motorcycle-explorer-Issue 7

MOTORCYCLE
ISSUE 07 / AUG 2015
EXPLORER
Issue 7
Ride Your Way
AROUND THE WORLD OR AROUND THE
BLOCK, GET THE GRIN FACTOR
Life on two wheels is a life well spent

Thomas Berglund is a long way from Sweden.
But he never leaves home without Halvarssons
Most people think of Sweden as a country
of long winters, freezing temperatures and
heavy blankets of snow.
But that’s only part of the story. In the summer
it can be really rather warm, and Swedish
bikers are renowned for their willingness to
migrate south in the search of summer sun.
Which is why we at Halvarssons have
become so adept at producing motorcycle
clothing that you really can wear all year round.
We make gear that will keep you warm
when it’s cold, and dry when it’s wet, but with
our removable liners and near obsession
with creating effective venting, a Halvarssons
jacket will serve you just as well should you
find yourself traversing a desert.
Which is why Captain Thomas Berglund,
well known hard nut and serial Dakar Rally
competitor, will wear nothing else.
The Clicker jacket and Lizard pant may
be his garments of choice when riding in
anger, but throughout the Halvarssons
range you’ll find an array of pieces that
will look after you you wherever you ride.
For information about products and stockists visit www.jofama.se

Motorcycle Explorer Issue 7
MOTORCYCLE
EXPLORER
MEET THE TEAM
James Owens - Editor
Graham Field - Columist
LMG - Tech and Gear
Liane - Marketing
HOW TO CONTACT US
Mycroft Publishing
MEM
Marine House 41
Lythe Fell Avenue
Halton
Lancaster
UK
LA2 6NJ
T 07818447680
E
James
www.motorcycleexplorermag.
com
MEM cannot accept any
liability for losses incurred by
any person as a result of a
default on the part of an
advertiser in 'MEM'.
©mycroftpublishing 2014
WELCOME
It’s been a hard day’s night.
There has been so much going on that we’ve we ran out of time to test
any gear. Rather than a half arsed section we have left it for the next
issue and this is the same for the bikes. Other than a play on a 125
Varadero. But it has been time well spent and for issue 8 we already
have the line-up of Suzuki, KTM and Triumph in the bike section.
So what have we been doing that has taken all this time up? We’ve
looked at the whole format of the magazine and the layout, while still
writing this one! We’re happy with the end result and we hope you are
too when you see issue 8. Many of the changes are already in 7 but
there is more to come.
The MEM website and the forum have been broken down and then built
again from the ground up. We think you’re going to like the features
we’ve added to it. We have a site integrated forum now and we are
going to be spending more time sorting out rides and packing
information into the forum for yourviewing and chatting pleasure.
If you go onto the iStore or Android then you will see our now App
that’s running. All issues of your MEM magazine will be there for you to
view. It’s not the same software on the App and that has caused a few
page glitches, text in the wrong place here and there and we are
stomping on our app minions to get that fixed as we speak.
You may have also noticed a ‘change in address’ with the new
MEMRIDER.com and that will go for the emails too. Fear not, the old
address will keep working and will simply be redirected to the new
server as will the emails. It was a pain in the proverbial typing out
@motorcycleexplorermag.com we know, we listened and we changed.
Enjoy the magazine, enjoy the site and enjoy the forum. See you on the
open road.
James
SUPPORT MEM
If you enjoyed what you've read then feel free to buy us a beer!
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CONTENTS
06 RIDE OUT
We look at the Scottish
Highlands and route NC500.
64 AMSTERDAM TO ANYWHERE
This issue it's... Lybia!
22 YOUR LETTERS
Letters to MEM from around the
world.
26 GRAHAM FIELD
Our G Man gives his advice on
trip writing.
30 IN FOCUS
The best in good ideas and
what's popped into the office.
06 RIDE SCOTLAND NC500
500 miles of exploring bliss
42 WHERE WE AT?
MEM's own LMG takes to the road
to tell what the score is on
events
50 THE EXCERPT
We get a sneak peak at a new
book not even out yet! From the
master Simon Gandalfi.
64 BIG TRIP 1
Checking out Lybia, obviously.
134 STEPHEN E. HOLMES
Camping God - Mid Life Style.
100 EVENTS
Hook ups to hundreds of events
going on in Aug and Sep.

Motorcycle Explorer Issue 7
IN THIS ISSUE
102 IN THE FIELD
Haggs Bank Revisted.
112 LOVE THAT SHOT
114 WALES TO MOROCCO
We follow two students scrapbook tour
114 BIG TRIP 2
Two students scrap book of
Wales to Morocco.
132 BIG TRIP 3
Part 2 on the joys of riding
Australia on a Postie bike!
142 BLAST FROM THE PAST
Just paying respect to the riders
who have trailblazed the way.
144 MID LIFE CAMPING
Just how to survive the rally
weekender as a mature adult!
152 DO YOU HAVE A STEEL ARSE?
I mean Iron Butt! The endurance guys.
148 VIDEO BLOGGERS
Tired of reading? Sit back and
enjoy a Big Trip on video.
152 IT's A GROUP THING
MEM looks at the Iron Butters
158 BIKE REVIEW
A look back at perhaps a choice
for the taller 125 fans. We look
over the Honda XL125 Baby V.
162 ME AND MY BIKE
102 OUT AND ABOUT
Looking at a great event at Haggs Bank
166 WHAT'S GOING ON?
The Paddy Dakar going strong

The NC500
Over 500 miles of touring
bliss for you to discover in
the Highlands of Scotland
ide out

Scotland

The Scottish Route 66?
Whoever came up with that little sound byte needs a good kick in the nuts! Route 66 in the USA is
a cross country road that feels like a dying fish flopping about in a decreasing rock pool. The
interstate has pretty much destroyed this old lady of America as it lives more in nostalgia than in
reality. The NC500 is a mainly costal route through a very living and vibrant part of Scotland.
The Scottish Highlands
Possibly the best kept secret in the world when it comes to riding roads. I have been a long time
fan of their white sand beaches, beautiful rolling hills and mountains and the amazing wildlife
that is on display.
So when I read that Prince Charles was working with the Highland Initiative I knew it was going to
be something special... and I was right. So I wanted to give an overview of this 500 mile route.
Doing an in-depth report would take up over 100 pages and as there is an entire website
dedicated to this glorious route then we are going to look at some of the main highlights.
Camping - Go Wild
Motorcycle Explorers can also enjoy the very enlightened view of the Scottish people as wild
camping is legal under the rights of access. The only place we know of with a restriction is Loch
Lomond shore at certain dates for obvious reasons. Other than that, if you’re in a small group and
camping for around 3 nights or less then you can just enjoy the county where your wheels lead
you.
There is a cracking website that gives you leaflets and guides on behaviour. Rather than being
complicated and full of bylaws it is refreshingly simple and designed to help you enjoy your time
with nature. Basic common sense applies like ‘don’t camp in an enclosed field full of crops’.
So if you’ve been looking for an excuse to break out the tent and camping gear and not have to
think about campsite charges or where you’re going to sleep that night – Scotland is the answer.
The choice you have is simply epic and they range from the amazing white sand beaches to
waking up looking across a majestic glen next to a clear running stream. Seriously folks, it does
not get much better than this and you will feel the real freedom or a welcome traveller.
The Route
Along the route are also many attractions that have not spoilt the area but are rustic in nature
and fit in perfectly with the surroundings. If you’ve been to Niagara Falls then you will know what
I’m talking about! The attractions on this route are ‘traditional’ to the area with a strong focus on
wildlife and historical education.
To this end the website for the NC500 even has a gpx file you can download for your satnav,
loaded with accommodation, things to see, places to eat and even places of photographic
interest. You can go up market and stay in glorious hotels, go budget with a list of hostels, get
natural with the campsites or go wild and camp in your own little group for free. This route is a
Rubix Cube of options without the frustration as just about every combination is a finished result.
This also means that you can do this route again and again as you take in new sights, camp spots
a. and of course local attractions.

Your camping spot for the night?

Dunrobin Castle
This is a cracking stately home in
Sutherland, in the Highland area of
Scotland, and the family seat of the Earl of
Sutherland and the Clan Sutherland. It is
located 1 mile (1.6 km) north of Golspie,
and approximately 5 miles (8.0 km) south
of Brora, overlooking the Dornoch Firth.
So do wipe your boots before you go in
and have a look around at how the other
half live. On the plus side I'm sure they
don't get to go off and play on motorbikes.
I mean seriously, how long must it take just
to get the hoovering done in that place.
'There is a great deal of history about the
clans and the surrounding area or you can
just chill out and take a walk in the
gardens while you get another great
picture for your collection.

Ardvreck Castle
Is a ruined castle (obviously) dating from the 16th
century which stands on a rocky promontory jutting
out into Loch Assynt . There is not a great deal left but
then it was never a massive castle to start with. The
ride over to the castle and the views alone make the
ride worth while for any biker. A brilliant spot for
some packed lunch at the loch when the weather is
playing nice.
As always there is a violent history that goes with the
building of fueding clans and the MacLeods (Not sure
if Connor was one of them or not!) and the Marquis of
Montrose was once a prisioner here!

The famous "Journey's End" signpost
at John o' Groats was until 2013 privately owned and operated by the same
Penzance-based photography company that operates its counterpart at Land's
End, with a fee payable for having pictures taken next to the signpost. With the reopening
of the Hotel, a new permanent (and free) sign was erected.
I had a few celebrations at this pub and there is a small camping site not far but
we now know that in Scotland you can wild camp free of charge as long as we are
sensible about it. The last time I was here was getiing the 4 Corners Gold award
from the Iron Butt crew and it was a great coffee to get the time stamp of 1445
miles in 23 hours 45min. These days I take my time and see more than petrol
stations. I'm looking forward to seeing the old place again on my way around the
NC500 for sure. This is an old picture but now I have a 'reason' to go and get some
fresh snaps of the place.
Make sure you have a good quality tent, it can get a touch on the windy side this
far north. I'd also suggest taking a time out for the ferry over to the Shetland isles
for the marine wildlife that gives you a break for some whale spotting. Oh and of
course you have to get a picture next to the town sign of Twatt! I know but if I was
mature and sensible I wouldn't be riding a motorcycle all over the world would I!

Smoo Cave in Durness
There are vague stories, likely based on some fact, of
the cave being a smugglers' hideaway and linked
with tales of the supernatural.
It was formally believed to be the abode of spirits
who guarded this entrance to the nether world. The
first Lord of Reay (Donald Mackay, Chief of Clan
Mackay) met with the Devil on several occasions and
was able to get the better of him. The Prince of
Darkness was none too pleased about this and
followed Donald Mackay to Durness where he sought
to waylay him in Smoo Cave. Lord Reay was heading
for the cavern just before dawn but had the good
fortune to send his dog into the blackness in front of
him. When the animal came out howling and hairless
the master of Reay realised what lay in store for him.
He held back for a moment and in that moment the
sun rose. In the light of day, the Devil was powerless
and left through the roof of the cave leaving the
three holes seen today.

The pass over Applecross
On a clear day this route offers amazing views. On a
cloudy day it needs a steady nerve to ride with 10 foot
of view ahead of you. I’ve ridden over this a few times
and it really is a great road with steep inclines and
declines cutting around sharp bends. Often single track
with passing spots and this is when it gets ‘frisky’ if
you’re riding in the cloud cover. The last time I was in a
group of three and Paul Jennison (PJ, an ex Police rider)
took the lead, cheers for that one PJ!
It was a case of trying to keep the pace and follow the
tail lights and avoid getting a head on with a Landrover
coming the other way, in a head on smack there is only
ever one winner against a Defender and it isn’t going to
be you! There is a cracking little harbour pub at the
base as your reward and if you get a clear day then the
views will have you smiling from ear to ear as you sup
on a coffee and look out over the waters. It’s a delight
that welcomes you to the costal Higthlands and gives
you a taste of what’s to come for the next few hundred
miles.

I hope this has served to peak your interest
when looking for a ride out of exploration as
we have only scratched the surface of what the
Highlands have to offer the discerning rider.
This tour opens a whole host of opportunities
from fishing, walks, sights, photography and
wildlife to name a couple. If you want to get
back to nature and ride some of the greatest
roads on offer then the NC500 is a must!
On the NC500 website there is even an
itinerary for motorcycles but as I read through
it I was not convinced and it does say it’s just a
guide. It seemed more focused on where you
stay the night and where you would eat than
what you would see and where you could go! I
understand that this was set up with the aim of
driving more business to the Highlands but you
don’t ride for a coffee shop, you ride because
of the amazing views. The absolutely brilliant
mixture of roads that cut down to single track
country tarmac passing over lochs and streams
like the road from Durness to Tongue.
So I would spend a little time looking at the
route and if you’re going wild camping then
just crack on and stop where you want to do
what you want, in short... explore. You can’t get
lost and you can’t see everything in one pass,
you’d need a few years at least to see all the
Highlands have to offer! If you do this
clockwise or anticlockwise it matters not as you
get the same amazing views either way. I would
suggest that you try and make this a week long
job to get the minimum out of the ride. Just
camping at the side of a stream full of salmon
may take you a full day of grinning and
relaxing. This is not an Iron Butt run and nor
should it be, it’s a glorious exploration of some
of the most unspoilt views that Scotland has to
offer.

More Information
The NC500 WEBSITE
Visit Scotland
Wild Camping in Scotland Guide
Scottish YHA

Your Letters
MEM has readers all over the world and we want to hear from you! We
want to showcase your thoughts, it can be a happy story, a sad tale of
woe, a rant or just an observation. Share your news with the rest of the
motorcycle riding travellers across the globe. Maybe even bag yourslef a
small trophy in the process for your efforts.

WARNING
»Always ride carefully and observe the applicable road traffic regulations
»Always wear appropriate protective clothing and never ride without a helmet
»All illustrated riding scenes were performed without exception by professionals on closed roads
»MAKE NO ATTEMPT TO EMULATE THE RIDING SCENES SHOWN
FREEDOM IS NOT
SOMETHING THAT JUST
HAPPENS. GRAB IT
WITH BOTH HANDS!
www.kiska.com
Photo: R. Schedl
The illustrated vehicles may vary in selected details from the production models and some illustrations feature optional equipment available at additional cost.
As the smart entry into KTM’s world of travel enduro, the new KTM 1050 ADVENTURE can go as
far as you dare to explore. Lightweight, compact, agile and powerful, the KTM 1050 ADVENTURE
benefits from top-level safety features and offers an additional set-up option allowing it to be
ridden with an A2 licence. Built to take you wherever your heart desires.

A Beautiful Accident
ac•ci•dent
ˈaksədənt/
noun
It is important that I begin this story from the very first domino piece. Because I bought a
motorbike.
It wasn’t how it was supposed to end, and God knows my intentions were good. I had it all
planned out, buy a bike and live happily ever after. Simply put, it was the perfect solution to all
my problems.
Saturday evening and I’m cruising down Waiyaki Way on my way home, my head is pounding
but the wind seems to kiss the pain away. I’ve been missing for three days.
It wasn’t how it was supposed to end
an event that happens by chance or that is
without apparent or deliberate cause.
"the pregnancy was an accident"
synonyms: (mere) chance, coincidence,
twist of fate, freak;
fluke, bit of luck,serendipity;
fate, fortuity, fortune, providence,
happenstance
"it is no accident that there is a similarity
between them"
I switched off my phone, switched on the bike and took off. Nothing provoked it, I didn’t know
how long I’d be gone, or where to, it didn’t matter. That was Wednesday, and I found myself in
Eldoret where I was pulled over by four armed flying squad officers, all shouting at me to put my
hands in the air and identify myself ama they turn me into a kichungi. But that’s a story for
another day, this story is about what happened when I got back to Nairobi, stay with me.
I’m racing against light showers of rain, Eldoret was ephemeral, her roads labyrinthine and I’m
looking forward to getting home. The monotonous growl of the engine plays a perfect score to
the last scene just before the credits roll. I’m seated there, hands clenched on the throttle
thinking to myself “Nothing could get anymore beautiful than this moment right here”, but
that’s because I’m still alive, who knows what the afterlife has to offer?
And that’s when it all happened…when I was away chasing horizons. I get home all right; it’s just
that I can’t enter the house. Because the landlord had been trying to call me, because my phone
was off, because I didn’t pay my rent, BECAUSE I BOUGHT A MOTORBIKE. It’s raining and it’s dark
and I’m standing outside the house with my helmet still on, then a bright flash of lightning.
Remember when I said that it wasn’t how it was supposed to end and that God knows my
intentions were good? Good, because I need you to believe me. I swear there was the loudest
thunder right after I got the bright idea of calling my ex-girlfriend…but I didn’t, because we
broke up, BECAUSE I BOUGHT A MOTORBIKE *moment of silence*.

So I do what every other guy would do, I call my boy. I explain to him that I’m out in the cold
and that I need somewhere to crash. He does what no other guy would do; he explains that he
is out of town, that his sister, whom I am yet to be acquainted to, is house sitting, and that he
will ask her to host me on his behalf.
Now this is where the story really begins.
I show up drenched at the doorstep, head in my hands not knowing what to expect. I say a
short prayer before knocking on the door. This tiny little woman-the kind that forever stay
young and beautiful -opens the door and the first thing she says is “WOW! You ride a bike?”.
God knows my intentions were good
Thirty minutes later we’re speeding down the highway to grab a burger at The Junction-her
idea. Like all novice pillions, she’s squeezing my lungs so tight I can’t breathe and my eyes are
all wet because she’s wearing the only helmet I had. It isn’t romantic, nothing like the movies
make it out to be. And yet...I’d do it all over again, because what’s life without experience. It’s
the only thing holding her back now, that she has no wings. So she spreads her arms out wide
and screams. I smile self-consciously and then break into easy laughter. She loves it. I squeeze
the throttle harder.
Two square cheeseburgers lead to four glasses of sweet red wine and I’m counting my
blessings. The night is redolent with the smell of earth after rain and the air is ethereal, maybe
it’s just the wine. We laugh, we talk and the symphony plays on.
I take the long route back, because more titillating than the nipples pressed against my back, I
want to savor the night and all her horrors. The beast roars and tears across the jungle.
I had it all planned out
Get her back home safely; be a gentleman, get some sleep, end of a good story, right? Wrong
Maybe it was a bad idea to think that we could share the couch and just listen to jazz and blues,
maybe it was even worse to think that we could introduce a duvet to an already complex
equation. And as if singing my thoughts, Marvin Gaye blasts through the stereo
“And baby, I can’t hold it much longer
It’s getting stronger and stronger”
I pinch her chin, and for a second I hesitate; too late, I kiss her
And then, in the most transcendental connection she echo’s Jermaine Stewart…
“Not a word, from your lips
You just took for granted that I want to skinny dip
A quick hit, that’s your game.
But I’m not a piece of meat, stimulate my brain.
Night is young, so are we.
Lets get to know each other slow and easily”
…She whispers the lyrics so delicately as she ushers me to dance
“Take my hand, let’s hit the floor.
Shake our bodies to the music.
Maybe then you’ll score”
Robinson Njenga
Nairobi Kenya

Three time author and MEM columnist
Graham Field gives us some insights on
putting fingers to keys in the world of
trip blogging.
PEN TO PAPER
Be it a book, blog, website, journal, status
update or a 140 character tweet, riding off
generally resorts in reporting back from the
road, with varying degrees of detail, coherence
and regularity.
I have met many travellers whose blogs have
got the better of them, as they adopt the
worldly wanderer lifestyle the logging of their
new status becomes the bane of their journey.
Although in jest I’ve heard it said ‘we have to
stop doing so much, the task of reporting it all
is daunting.’ My reply is ‘then don’t’
It’s probably true that once a trip goes past a
three week holiday there is a need to slow the
pace and stay put for a while. To remove the
panniers and take a few ride outs from a place
you can call base camp. There is a comfort in
familiarising yourself with local facilities,
doing a little bike maintenance and equipment
repair, and of course update friends, family
and followers as to your latest exploits.
Stopping is an important part of the journey,
assessing, reflecting, processing and planning
the next bit. The obsessive blogger who craves,
chronological coverage of their story so far
often agonises to a point of frustration. There
hasn’t been the time, the memories are
muddled, place names forgotten. In an effort to
record all that has gone their account becomes
an ‘and then, and then, and then’ torrent of
names and half remembered days. It’s like
being sat next to a raved out reveller on a
plane back from Ibiza who just needs someone
to talk at they come down from their class A
holiday.
There is as little joy in reading such relentless
ramblings as there is in writing them.
Chronicles of cohesion is not necessary for the
sake of a complete account. And I’ve seen this
compulsion of listing previous experiences
occur at the cost of missing what’s happening
right now beyond the laptop. Consider the
hand written letter, the biro on wafer thin light
blue airmail paper, a letter of love from abroad,
expressing the feelings of a single significant
experience . Better to skip to an antidote which
can be recalled and written with a passion than
to list a stream of non events like the literal
equivalent of unedited GoPro footage.
So what you have to decide is, much like a
diary, are you writing for yourself or for
everyone else. Is it to jog your memory, refresh
your recall in years to come, or is it an account
of your mile by mile view of the world as you
pass through it, so all who come across it can
experience it through your eyes.
There is only one blog I read, my little escapism
into someone else’s journey, which is not like
anything I have ever done. Also the qualities of
the person in question are ones I wish I had. So
for me it’s not just learning about the
environment she’s transversing it’s also about
her open and receptive attitude which always
attracts good people. That in turn for me
reminds and restores my faith in a world that, if
we got our impression solely from the media
we would never dare venture out into.

THE PROS AND CONS OF TRIP WRITING
GRAHAM FIELD

Back in the day when as an
‘individual-public-transport-using-overlandvisitor-of-alternate-cultures’
my paths would
cross with the gap year backpacker. I
discovered that without exception they
considered themselves world travellers, they
would talk about Golden Triangle jungle treks,
reclining Buda’s and overnight bus journeys
without taking a breath. It’s better to have one
story, with a beginning, middle and end, tell it,
and then shut the fuck up.
So what you have to decide is, much like a
diary, are you writing for yourself or for
everyone else. Is it to jog your memory, refresh
your recall in years to come, or is it an account
of your mile by mile view of the world as you
pass through it, so all who come across it can
experience it through your eyes.
There is only one blog I read, my little
escapism into someone else’s journey, which is
not like anything I have ever done. Also the
qualities of the person in question are ones I
wish I had. So for me it’s not just learning
about the environment she’s transversing it’s
also about her open and receptive attitude
which always attracts good people. That in turn
for me reminds and restores my faith in a
world that, if we got our impression of solely
from the media we would never dare venture
out into.
Another reason I came across her blog, and this
is worth bearing in mind, is, updates always
arrived at the weekend. What the permanent
vacationer forgets is that those of us at home
are doing all those chores that require
attension and distract us from a life that is
passing by. So a mid week update will get
forgotten with the plethora of other temporary
distractions. But I enjoyed my Sunday morning
read as my hangover faded into the vast
terrain a fellow traveller was describing to me.
Another travelling ‘friend’ I follow, writes daily
tea break size chunks on Facebook, I stop
scrolling and get informed without getting
bogged down in needless detail or losing an
hour of my day.
For my part, I keep a diary and always have,
religiously, for over quarter of a centry. Like
anything that is done repeatedly I got better at
it. I don't really blog much anymore, unless
there is something on my mind that is bigger
than the capacity of a status update. But when
my journey brings me back home, I read the
diary and relive the trip day by day as I write
the pages of the next book. I love that,
regardless of sales and popularity, I have just
done my journey all over again in the comfort
of my own house. It feels like I’m on the road,
only now I have the convenience of a fridge
and a porcelain toilet both in close range
(although in different rooms). No extremes in
temperature or weather, it’s not armchair
travel, it’s firm stall recall. My journeys are not
long enough (about 100 days) to spend too
much time in front of the screen. I experience
all I can in the allotted time, then, senses filled
with sights, smells, scenery, and culture I take
all my memories back home before they
overflow and run together in a tie-dye of
confusion. I heard it said that after 3 months
you get into the zone, may be, I’ll probably
never know. I've found what works for me and I
don't want to burn out on seeing too much,
anymore than I do on having to relay those
experiences as I'm having them. Save me a
temple and a mountain view, I’ll be back next
year.
Graham

The new book by
Graham Field
He expresses distain and admiration of people
and places with an appealingly brutal honesty

OCUS
We take a look at the what's out there.
Kit, gear and ideas for your biking
pleasure

Soft light water bottle
Problem:
This is a very problem and solution
while out camping. When you have
the head torch on you get directional
light. That's great, that's what it was
made for at the end of the day. You
can have another lmap type kit
hanging from your tent roof if you
have the strap and the tent is high
enough. There can be a bit of an issue
when getting into your tent at night
and that direction beam hits a fellow
camper right in the face or when in
your tent you have darkspots and can
only tend to focus on the thing in
view.
I have on occassion found issues with
lamps being rather bright when taking
younger members of the family that
would like a little 'comfort' light but a
stark light keeps them awake. None of
these are serious issues, unless your
the one getting blinded by the head
torch of course in a conversation!
Solution:
This rather cool like technique mixes your head torch and your clear water bottle. I would say
that having a large water bottle is always a good idea. If you're going to a designated campsite
then take the bottle empty, if you're on the road then fill as requirred. I tend to top the bottle up
at service stations or fast food toilets but there are amble places to score some free water
anyway.
As you can see from the picture above this rater cool idea of strapping the torch to the full water
boittle will give you a softer but perfectly usable (depending on your torch lumens) lamp. Easy
to move around and very stable, rather than a swinging light.
I've got an idea!
Then we want to hear about it, simple fix or life
changing genious. Share the knowledge people.
Email: newsdesk@motorcycleexplorermag.com
What do you need?
A bottle of water
A head torch
Some water

Extuff Helmet Hook
£9.99
Problem:
I’ve had many a ride home after a trip and ended up at some
service station at 3am looking for fuel or a coffee as I’m sure most
of us have. Only to find that parked up is a day glow yellow
Subaru playing music you feel rather than hear and more smoke
coming from the window gap than the oversized exhaust. I’m no
longer wanting to leave my nice new helmet on the seat or hung
over the mirror of my bike anymore. There is also the very real
chance of my helmet falling off the seat or mirror and go
bouncing along the forecourt as you gawp in horror and flinch
with each sickening clunk and scrap.
Solution:
A very simple idea that’s also simple to fit. I do
like simple fixes that don’t require £4k of kit in
the shed and a Masters degree from MIT to fit. So
I like the Helmet Hook.
This cool bit of kit is made from toughened
plastic and a metal washer and fits on just about
any bike you care to mention. If your bike has
weighted bars or hand guards then the Helmet
Hook will fit. You just screw the end off and slot
the Helmet Hook on, tighten back up and you’re
good to go!
You hang your helmet by the D ring and you
have your hands free to carry on with your
coffee or chores as you see fit. Now this is not
designed as a security feature but it can be used
for that purpose. It does not come with a
padlock but one can be bought and with a long
shank to fit the holes. I would not leave your
helmet out all night in say London as you’re just
asking for trouble but then again I wouldn’t
leave my bike out all night in London either! It
does serve as a peace of mind at the likes of a
rally, getting fuel at 3am or hanging out at biker
spot.
One problem I found was you hang your lid
upside down and if it rains then you get a wet
inner lid! This can be combated with the use of a
cheap or free plastic bag. A small cut in the base
and feed your strap through the gap and you
have cover for your lid and not a bucket of water.
The Helmet Hook is also great for hanging
anything else off too, drying towels, hanging disc
lock cords, puck cords (will cover that one next)
and even putting a pad lock on your tank bag and
then feeding the clasp through the Helmet Hook
and locking that up too. You’re then hands free
and have peace of mind to wander the stalls of
an event, grab that coffee or simply save you
from dropping your lid on the floor and or
knocking your mirror out of position – for just
under £10 I was more than happy with this little
friend. It also got rather a few ‘Oh what a good
idea!’ comments when parked up at my regular
butty van at Devil’s Bridge.

Motorcycle Explorer Issue 7
Puck Lash
By - Bernard Smith
Cost: £2 if that
Problem: Leaving hundreds of pucks on
various fields around the world then finding
that you have no side stand puck at the next
event in a soft soiled field. Worse still is
packing all your gear away and the mounting
up, levelling out and kicking up the side stand
to see that puck looking back at you with no
way of getting back without a lot of messing
about. More often than not I’ve muttered
‘bollocks’ and ride off to try and find some
dealership doing a promotion with free pucks.
Solution: Bernard Smith came up with a rather
simple idea to save me from swearing more
than I already do and to be ecologically sound.
Now you can be all professional about this or
do what I did. You need a hole in the puck and
some now come with this, mine didn’t! You can
get a drill bit, size it up and then work on
getting the cross pencil mark for the perfect
drill... or heat a nail up and smack it with a
hammer through the puck. Now get some
nylon string and knot it off through the hole,
you now have ‘puck on a rope’. While camping
this is best put through the ropes of your tent.
Reason being is that when I did this and
hooked it to the Helmet Hook (see review) I
had to pop down the shops to fill the now
empty panniers with liquid refreshment. On my
return I never bothered to reattach the puck
cord and went off looking at the bike stalls.
Packed up the next morning and jumped on the
bike to see both puck and cord looking up at
me from the floor.
You only have to get back off and reattach the
cord to get the puck back but I’ve found that if I
lash it to my tent then I’m reminded when
packing the tent away to lash that puck cord to
the Helmet Hook. So when I load up, mount and
level out I can just yank the puck up and pop
into the tank bag. This is a simple fix for a
simple problem.
Thanks Bernard.
What do you need?
A Puck stand
Some nylon twine
A hole in the puck

Sena Prism Video Camera review
Martin ‘Sticky’ Round used a Sena Prism
video camera on a 6,000 mile 19-
country jaunt on a 1968 Lambretta for
a forthcoming book project called Twin
Town Courier.
He reckons that the Bluetoothconnectable
Prism is the best dedicated
bike camcorder available today, and
here’s why..
FORM FACTOR AND MOUNTING SYSTEM
The Prism has, in my opinion, the correct form factor
for two-wheeled use. It is small 63x44x23mm and
light at 125g including battery. For helmet use a
long device with a small frontal area (Prism or Drift)
obviously suffers less wind drag than wide and boxy
(GoPro et al).
Prism’s clamp-on, clip-in ball-joint
helmet mount is a work of genius.
Perhaps more fundamentally, with the Prism’s superbly engineered side-mount, ball joint, clip-in
helmet bracket, you don’t have to look like a Teletubby with a stupid protrusion sticking out of the
top of your head. For me, that’s a big factor. I’m tall enough to struggle fitting below door fames as it
is, so adding another 10cm of action camera to the top of the helmet is a disaster. Included within
the Prism kit are adhesive mounts if you insist on helmet top nonsense, but these can also be used
to side mount on the few helmets that do not accept the clamp bracket.
Admittedly, you can also mount a GoPro onto the side of a helmet, but this is a massive ungainly
carbuncle on a big arm rather than a slim solution like the Prism or Drift.
The flipside of this argument is that the horizontal box (e.g. GoPro) format is actually better for
chest-mount shooting. This angle can be more immersive and revealing than helmet mount for
extreme riding, but you are stuck with forward-only shooting.
Whichever type of video camera you choose be aware that if you mount on your body or your
helmet then you are compromising your safety in an accident. Most race organisations ban the use
of rider-mounted cameras for that reason. Still, if you wanted to live in a cotton-wool-enclosed
protective bubble you probably wouldn’t be reading an adventure motorcycle magazine. A little risk
is part of the game and as long as you can quantify it in advance then it’s your choice whether or not
to wear a camera.
ADAPTABILITY
The clamp-mounted Prism sticks out a little way from your helmet, but not so much that it
unbalances things or gets caught on your shoulder when looking behind. In wide-view setting the
right side of my full-face Shoei helmet was just visible in shot, but I prefer that effect to a totally
unhindered view because it gives the viewer an obvious rider perspective.

One aspect of the Prism I liked was being able to leave one of the QRM (Quick Release Mount)
wedges screwed to the underside of the camera, even when it was clipped into the helmet
mount. While riding I could reach around, unclip the camera from the helmet and slot it into a
QRM-equipped ball mount fixed to the scooter; which I set up to record alternative angles. This
flexibility puts all rival mount systems in the shade.
Once you’ve watched helmet-cam footage for more than five minutes you’ll realise the
importance of changing shooting angles. You must do this to maintain interest without the
viewer feeling that they are part of some Clockwork Orange torture experiment. The key here is
to remember that long sections of uncut Point-Of-View (POV) filming are best reserved for
moments of extremely high drama, or pornography.
The full Prism kit comes with a massive and superbly well-designed selection of mounts, many
of which I left at home simply because being able to swap from helmet to alternative, adjustable
mounts front and rear of the scooter was enough. Take my word for it; whatever you need, from
clamps to suction mounts, will probably be in the kit.
WEATHER RESISTANCE
The Prism has another advantage over most rivals in that you don’t need to use a waterproof
case for slight inclemency. Sena claim it can handle 1-metre submersion without its clear plastic
case, but that depends how securely you fitted its push-in rubber rear USB cover. On the few
occasions it did rain when I had the camera fitted I suffered no water ingress problems. Having
said that, I’ve read other reviews where enough moisture managed to get inside the Prism while
raining to fog the lens. The tip to remove any fogging is to leave the camera in a bag of uncooked
rice overnight to let Uncle Ben suck the badness out. For my part it simply made more sense to
put the camera away when it was peeing down because rain riding footage is about as sexy as
watching fat, old men in the shower. Maybe that works for you though. Weirdo.
My test Prism did come with a waterproof plastic case but since I didn’t plan to go under the sea,
I left it at home. Also, the waterproof case does not clip into the clamp-on helmet bracket like the
bare camera does; which restricts its usefulness.
For most adventure situations I reckon you could ride using the camera without its waterproof
case, except perhaps falling off in a river. In which case you’ve got other things to worry about
anyway…

BLUETOOTH AUDIO
Here we come to the Prism’s killer feature. While straight helmet camera footage with a built-in
microphone will almost always require some sort of over-dubbing in post-production (due to
wind noise and engine drone) the Prism can take audio from Sena (or rival) Bluetooth headsets.
The massive advantage of Bluetooth audio is that it allows you to narrate directly onto the video
as you ride. I constantly used the Prism as a method of taking video notes about things I saw, or
thought, while I was riding.
A Bluetooth connection also allows you to commentate live during moments of action. I
absolutely loved this feature because it creates footage that is far more interesting and
immersive without any need for post-editing. Or rather, that would be the case if I could train
myself not to be such a potty-mouth. Certainly few of my blue-tinged clips would gain a PG
rating in the cinema.
Kudos here must go to the absolute mastery that Sena have over the noise-cancelling effects of
their intercom system. My Prism was paired to their 20S helmet to helmet intercom which builds
on the many of the clever features offered by high-end rivals such as phone, FM radio and MP3
player integration.
I was shocked at the 20S microphone’s aptitude at cutting out wind and engine noise compared
to voice frequencies. During my trip I had a perfectly clear phone conversation with my wife
while she was driving at 70mph in England (on Bluetooth car hands-free) and I was riding a noisy
scooter at the same speed in Spain. The call quality was completely unimpeded by distance or
mode of transport. Remarkable.
When this Bluetooth audio is used as a track on the video clips, the voice clarity is almost
spooky, with other traffic and even the scooter engine note being a faint buzz in the background.
The only down-side of this microphone efficiency is that if you let the boom move far from your
lips then even the narration volume can drop to a whisper, however there are multiple options to
adjust sensitivity and even mix microphone inputs. Only once home did I read in the manual that
you can feed the microphone output in your earphones; which would really help to set a voice
volume. Studying manuals is not very ‘bloke’ but the fact I could soon work most functions
without thorough instruction proved that the Prism operating system is quite logical.
The other advantage of Bluetooth Headset integration is that the camera speaks to you to tell
you what it’s doing. A female voice tells you what mode the camera is in or if the battery is low,
giving you sufficient notification to swap another battery. It’s a brilliant feature, removing all the
guesswork associated with other brands on non-connected camcorder.
BATTERY LIFE
Stated battery life for the Prism is 2 hours filming with a live Bluetooth connection, but with the
camera switched off for stops I could usually get a day’s use from three batteries with recording
limited to notes and interesting riding sections. If you record every part of your ride you will
chew through data cards (32GB microSD is maximum accepted by the Prism) and produce so
much boring footage that editing will be a nightmare.
A top tip for the Prism is to buy a universal 12-volt to 3.7v battery charger because this will
allow you to charge spare phone or camera batteries from the bike while you ride.
What’s that, you’ve bought an action camera / posh phone with just one permanently fixed
battery? Then you need your head examining. Swappable batteries are still the way to go…

VIDEO QUALITY
The Sean Prism shoots in full HD (1080p) at 30 frames per second or 720p at 30/60 fps in MP4
format. It also offers a choice of two shooting angles: normal and 140-degree wide angle. In my
view the video output from the bright F2.0 lens is very good, with realistic colours and a decent
transition times from bright to dark scenes. In addition to video recording the camera can shoot
3.5 megapixel stills or bursts. It will also take time-lapse recordings either as separate Jpeg
images or as Benny Hill style videos.
If you really want the ultimate in picture quality and a plethora of visual adjustment options
then I still reckon the latest GoPros are ahead. But do you really need 4K cinema quality from a
helmet cam if you don’t have a 4K TV?
I reckon the vast majority of sports-cam users will be happy to find a setting that they like and
leave the camera recording at 1080p. If you are the sort that rarely wants to mess with settings,
and can’t afford to waste too much time post-editing then the Prism a real contender.
Speaking of post-editing, GoPro – with its bundled software package – still has a major
advantage over the Prism (and its peers) which does not include software for video editing.
Still Jpeg images from the Prism are sharp and well-exposed.

OPERATION
The camera itself only has two rubberised buttons (Mode and Shot) which makes it very simple
to operate, even with a gloved hand. Make a selection and the lady in your ear tells you what
you’ve done. You can control the camera from the buttons on the Intercom system but I found it
more natural to reach for the camera every time I wanted to record. This does however mean
that all of my clips tend to start with a large gloved clutch-hand briefly obscuring the lens.
Conversely, working through the settings menu with only two buttons and a tiny screen to guide
you is clunky. Thankfully Sena have thought of that, and their handy Prism Camera app allows
you to make settings adjustments direct from your Smartphone screen. It’s simple and works
really well. One useful setting offered is ‘upside down’ for moments when you’ve mounted the
camera in an inverted position, saving the need to flip the picture in post-production.
FLIES ON THE LENS
Naturally, nothing is perfect, and the Prism has a number
of small niggles, some of which Sena could potentially
fix in future firmware or hardware updates.
Possibly the most annoying aspect of the camera is that
there is no simple way to check footage or frame filming
‘in the field’ since the Prism does not feature an
integrated screen. This was also a problem with the
earlier small cameras such as GoPro, but newer models
with Wi-Fi connectivity mean that you can now simply
view clips (or live-view) direct from the camera to a
Smartphone screen. If Sena could add this feature then it
would be a massive boon.
From an imaging point of view I like the fact that the
camera lens is not obstructed by another lens within a
waterproof case, however at the moment the camera
glass is not replaceable and therefore vulnerable to
scratching unless the rubber lens cover is fitted.
Incidentally, the footage takes on an eerie, horror feel if
you forget to remove the lens cap…
For me, the most irritating problem was that each
memory card you install resets the file numbering
sequence to zero. That way you can end up with several
cards all with the same file names (e.g. PRSM0001.MP4)
for different clips. If you aren’t careful when you back-up
your cards then you can end up overwriting one lot of
files with identically-named ones and accidentally losing
your original clips. The Prism desperately needs an
option for the file numbering to continue sequentially
from one card to the next, just like my Canon camera
does. Hopefully Sena can make a small adjustment to
future firmware releases to fix that.

VERDICT
The action camera market is still in a state of rapid development, with new and improved
models coming along all the time. There will never be a ‘best’ action camera, at least not for
long. There comes a point where you have to make a jump and join in.
From my perspective the Prism offers the right combination of worthwhile features and output
quality for what I want to do with my videos, particularly since live voice recording is a massive
time-saving feature. Pixel-peepers who demand the highest video quality may still be better off
looking at other brands such as GoPro. However, I want to spend my time riding, not editing
endless Gigabytes of video in a darkened room so the Prism is perfect for my needs.
Perhaps the biggest incentive is that Sena massively reduced the price of the full Prism camera
kit from a-bit-too-expensive ($399) to very competitive ($249) in June 2015. The new price
translates to €269 or a shade under £200. There is also a bare Prism camera option for €199 but
that seems a bit pointless since the mounting kit is really one of the camera’s main strengths.
Bluetooth voice-over will require you to own a helmet intercom of any brand. Sena’s all-singing
20S retails for a hefty $299 but offers improved integration compared to other systems.
Note that Sena have recently released an all-in-one camera and Bluetooth intercom unit called
the 10C which I originally thought would be a better integrated solution for touring. Now, having
sampled the positioning flexibility and ease of battery swapping that comes with the Prism and
separate Bluetooth headset solution, the latter still seems like the ideal set-up for touring.
Sticky
RIDERS
Sticky has written for various two wheeled magazines for 30 years.
His previous travel book – Frankenstein Scooters to Dracula’s
Castle – was reviewed in Motorcycle Explorer Magazine

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Our skinhead Cruiser man LMG takes a
look at what's been going on in the
world of events. LMG reports on
location at Overland Magazine Event.
Explanatory summary of the point of view taken:
This article has been written from the perspective of a general attendee of the event. The article
is not meant to be a complete review of every presentation given, every product demonstrated,
or every vendor stall offering their wares at the event. The perspective was taken to randomly
select presentations to view, and mingle with the masses.
Travelling the world on a motorcycle – is there anything better? Us motorcycle explorers
love to do it, and if we can’t appease our addiction by actually travelling then we love to listen to
like-minded people talk about their travels. This year, a new event created by the team which
brought you the classy Overland magazine, arrived on the calendar to address a largish gap
made by the absence of the UK HUBB event - this year, we had inaugural ‘The Overland Event’.
The Overland Event was held over the June 19th-21st weekend at Great Missenden, a village in
the Misbourne Valley of the Chiltern Hills of Buckinghamshire, England. The organisers, perhaps
knowing their audience a little too well, had secured a good sized field for the event next to the
Black Horse pub. Attendees arriving at the pub car park, and assuming that they didn’t dismount
and immediately set about emptying the Black Horse of its alcoholic stores, would enter the
adjoining field to register for the event.
The event was laid out in a typically orderly fashion , with the main field being divided in to two
primary areas: the first part of the field being the main “event” location, and the far part of the
field being held over for attendees camping. There was an additional camping field over a gate
in the next adjoining field, however either the attendees wanted to be close to the action, or
didn’t realise that there was another less occupied field they could make use of. Sufficed to say
that the camping in the main field was the most popular locale to pitch up.
In the centre of the event field was a large marquee homing an eclectic display of motorcycles
which had actually travelled to almost every location on planet Earth. Enfield, BMWs,
Kawasaki’s, Hondas, large and small, were all laid out with the owners relevant information
about the travels undertaken. One could easily spend a day looking at all of the bikes, reading
the information of the journeys, and imagine oneself doing the same trip.
The back and right sides of the of the event field were passed over the vendor stores which
covered everything from purchasing bungy cords through to organisations who could ship your
motorcycle to the other side of the world.
Part of the left hand flank of the event field was turned over to the catering services on offer.
Along with traditional burgers and bacon baps, visitors to the event could partake of Thai and
South African cuisine. Drinks were on offer from all of the food vendors and making a nice
addition to the event was a dedicated “professional” coffee stall located almost directly outside
of the authors tent.

OUT AND ABOUT...
WITH L.M.G
If LMG is on the shitter this guy could be in for a long wait!

The final major area of the event field was the authors tent. A number of very wellknown
authors were selling their wares assuming you could stop them talking about travels for
five minutes. If you wanted to get a 1-2-1 with people who had “done it”, then this was the tent
to visit – needless to say it was a popular destination. The authors did not appear to mind
passing on their massed years of experience to those who wanted to live their own dreams on
the roads of this planet.
For my sins, and having arrived back from a motorcycle exploration of Germany’s Black Forest on
the Friday night, I only manage to arrive at the event on the Saturday morning, and given that my
European trip allowed no room for camping gear, I was ‘forced’ to overnight in a local bistro
hotel. I live a hard life. I had departed Folkestone for Great Missenden at a delightful 04:30hrs
for a number of reasons but primarily as I wanted to keep off of the motorways and stick to the
back roads. I believe every trip ought to and can be an adventure. The most direct route would
have taken me around 2 hours, but my scenic route took about 4 hours as I rode past scenic
sights and point of interest including the final resting place of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
Saturdays events commenced at 10:00hrs with activities in both of the main presentation tents
whose duration were normally around 30mins. I opted to go for a technical workshop held by
Continental in their own vendor tent on how to change your own tyres. Although most of us
think we know how to change our tyres when we are away from cities, it is always useful to get
hints and tips from the pros ranging from the correct use and placement of tyre levers, through
to using liquids to help seat the tyre on the rim. All good stuff.
At 1100hrs the options were to have a Q&A session with Ted Simon or listen to a talk about an
impending trip in to Africa by Melanie Cowpland taking her daughter Sofia along for the ride.
Sofia happens to have autism and just to highlight that people who have that complaint can do
anything anyone else can, Melanie is planning to ride her motorcycle outfit from the UK to South
Africa. They are currently seeking sponsorship and dontations in order to make this trip
possible. Certainly a thought provoking presentation. Good luck to their future endeavours.
Directly after the ‘Autism to Africa ’ presentation, there was a workshop by Andreas Hulsman on
how to take better photographs when you’re on the road. Although English was not Andreas’
first language, and that the topic was by its very nature complex, I certainly took away
knowledge on setting up shots and how to get those luscious well-lit night shots. I shall be
practising those suggestions on my next trip.
Switching locations to the Rev’It tent, I sat in on a workshop held by Motofrieght (a company
specialising in shipping your motorcycle and equipment around the world). The general focus of
the interactive workshop was that you wanted to do a particular trip, and wanted your kit at a
particular start point. Motofreight walked the attendees through the processes they would need
to follow and the estimated timings (which are oh so critical in trips such as there). They
explained the best ways to crate a bike (a service which they carry out) and actually crated a
BMW R1200GS whilst the workshop was underway. They explained what kit can and cannot be
carried within the crate, and the papework which needs to be completed by yourself, the
paperwork which they [Motofreight] complete on your behalf, and what needs to go with the
bike. They even explained why the wood they use for building a crate won’t cause a problem
going to locations such as Australia! That was something I did not know.

Managing to grab a quick bite to eat and drink before the next tranche of shows, I wandered in to
the Brittany Ferries tent to listen to Dom Giles. I remember the advertisements for Dom’s book
when it first came out, but I never actually purchase it. I tend to buy a lot of books as I like to
read when I am on my travels, but for some reason I never pulled the trigger on this particular
volume. Dom was/is a teacher for his sins, and I tend to believe that the profession usually
makes for better presenters, and I wasn’t wrong. Dom held the audience throughout his
presentation which was often thought-provoking such as when he explained how he
volunteered at various charitable establishments along his trip (for a small fee you get food and
a warm bed plus you’re doing some good whilst you travel), but always funny. I left his
presentation wondering why my tutors weren’t quite as engaging, but ultimately I left his
presentation wanting to (and did) purchase his book.
In the next presentation slot, Frederic Jorge explained why exploring France would be a good
thing to consider as not every adventure needs to be on a different continent. Bruce Smart, who
is more commonly known in the field as “Teapot One” was next up and this, meant another fun
packed presentation. Starting with why he wanted to do his trip, through to the aborted first
attempt due to being robbed in Africa, all the way through to his second successful attempt and
how he navigated his Suzuki Gixxer around the world. An excellent presentation and worth
getting his book.
After a short interlude, Paddy Tyson was on the stage with his hilarious presentation entitled
“Riding the Americas on a crap bike”. For those who don’t know, Paddy is one of the main
organisers of the Overland magazine as well as this event. How he managed to find the time to
prepare this presentation as well as organising this event is beyond me.
Above: Dom Giles
Right: The Suzuki GSXR of Bruce Smart of Tea Pot One

The Vince
I have recently started Graham Fields second book, so it was with interest that I sat in
on his presentation which was an amalgamation of both his first and second books. Both books
and thus Grahams presentation were based on overland trips departing from the UK and heading
East. When you speak to Graham 1-2-1, he often can seem nervous, however in front of the
crowd whatever nervousness he may or may not have, wasn’t present and it was one of the best
presentations of the event.
The evening was wrapped up by Austin Vince. If you don’t know who Austin is, I need to
question why you are reading this magazine. Austin, along with his Brother Gerald (who was
also at the event) created the ground breaking round the world trip ‘Mondo Enduro’. Austin
showed the audience one hitherto unseen film entitled “A to Z: Morocco” which was supposed
to be a sales pitch demo to the TV channels for a television series. Personally, I was not overly
impressed with the film – and although “very Austin Vince” in its production quality, I much
preferred pretty much everything Austin has done before and since. After the film and a short
interlude, Austin did the last presentation of day. The world seen through Austin’s eyes is very
perculiar but very entertaining and very funny. If you have the chance to see Austin present in
person, grab it!
The day was rounded off with one of the films from Austin Vinces’ “Adventure Travel Film
Festival vaults, entitled “Eye of the Rider”. It is a film documentary about three guys who go to
explore the Australian Alps and encounter in a brief period of time, all the types of issues
encountered by overlanders. The film started at a mild pace, but the progress soon cranked up
and tuned in to a riot of humour filled adventure.

Due to prior commitments elsewhere, I was not able to attend the final few hours of the Sunday
session. At my near-by hotel, I stumbled in to Ted Simon at breakfast and had my own private
1-2-1 Q&A session – something the campers didn’t get
Organising an event – any event – is a hard task. Just ask anyone who has ever done or tried it. I
am unsure how long the planning for the The Overland Event had been in the pipeline, but what
Paddy and the team pulled together was a bijou event which had substance if not soul. The
Overland magazine is a quality publication, and that same quality was on display in everthing at
The Overland Event. I recommend that if the event is held in 2016, you get yourself along to it
and remember that the 2nd camping field has lots of space.
LMG
Graham Field

MEM's Book Excerpt
Book Extract
It's time to sit back with a brew of choice and see what is out
there for your reading pleasure... other than MEM of course!
Simon G
Rather than doing a book review and giving our opinion we
thought why not get a slice of a a book then you can make your
own mind up. We also have a comments section at the end to
leave your view of the excerpt or if you've read the book before.
This issue we are delighted to present Simon Gandolfi

Simon Gandolfi has travelled widely and lived in diverse countries including Ethiopia and Cuba
and is trilingual in English, French and Spanish. He is both a professional ghost writer and the
author of eight works of fiction. His fiction has been translated into 14 languages. He came to
motorcycle travel and travel writing late in life.
Aged 73, he rode a Brazilian manufactured Honda 125 cargo from Veracruz, Mexico, to Tierra
del Fuego, 26,000 kilometres. Old Man on a Bike (Harper Collins),
Aged 75, he rode north on the same Honda from Tierra del Fuego to New York, 42,000
kilometres. Old Men Can't Wait (Arcadia)
Aged 77, he toured India for six months on an Indian manufactured Honda 125, 16,000
kilometres and is one of the very few foreign riders to have crossed the Sela Pass (4000 metres)
in Arunachal Pradesh
Aged 80, he switched to an Indian manufactured TVS Phoenix 125 for a further six month tour of
India, 14,000 kilometres and set a record as the oldest solo biker to have ridden the high passes
on the Manali Leh Srinigar road (Tanglang La is the highest at 5,328 meters). See Octogenarian's
Himalayan Adventure - YouTube
Simon Gandolfi writes travel articles for The Guardian and contributes to magazines as diverse
as The Lady and Motorcycle News. We won't hold the latter against him!
His first work of fiction in fifteen years, Thank God for Empty Churches, is now available on
Kindle. Read and enjoy....
I first toured India in the 60s. My vehicle was Volkswagen’s update of their wartime K?
belwagen. I returned to India after a lapse of forty years. My vehicle was a Honda 125 Stunner
collected from Honda's factory outside Delhi. The Stunner carried me for 17,000 trouble-free
kilometres. Crossing the Sela Pass in Arunachal Pradesh was the final hurrah.
The account of these two circumnavigations of the subcontinent is almost complete. My chosen
title:
I WAS A GOLD SMUGGLER
(amongst other things)
No doubt my publisher will prefer AN OLD MAN'S INDIAN ODYSSEY
The following is an extract from the later journey. Please enjoy...

SOUTH TOWARDS GOA
Jaipur south to Bundi is a 220 kilometre doddle across flat farmland on a good road. Indian
Bundi is an industrial city. Tourist Bundi is a thin strip of 17th and 18th century havelis
converted into hotels and guest houses with roof top restaurants. For tourists the attractions are
the 13th century fort and decaying palace. Both Footprint and Lonely Planet recommend Lake
View Paying Guest House. The lake in question is a square tank half full with green scum.
A kindly Austrian Buddhist hikes my camel bag up three flights of steep stone stairs and across
the flat roof to my 400 Rupee room. I follow slowly with backpack and helmet and collapse on a
king-size bed. Survive the climb and the room is heaven, sofa, easy chair and upholstered lolling
space beneath arched windows that filter sunlight through stained glass. Murals of painted
flowers and garden greenery surround the windows. The ceiling border is gold and blue. A mural
of a smiling young woman livens the wall beside the bathroom door. So the bathroom is basic -
big deal.
I share a stone bench on the terrace with the Austrian Buddhist and gaze with joy across the roof
tops at the palace cascading down the hillside. Ancient walls glow in the misty evening
sunlight – so does the herbal cigarette the Buddhist offers. I decline politely and wonder that a
Buddhist dope smoker should earn his bread as a technical engineer at a Swiss nuclear power
station. Easy there, don't panic but do remember to say your prayers.
The roof is a way station for monkeys on their evening trek home to the fort. One picks up a torn
black T shirt from the parapet and shakes it aloft. The shirt envelops his head. Blinded, he
chatters with fear and tears at the cotton. The shirt catches on a water pipe and drags loose. Off
he scampers. I go in search of a shave and dinner.
-x-
Out of bed at 7 a.m. A lovely room and sad that I must leave so early. The Buddhist nuclear
engineer is meditating. Eyes closed, he sits facing the morning sun in the lotus position. A josh
stick has replaced the herbal. I pack and hump my backpack and bag downstairs, load the bike,
then return to an upper courtyard in search of a bill. The owner is a small kindly man of my
generation. The haveli was built by his great grandfather, Prime Minister of the State in the days
of the Maharajas. Family members help in running the guest house. There is so much that could
be done to improve the place: fix the lavatory cistern in my room, freshen paintwork, tidy the
lake-side garden - simple tasks that, were this our home, Bernadette and I would enjoy. The
owners are the wrong cast. They don't do manual and they can't afford help; the lovely building
crumbles.
I ride a short way to a café in search of breakfast. A male toddler in a yellow bed cap tied under
the chin, no pants, points at me. I point back. He giggles coyly. His dad sweeps him up and tells
him to shake my hand. He whimpers. His mum grabs him and ducks back through a low doorway.
The teenage-help at the café says there's no coffee and no tea and no fresh orange juice because
there's no electricity. Electric orange juice?
A bearded Muslim grandfather in a white skull cap, knee-length white shirt and loose white
cotton trousers rides four children to infants school on an ancient Honda 125 – three on the
pillion, one straddling the gas tank. I follow in his wake. Farewell to Bundi.

A minor road runs south west through dark emerald wheat fields and small villages. The
oncoming traffic is mostly bikers delivering milk to town – presumably to a dairy to be
transformed into cheese and curd. Four churns is the standard load. Some men manage six. The
churns are copper and bell bottomed.
Here, way off the highway, riding through villages demands extra caution. The tarmac is already
sun-warmed and the street is extra living space. A cow dozes in the sun; a woman combs out her
hair; men gather round a spectacled reader of a newspaper. Men and women are dressed in
Sunday best. The only people working are the milk delivery men and bus drivers. Is today one
more of India's innumerable holidays?
An egret pretends to be a heron on the borders of a shallow reed-rimmed lake. The road zigzags
up and crosses a barren plateau cratered with stone quarries, then down to more wheat fields
and finally meets the four-lane Highway 76. The highway is almost deserted. The concrete
surface is excellent and the Honda cruises happily at 90 KPH (yes, I'm a real speed freak). I
overtake four men on two bikes riding side by side. All four are speaking into their mobiles
while speaking to each other.
The turn south to Dhariyawad is one hundred kilometres of dilatory meandering on single track
tar. Men have gathered in every village. Serious faced, they squat and talk quietly in the shade
of flat topped thorn, neem or mango trees, few women visible.
Shops are shuttered as I ride through the narrow main street of Dhariyawad's bazaar. I have
ridden 368 kilometres. My butt is numb but what a totally joyous day.
-x-
Dhariyawad is an Indian country market town at the confluence of the Jakham and Karmoi rivers.
There is no logical reason for visiting Dhariyawad. The route I took from Bundi is a long way
round. The easiest approach is from Udaipur east on National Highway 79 to Bhatewar. A single
track road leads south from Bhatewar for fifty kilometres. The road is bad tar with crumbling
edges – not a comforting drive for the nervous. The road passes through teak forest. Teak, when
shedding its leaves, looks more dead than alive. The forest is a wild-life sanctuary. Langur
monkeys are common – as they are elsewhere. The fortunate may spot four-horned antelope,
niglai, possibly a jackal or hyena. The miraculously fortunate (or imaginative) may even spot a
panther stalk the shadows – though I doubt that even the evening flight of giant flying squirrels
warrants the drive. So let me offer a very different experience: a rest from sight-seeing, escape
from the tourist route. No havelis here tarted up as guest houses, no restaurants promising veg
and non-veg, Chinese, Italian, Continental (all tasting much the same), no tiresome tourist touts.
Drive through the market and through the bazaar. At the T-junction turn right through the
pointed key-hole arches emblazoned with a radiant sun smiling over a Rajput moustache - the
massive wooden doors should be open - and you enter a 16th century mini Paradise centred on
a late 19th century mansion converted into an Heritage Hotel: the Dhariyawad Fort. This is the
domain of the eldest living son of the eldest son of the Jagirdar of Dhariyawad. The sixteen
spacious rooms and suites offer total peace, comfortable beds, comfortable easy chairs and
always a desk. Bathrooms are huge, water hot, proper towels.
The future Jagirdar of Dhariyawad is also President of the local branch of Congress, India's ruling
and dominant political Party. I have arrived on election day for mayors and District assemblies -
the village gatherings are explained. The Jagirdar has been out marshalling his men (no women)
to get the vote in; a moment to greet me with great politeness, then back to oversee the count.

I am the only guest. My ground-floor room opens off the front terrace where an elderly retainer
serves dinner. A full moon softly lights the gardens. What could be more romantic?
Only at breakfast do I realise why I feel so at home. The Fort has the feel of a small manor house
in an English village or off a Cathedral Close, though too small to be a Bishop's palace. Arches are
a different shape, servants more numerous, home-made marmalade marginally less chunky. But
the feel is there, peaceful, unpretentious, timeless, embedded in the community. What joy to be
able to stay a month, ride horse-back, bird watch, explore tribal villages, wander the bazaar
without being nagged with buy buy buy. Yes, and tell tall tales later of the panther seen while
following a forest guide...
Sunrise in Dhariyawad. The Congress Party has swept the board. The spoils must be divided -
small groups of male activists gather on the lawn below the hotel terrace. I watch the Jagirdar
mingle, affable, contented. Seeking greater privacy, a couple drift away; the elder gives
instructions; the younger nods.
Victory music blares from loud speakers in the bazaar. Later starts the victory procession. The
Jagirdar leads in his jeep. Small hatchbacks follow, motorcyclists two abreast. A tight group of
women in sari glad-rags smile respectful support from beyond the arches - so much for equality
of the sexes. The procession moves away through the bazaar and market square. The music fades
.
The Jagirdar's majordomo accompanies me in search of an ATM. He murmurs greetings left and
right - a semi-semi royal progress. I follow in his footsteps – traditionally the woman's place. The
ATM won't pay. Bloody Hell... Back to the Fort and back to work.
Drum and firecrackers herald Congress foot-soldiers's return through the bazaar. The brave spill
through the archway into the Fort's parking lot. A fresh fire-cracker volley and roll of drums
encourages the timid. They have come to pay homage only to find the Jagirdar absent. More fire
crackers, more rattle of drums, then off they troop, supporters of no importance now the vote is
in.
-x-
-x-
India's one time dictator, Indira Ghandi, mounted a ferocious assault on India's aristocracy. Land,
palace, forts were all confiscated; most are now abandoned ruins. The Jagadir's ancient jeep is
not abandoned. It is a ruin. The original engine has been replaced with a diesel engine removed
from an outmoded agricultural machine. The engine thumps. It over heats. No doubt it dreams of
retirement. Dusk and the majordomo drives me to view flying squirrels in the forest reserve. The
majordomo shows minimum confidence in the jeep. The steering is peculiar. Hit a pothole (of
which there are many) and the jeep swerves, though not in a specific direction so that foreseeing
and counteracting the swerve is pure chance. Little wonder that the majordomo is nervous. So
am I. So is the elderly retainer in the back whose job it is to top up the radiator midway.
Flying squirrels are nocturnal. If they were to fly, they would fly at night. They don't fly. They
glide short distances steeply; imagine an overweight base jumper with short arms. We arrive at
the flying squirrel reserve in the last minutes of the short-lived tropical dusk. We have two
flashlights and a lantern. I sit on a stone bench between two large trees while the majordomo
whispers to the two flying squirrel reserve custodians. Dusk is mosquito hour. Mosquitoes whine.
Imagine a thousand Stuka fighter bombers. Flying-squirrel hour is on hand. I peer up into the
tree. Flashlights shine. A small indistinguishable blob drops at an angle of 10 degrees off the
vertical. A second blob drops. Much excitement...

The Jagadir joins me for breakfast. Middle-aged, he is a tall well-set man with a serious
moustache. We talk quietly of this and that, agriculture mostly, family a little. His parents and
siblings prefer Delhi. Dhariyawad suits him. He is at home here, his roots well-bedded and his
responsibilities both pleasurable and satisfying. He, his wife and children live in apartments at
the rear of the hotel. They hope to put in a swimming pool next year. The children are preschool.
Eventually they will have to go away. Hopefully his son will return.
I know various of his ilk in England, thoughtful and loyal lovers of the land. For comics, their
lineage brands them as pompous dullards. Meanwhile the comics cheat on their taxes and send
their children to the same schools. Well now, where did that come from?
-x-
I am riding country roads south from Dahriyawad towards Vadodara. Some villages close to
Dhariyawad are tribal - so they are called in the subcontinent where the inhabitants are judged
primitive and of small social value; their lands are encroached upon and often expropriated.
These Tribals are fortunate in having a patron in the Jagadir who organises safaris to view their
religious festivals. Mud walls are freshly white washed, thatch trimmed, Tribals neatly dressed.
Rivers and the Naglia and Jakham damns make this a rich land of watered fields. Wheat is the
staple and tractors are common. Unfortunately road signs are non-existent and asking for
directions to Vadodara is met with blank stares. Vadodara is a large city with a population of two
million. Distance from Dhariyawad is 300 kilometres and I am halfway. How can people not
know where it is? A truck driver saves me. Villagers gather as I interrogate him only to be met
with the same blank look, then sudden comprehension, “Ah, Baroda...”
The listeners immediately nod and murmur “Baroda. Baroda....”
So much for the local politicos who have sought popularity by de-Anglicising place names as in
Vadodara for Baroda, Mumbai for Bombay, Chenai for Madras...
Goa beckons and I am pressed for time. Vadodara is a bed in a guest house whose owner is a
retired headmaster of a local high school. We dine together, vegetarian. He complains of
endemic corruption in the body politic. I leave early for the coast.

Dharaiawad Fort

Having Your

Libya -
a warm welcome to the weary rider.

Who's on the road?
We are Peter and Leonie from Amsterdam, the
Netherlands. We have quit our jobs and rented
the house to be able to travel around the world
on our motorbikes. We have planned to travel
for two years. We left late 2013 from
Amsterdam, and first went to Africa. We have
since taken the motorbikes to South-America.
Where the journey takes us from there on, still
is a great adventure.
Together on a motorcycle trip for two
years, why?!
Because we want to see, smell, hear and taste the world; because we can still
work for the rest of our lifes; because you only live once; because it’s now or
never, and we have no children yet; because it is exciting; to leave the beaten
path; to seek adventure; to feel alive; to share this adventure together; to be
more free on a bike, to be able to go wherever you want to go; because we can.

Riding through
Libya
Ever since we applied for the Libyan visa, I had
butterflies in my stomach from the idea that
we would travel and ride in Libya. The media
reports on Libya were not exactly positive.
While the 2011 revolution ensured that
Gaddafi was no longer in control and that Libya
was open to the world, the new government
was not yet stable. Different groups had tried
to disrupt the country on a regular basis.
Especially around Benghazi incidents occurred
very often, and foreigners had been targeted
as well.
At the same time, in December 2013 and on
our way to East Africa, riding through Tunisia,
Libya and Egypt seemed to be the only way to
enter Africa. The ferries between Turkey and
Egypt were not running. The route over land
through Syria and Jordan was a definite no-go
because of the war in Syria. Another option
was taking the ferry from Greece to Israel and
riding from there to Egypt, but this could later
cause problems at the Sudanese border as they
might not allow us into the country with an
Israeli stamp in our passports. We decided to
apply for the Libyan visas after reading travel
reports of three other motorcycle riders that
rode through Libya. They told of amazingly
hospitable people, beautiful scenery and
spectacular sights. They did not mention any
problems, but did this mean that they did not
have any? I was not too sure about it.
The butterflies in my stomach steadily
increased as we got closer to the Libyan border.
We followed the news about Libya closely. Just
before we arrived in Tunisia, a bomb exploded
at a police checkpoint in Benghazi, killing a
number of people. The travel advice published
by the Dutch Government suggested against
travelling to Benghazi and against taking ‘nonessential’
trips to other parts of the country.
The advice of the British Government was more
strict and indicated the entire country as a ’redzone’.
We were three weeks into our world
riding trip and not sure what to make of this
information. Every day, Peter and I discussed
the route we could ride through Libya, but also
ways to avoid Libya all together. We looked
into the possibility of flying with the bikes from
Tunisia to Egypt or even Sudan. An expensive
flight, a long detour and lots of hassle, but
maybe a safer option.

In Tunisia we sent an email to Mo , our contact in Libya who had helped arrange our visas. He
assured us that the media showed a very negative image, but that life in Libya was as normal
as in any African country. The disturbances were an internal matter and not aimed at
travellers. He was sure it would be safe for us to cross. He was expecting two other motorcycle
riders who would also ride through Libya to Egypt and suggested we could team up with them.
We found ourselves in Djerba, in the east of Tunisia, with another two days to enter Libya
before our visas would expire. Unable to make up our minds, we decided to first ride to Ben
Guardane, a town just before the Libyan border. We would then have to make a final decision
on whether or not to enter Libya the next day.

message from Mo; he is already waiting for us
at the other side of the border. We can see him
waving at us in the distance. After an hour,
when all the paperwork is done, we leave
Tunisia and enter Libya. The adventure begins!
The sun is shining as we ride
off from our hotel in Djerba. There is a lot of
wind and despite the sun, it is quite chilly. The
intercom is open, but neither of us says a word.
My thoughts are with the decision that has to
be taken. I think about the list of pros and cons
that we had made the night before and hope to
find the solution. Around noon, we arrive in
Ben Guardane, a rather big and busy town. We
stop to fuel up and start looking for an ATM and
a hotel. If we decide to go to Libya, we will
leave for the border tomorrow.
I am lost in thoughts and searching for my
wallet when Peter says: “Look next to you”.
When I look up there are two fully packed BMW
motorbikes parked next to us with UK number
plates. The guys take off their helmets and
introduce themselves as Billy and Ross. They
turn out to be the riders that Mo had told us
about. On their way from London to Cape Town
they will enter Libya today.
It is always nice to meet other motorcycle
travellers, but this time my heart jumped a
little. The idea that we could ride through Libya
together is strangely reassuring. We tell them
about my concerns and ask whether they
would mind if we were to ride with them to the
border and into Libya, at least for the first part.
They take a minute to discuss, but then let us
know that we can join them. And just like that,
after all the days we could not decide what to
do, a decision is made: we are going to Libya…
today! What a coincidence we met here, at
exactly this moment!
I send Mo a text message and inform him we
will cross the border today, together with Billy
and Ross. With new energy, the four of us leave
Ben Guardane. We arrive at the Tunisian-Libyan
border half an hour later. It is not busy and
before we know it, we have an exit-stamp in
our passports. While we are waiting for the
bikes’ paperwork to be ready, we receive a text
On the Libyan side of the border, we are
warmly welcomed by Mo. Instead of showing us
to the right office, he takes our passports and
goes in himself to have them stamped. While
we are waiting outside, a car stops next to us.
An elderly man winds down his window. He
asks where we are from. Peter has barely
answered his question, when he laughs and
then yells: “Holland? Welcome to my country!
Welcome to Libyaaaa!” From the next car that
passes, we hear voices shouting “Welcome”,
“Welcome to Libya, thank you for visiting.”
What a warm welcome!
After a while, Mo comes back with our stamped
passports. Now we need to import the
motorbikes. While Peter and Ross stay with the
bikes, Billy and I get into Mo’s car. He takes us
to the bank, but it’s closed and the ATM is not
working. Instead, Mo lends us the money we
need. He then takes us to the insurance office. It
is no more than a room with an old desk, some
chairs and one computer. The man behind the
desk asks information about the motorbikes
and translates our western names to phonetic
Arabic. After an hour, we are given our
insurance paperwork with the beautiful Arabic
writing. We will have to take the man’s word for
it that everything is in order as we do not even
recognise our own names.
With the insurance complete, we drive back to
Peter and Ross. While they were waiting, they
made quite a few new friends. They are
surrounded by customs officials teaching them
Arabic and asking a million questions about the
bikes. Although we were told not to take any
pictures at the border, the men want to take
pictures themselves. They take out mobile
phones, and take turns to sit on the bikes or
pose in group pictures. Meanwhile, Mo is in yet
another office to finish the paperwork. An hour
later he comes out with special Libyan number
plates, which we will have to put over our
original plates. The formalities are completed;
we can enter Libya with the motorbikes.

We thank Mo for all his
help and ask him for directions to a hotel. He
shakes his head and says: “Tonight you are my
guests! Follow me.” We have no choice but to
accept his kind offer and follow him to
Zuwara, a town about 60 km from the border.
As the evening sets we stop at a café
overlooking the ocean to have dinner. There
is nice music playing in the café. In the back
room a group of boys are playing pool and at
the bar a few men are drinking coffee. The
café only sells coffee and sodas, as alcohol is
prohibited in Libya. Mo pulls some tables
together and takes our order.
While we enjoy a big plate of spaghetti, Mo
tells us about the revolution, his business and
the current state of Libya. It is clear that the
revolution has done the country good, since
the people are no longer at the mercy of the
whims of Gaddafi. It could apparently happen
that if Gaddafi were to quarrel with the U.S.,
he would ban all studies of English and order
all English books to be burned. He also talked
about placing a wall in front of the ocean if he
felt that the people did not need the sea. Mo
says the freedom is best seen in the fact that
everyone now has access to every
conceivable news’ source and thus to the rest
of the world. It is extraordinary to be
reminded how valuable that is.
After dinner we ride to Mo’s family home. It’s
a large house with a huge wooden staircase in
the hall, several bedrooms, bathrooms, a big
kitchen and special rooms for male guests on
the one side and female guests at the
opposite side. The house is empty. His parents
and brothers live elsewhere and only come
here for family gatherings. Mo laughs at our
stunned reaction when we admire the house:
“Libya is a big country, so we build big houses,
preferably more than one”. He opens a large
metal gate that opens to a courtyard where
we park the bikes. How nice of him to open
his house to us. This is way more than just
helping with the visa and the border crossing!
Above: Roman ruins galore
with the rich history of Libya
That night Mo tells us about the wonderful
things that Libya has to offer. Not only the
ancient Roman city of Leptis Magna, but also
inspiring historic sites in the desert that are
worth visiting. Libya even has a great number
of well-preserved pyramids. It is clear that he
cannot wait until the country is safe enough to
show all of this to the rest of the world. At the
same time, we can feel the frustration related
to the time it takes to reorganise the country.
There is no police service, which means that
rules are violated without any consequences.
And things that seem ordinary to us, like having
a bank account and transferring money, are
hardly possible in Libya.

Because the bank was closed and the ATM did
not work, we exchange US dollars with Mo for
Libyan dinars. We pay him back for the
insurance and the license plates. When we
want to pay for dinner he puts his hand on his
heart and smiles: “You are my guests, it’s my
pleasure. Welcome to Libya.” We take out the
map to discuss the route through Libya. It is
not safe enough to travel to the desert in the
south. Mo advises us to follow the coastline
until the town of Ajdabiya. Along the way we
can visit Tripoli and Leptis Magna. From
Ajdabiya, he suggests we ride through the
desert in the east to Tobruk to avoid Benghazi
and Damah, places with the most security
issues. We agree with Billy and Ross that we
will keep riding together, all the way to the
Egyptian border. Our destination for the next
day will be Al Khums, where we will visit
Leptis Magna. Mo calls a friend, Youssef, who
will help us to find a hotel there. We are
exhausted after the border crossing and the
excitement of entering Libya and go to bed
early. It does not take long before we are both
asleep.
The next morning when we start packing, Mo
invites us to the kitchen. The table is set for
four and on the stove is a pot of hot water for
coffee. We enjoy a great breakfast with
yoghurt, fruit, olives, bread and jam. His
hospitality has no limits! When he is sure we
have eaten enough, he gets in his car to escort
us to the road to Tripoli. We follow him
through the city centre to the outskirts of
Zuwara where we say goodbye. It feels like
saying goodbye to a good friend even though
we only just met. We promise to keep in touch
and to call if we need anything.

Tripoli skyline - capitol of Libya

We start riding
to Tripoli, the capital of Libya. It’s a busy road
with some crazy driving. We had already been
warned of the poor driving skills in Libya and
the drivers live up to our expectations! We are
constantly overtaken by ‘low flying cars’. The
road is in good condition and we make good
progress. Alongside the road we see a lot of
building sites. Homes are being repaired and
even entire new neighbourhoods are built. The
country is clearly recovering from a rough time
and starting over. What is striking is the huge
number of national flags. Since the revolution,
Libya has adopted a new flag, which we see
everywhere. It’s painted on walls, on garages,
hanging from streetlights and traffic signs, but
also proudly flapping atop buildings and from
car windows.
The closer we get to Tripoli, the busier it is on
the road. All four of us are excited and maybe a
bit anxious about riding here. We agreed it
would be a good idea to keep a low profile, but
we attract significant attention on our bikes.
People in overtaking cars wave at us, give us
thumbs up or make the “V’ for victory. People
even hang from the window of their car to take
pictures while yelling: “Welcome to Libya!
Thank you for visiting!” Just before we reach
the centre of Tripoli, we find ourselves in a
traffic jam. A car pulls up next to us, the driver
gets out and walks towards us. We are a bit on
guard at first, but that quickly changes when
the man smiles and spreads out his arms. He
welcomes us to Libya and tells us that he is a
biker too. He wants to introduce us to the
Chairman of the Libyan Motorcycle Federation
and asks us to follow him. We are not sure
what to think of it, but decide to follow him
anyway.
He honks his way through the traffic jam,
clearing the way for us. We stop in a residential
area in Tripoli and are introduced to Omar. He
tells us in perfect English about his
motorcycles, the motorcycle club of Tripoli and
the Libyan Motorcycle Federation. While we are
talking, more and more people join. Just like at
the border, everybody takes out their mobile
phones and cameras to takes pictures of us and
pose in front of the bikes. They want to show us
the city of Tripoli, before we continue to Al
Khoms. We cannot stay very long, but we agree
to go with them to the main square. We follow
Omar’s car, while the others stop the oncoming
traffic by parking in the middle of the road.
Almost like a police escort.
The main square of Tripoli is beautiful, with a
large fountain, high ancient pillars and a
beautiful old fortress. Omar shows us the
balcony where Gadaffi used to make his
speeches and tells us how the city was
liberated. Once again, it becomes clear how
proud they are of their country and how much
they want tourists to visit it. More people join
to say hello, some have been called over by
Omar and his friends, but others are random
passers-by. They ask where we are from, where
we are going and what we think of Libya. They
thank us for visiting and ask us to tell our
friends to come as well. When we are ready to
leave, Peter is stopped by a man who wants to
give him something. The man walks to his car
and comes back with a Libyan flag, the one we
have been seeing everywhere. He hands over
the flag and says: “Welcome to Libya, my
friend!”
We are given another escort to the outskirts of
the city. Omar and his friends waive us
goodbye only after we have promised to call
them if we need anything. We continue our way
and arrive in Al Khoms a few hours later. We
call Mo’s friend Youssef and find him at the
entrance of Leptis Magna. Youssef appears to
be an official guide at the ancient Roman site
and wants to give us a tour. Great! We park our
bikes next to the security guards and follow
Youssef to the ticket office. When we take out
our wallet to pay for the tickets, he waves his
hand to say it’s not necessary; he will pay for

Istiqlal Street in Tripoli - Abdul-Jawad Elhusuni

Like so many Greek and Roman towns, Lepcis Magna had a theater. It
was partly financed by a man named Annobal Tapapius Rufus, who had
earlier built the city's market, the Macellum. The theater, the oldest of
Roman Africa, was partly excavated from a low hill, which had until
then been used as a cemetery. After the theater of Sabratha, it is the
largest south of the Mediterranean.
The ancient Roman theater at Leptis Magna
by David Gunn

Downstairs I ask whether it is OK for me to join
the guys for dinner. Ahmed assures me that,
because I am a western woman, it’s no
problem.
For more than two hours Youssef
takes us around Leptis Magna. The city is
especially well preserved, as most of it was
hidden beneath a thick layer of sand for a long
time. Only in the early 1920s were the first
buildings discovered. The important sites have
been uncovered, but it’s estimated that more
than half of the city is still underneath the
sand. Youssef leads us past houses, through
alleyways and over the main road. He shows us
the sewer system, the baths, the market square
and a beautiful theatre. It’s amazing! The
highlight of the tour is the amphitheatre, an
huge round building that could seat up to
16,000 people. The acoustics are amazing;
from the top row we can hear the people on
the ground talking even if their voices are not
raised. It must have been so impressive to be a
spectator at one of the Emperor’s games and
see the wild animals and gladiators in the
arena. It is so well preserved that even today it
would be a great location for an event!
After the tour, we ask Youssef directions to a
hotel. Again we witness Libyan hospitality first
hand when he invites us to his house. On our
way there, we first stop at a friend’s restaurant
to have dinner. We had not eaten anything
since breakfast and desperately wanted to
visit the bathroom, so we are happy to arrive at
the restaurant. We are welcomed by Ahmed,
the owner. The guys ask where the toilet is and
are pointed to a door in the back. When I
follow them, Youssef and Ahmed stop me. The
women's toilet is on the second floor. Once
upstairs, I realise I am in a secluded area of the
restaurant especially for women. It is not
customary for women to enjoy
their meals in the same room as
men who are not their husband, so
if women eat here, they will sit in
these areas separated from the
men.
The spaghetti we ordered come with a plate of
couscous, a big salad and a plate of fries. There
is so much food on the table that we have
difficulty eating it all. When Billy manages to
empty his plate of spaghetti, Ahmed shouts
some orders to the kitchen. Another full plate
of spaghetti is brought to our table and put in
front of Billy. Although he tries to politely
refuse, Ahmed insists that he accepts it. Billy
had already had enough, but he nevertheless
attempts to finish the kindly offered second
serving. After seeing him struggle, we leave a
bit of our spaghetti on our plates and instead
enjoy the tea Ahmed offers us. After dinner
another photo session follows. We take turns
to be in the group picture and give our best
smiles. When we want to pay, Ahmed only asks
for a fraction of the actual bill and gives each
of us a packet of chewing gum for the road. It
does not stop!
It’s already quite late when we leave for
Youssef’s house. There are no streetlights
along the road and it’s pitch dark. We usually
avoid riding at night, especially in areas that
are not considered safe, but today we have no
choice. Youssef has turned on the hazard lights
of his car so we can see him in the dark, but at
the same time he drives so fast that we can
hardly keep up with him. We follow him at high
speed, avoiding parked trucks and potholes.
Not a fun ride and I am happy when he slows
down and leaves the main road. We follow a
dirt road and enter a garden with a small
orchard. We park our bikes in front of a big
house with multiple stories. Youssef explains
that it’s his family’s house and that he lives on
the first floor. He takes the men and their gear
to a room upstairs. When I go in the same
direction Youssef stops me. It takes a split
second before I understand that I am not meant
to go upstairs with the guys. Even though Peter
and I can stay in the same room, I cannot share
a room with Billy, Ross and Youssef and should
stay downstairs with his sisters instead.

Old Town Medina - by Franz

I take off my shoes and follow him into the
house, where he calls for his sisters. They
respond, but only come out when Youssef is
outside and has closed the door behind him.
One of them comes to meet me. She is a small,
curvy woman wearing a long skirt, a thick
woollen sweater and a black headscarf. She
smiles, makes it clear she does not speak
English and gestures me to follow her. I enter a
sitting room and am introduced to two other
women. The room seems to be their communal
bedroom. The floor is carpeted and along the
walls are several mattresses, which they also
use as couch. In one corner is a pile of bedding
and pillows and a small closet with some
clothes. In the other corner is a TV that is
showing American movies dubbed to Arabic. A
little boy is lying on his back watching the TV.
He does not even notice I am there.
The women invite me to sit with them. I am still
wearing my dirty bike gear and try to explain
that I want to change into some clean clothes
before I sit down. They ask how I became so
dirty. When I tell them that I have been driving
my motorbike through the dirt and the rain,
one of them runs straight to the front door. She
opens the door a little, peaks outside and
reports to the other ladies.They are bent with
laughter! It’s a pity that I do not speak Arabic,
because what she said must have been very
funny.
To change my clothes, Youssef takes me to the
bathroom upstairs. Only after he has checked
that the lock works, he feels it is OK for me to
get changed. Once upstairs, Peter comes to tell
me that the guys are going out. Youssef will
take them to a coffee shop in town. It is
immediately clear that this is a men-only night
out and I will be spending the evening with the
ladies. I go downstairs and sit down on one of
the mattresses. One of the ladies brings in a
tray with fresh fruit juice and a bowl of
chocolates. I wait to take a sip until they also
have a drink. They look puzzled. Once they
understand that I am waiting for them, they
make it clear that I should not await them.
Instead they wait until I have emptied the glass
and have put at least one chocolate in my
mouth.
Soon after another large tray with food is
brought in. In the middle of the tray is a large
bowl of soup and around it are several small
bowls with salad, vegetables, bread and fries.
One of the other ladies brings in a plastic bowl
and a kettle of warm water. I watch how the
little boy holds out his hands over the bowl and
the lady pours the warm water over his hands
so he can wash them. I follow his example. The
women sit down around the tray with food and
invite me to have dinner with them. I sit down
beside them, but try to explain that I have
already eaten earlier that night. No matter how
I try, they insist that I will eat. One of the ladies
pinches my side, to great amusement of the
others, and makes it clear that she thinks that I
am too skinny and could use more food. I give
in!

Libyian hospitality
They give me a spoon and a fork, but I notice
they also use their hands for eating. Only their
right hand as the left hand is the “dirty hand”
and not meant for eating. We all eat from the
same bowl of soup. The chunks of chicken that
are in the bottom of the bowl are all directed
towards me. I taste a bit of everything. It’s
delicious. I ask them if I can take a picture. I
can make a picture of the tray with food, as
long as they are not in it. The captured image
prompts many jokes and they are again
laughing out loud. Even though I do not
understand them, the laughter is so contagious
that I have to join them.
When the tray is almost empty and they are
convinced that I have eaten enough, it is
replaced by a slightly smaller tray with
bananas, oranges and peanuts. One of the
ladies keeps handing me oranges and only
after I have eaten three of them they allow me
to stop. In the corner of the room a pot of
charcoal is glowing on which a blackened
teapot is sizzling. The tea is poured in small
glass cups while the pot is held high in the air.
It’s very sweet and tastes delicious.
It is hard to understand each other as they
speak very limited English, and I know even
less Arabic. We use hands and feet to have a
conversation. They tell me how old they are,
how they are related to each other and show
pictures of their children. I show pictures of my
family and friends at home. The atmosphere is
relaxed. The veils are taken off and reveal
beautiful dark brown hair. After a while they
are mostly talking to each other in rapid Arabic.
It is unfortunate I cannot understand them,
because I would really like to know more about
them. They come across as very strong women
with a clear opinion about certain affairs. I
wonder if they are able to express their views
outside this room. I want to ask them how long
they have been to school, if they work, whether
they have seen other parts of Libya and much
more and feel sorry that I cannot. At the same
time I feel very fortunate that I could spend
this night with them being treated as one of
their sisters.
Later that evening Youssef is at the door to tell
me that I can stay upstairs with the men after
all. He will go to a friend’s house, so I would not
have to share the room with him. So incredibly
kind... With the help of Youssef, I thank the
ladies for the nice evening and the delicious
food and then join the men upstairs. We thank
Youssef extensively for his hospitality and
want to pay him for the great tour at Leptis
Magna. He does not want to take our money. “It
was a great pleasure!” he says smiling, just
before he hands over the keys to his house.

One of the huge tankers at Ras Lanuf "NO SMOKING" is taken very seriously here.
We take out our mattresses and
sleeping bags and make ourselves
comfortable. The guys tell me all about their
night out. They went to a coffee shop with
Youssef and one of his friends, all five of them
cramped in a little Toyota Starlet. They bought
coffee and went to a place where they sat
around with Youssef’s friends while sharing a
water pipe and some good stories. During the
evening, both Peter and Ross had received
several phone calls from our new Libyan
friends. Mo asked whether we had found
Youssef and Omar from Tripoli called to ask
whether we had arrived safely in Al Khoms.
Peter even received a call from a person from
Ajdabiya, the town we will go to in two days’
time. He introduced himself as Hakeem, a
friend of Mo’s, and announced that he would
be waiting for us. Everyone is looking after us!
The next morning we wake up early. Today we
will ride a long distance and pass through
Misrata and Sirte. Sirte is the city where
Gaddafi was born and where he was killed
during the revolution. There has been a lot of
fighting in that area during the war and even
today it is not considered safe. Several people
advised us not to linger in Sirte, to stop only for
fuel. Our destination will be Ras Lanuf, an oil
workers compound with a hotel within its
gates.
When all the gear is back on the bikes, we
leave early and agree to find breakfast on the
way. We follow the same busy road along the
coast as the day before. It is raining. The clouds
in the sky are pink from the dust accumulated
in the air. There is a lot of water and mud on
the road, making it even more difficult to see
the huge potholes. Our visors are covered in
brown splatters. We try to avoid most of the
bad patches on the road; getting a flat tyre
today would not be great. After about two
hours, we stop in Misrata to buy breakfast in
one of the small shops at the side of the road.
We find bread, some cheese and even freshly
made coffee. In the store, we are again
welcomed to Libya, not only by the staff but
also by other customers. The owner comes out
to greet us and gives us the coffee on the
house. When he notices we are eating our
sandwiches outside, he instructs his staff to
give us some chairs, while another one hands
us a garden hose to clean our visors. We just
keep meeting friendly people.

During the course of the day, the sky clears.
We pass a great number of oil refineries all
situated on the ocean side to allow ships to be
filled with oil. On the map we can see that oil
pipes run from the desert straight to the coast.
Only on rare occasions we actually see the
ocean in between the buildings. To our right is
desert; sand as far as the eye can see. Amidst
the vast desert-scape, there are large groups
of camels, the ships of the desert, slowly
strutting over the golden sand.
In the afternoon, we arrive in Ras Lanuf. We
feel relieved to have found the compound and
to have reached it without any problems. Even
though we have not had any reason to feel
afraid, the warnings about this part of the
route were in the backs of our minds all day. At
the entrance to the compound we register
with the security guards, who escort us to the
hotel. Peter stays with the motorbikes, while I
go inside with Billy and Ross to ask about the
rooms. Unlike all the other people we have
met in Libya so far, the men behind the
reception desk are not friendly at all. First they
say the hotel is fully booked. Then it turns out
they do have rooms, but as soon as we show
some interest they keep increasing the price. It
is obvious they do not want us to stay here.
We are just discussing whether we could make
it to the next town before dark, when Peter
walks in with a man he met outside. The man
introduces himself as Fareed and asks:
“Problem?” We tell about the high price of the
rooms and explain that we are thinking of
riding to the next town. He shakes his head. In
broken English he invites us to stay with him
instead. He lives only 20 minutes from the
compound and has enough space to park our
motorbikes. He reassures us that he is not
some crazy guy by telling us that he has a wife
and three small children. We decide to listen to
our gut feelings and take him up on his offer.
We leave the secured compound and follow
Fareed on a sandy road straight into the desert.
For a little while we only see sand and wonder
whether we made the right decision, but then
houses appear. He stops and points to some of
them: “My father, my cousin, my brother, all
family. Is safe here, no problem!”
We just keep meeting
freindly people!

He opens the gate around his
house and shows us where to park. He then
welcomes us inside. His wife and children are
not at home yet, but he will pick them up later.
Peter and I are taken to a room in the back.
While we take off our jackets, our host carries
in two mattresses, pillows and some thick
blankets. Billy and Ross can sleep in a cosy
room with couches and a big TV that shows
non-stop Hollywood movies. The remainder of
the day we hang out in their room with Fareed
and his cousin Nasir. Fareed hardly speaks any
English, but his cousin knows just enough
words to make conversation.
At some point Nasir hands me a packet of tea.
He tells me it is good tea and insists that I open
the package to smell it. After I have done so
and have confirmed that it smells nice, I hand
him back the package. But then he says: “Make
tea. You make tea.” Fareed overhears what
Nasir says and while he lies flat on his back still
looking at the TV he points to the kitchen: “Yes.
You make tea.” For a moment I am stunned by
their ’request’. It is clear that for Fareed and
Nasir it is very obvious that I, the only woman
in the house, make the tea. Once I have
recovered from this slight cultural shock, I get
up and go into the kitchen in search of a teapot
and some cups. Fareed comes in to help, but he
does not seem to know his way around the
kitchen. This is clearly not his domain. After a
bit I can see the fun of it all and eventually
enjoy a lovely cup of tea with the men.
A while later Nasir asks me to accompany him
to his house to meet his wife. As a western
woman, I find myself in a privileged position. I
can sit with the men, but I am also allowed to
meet the women. An entire world that is kept
from Peter, Billy and Ross. They never even
saw a glimpse of Youssef’s sisters. I follow
Nasir to his house and am introduced to his
lovely wife. She must be about my age and is
happy to show me their modest home. We take
a seat in the living room, where Nasir takes
some pictures of us. His wife then opens a big
cabinet and takes out the only box that is in it.
She gives it to me and says something in Arabic
to Nasir. He explains that it’s a good custom of
Libyans and Muslims to give a present to a
woman when she visits a home for the first
time. As it is my first time to their house, they
want to give me this present. When I open the
box there is a golden coloured watch in it, with
white stones on the strap. I do not know what
to say. I try to explain that it’s too big a gift, but
they insist that I keep it. Nasir’s wife looks me
in the eyes and says something in Arabic. Nasir
translates: “When you wear it in Holland, you
will think of us”. I cannot help to tear up. I
thank them extensively and then taken back to
Fareed’s house.
Later that evening Nasir enters the TV room
with two large trays with food his wife
prepared for us. After dinner Fareed takes Billy
and Ross to town to go to the supermarket and
to pick up his wife and children. Peter and I stay
in the house, watching some movies. After
some time Billy and Ross come back,
accompanied by Fareed’s brother. They are all
excited and tell us about the adventure they
had on the way. In Fareed’s new Toyota Hilux,
Fareed had placed his Kalashnikov in Ross’s lap
and asked him to hold on to it during the ride.
Apparently there are many violent carjackings
at night. The robbers especially aim for new
Toyota pickups. Because there is no police
service, it is every man for himself, so the
Kalashnikov is needed for their defence. Fareed
did not stop for any red light and drove straight
to a secured compound with a supermarket.
There, he changed his new Toyota Hilux with
the old beaten up car of his brother Rafiq in
which he would pick up his wife and children.
Billy and Ross were taken back home in the
new Toyota by Rafiq, again in one go at very
high speed with the gun ready on the
passenger seat. An adventurous ride to the
supermarket for Billy and Ross, but obviously a
very normal night for Fareed and Rafiq.
"Fareed had placed his
Kalashnikov in Ross’s lap
and asked him to hold on
to it during the ride."

Try putting that in your Satnav!

The gang head out of town, remains of the revolution lay
rusting in the sun.

After some time, Fareed enters the house with
his wife and children. He leads his wife directly
past the TV room and closes the door behind
her. While the men will not meet her, nor see
her, I am introduced to her. She is very kind
and welcomes me to her house. The rest of the
evening we sit with Fareed and his brother in
the TV room. His two oldest children, a girl of
six and a boy of four also stay with us. Their
stories about the revolution are like the script
of a movie, situations we have never been in
and hope never to experience. At some point
he whispers something in the ear of his
daughter. She leaves the room and comes back
carrying the big Kalasnikov, which she then
starts taking apart. We have never seen such a
weapon before, let alone held it, and can
hardly believe what we are seeing. Almost
surreal.
The next morning, Fareed hands me a plastic
bag. He says it is a present of his wife. In the
bag are a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I
remember what Nasir and his wife told me and
do not even try to refuse this kind offer. We
thank our hosts and get on the bikes for
another long day of riding. Fareed leads us
back to the main road and takes us to a fuel
station. We fuel up all four bikes and take out
our wallets, but Fareed steps forward and pays
for our fuel instead. We thank him extensively
for his great hospitality and kind gesture and
continue our way to Ajdabiya.
"Most of them were “Freedom
Fighters”, the people who fought
against the Gaddafi regime. But
there are also pictures of women
and children, innocent victims of
the war. While we walk past the
pictures, the men tell us about
the people that are remembered
here. Amazing stories of great
bravery."
In this part of the country it is clearly visible
that there has been some heavy fighting
during the revolution. Houses have holes from
gunshots, are burned or have collapsed. The
potholes in the asphalt are actually big craters
and are clearly caused by exploded grenades.
We see a lot of burned trucks and even
abandoned tanks. We stop to take a closer look
at some of the tanks. The bullet casings lie
scattered in the sand. It is an impressive sight
and tangible evidence of the revolution. I take
pictures while the guys are in, on, behind and
under the tanks.
The further we ride to the east, the more
military checkpoints we encounter. At most
checkpoints they just wave us through. If they
do stop us it is usually for a chat, to take
pictures or to offer us some food. Most soldiers
at the checkpoints are very young. Once they
see our bikes, they come running from their
booth while pulling their I-pod earphones from
their ears. Only once we are asked for our
passports by a slightly older soldier. At one of
the last checkpoints before Ajdabyia we are
approached by two men who are not wearing
uniforms. “Where Peter?” one of them asks us.
Peter raises his hand. The man steps forward
and introduces himself as Hakeem, who had
called two nights before to tell us he would be
waiting for us in Ajdabiya. He does not speak
any English, but with the help of the soldiers
we understand that he had been waiting at the
checkpoint all day.
He can help us to find a hotel, but first invites
us for a tour at the Museum of the Revolution
in Ajdabyia. That sounds interesting. We follow
Hakeem and his friend, Jamal, to the entrance
of the museum. At the gate another of
Hakeem’s friends, Nader, joins us. He speaks
perfect English and can translate. We follow
the them around the museum. They proudly
tell us that Ajdabiya was one of the first cities
that revolted against Gaddafi. From here, the
revolution spread across the country. On the
site is a memorial hall, full with pictures of
victims of the war that were killed around
Ajdabiya and Benghazi. Most of them were
“Freedom Fighters”, the people who fought
against the Gaddafi regime. But there are also
pictures of women and children, innocent
victims of the war. While we walk past the
pictures, the men tell us about the people that
are remembered here. Amazing stories of great
bravery.

After the tour, we ask whether they can
recommend a hotel. When Nader translates our
question for Hakeem, he shakes his head and
says something in Arabic. Nader translates:
“You are invited to my house as my guests!”
They think it will be safer for us, for the
motorbikes and also much more comfortable.
The Libyan hospitality does not stop! We accept
his kind offer and follow the men to a house
just outside the city. Hakeem opens the gate to
a lovely garden, with beautiful flowers, fruit
trees and a small fountain… very different from
the dust and sand in the desert around us.
Hakeem has another house is the city where he
lives with his family during the week, but on the
weekends, they come here. He turns out to be
an exceptionally welcoming host. Because he
knew we were coming to Ajdabiya, he had taken
his wife and children to his family in Benghazi, a
city 200 km from here, so he could receive us
and show us the city. When we are done
unpacking, he invites us to the living room
where he has filled the table with delicious
food and drinks.
In the afternoon, the men take us to the city. We
visit some old Roman sites, a big square and
join them for dinner at a local restaurant. After
the delicious meal, for which we are not
allowed to pay ourselves, we ask where we can
do some shopping. We need to prepare for the
next day, when we aim to ride through the
desert towards the Egyptian border. It will be a
400 km stretch without any towns, which means
there is no food, water or fuel along the way.
We find a supermarket and look for bread.
Hakeem and Nader have joined us. They look
disapproving at the loaves of bread and
convince us to buy fresh bread in the morning.
When we are back in the car with Hakeem, he
drives about 500 metres and gets out. A few
minutes later he comes back with a bag full of
bread! A bit further he buys bottles of water
and after that he goes to a hardware store to
inquire after jerry cans. We suddenly realise
that he is doing our shopping for us! We feel a
bit awkward, because when we asked them to
take us to a shop, we never meant for them to
buy us everything we need. We want to pay for
it, but Hakeem refuses to take our money. Peter
cannot make him change his mind.

Back at the house, Jamal lights
the fire pit while Hakeem makes us tea. The
table is filled with nuts, cakes and all sorts of
delicious sweet pies. We sit around the fire
and talk. With the help of Nader they tell us
about their families, their jobs and their lives
during the revolution. Hakeem tells that the
’farm’, as he calls the house, was used for
secretly organising the revolution until it was
confiscated by Gaddafi’s soldiers. The bullet
holes in the door are still visible.
The next morning, there is a large Toyota
Landcruiser parked next to our motorbikes. We
notice it is heavily loaded and low in its
suspension. Hakeem grins, opens the car and
shows us two huge 60-liter jerry cans that are
filled with fuel. He bought us the fuel we need
to ride to Tobruk! The cans are obviously too
big for us to carry, but Hakeem explains that
this is not a problem because he will go with
us. He will escort us until halfway to Tobruk
and help us to refuel there. That will be a 200
km escort. We are at a loss for words…
unbelievable!
It is still early when we get on our motorbikes
and follow Hakeem through the busy city.
Once we have left the city and are on the road
to Tobruk, we are in the middle of the desert.
As far as the eye can see, there is only sand
with a clear blue sky above it. It is very warm
and the air shimmers above the hot sand. After
we have done about 30 km, Hakeem parks his
car on the side of the road. Hakeem and Jamal
get out and say something about a Toyota
Hilux that overtook us earlier. They both start
calling some people. We are not entirely sure
why we have stopped, but we feel it is better
to wait until they are done. They look a bit
worried and they seem concerned for our
safety. After about half an hour, Hakeem says:
“OK, we go now.”
Although the desert is impressive, the route
towards Tobruk is a bit boring to ride. It
literally is one straight asphalt road through
the vast landscape. Our bikes’ small engines
struggle with the strong wind. We push them to
their limit and ride as fast as possible after
Billy and Ross to make sure we reach Tobruk
before dark. When we have done 200 km and
are halfway, a car approaches us from the
opposite direction. Hakeem stops the car, gets
out and greets the men from the other car.
They then turn to us and, to our surprise,
introduce themselves as our escort for the
second stretch to Tobruk. Before we continue,
we drink some tea and refuel, all of this in the
middle of the desert! It’s time to say goodbye
to Jamal and Hakeem. Again, we feel like
saying goodbye to very good friends. We take
some group pictures, exchange details and
then each go our way.
The second part of the route is not much
different from the first half, except that it is
possibly even more boring. When we get closer
to Tobruk, more cars join until we are a group
of four motorbikes and four cars. At the first
military checkpoint, again two men are waiting
for us. They introduce themselves as Kamal and
Sharif, and as members of the motorcycle club
from Tobruk. Some friends from Tripoli had
informed them we were riding their way. They
will help us find a hotel in Tobruk. As we enter
the town, more cars and motorbikes join our
group. We are welcomed as if we were a sports
team that just won the world cup. People are
waving at us, taking our pictures and
welcoming us to their country. And as in
previous towns, our new friends first want to
take us to one of the local attractions, before
they take us to a hotel. Even though we are all
very tired from the long day on the bikes, we
cannot say no and are happy to follow them.
We visit the Commonwealth Cemetery of
Tobruk where soldiers from Australia, Great
Britain, Poland and the Czech Republic are
buried as a result of the Second World War.
After we visited the beautifully maintained
cemetery, Kamal and Sharif take us to a hotel.

"Although the desert is impressive,
the route towards Tobruk is a bit
boring to ride. It literally is one
straight asphalt road through the
vast landscape"

"We feel very fortunate that we were
able to ride through Libya and met all
these wonderful people. Libya has an
incredible amount to offer and we hope
to be able to visit it again in the future"

With a huge discount, the owners
gives us an enormous apartment on the top
floor of the building. We take up our gear,
enjoy a shower and sit around the map to look
at the route into Egypt. At the beginning of the
evening, Kamal and Sharif return with dinner.
Together, we enjoy freshly fried fish, soup and
bread. It tastes great! While eating Kamal
explains that he is captain of the Tourist Police.
He tells us that when Hakeem had stopped the
car that morning in the middle of the desert, he
had thought we were being followed. He only
continued after Kamal had confirmed that it
was safe enough for us to cross to Tobruk. That
explains that! After a relaxed evening in the
hotel, with Sharif and Kamal, we go to bed and
try to get some much-needed sleep. Tomorrow
awaits a new challenge: the Libyan-Egyptian
border.
We wake up early and immediately start
packing. When we are ready to leave, we are
joined by Kamal who will escort us to the
border and help us with some of the
paperwork. After about 100 km, we stop in
front of some offices. In the distance we can
already see the gate that forms the entrance to
Egypt. We hand in our Libyan license plates and
give our passports to Kamal who will have
them stamped for us. After about an hour all
the paperwork is done. The exit stamp in our
passports marks the end of our incredible ride
through Libya!
It was an amazing week. We met many friendly
and remarkably hospitable people, each of
them very proud of their country and happy to
receive us as their guests. We were not even a
month into our trip when we entered Libya and
it completely overwhelmed us. It was nothing
like we had seen on TV and everything like the
other riders’ reports had told us. The anxious
and excited feeling about riding through Libya
was soon gone and we never really felt unsafe.
Whether we were right to feel safe or just naïve
remains to be seen. Only a few days after we
left Libya, on the 3rd of January 2014, two
foreigners were killed not far from Zuwara.
We feel very fortunate that we were able to
ride through Libya and met all these wonderful
people. Libya has an incredible amount to offer
and we hope to be able to visit it again in the
future. ATA
Make sure you get the next issue of MEM as we will be
catching up with Amsterdam to Anywhere on their next
amazing exploration.
Click below to go to their website!

Events in the UK
Aug and September
click the flyer to find
out more

Welcome to the World Wide event that
is March Moto Madness - at Haggs
Bank Bunkhouse in Cumbria. MEM
catches up with Danny Taylor for the
Gail force winds and bacon sandwiches.
In a small unassuming little Cumbrian town stands a proud bunkhouse that has been brought back
to life by Danny Taylor. Not only brought back to life but is rapidly becoming the hub of overland
motorcycle travel. From the most humble beginning of rubble and overgrown fields now pulses
the heart beat of the would be two wheeled traveller. We head back to Haggs Bank to see what the
All Terrain Adventure event is all about.
Danny was working in conjunction with Dave Lomax of Adventure Spec to show some of the best
orienteering in the area geared towards the novice rider. This was not a contest but an education,
a place where you could dip in a toe or jump in the deep end depending on your own level. There
would be at least three world riders at the event and as I wandered around the fire pit area chatting
there was a whole host of abilities to be found but all of them had a muddy smile on their face. Of
course there was also a road ride option for people and this was lead by four time author and round
the world rider Sam Manicom . Having traversed the wilds of Africa, the dangers of South America
and the vastness of Asia I was fairly sure that Sam could lead a budding bunch around Cumbria with
little issue!

IN THE FIELD...
HAGGS BANK UK
Sat with a soft smile under an old hat was
Bernard Smith, a rider that took the love of his
life around the world to witness and feel all
that the world had to offer. Her name was Cathy
and she was blind. What came from that was
one of the most insightful books to ever come
to print about the insights of the world
witnessed through other senses. Bernard
would not thank you for any form of adulation
but sit down with a polycarb cup of coffee or
tea and a smile and chat with the man and you
can come away a better person for it. I also
came away with an idea for how to stop losing
your side stand puck!
Sam Manicom ready to lead out.
Bernard Smith strikes a pose

Dave 'Chuckles' Lomax
Dave Lomax was heading up the dirty stuff and
the bunkhouse chill room with the plush green
leather furniture was transformed into the
nerve centre. An OS map that went from floor
to roof took command of the main wall feature
and Dave laid out the routes and techniques
involved. As we can see from the pictures Dave
smiles on the inside or when he has wind.
We ran a small bet on whether Dave had teeth
or not and the first one to get the proof would
win – something that was not ever up for debate
however was Dave’s amazing commitment and
pure love of motorcycle travel and aiding others
in making the most of their time out on two
wheels. Dave seemed to be anywhere you cared
to look, offering advice or driving a marquee
stake into the ground. Dave also puts Adventure
Spec behind his passion for helping others and
has promoted many riders trips – good on ya
Dave!

Many Rivers to Cross
Dazzer Mitchel was doing the river crossing workshop. It was
brilliant to see that Dazzer with his experience of going around
the world two up had not lost sight that even a gentle crossing
of water or riding across grass for riders that may never have
strayed off tarmac could be very intimidating. It was a brilliant
idea to have some workshops on that compliment the ethos of
adventurous travel and one of the workshops was how to cross
a river. I’ve done a few river crossing that have ranged from
roped off pulling with the flow of the water to gunning it and
going for the big rooster tail photo shot. This has resulted in a
great deal of ignorant trial and error in my past and a firm
appreciation of just how deadly a river crossing can be.
Having a workshop on that at least explains the risks and shows
techniques that can be used to lower that risk is always a good
idea. There’s also the fact that splashing around in water on a
motorbike is bloody good fun and perhaps not something that
everyone has done before.

A motorbike, a bacon sandwich and somewhere to
play, it don't get much better than that...
perhaps the florescent all in one was a step too
far ;0)

Kickstart training... well, not quite.
Running alongside the orienteering and the river crossing was some gentle off road skills. Perfect
for the first timer to gain a grin and confidence of just what you can get done with your motorbike.
The layout was simple and the instruction was friendly and full of good humour as you would expect
from the Haggs Bank crew.
It just became such a well balanced and thought out beginner friendly introduction to dual sport
play. So regardless if you’re a fully fledged Trail Rider Fellowship God (No, not you Thor) or if you
just passed your test and came up on a Suzuki 125 VanVan it was covered and you were welcomed.
Settled later in the day under the big marquee to chat, drink and laugh about the events that have
been going on was a perfect round off. The two local guys that pitched with a guitar and a fiddle
just made some wonderful background folk music. Playing softly was key, you could still chat
without a raised voice but the soft tunes kept the foot tapping while savouring a pint of real ale
that was on offer.
It was the perfect end to a perfect event. See you at the next meeting?
Haggs Horizons Unlimited
Adventure Meet
18th - 20th September 2015
Click the logo for more information and
bookingon the next event held at this
brilliant spot in the heart of Cumbria.
See ya'll there!

Love that shot!
Pim
Actually also with the bike
of one of my friends...
mine is on the left.
Taken in January 2012 in
Les Menuires France (on
our way down the pass
from val thorens after a
week of snowboarding) .
Grtz from the Netherlands,

Damian Watracz,
Aprilia RST 1000 Futura,
Show us your shots
We love sharing your pictures with the rest
of the world. So make sure you send your
pictures in with your name, where you are,
what bike you're on.
From the next issue we will be linking up
with some great deals and may be able to
get you some goodies out for the best
picture we get sent in!
Share the love and email your shots to
newsdesk@motorcycleexplorermag.com
Please make sure your pictures are hi
resolution - around 1mb is fine.

Wales to Morocco
The snap shot report

Name: Seán Nolan & Charlotte Richards
Age: 21 & 20
From: Aberystywth University (Seán is from Redditch
originally, Charlotte from Barry)
Where are you riding in this feature? Wales to Morocco and
back
When did you do the trip? 31st May- 12th July

Make and model of bike on which you did the
adventure: £740 1986 Honda Rebel 250, with
a second-hand tank bag, and two Polish Army
rucksacks (£6 each) arranged as panniers, held
on with a fridge rack. Oil change, new spark
plugs and new rear tire were the only bike
preparation we undertook.

Start Point – Barry, Charlotte’s family
home. Rode to Plymouth to get the ferry
to Santander with Seán’s Dad and a few
of his friends in tow.
End Point – Barry, six weeks and 4,490
miles later.

Best Moment – On a beach in Mertil on the Moroccan
Mediterranean coast as the sunset, and being invited over to a
table that had been set up on the sand by a group of 10 or so
young men and teenagers to break the days Ramadan fast. With
both us and them only speaking basic French, we explain where
we had been and what we were doing, and they invited us to eat
with them. When we told them we were camping, they gave us
three shopping bags of food and a large tuppawear box to take
back to the tent with us. Walking back to the tent we saw a
young boy begging by the side of the road, and gave him two of
the bags and the tuppawear box. His smile finished off what was
already a brilliant day.

Weirdest Moment- Due to an electrical
issue, our battery died in a petrol station
outside Rabat. Whilst Seán tried to botch
a repair together, two Polish guys came
over to admire the bike. Asking if they
knew of any accommodation nearby, we
were invited back to Roberts home, and
they told us to follow them after we bump
started the bike. After arriving and having
a shower, we had dinner in the garden,
where we learned that our host, amongst
other things, was a high ranking officer in
the Polish Army during the 1980’s, a two
time Olympian, a fully qualified doctor
who worked with a number of N.F.L. teams
in America, and would be turning 60 the
following day! We spent three days in his
home, during which he recommended to
us a garage nearby that he used for his
Vespa, which solved our battery problem.

Sidi Kaouki, A small Berber village 25km south of
Essaouira, we spent two nights there and want to spend
twenty more. Long sandy beaches, with just 300
inhabitants, the entire village is built within metres of the
sea.
Mertil, Set on Morocco’s northern coastline, this
snazzy local tourist destination has long sandy
beaches and warm Mediterranean seas. Though
almost deserted during our visit due to Ramadan,
the scale of tourist infrastructure suggests it is a
popular destination amongst Moroccan tourists.
4 Hidde

The coastline between Imsouane and Taghazout,
where the mountains meet the sea, you’ll find
deserted beaches and secluded spots, perfect for
watching the sun drip into the Atlantic
n Gems
Moulay Bousselham, another hidden gem, you’d be
forgiven for ignoring this village on your way along
the motorway south to Rabat or North to Tanger, yet it
would be foolish not to spend a day on the golden
sandy beaches, or in near the fertile lagoon with its
animal and plant life.

MEMO

RIES

OFFROAD EXPERIENCE
WALES

All you need is a t-shirt a pair of thick socks to wear in the boots, a change of underclothes and a
towel job done.
we will take care of the rest and you!
prices start at just £85
**

What better way to see Australia than
on a CT110 or as it's known in Oz a
'Postie'. So namede as this little chugger
is used by the Australian Postal Service.
Postal Australia Part 2
Jacqui Kennedy
I was infected with Itchy Feet
Syndrome at an early age when
my family travelled around
Europe in a Kombi in 1973.
Spending a year living in close
quarters with your siblings
makes you a very tolerant and
chilled out traveller. Since
childhood I have explored the
world. I cannot remember a
time when I wasn’t either
packing or unpacking. During
the past 10 years I have
undertaken several major tours
on scooters and small bikes.
From: Sydney
Where are you riding in this
feature? Around Oz
Make and model of bike on
which you did the trip:
Honda CT110
Postie Bike

POSTIE NOTES
JACQUI KENNEDY

After two months on the road in
Tasmania and Victoria, I was heading home to
Sydney in the middle of an iconic Aussie
summer heatwave. Mo, my trusty Postie, had
carried me 7000 kilometres without missing a
beat but he was now flagging in the heat. I rose
every morning at 6am, on the road in record
time (for me) and off the road again by 10am
checking into an air-conditioned motel before
the temperature had risen above 44o. In this
manner we bunny-hopped across western
NSW to Sydney arriving the day before
Christmas.
During my month hiatus, Mo received some
TLC from the Honda dealer and I turned 50. My
daughter threw a big party and all my friends
bought Mo a drink in the form of petrol cards
and sent us on our way with sufficient funds to
buy fuel for the entire lap of Oz.
The only appointment on my calendar was the
Adventure Travel Film Festival in Bright. I had
two weeks to squander and as Mo is never in a
hurry, we started our meandering in Bathurst,
NSW. Ever since we had visited the iconic
Phillip Island two months prior and Mo had
been refused entry onto the track, he had been
sulking. So I had promised him a lap of the
famous Mt Panorama race circuit as
compensation.
I attended College in Bathurst in the days when
cigarette companies were allowed to sponsor
the race teams; when Dick Johnston took a
shortcut through the trees at Forrest’s Elbow
and I had been positioned on top of the media
centre when Peter Brock had won yet again –
earning him the title of King of the Mountain.

Mo in pole position and ready for the off.
I knew the track well, so on arrival in Bathurst
we did not even bother to off-load all Mo’s
gear, we just headed straight up The Mountain.
He protested on the first big hill; shat some oil
on seeing the steepness of the Esses; cruised
down Conrod Straight trying to set off the
speed camera and raced a Ducati through Pit
Lane.
This, along with Mo being
centre of attention at
the Film Festival,
allowed him to maintain
delusions of grandeur for
the next 6 weeks.
After a few days in Canberra to see the latest
War Memorial exhibition and Bright for the
Film Festival, we headed down towards
Melbourne through Marysville. It has been 5
years since the devastating bushfires which
claimed 45 lives and spared only 12 of the 500
homes in the valley. There was a hive of
building activity and the regrowth of green
could be seen on the black trunks but the
community seemed to be struggling to regain
an identity beyond the town the fire took. The
Phoenix exhibition in the Visitor Centre
portrayed the emotion of the loss and
devastation and the partially rebuilt garden at
Bruno’s Sculpture Park was a wonderful
example of the resilience of the locals in the
face of adversity.

The next few days
was spent with Brian Rix and
Shirley Hardy-Rix whom I had met
at the Horizons Unlimited
meeting the year before. Shirley’s
book Two for the Road, about
their overland journey through
Europe and Asia, had been one of
the first audio-books I had ever
listened to, and her enthralling
description of riding the TT track
on the Isle of Mann had stayed
with me for many years. They had
recently released a second book
Circle to Circle about their bike
trip from the bottom to the top of
the Americas and beyond. After
eighty thousand kilometres their
BMW had given up the ghost
halfway across the Nullarbor on
the last leg to home. My oft stated
reason for choosing a Postie Bike
to go “Round the Block” was
because anybody could do it on a
1000cc BMW – but it seems not.
[And I should not boast too loudly
lest fate steps in]
Heading west along the Great
Ocean Road, Mo was once again
in his element. Cruising slowly
with time to stop and take photos
of letterboxes, we were not fazed
by the 60k/h speed limit, in fact it
seemed to be something to aspire
to. Mo doesn’t exactly tip into
corners – rather he tip-toes
around them and elegant is not a
word to be used in the same
sentence as Postie Bike. However
there is still a grin-factor to be
had – difficult to explain – but it
requires a complete shift in
attitude towards riding and the
definition of adventure.

Little Mo on steroids?

The coastal route to Adelaide offers a wealth
of beauty and constantly changing landscape.
There are some terrific spots to free camp and
the Youth Hostel at Port Elliot is a gem. Set
high on the hill overlooking the bay, this
historic house reflects the charm and dignity
of the region.
A week in Adelaide saw Mo and I doing the
Black Dog one-dayer Ride; speaking at the
Ulysses meeting and joining their mid-week
jaunt in the Hills; BBQing with the Horizons
Unlimited crowd and getting organised for the
next leg with a complete once-over from
Mick’s Motorcycles in Gawler.
On the advice from a friend, I had decided to
turn my circumnavigation into a Figure 8 and
go up the Centre from Adelaide thus allowing
me to do the Nullarbor from west to east
taking advantage of the tail winds. This is
particularly relevant on a little bike as
slamming into headwinds all day takes its toll
on rider and on fuel economy.
My wonderful hosts, Brian and Val, brought out
the maps of the Flinders Ranges and we
plotted a route north. I have always wanted to
tackle the real outback but fear that I am
wholly unprepared as I have very little
experience on dirt. The Oodnadatta Track
seemed to be the best choice and with hops of
200kms between the townships I prepared to
challenge myself with 800 kilometres of
unsealed uncertainty.
If Ruth Blayne can go from UK to Australia twoup
on a 125cc Lambretta in 1959, surely I can
do a short hop along a well-used road in the
Outback and not put myself in too much
danger. I could learn to fix a tyre if necessary…
and Brian threw in his Spot Tracker – just in
case I couldn’t.

Blast from the Past
Back in time
Theresa Wallach
Theresa Wallach was a female trailblazer in the motorcycling world. Born in 1909, London
England at this time women could not even vote! Not until 1928 did all women over the age of
21 get the right to vote, let alone be thought of as motorcycle trailblazers. But Theresa Wallach
became a racer, motorcycle adventurer, military dispatch rider, engineer, author, motorcycle
dealer, mechanic and riding school instructor. She was also the first vice president of WIMA
Wallach was heavily involved in the formation and running of the Women’s International
Motorcycle Association. Having never owned a car, Wallach continued riding until she was 88,
when vision problems forced her to give up her license. She died on her 90th birthday in 1999.
The Overlanding
In 1935, Wallach and her friend, Florence Blenkiron, or "Blenk," as Wallach called her, embarked
on one of the most ambitious motorcycle journeys of the era. Riding a 600cc single-cylinder
Panther complete with sidecar and trailer, the two rode from London to Cape Town, South Africa.
No roads, no back up, just straight across the Sahara through equatorial Africa, and South to the
Cape - in 1935, without even a compass! It was quite simply one of the most amazing motorcycle
journeys ever.
Wallach and Blenk took on all that Africa could throw at them in a world before internet and
mobile phones. It was a journey that would see them face challenges of breakdowns, even
having to build a whole engine from the ground up. It was made worse by the problems with the
French Foreign Legion trying to stop passage through the area as the ladies made it from oasis to
oasis. At one stage they had to push the bike and sidecar for 25 miles when the engine died. This
was a journey that modern day bikes struggle with and there was no international rescue service
to call, no satellite navigation to work with and no chance of calling home if it all got a bit much.
This was trailblazing of the highest order and inspired the bestselling book “The Rugged Road”.
Wallach continued to be a pioneering woman motorcyclist in World War II. During the war, she
served in the Army Transport Corps, first as a mechanic and later as the first woman motorcycle
dispatch rider in the British Army. It seemed Wallach was driven to push the limits however they
presented themselves.
After the war, Wallach fulfilled a lifelong dream by coming to tour
America on a motorcycle. The tour lasted for two-and-a-half years
. Wallach supported herself on the long trek by stopping and
taking odd jobs – everything from airplane mechanic to
dishwasher – just long enough to earn enough money to get back
on the road. In all, Wallach rode 32,000 miles across the United
States, Canada and Mexico on the tour.
Wallach’s love affair with motorcycling is summed up in a quote
from a 1977 interview with Road Rider Magazine.
"When I first saw a motorcycle, I got a message from it," she said.
"It was a feeling – the kind of thing that makes a person burst into
tears hearing a piece of music or standing awestruck in front of a
fine work of art. Motorcycling is a tool with which you can
accomplish something meaningful in your life. It is an art."

ID LIFE.
There are many rules to camping which we all
must adhere to, but we seldom do. I mean if
the legendary Chief Scout son of Sir Michael
and Lady Grylls stays in a five star hotel
between TV shoots, what chance is there for
me, a middle aged man from a pit village in
Cumbria? Camping? We all have a mental
image of sitting round a campfire, listening to a
travelling Romany Gypsy, strumming chords on
his Spanish guitar. The flickering flames always
light up his smouldering good looks and we all
sing along in a drunken lullaby until the
embers have died. In reality it always rains and
the freshly cut grass inevitably ends up filling
your tent and sleeping bag.
I was recently invited to the Overland
Weekender in Great Missenden (near
Aylesbury) to try and sell some books (some
authors call these book signings) and show my
vintage motorcycle in the exhibition tent. So
drawing off my past experiences of riding a
motorcycle loaded to the hilt with books and
camping gear, I immediately hired a van.
I discarded Rule 1 in the camping handbook
which is about picking the right tent and
equipment to suit the terrain, and foolishly
allowed my girlfriend to borrow a tent from her
sister, who spends more time outdoors than a
grazing herd of west highland cattle. To say she
has ‘all the gear’ would be an understatement
and my partner added to this by stocking up
with more tins of food than you would find in
the average air raid shelter during WW2. The
rental van was a bloody good idea and on its
arse.
Rule 2) You should know how to erect your
tent before you arrive at your designated camp
site
Rule 2a) You should always arrive during the
hours of daylight.

Stephen E Holmes rode the
length of the Americas on an
old Norton. Now he gives his
take on surviving a rally event.
Mid life style... innit!
His biggest challenge to date?
. CAMPING

We found a ‘spot’ by the other tents using the
halogens of the van and announced our arrival
to the snoozing campers by unfolding the large
groundsheet, which sounded like we were
opening a giant packet of crisps. To the
harmonious shouts of “Shush” w gave up and
tried our best to sleep sat upright in the seats
we had travelled the last few hours in.
Rule 2a (again) 4am and the sun stretched
lazily from the distant horizon. It was as if we
had arrived during the hours of daylight and
we set about the task of putting up the
borrowed tent . To say it was large would be an
understatement. When we had finished
erecting the god damn thing, it was as if
someone had dropped a ‘pop-up’ McDonalds
restaurant amongst the one man and two man
tents that had somehow managed to squeeze
onto the huge field around us. It took us a
couple of hours and the exhibition marquee
which housed the motorcycles in the adjacent
field was erected in a faster time, although I’m
sure the two leviathan’s may have been of
similar size and I think I have seen smaller
town houses in Cleckheaton.
Rule 3) Take a foot pump and a small camping
gas stove.
In this modern age of camping everyone who
enjoys the great outdoors owns an airbed of
some description. As you can guess the one we
had borrowed matched the giant tent and was
what I can only describe as a queen size double
air mattress. Any larger and it would have
qualified as a hot air balloon and I would need
a pilot’s licence. It had more compartments
than the orient express and the electric pump
which came with it and plugged into the hire
van was the early morning alarm call our fellow
campers didn’t want to hear. It was louder than
the Reveille at the local Garrison and went on a
lot longer, in fact it went on so long the hire
van overheated and it took us a further three
attempts to blow the mattress up once the van
had cooled down. The rule is always use a foot
pump!

Camping gas stove. Light, compact and comes
with a spare Gaz cartridge. Not the one we had!
It must have been built and designed by AGA. If
anything is to blame for global warming then it
has to be the cooker that nestled outside the
west wing of the tent we were in. Calor gas
must have gone into a joint business adventure
with AGA to design this monstrosity, although
if things went wrong it would be useful to
power the queen size double air mattress to
give aerial views of the beautiful surrounding
countryside.
Rule 4) Take plenty of beer
Alcohol is a great sleeping aid and my
girlfriend zipped me into my single sleeping
bag from the outside and I smiled inwardly to
myself. I felt like a cocooned butterfly as we
both hit the Queen sized bed. Unfortunately
the drink induced slumber didn’t last long as
the airbed let go of some of its wind and we
both rolled into the centre of the mattress. The
edges curled up like the last egg sandwich at a
wedding buffet and claustrophobia struck as I
couldn’t move. If this had been a night in some
Arabian Prince’s Bedouin tent and his Harem
had have been offered to me, then I’m afraid
they would have remained vestal virgins to this
day. Panic set in as the alcohol in my bladder
gave me a prompt reminder that I needed to
leave the tent and I somehow managed to roll
off the bed, onto the floor and release myself
from the cocoon that was my sleeping bag. I
was now a caterpillar albeit a drunken one.
Stood outside the tent relieving myself the cold
night air was fresh and the concerto of
hundreds of sleeping adventure motorcyclist’s
snores filled the air. The Ten Pole Tudor hit
leapt into my befuddled, drunken mind,
although “The snores of a thousand men” were
the lyrics I sang out loudly as the snoring
subsided momentarily.
The morning was vibrant as I got off the airbed
in instalments. My bones creaked but I felt as
one with nature as i queued up for the portaloo.
Not one person who came out said “I’d give it
five in there if I were you pal” probably
because 5 days wouldn’t have been long
enough to remove the odious smell.
Showered and changed the books sold well and
then that night my camping dreams came true.
The huge campfire was lit and four young
Irishmen sat around the campfire, a Guitar, Harp
Flute and Bodhran in their grasp. The old Irish
melodies filled the night air as we sang along
and the flickering flames really did light up
their smouldering good looks until the embers
died.
Rule 5) This is a must! Always go by
Motorcycle....You take the minimum equipment.
You enjoy the ride and you can buy beer and
food anywhere! SEH
Buy me book, someone has to!
Che Guevara and Alberto Granado's journey through South America in
1952 on a Norton 500 motorcycle is one of the most famous
motorcycle journeys of all time. Guevara's experiences on that
journey led him to become a key figure of the Cuban Revolution and
one of the greatest inspirational icons of the twentieth century. Steve
Holmes and Pete Sandford's journey through South America in 2009
is arguably the least known motorcycle journey of all time, but it took
them on the same route, through Argentina, Chile, Peru, Colombia and
Venezuela. Along the way, the pair did battle with some of the most
dangerous environments on the planet including the Atacama Desert
(the driest place on Earth) and the mighty Amazon River. To make it
just a bit tougher they made the trip on authentic period Nortons just
like Che's. Che's motorcycle never completed the 5000 mile journey.
Would Holmes and Sandford's 60-year-old bikes survive this epic
trip? To infinity and beyond relates the dangerous and exciting
adventure as they follow Che's route faithfully.

Video Bloggers

Darren and Dave are riding 2012 KTM690 Rs unsupported from London to Sydney.. The route
includes Kyrgyzstan, and Tibet,China, and a crossing of the Simpson Desert.
There are 5 class episodes to watch here. In the video is a link to the next, just clcik it when you're
done and the new episode will open in the same box in the magazine.

Top Fun Videos
Vid Master Halfthrottle gives us a chuckle with this tongue in cheek look at the BIG BMW GS
owners guide to riding.
More fun in the Philippines is a firm middle finger at the health and safety mad West with foot
tapping soundtrack. Class!

Going the distance
When 1000 miles in under 24 hours is the entry level!
Philip Weston aka Fazor Phil is the head
of the UK Iron Butt riders and gives MEM an idea
of what it's all about.

You're going to see plenty of these in 24 hours!
The Iron Butt Association originated in the USA
to promote the sport of safe long distance
riding. There are now associations all around
the world with 60,000 members. To become a
member all you have to do is complete an Iron
Butt Ride and get it verified by the IBA. There is
no membership fee. The base ride is a
Saddlesore 1000 ( 1000 miles in 24hrs) and in
the UK you can ride Lands End to John O’Groats
for a UK E2E. More experienced riders are
capable of riding Bunburner 1500 Golds (1500
miles in 24hrs).In the UK 1600 rides have been
verified since IBAUK was formed nine years ago.
There are many other rides that can be ridden
anywhere at any time as well as special rides in
different countries. Iron Butt rides can be
undertaken on any bike though most riders add
“farkles” to make their bikes more comfortable
for long hours in the saddle. In 2014 a
Saddlesore 1000 was completed on a Honda
C90 cub step through!!!!
Iron Butt Rallies are photographic scatter rallies.
The rally book is issued at the start of the event
with details of different bonus locations to visit.
Each location has a different point value and has
different availabilities. There are also sleep
bonuses, phone in bonuses and combination
bonuses. The task is to find the most efficient
route and collect maximum points over the
distance in the available time. There are rallies
in Finland and Germany this year as well as the
11 day 11,000 mile Iron Butt Rally in the USA in
June. We run three rallies each year in the UK.
The 36hr Brit Butt Rally was in May, the 12 hr
Brit Butt Light on the 18th July starting in
Staffordshire and the new 8hr Iceni rally in East
Anglia. Details can be found on the IBAUK
website.

Fuel for the bike and fuel for the rider!

On your marks, get set... see you tomorrow!
Holy shit! With that lot you could find Lord Lucan!

Iron Butt UK also organises social events. Rides
to eat are an excuse to ride and meet other long
distance riders. Usually in the UK we meet for
lunch on a Saturday for a pub lunch or
breakfast. These can be anywhere in the UK
about once a month. Any member is entitled to
arrange a venue and call a RTE. Some riders
even ride iron butt rides a on the way to RTE’s.
Five times a year we arrange RTE’s in Europe.
We meet in Europe at 4pm on Saturday and
then stay the night before returning home.
Riders generally ride alone as its more time
efficient but some do ride in pairs etc. Once you
learn how to ride long distance safely and
efficiently all of Europe is your playground.
Our Annual meeting and Christmas party is in
Coventry at the same time as the NEC bike
show. Saturday we hold seminars and talks to
share knowledge of safe long distance riding.
This includes advice on farkling your bike for
long distance riding and recognising fatigue.
Wives and partners get to make silver earrings
and are having a nail art session this year. In the
evening we have a four course meal and
Christmas party.
Website www.ironbutt.co.uk for ride rules,
advice and links to the IBAUK forum a source of
up to date information.
Contact Philip Weston President@ironbutt.co.
uk

Honda Varadero XL125
No Longer in production

Cost - You can't get these new
anymore but a 2012 plate will still set
you back over £3500

Pros
• Tall bike for a 125
• Honda quality build
• Great comfort
Cons
• Not in production
• Exspensive for a 125
• Could use a 6th gear
Running
Post 2007 the baby V the fuel tank is around 0.5 litres smaller at 16.8 litres (3.7 imp gal; 4.4 US
gal). With a steady ride you can expect to get around 68 – 70mpg meaning that a full tank UK
will get you 251 miles based on the 68mpg. So at £1.14 a gallon a full tank will set you back
under £20.
Warrenty and Service
You won’t get a Honda warranty on this as it is no longer in production so you would be looking
at getting a warranty from the dealer you buy the bike from. Service basics every 2500 miles
and here is the pdf of the breakdown on servicing your Varadero 125.
https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/439700/Maintenance_XL125V.pdf
Luggage Load
There seems to be the standard 10kg warning for the loading side of things but then you have
all that seat room for a pillion that can be used for packing gear. If you can’t pack enough gear
for the weight of the average pillion then you have more problems than you know. Make sure
you send us a picture of your packed bike with over 85kg of kit on it and we can all share in the
fun!

Design
The XL125 or Baby V as it’s known with affection from those that own one is the ‘baby’ version of
the old XL1000. Rather than being a pint size version of the bigger bike the XL125 retains many
of the stats making it ideal for taller riders and giving much more road presence than most 125s
on the market. With a seat height of 802mm you won’t feel oversized on this little beast and why
it has proven popular for a first bike for the bigger rider. You’re looking at around 150kg of bike,
so light enough to play with but heavy enough to not feel like you’re going to get blown all over
the road if caught in a bit a blustery wind. Go for the post 2007 models for fuel injection and
some upgrades that caused issues with the emissions people before then!
Comfort
Not a problem and the seat is well designed to take a pillion too. Pillion comfort has been taken
into account and because of the commanding size of the bike you get less chance of cramped up
legs at the back. This is a great feature and that is the built in top box rack that comes with the
bike showing that it was made to travel not just tearing down the back lanes of some small
villages. The Honda engine that was designed for the VT125C Shadow has come a long way.
Moving up to 75mph is flat out and will happily take you around the town or into Mongolia at
60mph. The standard rubber topped pegs offer standard vibration protection and there is not a
great deal of vibe through the grips as long as you stay away from the 70mph zone.
Engine
Sat in a tubular steel frame is the liquid cooled, 4-stroke, 4-valve, SOHC, 124 cc, 90° V-twin.
Knocking out 14.2 hp is not going to set the world alight we know. But if you’re looking for a
bullet proof engine that packs enough power to get you up and over the hills of adventure then
there is really no issue.
Brakes
With a single disc to the front and single disc to the rear there is plenty of gripped stopping
action for the weight. I’d not be doing a Rossi with them as you could find that you cook your
breaks and over cook the bend, never a good combination. But for spirited 125 play and action I
found there was no issue here. I always advocate getting some advanced training for riding as
you use the breaks far less, saving you from cooking and also saving you on new pads. Stopping
power there is nothing to shout about here but then again in the same breath there isn’t anything
to worry about either.

Me and My Bike
Owen Lewis

Owen Lewis
Age
50
Country
Jersey, UK
Current Bike
2015 690 KTM 690 Enduro R (which lives in the garage alongside a 2015 Kawasaki H2, 1979
Kawasaki Z1000, 1986 Ducati Pantah 600, 1984 Suzuki GSX1135 EFE Turbo and a 125cc
scooter)
When did you start riding?
1982 at age 16
Most embarrassing riding cock up.
It goes back many, many years to my early riding days when I took my bike into the shop to be
repaired and get a new clutch fitted because it was slipping – only to be told that I had no
teeth left on the rear sprocket ….
Last memorable trip.
There have been a few ! I’ve just got back from two weeks in Scandinavia but in the past I’ve
ridden in much of Europe as well as Africa – I’ve even travelled the length of India in a 150cc
2 stroke Tuk Tuk, ridden from Jersey to Timbuktu and back and toured Egypt on a scooter. But
I guess the basis that the last trip was always the best, it’s the Scandinavian trip that is most
memorable.
What was the best moment of the entire trip?
The highlight of my last trip was probably finding a campsite at the head of Lysebotn Fjord in
Norway – it had a stunning view down the fjord with sheer cliff faces and waterfalls, a friendly
pub, and a great bunch of fellow riders to chat with.
What are two interesting things about that place that the average person doesn't know?
They turn the waterfalls off at night to save water and, if you want to use the ferry down the
fjord you need to book in advance or you won’t get on (I’m cheating a bit here and in fact only
one of those is true …..)
Most expensive thing you’ve bought for your bike.
On the KTM, the Safari fuel tank – cost about £750 but well worth it in extending the fuel
range to over 400 miles
What brand and model of tyre do you use?
Metzeler Sahara (OEM tyre fitted to the KTM) but I will be trying Goldentyre next on
recommendation from a fellow rider
Self service or garage?
Basic stuff I do myself, but, as I own a bike shop, I leave the more involved stuff to the guys in
the workshop

Tell me why you picked this bike.
Off road capability, light weight but still powerful enough to carry me and my luggage
across Europe at a reasonable pace – and being a KTM dealer means I got it at a good
price……..
Does your bike have a pet name?
Not yet – but maybe sometime in the future as we get to know one another better
What is one thing you would change about your bike?
Not sure – it’s pretty much just how I want it at the moment. Perhaps the only change would
be to fit a proper ‘Rally’ type fairing or a remote preload adjuster for the rear shock.
Did you learn anything about yourself on your trip?
Before this trip I had limited offroad experience and was quite wary about doing big
distances on unmade roads – by the end I found that I had both the ability and confidence to
do it
What are two other places you'd like to ride to?
Difficult one – there is so much of the world still to see ! The Elephant Rally is on the bucket
list, and, one day, I’d love to ride from the UK to Capetown.
What was the best food you ate on your last trip?
Scandinavia, and Norway in particular, has a reputation for being expensive if you eat out or
enjoy a beer or two so I took a fair amount of food with me from the UK and ate simple camp
meals.
However I can strongly recommend the Norwegian hot dogs wrapped in bacon that they
seem to sell at most petrol stations !
What was the scariest thing to happen to you with your bike?
Nothing really scary but there was one occasion in Sweden where a gravel road turned into
a rutted track, which turned into a narrow single track path, which shrunk to about 2 feet
wide before running along the side of a lake with a sheer 10 foot drop into the lake on the
left and a vertical rock face on the right. No room to turn around and a little tricky on an
adventure bike with luggage ……,
What was the weirdest thing to happen to you with your bike?
The KTM has run faultlessly so far – but I’m sure some people will say that is weird for a
KTM !
How many miles have you done on your bike to date?
7,500 on this one – but I’ve only had it since May this year. I do have a few other bikes in
the garage and riding time gets shared around amongst them
How would your bike describe the way you treat him/her/it.
With care and respect. At the end of the day I am relying on the bike to get me to far away
and remote places – and then get me back to civilisation so I don’t want to ride so hard that I
end up crashing or breaking the bike ……
If you'd like to feature in the next issue of MEM and tell us all about your bike then
write in. newsdesk@memrider.com with the title 'Me and My Bike'.
If you're selected we'll see about sending you some goodies from one of our
partners ;o)

A Dakar in Ireland! You won't need
£70,000 to enter and you don't need to
ride like Marc Coma or Laia Sanz! From
scooters to even a GS can play here.
25th to 27th September 2015
So what's the craic?
My mam and Dad worked for concern and we lived in Yemen and
Iran from 1971 until 1978 . Its during this time we got the taste of
adventure. As kids we would take off with our dad for days on end
in his Landover Santana , He taught us how to check each other’s
urine for blood in case we picked up Bilharzia, how to remove
snake venom , kill scorpions , drink water and what not to do when
handed a pistol or ak 47 to play with. And how to know if a dog or
monkey had rabies. We lived through the over throw of the Shah
in Iran and the beginning of the Civil war in Yemen. As kids being
on the move was our life and when my parents decided it was too
dangerous to be adventuring around the middle east with 4 small
kids we came home to Ireland in 1979 after one last journey up
from Sana through the middle east Europe and Home .
I don't think we ever settled back to normal life. My dad rode bikes
as a young man mostly tiger cubs and when I was 16 he bought
me a scooter , a French bike a motobecane 50 cc pedal start and
while not the coolest machine it was a bike and bikes have been
part of my life ever since. In 1988 I was an exchange students on
my third tour of duty and up until them pretty board with the whole
French thing but in 1988 I ended up filling in for my brother Jethro
who pulled a sickie and I ended up on the boat to Roscoff. How
glad I was when I ended up in a Farm in Brittany in a family of four
boys 2 of them Frank, Karl much older that me 1 of them much
younger Hans than me and 1 of them about 2 years older than me
Ralph and the next guy up Karl was bike mad . It was the first time
I ever saw a Honda Dominator , the Dakar , cafe racers (Motobecanes
tapped out to the last with cross bars )cafe culture and birds. When
I got home I told the brother it was the worst exchange yet and I
went back for 2 more summers the bike bug was deep now.
Fast forward to 2000 home from the UK after 10 years working in
construction and Simons of Lincoln , studying at night at the
University of Westminster London and graduating as a Building
Surveyor about to get married back in Ireland and the boom is
about to kick off . 2005 or first boy is born and by 2008 we have
a family of 4 kids , a house a surveying practice and the recession
sweeps through the country like a ufa- rah "dust devil"

WHAT'S GOING ON....
PADDY DAKAR

The recession hit hard here in Ireland 2007/2008. I lost my Building Surveying practice, just about
got a job and faced into the black and uncertain future.
I witnessed my generation having their homes repossessed , emigration , unemployment , depression,
suicide and reckoned there had to be some way to keep a glimmer of madness, a spark , a ray of some
kinda light so I just kept thinking "what would I like to go too in a years’ time". So I was at a show
meeting one night with the Doon Village vintage society and someone asked me if I or anyone else
had any ideas to help add to the show to come forward and "anything goes" , well I just blurted it
out the whole rather rough Idea of the Paddy Dakar. Orienteering on Dual sport motor cycles , road
legal, road rubber, €40 per rider , and we would get them a breakfast , a BBQ , free camping , a tee
shirt , stickers , prizes , 2 days off roading and I was laughed at . 2008 20 bikes showed up, I ironed
on the event transfers to the tee shirts it was that cheap, in 2014 180 bikes showed up , Nicky Plumb
from Touratech UK was the only Welsh Man and Paddy mad enough to say these boys are alright and
he allowed us to print the touratech logo on the event tee shirts and sponsored them with Teds
Trucking another UK based logistics company. I’ve turned the event it into a family weekend (the
wife insisted)with a junior Paddy DAKAR kids cycle , bicycle maintenance , bushcraft (The Father
comes down and bamboozles the kids and teaches them how to light fires ).Helps the guys if they
say come on were all going there's something for all of us at this mad max meets father Ted Paddy
Dakar thing....

We have focused the fundraising around the village community centre and last year had €2000 left
over after running costs , it was given to the community centre who duly refurbed the showers " sure
the lads will be back next year and we need to have it right for them" .
2012 Jason and Christian came over on foot of the stories that were coming out of the event and
asked me would it be ok with me if they ran an event like ours in Wales and called it the Taffy Dakar
. I said yes only if you keep it real and focus all your efforts on making it open to all and cheap to
participate in and make the riders the focus of all the efforts and anything you make goes to some
local charity and now you have the Taffy Dakar , London Dakar Isle of Man Dakar . Its probably the
hardest thing I ve ever done and its come with a price on a personal level and how the organisation
impacts on my young family and my wife but at another level she understands and enjoys the weekend
as much if not more than everyone else . Would I change it yes Its changing all the time , but when
you have a city guy whose been riding most of his life and has never been in a forest at night on his
own on his bike come up to you at 1 am in the morning buzzing from having ridden a tricky track
collected a way point and made it back in one run ,well then Im back in the Yemeni highlands with
me dad and brothers bouncing around in the back of the Land Rover full of excitement "what’s going
to happen next". Sharing that buzz that only adventure brings.
"In the spirit of adventure, open to all riders and carrying a message of friendship between all men"-
Thierry Sabine 1977 founder of the Paris Dakar

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