we call a "berg". But I remember the sourly reaction of the Welsh folks when after traversing their entire homeland I complained about the total absence of mountains in Wales, so I keep mumb.
Guntrams place is a large brick farmhouse. Part of it is the workshop, so he can work at home. There is no telly in the house. Guntrams opinion of German television matches mine exactly. I show him the pictures I have taken during my trip plus some shots I took on other trips until the wee hours of the next morning.

Today I have a "make and mend" day to get the grime off the bike. The pressure wash station is located in the Barssel industrial estate - which some sparrow brained city council placed directly behind a residential area. Now all trucks have to drive through the residential area in order to deliver their goods.
The pressure wash isn't too impressive, either. I would expect 150 bar pressure and the water being heated to 80 degrees centigrade. What I get is half the pressure and cold water. On a motorbike this low pressure means a lot of hard manual work afterwards. The same goes for the water temperature.
After the wash all metal surfaces of the bike are without any shine or sparkle. The best method for getting them up to "near new" condition is to spray them with silicon oil and rub them down with paper or a soft cloth. But beware; many brands of silicon oil are substandard and not up to the job. Lacking the oil, common cockpit spray can be used as a replacement. The local builder merchant only has cockpit spray, and the brand they have is N*****, a German company that has vexed me for 30 years with the low quality of their products. But it's all they have.
The bad pressure wash and the bad cockpit spray can only be offset by hard manual work. It takes me five hours to get Kitty into a condition I find satisfactory. Fellow bikers will understand me; if one does clean the bike, then the result must be perfect. I myself take particular pride in the fact that my old bike with its not insignificant mileage still can look as new, if I just put in the effort.

In the evening Guntram shows me the pictures from his pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela. He has a decent video projector, so his pics are quite impressive.
We also discuss what to do tomorrow. We decide on a route along the Frisian coastline - and the weather forecast is excellent, so Guntram agrees that we will ride together on the bike.

A blue sky and virtually unlimited visibility - excellent biker weather today. We set out at 10 am and ride along minor roads towards the town of Leer - you can download today's trip here. The countryside is full of small rivulets which drain this flat land into the sea. These rivulets are all tidal, even 40 miles inland. Guntram tells me that we are lucky; high tide is around noon, so we will see the coast in its full splendor. Initially I have some problem to get his bearings; what difference does it make for a bike ride along the coast whether it is flood or ebb? But then I remember; the entire coastline here is littered with small offshore islands and the water depth can be measured in inches. During ebb the entire land between the coast and those offshore islands is drained and the muddy seafloor is exposed. The Germans call that muck "watt". It is even possible to walk at low tide from the mainland to those islands on foot, maybe five miles out at sea. Ferries can only operate at high tide and for the casual visitor that empty seafloor covered with muck, pardon me, I meant covered with "watt" is rather a disappointment.
A few miles beyond Leer we reach the Ems river. The first technical attraction Guntram points out is the giant lock build near the mouth of the river before the hamlet of Ditzum.

The picture above is deceiving regarding the real dimensions; ships of over 240 feet width can pass the giant lock. The lock can be completely closed at extremely high tides. That was also the "official" reason for shelling out the taxpayers money on it. Of course there has never been a serious flood problem here within the last few thousand years, so that official reasoning appears a bit thin. But no one minds, because everyone approves of the real reason; 30 miles away up the river, at the small town of Papenburg, exists one of the most sophisticated shipyards on this planet. The Meyer shipyard in this town has among ship builders the same reputation as Lloyd's of London has for insuring them. The lock was build to enable the yard to float their gigantic ships down the river towards the open sea.
We leave the delta of the Ems river and continue north towards the coast. The real problem for the sightseer in my opinion is not the frequent absence of the water. Much more annoying is that the sea is always hiding behind a huge dyke - because the land is lying so low.
We take a stroll through the town of Norden. The place is typical for the Frisian style; picturesque buildings, cobblestoned walks and lots of trees in the centre.

Prices are very reasonable. We have lunch at an outdoor coffee shop for 6.40 Euros. Then the waitress calculates again; 7.40 Euros. Then she corrects herself again; 8.30 Euros. Then she does the sums again; 9.40 Euros. We quickly pay before she changes her mind again. I hope those engineers at the Meyer shipyard have their number crunching better under control than this lady.
Further on along the coast we take numerous breaks at those small harbours like e. g. Neuharlingersiel that do the ferry service to those offshore islands.

Our next target is the German naval museum at Wilhelmshaven. I am sure that there are still a few Royal Air Force bombardiers alive who know the exact layout of the "Jade Bay" (Jadebusen) - because this place was the home of the German Navy during the World Wars and has been bombed many times from the air.
The museum is at the southern tip of the city. The fee is 8.50 Euros per person, but after introducing us as members of the Swiss Navy, on visit here to see what the German Navy has at hand in case of an armed conflict between the two navies, we get the student rate of 6 Euros each. Who said that the Germans do not have a sense of humour?
Aside from the numerous exhibits indoors they have on show a destroyer and a sub build in the 1960's and in service until the early 90's. The destroyer was build in the United States and is just as crammy and uncomfortable as all those vessels from that period. I am much more interested in the (German build) submarine. I suppose you all have seen the movie "Das Boot"? If not, then you know what you have to do on the next rainy Sunday afternoon.
This sub was build twenty years after the war, but the claustrophobic surroundings are just the same; The torpedo men all had to be skinny geezers - or they wouldn't fit into those small working areas in the bow tube compartment. Same goes for the propulsion boatmen. Below is a picture from the inside of the sub.

I suppose you want to make sure you know which valves you have to open and close in which sequence, and being colour blind is probably not a condition you want to have in this job.
It is nearly 6 pm when we leave the museum - just enough time to reach Barssel with the remaining daylight.

Without me noticing it, Guntram takes his digital camera out when we arrive in Barssel and shoots a movie, showing our arrival from the viewpoint of the passenger. Provided that you are using a modern browser capable of supporting the webm format and the VP8 codec then you can watch it below;

The problem with the self-employed is that they have to work whenever there is work to be done. And today is such a day for Guntram. He has to work and I will set out on a bike trip to Papenburg all by myself.
I want to see, if it is possible to visit the Meyer shipyard. The guard at one of the entry roads advises me to either book a tour at the information center at the "old wharf" or at the town hall.
I do that and find to my delight that tomorrow at the 3 pm tour a few places are still vacant, so I book us in for it.

Next day in still spectacular autumn sunshine we ride to Papenburg. The guided tour goes by bus from the town hall to the shipyard. During the ride the guide tells us about the history of the yard, then we are let loose on the visitors gallery, about 100 feet above shopfloor level. Here is a picture from the smallest of the three indoor docks:

As it is the "small" dock, that cruiser they are building on the left is only a piddling 750 feet long. In the "big" building they are working on a 1000-feet ship.
Docking out and floating such a monster of the seas down the Ems river those 30 miles to the ocean is a national event in Germany with thousands of spectators and extensive media coverage. How popular the shipyard is might be judged by the number of visitors: every year more than 250000 people come to do this guided tour.
However, though the size of everything is colossal, for a technically interested person like myself they do not provide enough technical data; I would have liked to know who makes the engines, what is the fuel consumption per 24 hours etc. But for our 6 Euros tour fee I'd say we got value for money. Later we discover that a different type of tour is available, apparently costing 35 Euros, but that one includes a visit of the shopfloor itself. Maybe I could come again in the future and try that one.

After a last visit to the beach resort of Dangast south of Wilhelmshaven , it is time to say good bye to Guntram and the north sea. The weather forecast is predicting that bad weather is on its way here. I have plotted a leisurely route through the German areas of Lower Saxony, Westphalia and Thuringia, all on backwater country roads. You can download the track here.
For the first 80 miles the country remains flat, but at Minden I am back in those typical rolling hills that mark the rest of Germany all the way down to the Alps.
Beyond Kassel I enter the former East Germany again. There is no trace whatsoever left of the iron curtain and the countryside has been completely rebuild and hardly any of those drab commie-regime building remain in original condition. Everything has been either replaced or rebuild to Western standards. Knowing that the pricing levels in the East are lower than in former West Germany I stop at a B&B place in the village Römhild, just 4 miles before reaching Bavaria.
The sky is seriously indicating an approaching warm front. Just when I have put the bike under the roof of the inner yard of the place it starts to drizzle. Perfect timing, I'd say. 23 Euros for the night is good value, too.

The breakfast next morning is gigantic; the table with the buffet is creaking under the load of food they serve. I am given a coffee pot the size of a jerry can. I have outlined earlier the recipe for strong German coffee, so I am certainly wide awake when I set out at 9.30 on the next stage of the journey, which you can download here.
Unfortunately it is still drizzling and I am riding in full battlegear. I am biking through Bavaria, close to the border with the Czech Republic. I am following the river Danube, which is flowing in south-easterly direction from Regensburg via Passau to Linz, before turning due East towards Vienna.
To my left is a region of medium high mountains, known as the "Bavarian Forest", a popular destination for German tourists, though quite unknown abroad.
At Deggendorf I find a black wall in the sky ahead of me. I can see that it is hammering down with rain. So I call it a day at 4 pm and find a room at the hotel Zwickl in Seebach, just outside of the town.
They have a wireless LAN for their guests, which I use in the evening to get my e-mail, and their hearty Bavarian cooking is also recommendable.
A motley group of older local men is sitting at the next table, talking in the broadest Bavarian vernacular. I try to understand what they say, but do not understand more than about every third word. This is the German equivalent of the English "Black Country" dialect.

The weather has not really improved over night, but the forecaster believe that the worst is over. I am continuing my journey down the Danube, now entering Austria. The river valley and the easternmost Austrian province of Burgenland are the only areas not covered by alpine mountains.
I decide on the spot to pay the Austrian Alps a visit and stay an extra day around here. My choice is the village of Weyer near Steyr. The local tourist info gets me a room at a quiet farmhouse north of the town.

The weather guys were right, while I make myself comfortable in Weyer the sky brightens and the sun comes out for the first time in three days. It is time to clean the bike again. The local jet wash is up to my standards; 150 bars pressure and burning hot water. The local hardware store around the corner sells excellent quality silicon oil and it is on special offer. With that kind of equipment cleaning the bike just takes an hour - and the result is much better than all my efforts in Barssel.
I am planning my route for tomorrow, which is a circular track along the "Eisenstrasse", the Austrian iron ore route. Then a relaxing pipe and a wheat beer while watching a splendid sundowner in front of the farmhouse - great.

The ride today (which you can download here) is a counter-clockwise ride through the National Parks of the Limestone Alps (Kalkalpen) and the Gesäuse Alps. The recent rain is causing some fog this morning. While the sun is burning the fog away some spectacular sights present themselves of the surrounding mountains:

At Admont I stop to have a look at the impressive Admont abbey. I take a 5 mile diversion into the cul-de-sac that connects the main road with the village of Johnsbach. They have a graveyard with lots of dead mountaineers there. My impression is that motorbiking is probably a much safer occupation than climbing in the Alps.
At Hieflau I ride the few miles south to Eisenerz ("Iron Ore"). The city features a giant mountain, which man has eaten half away. About a billion tons of rock have been dug out of the mountain to melt around 250 million tonnes of iron out of it.
These days the ore deposits are nearly depleted (a pity with the current steel prices) and there isn't much activity in the pits. But the sight of the half devoured mountain is a must.
By 4 pm I am back and take another stroll through Weyer. Many of the historic buildings have a plate affixed to them, declaring those buildings as protected by the Hague convention in case of an armed conflict. I suppose the Austrians that put up those plaques during the Cold War were considerably overestimating the intelligence of the American or Russian nuclear weapons.

After that Austrian interlude there is now some serious biking ahead. The remaining 150 miles through Styria and Burgenland to the Hungarian border can be downloaded here. For Hungary and Romania I have no GPS maps, so I have to use good, oldfashioned maps for navigation. Luckily I am old enough to remember the olden days before GPS and other than certain younger bikers can handle a map just as well.
I have biked through Hungary a couple of times and remember from those trips the excellent roads, the total flatness of the Puszta country and the really weird language called magyar which the Hungarians speak.
Now, at least for the roads I can attest a massive reduction in quality. It seems the recent financial troubles in the Hungarian finance ministry have had some impact here; some formerly excellent roads have fallen into a considerable state of disrepair. I have the feeling that the Hungarians did not expect that effect, when they joined the European Union a while back.
My route goes from Szombathely towards Veszprem and then around the eastern shore of the Balaton lake. The flatness of the land and the sparse traffic allow rapid progress here. Trucks and tractors can be easily overtaken.
At the lake I turn east towards the Danube bridge at Dunaföldvar. This time of the year travelling eastwards means that it gets dark half an hour earlier every day. Here in Hungary it is dark at 6.30 pm, so I stop at a hotel in Solt. The hotel price is 5000 Forint per night. At 273 Forint to the Euro I make that about 18.30 Euros. In Euros that Russian Mafiosi running the place wants 24 Euros. I offer payment in Forint by credit card. But that anatolian bushwhacker doesn't accept cards and I will not get involved with any of their dodgy Forints.
Yes, I have simply forgotten that membership in the EU does not mean that civilization arrives at the same moment. Corruption, crime and daylight robbery of foreigners like in my case are common practice in this part of the world.

I continue my trip via Kecskemet and Szeged to the Romanian border at Nagylak (Nadlac in Romanian). The jam of cars is considerable and it takes about 45 minutes to pass the border.

The main trunk roads in Romania are much better than those in Hungary. My route goes first through the flat country around Arad along the river Mures. But soon the Carpathian mountains appear on the horizon. This is the province of Hunedoara and the road gets much more interesting. I am in Transylvania, and via Deva and Alba Iulia I reach Sibiu, a town at the southern end of that 100 mile diameter plain that is completely surrounded by the Carpathians. My friend Alex lives here and we want to spend some time together and do some biking.

It is again time for a service on my bike. But the 130000 km service is only a "small" one, and I substitute it with just an oil and filter change. I notice that the bikes service booklet has entries only up to 150000 km, so obviously even at the factory in Hinckley they did not expect any biker clocking the miles up so fast.
I also note that since my last visit the Romanians have done a currency reform, and in a clever way, too. Last time the Euro was worth around 36000 Romanian Lei. They simply knocked off four zeros and now it is 3.60 Lei. And the old notes are left in circulation until next year, i. e. it is the same if I pay with an old 50000 Lei note or with a new fiver.
Alex suggests the new "Metro" cash-and-carry market as a source for some engine oil. But I am horrified at the prices they ask in there. 5 liters semi-synthetic 10W-40 oil are over 100 Lei - new one's, that is. In the west I'd get that for half the money. It seems that Metro does not have Romanian oil - they just ship everything in from the West and add the transport on top of the price. Well, I'll postpone the service until I am in another country.

Next year Sibiu is the "cultural capital" of the European Union. For the event the town council has decided to beef up the inner city. Like in most other Romanian cities seventy percent of Sibiu's buildings are overdue for complete refurbishments, and nobody has the money for that. So they do as best as they can and the city centre is looking much nicer than two years ago. But of course just one short walk around the corner and a look into a side alley reveals the rotten core - which everyone is hoping Brussels will fix; next year Romania will join the EU. How those Eurocrats could be deceived to believe that Romania is ready for that I will never understand. I can only assume that they never set a foot into the country. The core of the problem is the rampant corruption. Here I can buy anybody; the cops will usually look away for a few Euros, a judge might be more expensive and the current rate for the presidency I can find out for you if you want.

But life is not all bad; in the evening we go out and play Pool Billiard or go bowling. And after checking the countries Alex can visit without visa on his Romanian passport, we decide to go to Greece via Bulgaria.

Before I went on this trip I had a pair of twin horns fitted to my bike, much louder then the original. Unfortunately they proved to be Italian crap and have both died on me. Alex' mate Leo knows a place in town for getting a replacement. It is a motor factor where for the tiny sum of four Euros we get a complete twin horn kit - and 5 liters of decent engine oil for 21 Euros. So I can change the oil and fit the new horns. These extra-loud horns are an absolutely essential item down here.
In the evening we visit an Internet cafe at the other end of Sibiu. We take a cab - and I learn that Romania has a taxi service that is second to none. On the way out we find a taxi rank just 30 seconds away. On the way back we call from the cafe a taxi service and the cab is waiting outside within 40 seconds. Alex and Leo are not surprised. For them this level of service is normal. Most cabs are Dacia_Logans, a car made in the country and sold for 5000 Euros brand new. And it is quite roomy, too. For about one Euro the cab gets us back across town - think of that next time you take a cab at your place.
Next morning we get under way. The first stretch from Sibiu to Rimnicu Vilcea leads through the southern Carpathians which are nearly 8000 feet high. Unfortunately it is very hazy at the moment. so there is no chance to shoot a picture. But the road is great fun. We go on via Craiova to the border town of Calafat. For decades the powers to be are talking about building a bridge here, but fact is that still the Danube river - here already several hundred meters wide - has to be crossed on an ancient ferry. It is also a fact that on the entire 500 km of border between Romania and Bulgaria there is only one single bridge, that is the one at Ruse, 200 km away from here.
The border patrol officers have the easiest job on earth; just one ferry every three hours. We timed it well, one is going in 30 minutes. We talk to one of the patrol officers. He advises us to cross the river and seek accommodation on the other side in Vidin. There is supposed to be more choice and cheaper prices.
So we buy a ticket. The price is three Euros per person. They do not have a tariff for motorcycles, so they charge the price for a third person for the bike. Nine Euros makes this quite a pricey river crossing.
It is interesting to observe the ongoings on the boat. Smugglers prepare their "goods"; mainly cigarettes. They get concealed in a number of clever hideouts. Of course these hideouts are just for the protection of the corrupt border police. If the smuggler is caught by some other police officer later on, then the corrupt officer can claim that he did not find the hideout.

On the Bulgarian side everything goes quite easy and by 6 pm we are in Vidin. Alex asks someone in a bar for a decent place to stay and we are directed to a hotel near the river bank. The room is spacious, new and has all mod cons, even air conditioning. The charge is 15 Euros - for both of us together. When we go out in the evening we get even more impressed with what money can buy in this country; seven Euros buys a meal with drinks for two. A pint of the excellent Bulgarian beer is under 50 cent in any bar. This place is a tourist paradise. Everything is at western level, only at 20 percent of the western price. I am very surprised. How do these people do it? Nothing we get for our money is bad. The food is great, the room is luxurious. Heck, we even have 60 channels on the telly including half a dozen pay-TV stations for free. And the park along the river and the buildings in the town centre are nicely done up.
The only thing that we miss are those two magic words so common in Romania: Non-stop! In Romania many shops, bars etc. are open non-stop, i. e. 24 hours a day. That includes Sundays and bank holidays (oh, what France could learn here...). In Bulgaria however shops close usually at 8 pm.
I am certain that if more people would know what quality of service one can have for very little money, then Bulgaria's tourism industry would be booming.

Our route through Bulgaria leads south towards Montana. Many miles of the road have already been improved to 21st century quality, but some stretches are still in the 19th. But the Triumph Tiger (at least the Original one from 2002) was designed with exactly these roads in mind. The 23 centimeters of the front suspension iron out the worst potholes. I had to tighten the rear suspension a little bit to offset for Alex' extra weight, but now the rear shocker is easily taking the bite out of the more horrible stretches.
At Montana we do not follow the E79 to Sofia. Instead we take the shorter route directly over the mountains via the Berkovica pass. Of course the road - not being a major highway and deep in the mountains - is rather bad, but that is of course no reason for us to take the drab, new road via Vraca.
The Bulgarian capital Sofia has an "orbital" route all around the city. We take that road, but so does everyone else. And Bulgarians drive a much harder bargain on the road than people in the West. But I am used to that and we get out of the town in one piece.
Our way leads towards the Greek border through the Pirin mountains. That is fascinating biker country and the road is in excellent condition. Again it is the haze that prevents me from taking a decent photo of this place, but for biking it is great. The only complaint is that the day turned out very warm and murky. 31 degrees centigrade in October are pretty heavy.
The border point at Kulata poses no problem and at 4 pm we are in Greece. It is about 80 miles of excellent country road to Thessaloniki, the capital of the province of the Macedonia.
Once we are in the town the cheapest hotel we can find charges 70 Euros for a twin room. And that room is far less comfortable than the one we had last night. One pizza and two small beers is over 11 Euros. The prices in Greece are mad, or maybe we just think so after our trip through Bulgaria.

Thessaloniki is on the eastern side of the large Vardar river delta. We have decided to escape the unusual heat by riding into the mountains of the western Greek peninsula. To do this we have to cross this delta. The entire area is highly industrialized and so flat, that even after the first 50 miles the GPS reports that we are just 20 meters above sea level.
But the fun begins after the town of Edessa. Those mountains here are not very high, the road winds along at maybe 2000 feet altitude. But it is great fun to bike here. Our destination for today is really the Prespa lake in the triangle of Greece, Macedonia and Albania. But black clouds over the mountains foster our decision to call it a day at 4 pm at the town of Florina.
There is a Best Western hotel in town, quoting 130 Euros for a twin room. Those prices make the Swiss jealous. We find a small hotel run by a fellow biker around the corner for 40 Euros, the hotel "Hellinis".
In the evening we set out for a meal and discover that Greek food really is a nonexistent Fata Morgana. Greeks live on Pizza and Pasta. After some search we manage to find a small, family-run place. However, the only language they speak is Greek - and that is pretty much Greek to Alex and myself. Among us we speak five languages (English, French, Italian, German and Romanian), but no one here speaks any of those lingos.
The result is quite funny when the chef tries to explain the menus. With a distinctive "Oink, oink" or "Moooohhh" she clarifies the origin of the meat. Luckily the patron arrives a few moments later, and he speaks English. The meal is quite good, but sadly the surrounding pizzerias are much fuller than this lonely Greek restaurant.

It is drizzling this morning. The road is winding into the mountains east of Florina. At 2000 feet of altitude we disappear into the clouds and visibility goes down to 100 feet. Under these condition it is no good to turn into the side road that leads to the lake - as we can't see it in this muck. And the drizzle now turns into a deluge. We ride south now, along the Albanian border on a fantastic and empty mountain road. But the fun of biking is seriously reduced by the atrocious weather, so after just 100 km we decide to stop at an Internet cafe in Kastoria, at the lake of the same name. I check the weather charts and discover to my displeasure, that a massive depression has sneaked into Greece and Bulgaria. Even worse, it is here to stay. Weather will be horrible around here until at least the middle of next week.
Outside the water is gushing down the street like a river. I can only see one sensible thing to do; get out of Greece. The weather chart shows, that the west coast of Greece should just be out of the rain by tomorrow afternoon, but today is a complete washout everywhere. We ask some locals for a decent hotel and they recommend the "Europa".
Kastoria is like Florina full of pizza forges. And the only pizzeria also offering the occasional Greek dish is closed today. Our choice of food is therefore rather limited.

It is still drizzling this morning when we set out, but we do bike once along the shore of the lake to see a bit of the town. The place is an excellent place for staying and exploring the surrounding countryside. There are hardly any foreigners here - they probably stay away due to the proximity of Albania. The roads are in good nick - thanks to Brussels - and the mountains of Western Macedonia and Epirus are bikers bliss.

Our weather game seems to function as intended; the drizzle ceases and the sky is looking less and less threatening. Now we begin enjoying the ride. The road is great and has enough straight sections so that the trucks along the way can be easily overtaken.
At Ioannina the sun comes out. We can still see the rain falling in the mountains behind us, but the sky ahead is clear. Our target for today is the harbour town of Igoumenitsa, where today at 8 pm a ferry will leave for Ancona in Italy.
We arrive there at 4 pm and at the agency where we buy the ticket the saleswomen advises us where the best restaurants are along the beach. We end up at a nice restaurant, run by a Greek who was born and raised in Germany. He'd had enough of Germany and has just last week arrived in the home country of his parents with the intention to stay for good.

Whatever his reasons, it can not be the prices. Greece is at least as expensive as Germany. We are told that since the introduction of the Euro prices in Greece have risen considerably. Bulgaria looks more and more attractive to us (because of the low prices), but sadly the bad weather prevents us from taking that route.
We are at the harbour at 6.30 pm and there we meet another biker with number plates from the Puy-de-Dôme in France. There is always something to talk about among fellow bikers, so the time until the ferry leaves is spent in talking motorbikes.
The ferry arrives during a spectacular sundown. We have booked a two-berth cabin, because the ship will arrive in Ancona tomorrow morning. The ship is quite comfortable, but like all Greek vessels I have ever used (and there are quite a number) everything on board is expensive and has to be paid extra. But knowing this Alex and I have bought everything we need on shore.

Next morning we arrive in Ancona at 10.30 am. A big bonus from my point of view is that I have maps of Italy for the GPS. That old-fashioned navigation with maps I had to use during the last days was rather cumbersome.
Our route as usual does not follow the adriatic coast. Instead it stays about 20 miles inland within the hills of the Appenin. The countryside is good for biking until north of San Marino. There the Emilia Romagna begins. This province and beyond it the Veneto are basically the flat delta of the river Po. The area is full of industry, trucks, people and traffic jams - all ingredients not to a bikers palate.
Just south of Ravenna lies the holiday resort of Milano Marittima. Population during the summer month probably twohundredthousand. Population at the moment: about zero. I have never seen a holiday resort at this time of the year (October), but the town consists just of endless rows of more or less tasteless hotel buildings - all closed down. There is no one around in this ghost town. We manage to find a human being close to the centre, and that lady tells us that the hotel "Flora" is about the only place open all year round. 61 Euros for a twin room is sadly the norm rather than the exception in Italy.

We are heading towards Venice this morning. Mind you, we have of course no intention to see that town. It is useless to go there with a motorbike. We just pass 3 miles to the west of that city and ride on towards Slovenia and the southern extension of the Julian Alps.
The ride through the flat Italian countryside takes most of the day and only at 5 pm do we reach the Slovenian border at Gorizia.
immediately we are back in the mountains. This late in the year that not only means fun - it also gets pretty cool up here. Add to that the fact that at 6 pm it gets dark and I know that my biking days this year are numbered.
With the last of the daylight we reach the village of Logatec. The local sports complex also offers accommodation - and in effect is rather a luxury resort. The room is extremely large and everything is new and very posh. That luxury room is 50 Euros, including free use of the gym and pool. Hello, dear Italians, are you reading this? The food is half the price than in Italy, too. Another good thing is that the Slovenians are already so rich, that from next year on they get rid of their old Crowns and get the Euro instead. Everywhere the Euro is already accepted for payment. We quite take a liking to Slovenia - maybe because everyone speaks English. Let's hope the Greek education minister reads this.

We pass the capital Lubljana to the south and continue due east through Slovenia. Most roads are very good, even the minor ones. But at certain sections large scale repair works are under way. Those road builders are not really motorbike minded. They leave stretches covered with loose gravel 5 inches deep. Kitty behaves like an ocean liner during heavy sea on it, but we get through it in one piece. I suppose the first motorbiker suing the building company for gross negligence after having a crash on that stupid stuff will ensure that they will do a proper job in the future.

At Krsko we want to take a small border crossing point into Croatia. Apparently this border crossing is only for EU citizens. Considering that Alex will be an EU citizen in 10 weeks (when Romania joins the EU) I suggest they show some lenience here, but the guy won't have that. So we have to cross into Croatia on the main highway to Zagreb.
The ride through Zagreb is a monster traffic jam. Six lanes of traffic, and no movement. We take the motorway south-east out of town. We find that these Croatian motorways are toll roads. At Kutina we turn northeast again towards Virovitica and Hungary. Normally we would have continued eastwards into Serbia, but for reasons only known to some ministers in Belgrade they won't let Romanians without visa into the country. Those Serbs greatly overrate the attraction their country has for Romanians.
A few miles south of Virovitica we stay overnight in a small hotel.

Hungary has fast roads. And they are fairly dangerous, because people overtake wherever they think they can get away with it. But our progress is very rapid, in spite of the often badly worn roads. Pécs, Baja and Szeged are flying by and by 3 pm we are in Romania. We continue through the flat land, until beyond Arad the Carpathian mountains begin. The road from Arad to Deva is excellent and great for biking.
We won't make Sibiu today, so a couple of miles before Deva we stop at a roadside Bed and Breakfast. There is a carload of young Kiwis there, and during Diner we have a great chat about life up here and down under.

This morning we set out in great mood. Just five miles down the road a traffic cop stops us. We have done 73 km per hour in a 50 kph area. Normally we'd just bribe the cop (as corruption is virtually out of control in Romania), but in my case that is now no longer necessary. He just hands us the ticket (eight Euros fine) and tells us that we have to pay that until tomorrow. Fat chance, I suppose. How do you post a fine to an unemployed, homeless gypsy like myself?
[Postscript: Given he extent of anti-corruption laws being passed in Romania recently I´d be more than willing to pay those 8 Euros fine nowadays, i. e. - just use the "Contact Me" link to send me the ticket].
Just after noon we reach Alex's place in Sibiu. In just nine days we have managed to bike once around the adriatic sea and covered well over 3000 km in the process, not counting those 600 km we covered by ship. I am quite happy with the ride, but even down here in the Balkans it is getting cooler every day and by 6 pm it is getting dark. It's high time to something about that.
In the evening I have invited Leo and Alex to go bowling again - at 10 Euros per hour that kind of fun is much cheaper here than in the West.

I have chilled out for two more days in Sibiu, but today I am heading back westwards. I say good-bye to Alex and off I am, along the by now very familiar road to Deva and Arad into Hungary. You can download the GPS routes here.
Alex has donated a second pullover for me, and it is a very necessary item to wear; temperatures are only in the low 50's today. I turn my last 22 Romanian Lei into petrol just beyond Deva and ride on.
By 2 pm I reach the Hungarian border and continue on the same road Alex and me took four days ago, just in opposite direction. Again I cross the Danube at the bridge in Baja, but then turn north towards Szekszard and Simontornya. I have done 600 km, and now it is getting dark. I had hoped for a suitable place around here to stay overnight, but this late in the year many places are already closed for the winter. That's no problem, as just 50 km north is the Balaton lake, and there in the town of Balatonkenese is the "Marina Port" hotel, which is open all year. It's not the cheapest place, but being able to pay by credit card means that I do not have to bother with Hungarian Forint, the local currency.

At 11 am I am at the Austrian border. Welcome to Euro-land. All these different currencies out in the East were a pain in the back.
I am heading for Graz. From there the fastest way west would be through Germany on the Autobahn. But I am not in a hurry and instead will take the slow route through the mountains. Through Styria (Steiermark in German) northwest to Admont and from there westwards through the valley of the Enns river towards Radstadt.

I have fine weather as you can see in above picture, but you can also see that the snow line is getting lower down the mountains. But though I am occasionally longing for my heated gloves (now in storage in Switzerland) the trip is sheer bliss.
I am now entering the "High Tauern" Alps which are on my left and the "Kitzbühler Alps" which are on my right while thundering through the Salzach river valley towards Tyrol. Zell am See, Kaprun and Mittersill are all quite famous resorts for skiing and mountaineering - and the local roads are fantastic for motorbiking. Near Mittersill I stay overnight at a pub offering bed and breakfast.

The federal road no. 165 winds its way into the next river valley, the popular "Zillertal". The Ziller river flows northeast until it reaches the Inn river near Wiesing.
I follow the Ziller and then continue westwards through the Inn valley towards Innsbruck. At Landeck the Inn river turns south towards the Danube, while ahead of me the Arlberg mountain blocks the valley. The industrious Austrians have long dug a road tunnel through the Arlberg, but I strongly recommend to use the Arlberg pass route (if it is open). Not only do you save the steep toll levied on the tunnel, you also swap 9 miles of a hot, sticky and diesel-fume filled tube from hell for a great biking road up the east side and down the west side of the Arlberg. It is chilly, even freezing on top of the pass, but on a day like this it is nevertheless good fun.
I am entering now the Vorarlberg province. Vorarlberg means "before the Arlberg" and people here are virtually separated from the rest of Austria. Before the tunnel was build it was possible during the winter month to have the entire province "disconnected" from the rest of Austria. Vorarlbergians are very independent and do not hesitate to tell the government, that they are quicker in Paris than in Vienna.
I am even quicker to traverse the province and arrive at the border to Liechtenstein by 2 pm. Liechtenstein is the last absolute monarchy in Europe. They have a parliament, but the monarch can overrule and change all decisions of the elected government at will. Considering that I regard our own royal family as an unnecessary luxury better to get rid of, you may understand that such unmerited level of despotism is not to my liking.
I have advised the movement for the Republic of Liechtenstein that on Revolution Day they can count on me...

Five minutes after entering Liechtenstein I am out of it again - the principality is very small. Now I am in Switzerland and heading for the small village of Wynigen in canton Bern. That is where my ex-workmate Herbert is living. I am heading there, because Herbert has kept an airline ticket for me, which I have ordered a long time ago, back in August, online from ebookers. If all is well that ticket will allow me to escape the approaching winter by relocating down under.
A big hello awaits me at Herbert's place. We have a meal and talk about old times - and of course a few problems at work on which he seeks some help from me.
The ticket looks fine. The flight leaves London on the last Monday in October. That means that I have ten days to do some more biking before I have to ride to Merry Old England.

What can I do with ten days this late in the season? After consulting the weather data on the Internet I see that they are about to have an Indian Summer in the nearby Black Forest in South-Western Germany. That's a good place to do some biking, with lot's of cheap accommodation and many things to do and see.
After a late start I ride via Basel into Germany. The southern areas of the Black Forest are well known to me - they were one of my weekend destinations when I was working in Switzerland. I therefore ride north and find an excellent base in the town of Alpirsbach.

North of the town, in the hamlet of Ehlenbogen, I find excellent accommodation at "Haus Margarete" for 18 Euros per night including breakfast.
Anyone unfamiliar with the German ways of accommodation or not speaking German may find the system of accommodation quite confusing, so here is some information you may find useful:

[Postscript 2018: The accommodation advice in the box below is still accurate, but the prices unfortunately no longer are...]

Hotels, guest houses and B&B's in Germany:

Hotels are like everywhere else and come in all ranges of prices from about 30 Euros upwards.
While travelling through Germany, you may notice lots of "Gasthaus" signs, which you can easily translate as guest house. While in England you would expect that such a place offers accommodation, in Germany many "Gasthaus" or "Gasthof" just offer food and drink, i. e. are just pubs. If the Gasthaus offers rooms, then an additional sign or the words "Zimmer" (rooms) or "Fremdenzimmer" (rooms for strangers) ought to be showing somewhere.
You will also find many signs for "Pension". That's not an OAP home, but instead a B&B place that has no pub attached, but always serves breakfast and may or may not offer meals and drinks at other times, too.
You may also find the word "Zimmer" or "Fremdenzimmer" showing on coffee houses, bakeries or even hairdresser shops. All kind of people have converted their spare rooms into guest rooms.
Many B&B's do not even say "Pension", instead they just call themselves "Haus Name-of-the-house". Often these houses are just farms that have a few guest rooms.
All these types of accommodation are usually much cheaper than hotels and I would expect prices between 15 and 25 Euros per night including breakfast.
Generally areas that are popular with tourists are in fact cheaper than areas without many tourists - competition keeps prices down. Also note that in the former Eastern Germany prices in general are lower than in the former Western Germany, even after this long time since the re-unification.
Many towns have tourist information offices, often in the town hall ("Rathaus"), though opening times are usually very restricted. There you can often get good advice and they can normally check for availability or do a reservation for you on the spot.

I have put a nice, circular route around the Northern part of the Black Forest into the GPS for today. You can download it here, if you like. The weather forecast is predicting rain, but the sky is all blue this morning.
As the mountains of the black forest are much lower than the Alps, biking here late in October is excellent fun and with temperatures of around 60°F quite comfortable.
The predicted rain never comes and I have fun while biking the valley of the Neckar river. Just beyond Freudenstadt the yellow low fuel warning lights illuminates. And of course there is no filling station around. I find an automated station at Wolfach, but though it clearly shows the sign of my credit card, the station has what I call the "French disease"; it does not accept cards from abroad.
Luckily Kitty's tank is very big for a motorbike (24 liters) and I manage the entire stretch back to Alpirsbach. A long time ago I deliberately drove Kitty until the tank was empty; her range is an impressive 515 kilometers on a tank full of petrol.

Today two attractions are on my "to do" list; first the aviation museum at Schwenningen airport (museum location is N48 04.050 - E8 34.191 degrees), then the "Atomkeller" in Haigerloch (museum location is N48 22.033 - E8 48.248 degrees).
The aviation museum features military and civil aircraft of the 20th century. From England they have a Canberra and a few war planes..
Back in July this year there was a hailstorm from hell at this spot. Tennis-ball sized ice-bombs not only shredded every non-metal covered surface of the exhibits in the open, but even bashed through the roof of the museum hangar and damaged aircraft inside. Many canopies have been shattered and are now just covered with a tarpaulin. Even some jet fighters from duraluminium are showing dents from the hail.

The weather forecast is predicting, that the rain that did not come yesterday will come today. But again the sun is shining and it is a perfect biker day. The ride to Haigerloch is great fun.

The "Atomkeller" (nuclear cellar) museum is a cave dug inside the cliff in the centre of Haigerloch. Here Hitler's scientists were working on the Nazi atomic bomb. If they had succeeded, Hitler would not only have had the bomb - he would have had a missile system ready to deliver it to his enemies; the V2 rocket, mass-produced in Nordhausen. And these guys here were apparently no mugs in the business; they had all the basics together, knew the math and were on the verge of enriching U235. Luckily the war was over before these guys got all the necessary hardware ready. But it is an interesting place to see.
30 minutes after my return to Alpirsbach the long awaited rain arrives. Excellent timing.

The rain is still coming down this morning, but it should clear from the West later this morning. I set out regardless of the rain towards Freiburg. But there the rain is still coming down. It looks much nicer towards the north, so I ride to Offenburg instead. The sun is shining when I arrive. I have a look at the city center. I'm tempted to see a movie (I haven't been to a cinema since the start of the journey), but in Germany the choice is limited to the very rare good German movie - all other's are mercilessly dubbed. The movie theatres have nothing decent to offer, so that is one thing I must postpone for a while.
Internet cafes are nearly extinct in Germany, because most people have Internet access at home. You can still find them in areas with a high percentage of immigrants, where they specialize on cheap Voice-over-IP telephone connections. Offenburg has lots of these, so I suspect that they have a high number of immigrants in town.
Another relatively unknown method for web access in Germany is to visit one of the numerous gambling halls ("Spielsalon"). In many of them you can find a coin-operated computer with Web access. They are intended for people who want to access hardcore porn sites and are normally pre-configured for that kind of use, but of course you can use the browser also to access the "real" web.
One such gambling hall exists in Alpirsbach, and I use it today after my return from Offenburg - at least when the machine is not occupied by some sad sod who is here getting the kick he obviously can't get at home.

My destination today is the ancient university town of Tübingen. The distance is just under 50 miles. It is Sunday today, so the shops are closed. The town is build around a hill overlooking the river Neckar. On top of the hill is the ancient castle Hohentübingen, since the 19th century part of the famous university. Inside is the university museum. As the university is doing research into ancient local, Roman, Greek and Egyptian archeology and also has a famous collection of copy-casts of many famous statues from around the world, your 3 Euros admission fee really gets you into five museums at once. I would recommend that three hours is the absolute minimum of time you should have to spare if you want to visit the museum.
Afterwards I take a stroll through the really nice old town. Lots of tourists are in town, in spite of the late season. Many Chinese, Japanese and US American visitors obviously regard Tübingen as important as trying out Sauerkraut and getting pissed at the Oktoberfest.
Tonight rain will be coming, but my friendly hosts just offer me to put the bike into their garage. Excellent, and the next day it really is pissing down all day long. I take a break from biking and update my diary instead.

While vacating in the Black Forest one probably ought to visit one of the many cuckoo-clock museums. But before doing that I have to ride those 60 miles to Stuttgart today and visit the museum of the Mercedes-Benz car company, which has its world headquarters here.
The Böblingen and Stuttgart area is a traffic nightmare; no roundabouts, red lights everywhere - and it isn't even rush hour. But the museum (location N48 47.269 - E9 14.051) is much better designed; there is a large car park in the basement, and beyond the automatic doors at the rear end is the reception area. The building is large, nearly the size of a soccer field - and it has eight floors beside the reception level.
If you ever have a chance to come here, you should consider staying as a minimum an entire day in this giant museum. It is worth every minute and every cent of the eight Euros admission fee.

The sheer number of exhibits is overwhelming, but even better is the presentation of the vehicles, the various historic movies and the collections of accessories and memorabilia from 120 years of company history. I stay five hours, and I know in the end that I should have allowed more time for this place - and luckily I have unlimited time at my disposal, and decide on the spot to return tomorrow and spend a second day in this fascinating place.
I am back in Alpirsbach at 7 pm, and though I am a motorbiker, my head is still full of the images of those brilliant cars I have seen today.

It would be futile to explain once more how interesting the Mercedes-Benz museum is for anyone interested in cars - even for a true motorbiker. I'd wish that these guys would decide to build motorbikes - I'd probably be their first customer (not that I am dissatisfied with Kitty).
I have a closer look at the HGV section and the special vehicle exhibition, which I skipped yesterday. I do take the autobahn A81 into and out of Stuttgart all the way from and to Herrenberg - this avoids the archaic infrastructure which exist on the country road.
By 5 pm I am back and finish the day with a typical German dish; turkish Döner Kebap and a can of Ayran to drink.

My last full day in the Black Forest. It is high time to visit the watch and clockmaking museum in Schwenningen. I do not expect much, but I am very positively surprised; the museum is alive! What I mean is that the museum contains the entire equipment of the old Bürk clock making company. That company went bust in the 1970's, like most other of the historic Black Forest watchmakers. The museum is located at N48 03.873 - E8 31.822
The former employees of those watch making companies have taken over the equipment and have kept the machinery in fully functioning condition - and keep the museum alive by actually producing clocks within the museum and selling them world-wide.
The last week in October is not the busiest time in the museum, and the lady running the reception desk has some time at hand. She has worked for many years in the factory and knows the machinery inside out. And she has no problem to switch the equipment on and actually machine various parts of the alarm clock that the machines are currently set to produce - just for me as the sole visitor this afternoon. I am certain that the electicity we use to machine those parts is worth much more than the three Euros admission fee I have paid. But then I realize that these parts will get turned into fully working alarm clocks and that they will be sold to customers of the museum.
I am very pleased with this place and spend five hours in the museum - though I am not really an aficionado of precision mechanics unless they reside on two wheels.

Below is the usual map with my GPS tracklog and some trip markers. The last six days of biking through the Black Forest are missing - I accidentally deleted the log.

The East - km 124900 to 136050

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