Emrys' Cycle adventures

The Last Post

2010-10-12T16:56:00.000-07:00

And so it come to this. The final entry in a year and a halfs worth of rambling. First things i first i must say thank you.

Thank you to the hundreds of people who have helped me out in some way. Those who fixed the bike, those who fed me, those who put me up. I ditched the lonely planet long ago when i realised that these expereinces were the ones that i will most cherish from the trip. The deapth of kindness shown from the very begining of the trip to the end has been incredible and the trip would certainly not have been possible without it. There is no way i can ever repay my grattitude other than to offfer thanks and similar help to those in need.

Thank you for the letters etc i have received over the course of the trip. Traveling solo has it pros and cons but lonelyness on the road can be one the latter. The words of encouragement and even just news from home ( good and bad) was a huge help.

Thank you to those reading this. I have tried to keep it interesting ( and without too many sware words). I has been nice to receive your comments.

Endings and Begingings
The last few days of the trip were in fact quite uneventful. The bike held up to his pasting on the Oodnadatta track very well. The puncture count still stands at less than 20 for the whole trip. I mannaged to get a new trailer tire in Clare in the nick of time as i had worn the old one down to the tube. Whoops! I Met my Mum and Grandpa in Clare, north of Adelaide and we spent the night there which was great. I was joined the following day by my brother and we cycled to the last 98km from the Barrossa valley to Stirling together.

After 4 days of sleeping in a bed ( the longest in several months) i am slowly getting used to the idea. When i could get to the bed that is. I arrived home to a year and halfs worth of mail and other junk piled on the spare bed at mums' place. Not waking up and feeling like i have been hit in the legs with a cricket bat is also super.

And from here? The bike will not go rusty as it will become my shopping trolly back in Alice Springs. The next trip is brewing: A traverse of the James Range, round the world by rotary hoe, africa, south america, Lada adventures ( i can ask to get it repaired in Russian now) But i think it may be time to spend a little bit of time in the one place

Cheers

Emrys

A penultimate post

2010-10-05T21:42:00.000-07:00

I will save the reminising for what will be my last post in a day or two. In the meantime its time for a rant....

This time it is roadhouses that need to incur some roth and, quite frankly, they really can all follow the lead of the one in Larimah and burn themselves down!. Its not for the lack of beutiful suroundings, most are very well placed, it's for the universally appalling level of service at almost of them. Perhaps i should make a special t shirt that says "I always feel so welcome in your shop when you grunt and scowl at me when i walk in, it really makes me feel like spending money in your store" OR "mmmm the food tastes so much better when its sat in the warmer for a week" The list (in no particular order) goes something like this....

Wyclife Well- no mater how many aliens you paint on your buidling you really can't disguise the fact that it looks and feels like a bombshelter.

Frans' pie shop in Larimah- The only reason she is still in busniess is thanks to a kind lonely planet listing. $17 for a soggy microwaved pie and a glass of red cordial. I almost regurigitated it on the spot wqhen she gave me the bill. It's hardly so remote you cant get fresh food when a dozen refridgerated trucks go past a day.

Renner Springs- Even the staff working there thought the manager was a rude prick. Now that says something.

Ti Tree- Just for the shear number of very strange people both in front of and behind the counter quote "when i lived in timber creek we always new whgen the cops were coming to raid our dope crop coz they came to see Parks fiorst" ( worrying when that was the guy who will try to make your food)

Cober Pedy- not a roadhouse but a camera shop where the guy couldn't bear to pull himself away from the telly to even serve me.

William Creek- for such an iconic pub to be run by someone with such an unfriendly attitude is a shame. This was in fact a discussion i have had with several people since passing through.

Now at the risk of sounding like a misery guts i must give credit where it's due.

Adelaide river does have one of the most profundly beautiful and moving war memorials in Australia and is a credit to those who so lovingly maintain it

The Wauchoupe hotel. Far from the bessa block roadhouse, this place actaully has a history and more importantly service that would actaully make you want to return.

The Beltana Roadhouse. Wedged between the Prarie hotel to the south and Leigh creek to the north this place survies mainly because the people than run it are nice and, strangly enough for that reason, people keep coming back!

The list could be augementd but i shall leave it at that for the time being. My time on the Jamestown library computer will shortly expire and so it seems will my time on the road. I will head to Spalding tonight and then onto Clare tommrrow. Hopefully i will be in Adelaide on Saturday night. Who knows i might even be there in time to watch the final episode of The Bill.... or maybe not!

Mt Agung

2010-08-27T18:36:00.000-07:00

My final two days of cycling in a foreign country have been a relatively easy affair. From one of the most abysmal, roach infested hovels I have ever stayed in in Banyuwengi it was a short ferry trip across the straights to Bali. Denpassar was an easy two days ride from here.

Kuta barely deserves a mention in this story. A place for overweight Australians to behave appalling badly. "You are in a foreign country, show some respect you muppetts!" "And put a shirt on you beer swilling yob, nobody wants to see you beer gut, REALLY!" 'nuff said

So now there are two of us. I met Guy when I surfed his couch in Vientiane and he has met me here in Bali and we are off to Climb Mt Agung, at 3142m the 50th tallest volcano in Indonesia but the highest on Bali.

Despite my reservations (“I reckon I can find my way") we have hired a guide for the exercise. We pick him up on the way to the temple that marks the start of the trek. Soon after we pick him up the battered old Kijiang (the same weight as a land cruiser with 1/4 of the engine capacity) splutters and stalls on the brutal gradient. We finally get out and walk the last five hundred meters and I am quite glad to get away from the smell of burnt clutch.

We begin the climb, past the temple and into the forest on the lower slopes. The trees eventually give way to smaller shrubs and then finally to rocks and lichen. Guy is doing a sterling job, given this is the first time he has been above 1000m. We are three quarters of the way up when he starts to really struggle. There is no track now and we are following our guide as he hops over rocks and boulders. Despite 5 weeks of training he finally reaches the point where he can't climb anymore and still make it down in one piece.

I face a somewhat awkward decision. Instinct tells me that we should all stop and not leave anyone behind. I also look at the conditions though. There is no snow, or extreme heat (it is the middle of the night) we have plenty of food and the guide and I can make it to the top in an hour. The guide suggests this and I trust his judgement. He has, after all, done this climb 15times in the last month alone.
And so we leave a cheerful Guy on a bed of branches with three jackets and three pairs of thermals.

The sunrise on the top of Mt Agung is incredible. As the sun rises I see the 300m drop off the lip of the caldera to the bottom of the crater emerge from the mist. The moon and stars slowly disappear from sight. To the west I can see Lombok and the second highest volcano in Indonesia rising out of the ocean. And to the east I can see as far as Java with Mt Bromo (another volcano) dwarfed by her two larger sisters. Below me I can see the run of the lava as it headed north to the Ocean. Mt Agung last blew her top in 1963 and still steams occasionally.

We have hot coffee and cake made by the guides' wife on the top. He teaches me much about Bali, mountains and life in Indonesia generally. Later on the way down he also becomes the first Indonesian man i have ever seen to pick up rubbish. An extra ordinary young man in many ways.

We find Guy where we had left him, sound asleep between two rocks. He wakes, a little cold but much refreshed and we begin the decent back down to the temple. When we finally reach the bottom we are both exuasted and even the guide looks a little tuckerd out. We had begun climbing at 1am and it is now 11am so it perhaps not so surprising.

Iggy's 6th and penultimate boat trip

2010-08-14T02:36:00.000-07:00

And so it has come for the mad dash from the bottom of Sumatra, across Java to board my Bogan air flight from Bali. First there is the matter however of a rather deep stretch of water between Sumatra and Java know as the Sunda Straight.

I tried my hardest to get onto a cargo boat from Bandar Lampung but after several attempts i resolved to riding the hundred or so km to the very tip of the Island. I eventually arrived late in the afternoon and, after giving a rather aggressive homeless man my fried banana i had just bought, i rolled down to the ferry terminal.

1st, i try to get on the wrong ferry, without a ticket. Bad move! I find the correct terminal and pay the princely some of 10 000 rupiah for me and the bike. I look up and wince as i go through the turnstile- stairs. Lots of them. Thankfully one of the rather amused gate staff moves towards the trailer and pics up the wheel. We lurch, somewhat unsteadily up the stairs, up another set and then down the gangway to the hold.. Iggy is on board and i didn't even have to dismember him. Things aren't going to bad.

Igor catches the last of the Sumatran sun on the boat to Java.

Ramadan has started the day before. For those unfamiliar this is the month of dawn to dusk fasting from most things- water, cigarettes, food and sex. There are lots of hungry faces watching the beautiful sunset as Sumatra fades from view. When the sun finally dips below the horizon the food appears and so do the smiles.I soon meet a man and we begin to chat. His English out strips my meager Indonesian so we make do as best we can. He is an Engineer from South Sumatra on his way to Jakarta for business. He also has a van.......

(later)
I roll my thermarest out on the floor of the condo my engineer friend and his two colleagues have rented for the week. It is under the aircon and i sleep blisdfully until 2am when i wake to put more air in the slowly deflating mattress, every silver ling comes with a cloud i guess.

A 17% downhill gradient is not a nice thing to do to your brakes or your rims!

Bread vendors' van, Bandar Lampung

Fisherman casting his net, West Sumatra

Music to my ears

2010-08-09T00:59:00.000-07:00

Music

I am now up to my third Mp3 Player for the trip. The first was stolen by some drunk Kazak women in Aqtube. This one contained most of the "pop" music, if you can call it that.

The second was stolen by one of the Orphan kids i was meant to be helping in Bishkek. Ironically this was my "classical" one and also had my teach yourself russian lessons on it. Ah the little blighter that stole that was in for a treat- there was no way to change the tunes anymore! I hope you enjoy your Bartock string quartets, you little runt!

And so i am on my third, very cheap one that i bought in China. It is cheap, really cheap. There isn't even a way to pick the tunes so i have to have the music in the same order everytime. As such things can get a little repeative so once in a while i have to wipe it and start again.

Even though i wipe it once in a while some artisits seem to make fairly regualar apearences .

Tom waits seems to always wangle his way in there in some form or another.
Strangley the Haydn cello concerto has also made several appreances.
Paul Kelly, when i can find him, has been a regualr too.
Rufus, Martha and Loudan Wainwright are all fairly regular attendees though this is mainly because everytime i ask Matthew to send me music that is what i get! Great stuff though and eminently cycleable.
Luansa's crazy Irish fiddle playing and Bela Fleck's Banjo goodness to take the cake for cycleability though.

There are those who have been and gone but may yet return...

Demis Russo and Nana Muskoori. Not sure what on earth possessed me to download them but it ( wince) wasn't so bad
Soursob Bob. Comic genius though go a little overplayed at the start of the trip
The Idea of North. Wiped, alas, and nobody puts them online.
Slim Dusty and Chad Morgan. Slim in small doses, Chad even smaller doses.
Chet Baker. If i ever need reminder that trupet players need teeth ( Chet lost his in a bar fight and a nasty heroin habbit) then this is it.

And then there are those that made a hasty exist......

The Mars Volta- talentless aurual masturbation!
Bartok string quartets- Beutiful, just not on a bike.
Lady GaGa- as per the Mars Volta. Though in an interesting twist my malfunctioning mp3 player cut her songs after 3 seconds, replacing her with Bach Chorals. Nice move Mr Mp3 player!
Mahler 9th Symphony. Likewise beautiful, if i was cycling in a coma!

Surf Dudes

As so it comes to how i am sitting and writting this from the west coast of Sumatra. Yesterday had some of the most brutal grandients i have had in a long time. I even snapped a chain trying to get up them! A nice camp on the beach last night turned into an abosolute deluge this morning which lasted much of the day. Stopping in the first town, Krui, i met an Australian surfer. The thought of my first decent conversation in a month and the torrential rain was more than enough to convince me a day off was in order. And so i am off to enjoy an icecream and a Beer, if i can find one. (Ramadan starts tommrrow) Volcano Swim, Central Sumatra

Volcano Swim, Central Sumatra

A Batavian Adventure

2010-08-03T03:40:00.000-07:00

My time in foreign lands is fast drawing to a close, at least for the time being. In deciding to go to Indonesia i had to make a choice. There was the easy way- through the center of Sumatra and then to Java. Or the harder but much more interesting way over the mountains to the west coast of Sumatra meaning i would have to miss cycling most of Java. With a fairly high population density and, by all reports some seriously manic drivers and traffic, i decided i wouldn't mind "cheating" a bit through Java if it meant a nicer experience in Sumatra. Indonesia wasn't initially on my radar anyway but it seemed to tempting to miss.

And so it is that i sit (almost) on the coast of West Sumatra. Gone are the calm waters i had in Malaysia and Thailand. It's a big heavy Indian ocean swell here. Even the water has a temperature less close to urine and something to actually cool off in. The last 7 days have been quite a contrast. At 2500m i actually slept in my sleeping bag for the first time in months. Camping on the beach yesterday and listening as the breaker thundered i was rolling in my own sweat!

I have until the 20th of August to make it to Bali. There i must give Igor and Bobbie and really good scrub and put them in a box. They will travel by freight ( hopefully) and i will meet them in Darwin. I then have a few days to climb some volcanoes and give everything i posses a though clean. I can sense the Quarantine dogs at Darwin airport as i write and i know the 2nd the inspector sees where and what i have been up to for the last year i am going to be in for a grilling. The plane arrives at 3am so hopefully its goes for long enough i can walk out into the daylight!

What a beast!

10000km from Bishkek
Ever wondered where cinnamon comes from?

FOOD

2010-07-26T22:32:00.000-07:00

And it's time again for an edition of " what is that weird stuff you are putting in your mouth, Emrys?"

China definatly raised the weirdness quota a few notches. I think perhaps the duck tounge or the sheeps udder and mint soup take the cake, so to speak. The yak butter, yak cheese yak tea weren't to bad. Though the yak cheese did give me a dose of the runs.

Laos threw up every possible combination on the cooked bannana. Roasted, fried, curried and with coconut.

Almost every petrol station in Thailand has a 7/11 shop. In each of these is an ice coffee dispenser. Its amazing how well a litre and a half of cafine and sugar can make you cycle. It becomes slightly addivtive though as the only way to avoid "coming down" is to keep drinking the stuff!

Malaysia with its mix of Malay, Indian and Chinese certainly had choice. Though the choice was great it was all somewhat santised, rather like the rest of Malaysia. Good, flat roads but kind of boring too.

And now i am about to have another dose of Indonesian fried goodness. Last night my hosts ( a young man and his family) gave me Redang- kind of like beef jerky in Tamrind juice. The was also the ubiqutus chilli fried fish. Its slightly disconcerting when the catchfish looks at you!

Bon Appetite

Update:

I have just crossed the Equator which runs thorugh the middle of Sumatra. I am headed for Bukatingii, some volcanic lakes and a day off. From there i will head to the west coast and down towards Bandar ampung on the very southern tip of the Isaland. I will catch a ferry from there to Java and some more manic traffic. There is cycling in Indonesia and there is death....so far i am staying on the right side of the line!

A year on the road

2010-07-18T00:14:00.000-07:00

The 16th of July 2009 was a fairly uneventful day according to the font of all wisdom ( wikipedia), nothing happened. It was however a rather monumentus day for master bike builder Georg's landlord as he nearly brained himself trying to help me and my horrendously overloaded bike down the stairs. He did, however, compose himself enough to wish the crazy Australian farewell as i lurched down the hill towards the Danube.

On the 5th of July western China erupted in violence. Shops were burned by Uygurs venting their frustation at Han Chinese. China responded by cutting the internet and sending in the troops. Meanwhile i arrived in Vienna to find locals sunbaking naked on the banks of the Danube while over weight mean rollerbladed in G Strings. Welcome to Austria!

On October the 2nd the international Olypmpic commitee decided to award the Olypmics to Rio de Janiro. I, meanwhile, was waiting to see if i would be awarded the right to enter Uzbekistan. As i turned out the ferry came first so i never did the chance to test the power of instanteus detnention on the Tahskent Subway.

My 27th birthday on the 12th of November was a somewhat lonely affair. Stuck in freezing cold Almaty waiting for a Kyrgz visa. The 19hour train trip to Bishkek did little to lift my spirits but the copius vodka that followed when i met Tim, my soon to be housemate did!

And on the 16th of July 2010... Our 1stm ranga prime minister and 1st shelia in the job sends us to the ballott box. And i celebrate a year on the road with a famous Penang Indian Curry!

After a year bobbie is starting to rust so its time for a paint job

To any English Teachers....

2010-07-03T21:13:00.000-07:00

A lesson in the un-logic of the Englese language.

I have the oportunity to muse upon many things as i cycle along. The last day i have been wondering the following. What is the rule for changing country to a nationaility i.e I am from Australia therefore i am Australian. The logic for this one seems to be there- if the word ends in an A you just add an N. This works fine America- AmericaN, Bolivia- BoliviaN. Until you get to China that is.....

If i am from a country that ends in D the logic starts to get hazy. Iceland-Iclandic, Poland-Polish New Zealand- New Zealndish?????

If i am from France i am French but if i am from Greece and i am Greek and if i am from Venice then i am Venitian.

The stans start to get intersting too. Someone from Kygrzstan is Kyrgz likewise for Kazakstan and Uzbekistan. Try calling someone from Pakistan a Paki though and you will cause great offence as George Bush found out.

If it ends is L- Senagal- Senagalese but Isreal- Isreali

And as for Denmark and Holland.......

Update
However enough of my musings. I am now about 5 days from the Malaysian ( or should that ish. ese or ie) border. I enjoyed a swim at 6 in the morning yesterday when the water was slightly below the usual pee temperature. I am about to head back down to the coast and have another one having been inland for most of yesterday. My wrist is still a little sore from coming off the other day but is slowly getting better

Iggy nad bobbie get a facelift

2010-06-30T08:05:00.001-07:00

Today has been a rather expensive day- a visit to a bike shop can sometimes do that. Iggy ( Igor) and Bobbie are now look so much hotter for it though. Iggy has a new rear tire and tube. I have had more flat tires in Thailand than the rest of the trip so i though it might be time for a new one. The previous one has just clocked over 7000km. He does still have the original front tire though.

He also got some very flashy new handle bar tape- aqua and black. After crashing into a parked motor bike the other day my wrist has been quite sore. Hopefully the extra padding on the new tape will stop the jarring a bit. The new front brakes may also help me to stop in time. I did notice the serious grove forming in my rim when i changed them though. I went for the " it'll get me home" option on that one though.

Bobbie now has a spunky new tire and tube as well. The tire is monstrusly fat kids mountain bike tire, way more heavy duty than i will ever need but will hopefully save me a few flats. I have had far more punctures in the trailer tire than in the main wheels.

I also have new gloves as the old ones, like most of my clothes have more or less rotted away.

now all i am looking for are some rear derailer pulleys but, as i have a 9 speed gear set, these are a little harder to come by.

Saunas and Massage

2010-06-21T03:30:00.000-07:00

Sauna

Most people that visit Vanvieng are unlikely to remember it. This is not because it is a particulalry forgettable town. It is just that the majority of time that tourists spend here is done so under a haze of opium, Marajhuana or Lao Lao ( homemade Lao paint thinner come drink). Or a combination of all three. Vanvieng is famous for tubing which invloves the occsionally fatal mix of booze, drugs, rubber tire tubes and a fast flowing river. ....

It was with some trepidation then that i had arrived on a hot afternoon and looked for somewhere to stay. I finsih up sharing a room with a new zealnd guy. He arrives in at three in the morning blotted. He turns on the light and starts searching the top of the cubboard in the room. "What are you looking for" i ask. He tells me his mates left half a joint there the previous night. He goes out to smoke then comes back in and procedes to sleep naked, sheetless in the bed next to mine. I move hostels the next day...

My gear is in rather desperate need of a clean ( the bag smells like a dead animal) so i need somwhere to spread everything out. Finally I pick another hostel that looks like it has some space that i can clean my bike ( always important). I dump my gear and meet of few of the other travelers. The three Aussies in the group have a decidedly bogan edge. I cringe at there notions of "box ticking" travel- must always travel in a group, only eat food i would have at home and only socialise with other travelers and most importantly get the picture to show to your friends.

I spend the day washing anything and everthing. The bag is almost yellow again! The day ends on awesome note with a lemmon grass sauna with all the staff from the hostel.

Sauna Time!

It is without much sadness then that i leave Vanvieng early the next morning. The locals are hard at work, cleaning up from the previous night shenaigans. Being a bit over the hostel scene but needing to stay in Vientiene for a few days to sort my visa i have teed up a couch surf.

Massage

The Lao capitial Vientiene has the same laid back, easy going feel as most of Laos. Guy, my host for my stay, is a bit like the city he lives in, laid back, easy going with an off beat charm. He was born in Laos but spent most of his life in LA. He does an awesome job of showing me around the sights and sounds ( and eats) of Vientiene while i wait for my Thai visa. He also introduces me to Glee, a very trashy but very funny show about kids in a choir in the US.

The day after i arrive we head off for a massage. I have been a bit cautiuos to try this as i haven't been sure i won't get something "else" with the massage. Guy, however, assures me that this place is very professional and stays strictly above the belt.

2 hours later i feel like i have been beaten with the phonebook and then run over by a car. The dude took my poor hips joints to places even i havent taken them yet! And he seemed to get some kind of grim satisfaction from each wince that i gave. I spend the next hour or so wondering if the pain was worth. When i can actaully bend squat using my thigh muscles, however, i decide that maybe it was.

"Who is emrys, where is he? "

And so after a wodnerful 4 days in Vientiene i have now hit the road again. I have blasted through some rather falt and boring country in central Thailand and am about to hit the coast. The swim that i will have ( in the ocean) means i will have crossed the eurasian land mass and am starting to get a little bit closer to home....

What a month or two of cycling in the heat will do to your hands...

The politics of Aid

2010-06-17T07:41:00.000-07:00

Laos is by most standards a poor country. Ridding through many of the smaller villages as i have been doing for the last few days this has been more than apparent. Even in some of the more touristy towns the realities daily life for many Lao are never more than a block away.
It is also one of the most incredibly friendly countries i have been to thus far on my trip. Rather than an expensive SLR camera jammed in your face on a sometimes hourly basis ( as occurred all too often in China) i instead have a stream of children running after laughing and screaming and trying to push me up the hill. Their parents and grandparents while not as active never the less show there encouragement with a genuine smile and a wave. Money in seems bears only a token relationship to happiness....

And so here is my dilemma i have been having the last few days. Almost all of the villages have aid projects of one kind or another. AusAid and World vision Australia work hard on water and sanitation projects but other governments, Italy, Germany, Japan to name a few also run a range of projects that in the villages from Eco- tourism to food relief and sustainability initiatives.

AusAid Funded water fountain in village

Several of the other countries i have been through have similar levels of poverty ( albeit more localised) None (that was as clearly sign posted at least) however have the degree of foreign aid that poors into Laos.

Why is that?

Having only been here for two weeks i am not entirely sure but i suspect some of it has to do with the aforementioned hospitality of the Laos people. In short Laos is an easy country to apply aid money too. And smiling, happy children make great photo shots. This is not to deny the fact that there is a clear need in many areas. It does however make me wonder about countries who have a similar or greater need but socially ( and politically) get put in the too hard basket. The generally relaxed nature of Laos society means that foreigners coming to the country to implement aid projects, with some basic cultural understanding, can get by pretty well. In other countries the range of social conventions ( behavior, social structure etc) that must be understood can make this much more difficult.

The other reason may also have to do with Laos' strategic position. While "western" countries are pumping money into aid, China is busy building Laos' roads but that is really a story for another day...

A brief update

I am now in Vieng Vang. I feel slightly old among the pubesect 18-20 year mobs of Brits and Aussies getting smashed while floating on tubes down the river. There is even an Australian bar here ???? Come to another country to talk to people from home and drink beer that is more expensive than you would find at home? Funnily enough i went for beer Lao and noodles for dinner instead. I will have a day here tomorrow ( the town may be horrid but the surrounds are quite nice) and then head to Vientiane ( the capital). I will spend a day or so getting my Thai visa and then head across Thailand. Looking forward to my first swim on the beach in almost a year!

Swim Time!

Welcome to Loas

2010-06-06T22:02:00.001-07:00

I roll Igor up the ramp into the presusired, vacum sealed, HUGE, chinese border depature building. There is no one there, except a chain smoking German waiting for his car. The young man behind the counter looks suitably unimpressed at A. flithy bike and B flithy me. I try to keep things light by smiling politly. He snarls and scans my soggy passport through the machine.

The previous night i had made sure to back up some of the photos i had taken incase the serached my bag and camera. I had hardly had the chance to take any photos in the nuclear missle base before i was deported from so there i wasnt really too worried but who knows.

I has expected a similar type bag search to when i had arrived in the country 2 1/2 months earlier. The security gaurd had given up half way through as my gear smelt so bad. I hadn't washed in this time either.....

Some tooing and froing with his boss. " Can't we just let this dude go, he smells" i can hear the younger one saying. ( I had in fact showered that morning but my clothes, unfortunatly, didn't get the same treatment.

Bang, stamp. Goodybye. " Sweet" i say and roll out the other side.

I cruise down the hill to the Shed that is the Loas border crossing. I mill around for a bit ( like everyone else including the gaurds) waiting for the dude to come back from lunch. 10 mins, a piece of paper in my passport and $32 bucks later i am in Loas. I like this place aready. "muana" means fun in Lao and it has to be in everything if its to get done, bring it o n!

Power cable installation- Xinajiang Style

Sometimes you win, sometimes you loose.

2010-06-06T21:38:00.000-07:00

I am sitting in a hostel in Shangrilla trying to respoke my wheel. My new hub has arrived ( eventually) on the bus from Kunming and the rest of my day is going to be spent fitting it. My concentration is broken by a middle aged man with long hiar. In a strong spanish accent he tells me he is also a cyclist and has been traveling for 7 years.

He proceedes to give me pieces of advice that i don't really want or need. He has been traveling for 7 years and apprently knows everything there is to know about bikes and travel, yada yda yada.

I've heard it all before and i start to zone out. He trys to flog me a new rear tire for $50 but i decide to ride the ones i have into the ground ( litterally and methphrocially). I try and give him what little advice i have about the way he is going but he only wants to lecture me ( and try to flog me his tire, again)

It never a good sign when you remove the casing over the hub and chunks of metal come out in your hand.....

(2 day later)

And so i stand at an intersection, about 250km south of Shangrilla. Of the advice the guy gave me the one bit i did take on was that one of the two roads i could take has some really bad road works. "dammit Emrys" i think to myself " the guy might have been a tool but you could have listen a bit more carefully". I only have a few days left to run on my visa and a kind of need to make the right descision. I mentally flip a coin.........My chosen method of transport for my next round the world trip...

(3 days later)
Maybe the coin should have listened more carefully too. The gamble hasn't paid off. I have lost a full days ride, am covered from head to tow in dust, mud and sweat, and my hands hurt from hammering over rocks the size of small dogs. My first serious tropical downpor greets me as a pshcyo dog latches onto my trailer wheel as i pass. Welcome to China!

A very short update

2010-05-27T16:06:00.000-07:00

I have spent the last 2 days in Shangrilla in northern Yunnan province. The longer stay was somewhat unitntional but neccessary as the rear hub on the bike ( the one that powers the wheels) had completly shattered from the inside.

I was however able to get one sent up on the overnight bus from Kunming. I spent the best part of yesterday re-spoking the wheel- not the worlds easiest or most exciting job. It is now fitted however and i will be on the road to Litang this morning.

I only have 11 days eft to run on my Chinese visa so it is going to be a crazy run to get to the border in time. It will be a $50 fine for each day i am over which i dont really want! Hoprefully i can be a little less rushed once i get to Laos. The wet season has started hear and i think it will only get better ( or worse) as i head south. At least it will be warm......

9 days to get to Chengdu, easy!

2010-05-08T22:21:00.000-07:00

I am in xixing, the capital of Qinghai province in western China. I have been incredibly fortunate to find a wonderful family to stay with. They are from Paraquay ( but german is thier 1st language) and they also speak Chinese. It is time to work out my route for the next couple of weeks. The easy option is to folloow the highway to Lanzhou, a ( by all accounts) rather grotty city to the east and then head south. The not so easy option ( but less kms) is over the edge of the tibetan plateu to Sichuan....

Manfred, my host, makes my descsion easier with his comments on Lanzhou and the possibilty of yak butter tea going over the mountains. On paper the roads are sealed.........

It is day two. It is late in the afternoon. I can see that the road is heading to a very steep pass. I have the option of staying at the bottom, This however means i start the morning with a brutal climb, Never a good idea. Once i start hopwever i really need to get over the other side to find somewhere sheltered to camp. I fill my bottle with titianium dioxide laced Tang and decide to go for it.

Looking down over the valley

At 8:15 ans in the dark i finally make it too the top. The buddist prayer falgs are falpping wildly in the fury of the wind the greets me as i get there. I swing around the bend and wince. ! 2 meter trench has been cut right through the midddle of the road . This may explain the lack of traffic further down! I unpack Igor and finally manage to get him around the ditch only to find the road now a a dirty track. I guess it was better on the way down. I ride a few kilomters downhill in the dark. Not having to worry about traffic in the morning i pitch my tent ion the closest patach of flat grass i can find next to the road, boil some vegies and noodles and collapse into bed.

The riad downhill. Its a fine life being a yak.

Time passes and i now have three days to reach Chengdu beofre my visa expires. I have crossed the edge of the pleteu and had tsmpa ( barley meal porridge) with yak butter and cheese. Looking at the map it is a couple of cruisy days, and all downhill. I come to the first big town......the bitchmen disapears to be replaced by......mud.

The power of Tsampa and Yak butter....

3 days and 300km of dirt road later i roll in Chengdu.

Delinqa

2010-04-25T01:45:00.000-07:00

(another post added by Mum!)

I am cycling into Delinqa. It looks like a pretty interesting place. It has a large Mongolian and Tibetan population. On the road in I have seen several groups of people prostrating themselves (a Buddhist form of dedication) climbing the road up to the mountains. The town is surrounded by wheat fields too (I think) the first I have seen in China.
I ask at the first hotel if they accept foreigners. Technically we are only allowed to stay at 3 star and above which kind of blows my budget a bit. I get a very definite NO. I walk out, try a few more, to no avail. The chances of my first shower in two weeks are diminishing each time I get rejected. What kind of town is this???

I notice a police car is following me. Here we go I say to myself, and sure enough I get pulled over. This differs from the usual passport shenanigans however as I am hauled off to the station. I am informed in no uncertain terms that I must leave, by bus, now!
"I can't just ride out of town and have you forget about the crazy Australian on a bicycle???"
" We could lock you up and fine you, or you could get on the bus"
"OK, bus it is then............."

Now I am in Xining, having missed much of the province I wanted to see but hoping to try some Yak cheese tomorrow! The following perhaps may explain the paranoia of the police......

from Wikipedia
Delingha (Tibetan:??????????) is the capital of Haixi Mongol and Tibetan Autonomous Prefecture in Qinghai, China approximately 200km southeast of Da Qaidam. It is closed off to foreigners due to nuclear testing. It is the missile headquarter for Qinghai , and houses DF-4s with four associated launch sites. Delingha is one of five locations where anywhere between 10 and 20 DF-4's were deployed in 1998. The facility is the headquarters for one of launch brigades.

From here I will either head to Lanshau in Gansu or back of the mountains to Sehcuan and onto Chengdu. I hope, however, to find a map here in English as translating from the Russian one I have has not been going so well........

Welcome to Qinghai

2010-04-25T01:28:00.001-07:00

(typed by Mum - Emrys can't access his blog in China - it is blocked)

It is late in the afternoon and I have just crossed the border in Qinqhai province in the far west of China. I have had a pretty good run with a tail wind for a good part of the afternoon. I am thinking about pushing on a bit to take advantage when the wind swings around. I am now riding into a dusty headwind with spots of rain............blow this.
I start to look for a campsite. It has been pretty desolate with very little cover for much of the afternoon. I am passing a lake off in the distance and I spy some pretty tall looking reeds on the lake shore. I hurl Igor down the slop off the edge of the road and head off down the embankment.
It is about 700m by the time I get there and the reeds are a good 3 meters tall and thick. I clean the grit from the gear using a pepsi bottle with petrol, make my bed an snuggle down.

Bang!

It seems the wicked witch of the west that I was protected from hast just had a house land on her. Glinda is back with a vengeance!!

I sit in my tent and listen in the dark and the wind accelerates. Sleep becomes impossible so for the next four hours I try to stop the tent from disintegrating around me. To her credit she holds up remarkably well, unlike my nerves. At about 1 I finally drift off, waking periodically as the gusts thump against the fly. Dust storm number two, welcome to Qinhai!

The Road To Osh is paved with good intentions....

2010-03-15T07:49:00.000-07:00

Farewell to Bishkek

I am running late as per usual and by the time i arrive in front of the post office there is a posse of people waiting. Tim, Margreete and Laura are putting on a brave face after the previous nights drinking and dancing session went to 6 a.m. I had wisely or not declined the invitation!

The Bishkek posse: L/R Tim, Laura, Margreet, Berhardte, Ragula and Veronica

Also there are fellow cyclists Veronica and Mathius who are heading the other way and have given me a heads up on the road. Lastly there are my traveling companions, Berhardtte and Ragula. Swiss, they have put there respective maths and computer carreres on hold for a year and headed out around the world on a mean looking tandem they have called Sprinter.

An hour later we are lost on the way to the airport......things can only go up from here.

Later that evening we are invited to stay with a nice family. All is going well until the guy wants to borrow my bikу to go and buy vodka and cigaretes. While i am more than happy to let people ride my bike i am not so keen on the idea of someone ridding it in thee dark after several shots of vodka. He instead sits on the frame while i ride, safer i'm not sure but at least i will know where my bike goes this way!

Weightlifting, Kyhrgz style.

The Climb begins.

We are back on the road again after the midnight vodka run. The climb start somewhat gentlly in rather idelic conditions. Alas, "fool" say the gods of hills and weather.....

Accent number 1

Does altitude affect atibiotics?

When we left Bishkek i had still been getting over a rather nasty chest infection that i couldn't shake. It may have been from the half course of antibiotics i tried ( it was all i had, not coz i got better and stopped!). I now have some more hardcore stuff. As we climb my chest is still hurting though, i try vzaugly to recall at what height altitude sickness kicks in. I really don't fancy going back down the wrong side of the hill so we push on. Thankfully it doesnt get any worse and we soon hit the dreaded tunnel at the top of the hill.

We stop and cook dinner in the ambulance driver's house. His name is Gengis, a Kyrgz Christian from Karabalata. He has a facinaticing story to tell i think if i could only speak better Russian. We bid him farewell and I done one of Berhardtes surigcal masks as we hit the unveintilated tunnel. I dont tell Ragula about the deaths the previous year from when a car broke down мешдд after we are through...

100 meters from the end my bike begins to shake. This can either mean a broken фчуд or broken drawbar on the trailer. Either way its not the best place to stop. I managaged to haul Igor out of the tunnel eventaully to find it was simple the quick realse had worked loose.

The Decent:

Rugging up for the decent.

As we emerge from the the tunnel we look out over the Sussmeyer valley. It is a crystal clear day and from 3200m we look out over a white alpine valley. Due to the meters of snow we decide that the ski resort just below the pass is a good option.

The next day this doesn't seem like such a good idea. An blacnket of snow covers the bike and we spend 45m pushing the bikes uphill to the main road. The decent that, yesterday, seem so easy now becomes an arse brusing 3 hr slog to cover the 7 km to the bottom. Later Berhardte attempts to use tea to unfreeze his derailer. The water however, sets inside the mechanism soon after and he is reduced to 3 gears! I manage to bald Igor's back tire as the snow freezes inside the mudgaurd.

Trying not to fall on my arse again!!!

I am now however in the spring city of Osh. A days rest and will once again head to moutains. This time to Sary tash and then to the Chinese border. All before the 25th of March.

The Waiting Game

2010-02-16T22:34:00.000-08:00

The sun is shining and it finally feels like springs may be on the way here in Bishkek. The temperature has cracked above the zero mark and the two weeks of accumalated ice and snow are melting fast.

My case of near pnuomonia is likewise clearling with the weather ( and a good dose of antobiotics). The waiting game is now on.....

Waiting for another kyrgz extension. Done! Have another month to go.

Waiting on Chinese visa. This goes on till next week after the end of Chinese new year and the emabassy reopens

Waiting on the weather to clear. It seems this may be on the way. Though we have had at least one false spring in Janurary where i was walking aorund in a Tshirt in anticipation only to get blasted by a week of snow and ice.

Waiting on a few bike parts from Holland.

Waiting to get back on the road. It has been nearly three months and the feet are starting to get rather itchy!

Where do ants sleep and other useless facts....

2010-02-16T22:27:00.000-08:00

It’s the big night. I have decided to hang my limp reputation on the line and try to get the Alpine Fund kitty looking a little less battered. My choice for such an event, well what else does a guy with a mind for useless information (and not much) else do……. A quiz night of course!

Frieder, the master of Bishkek’s social networks and pseudo boss of the Alpine fund has been busy emailing for the last week. Richard the owner of the Metro Bar who is hosting us has likewise been harassing his clientele. Now it’s just a waiting game to see if anyone turns up.

Tim, my slightly crazy (former) housemate and I do a final check of each other questions. He is convinced that my music questions are impossible and I am likewise skeptical of anyone’s ability to compute his maths and engineering head-wreckers. Master Judge, Magreet ( who is in fact a judge in real life), puts on her sternest face and prepares to do battle with anyone that challenges her authority. The judge’s decision will defiantly be final!

Richard and Frieder have clearly done a good job of harassing anyone and everyone as the turn out is great!

Round 1 begins……… then it stops………then it begins again…then it stops…….Finally we coax the rather temperamental microphone into life and its game on.

There if good sport between all the teams with Team Canada drawing to an early lead.

There is a challenge to one of my questions. The successor to Julius Cesar as head of the Roman Empire? I concede and accept any of Octavian’s plethora of pseudonyms. Everyone is fallible even my Wikipedia source material!

After 9 rounds the scores are incredibly close. It the end it is a lack of knowledge of anatomy- name the body parts- that loose Team Canada the crown.

I kick back for a rather expensive beer afterwards- the metro bar is the main expat hangout in Bishkek and it therefore usually out of my price range. I savour the one beer i can afford before heading home for a good sleep!

Itchy feet

2010-01-15T00:08:00.000-08:00

Emrys has now been in Bishkek for two months. He has been enjoying the trips to the mountains as welll as the teaching and generally making a nusisence of himself.

He was however sittting at the kitchen table in his shed of a house the other day and noticed Igor sitting rather forelornly in the corner- his tires flat and a growing layer of dust from the festy coal fire growing over his once shiny gear changes. His companion, Bob, is likewise growing rust of welds as she waits paitently to recconect with the road.

His body is now well and truly rested and he has even put on a kilo or two. It is very definatley getting time for him to be moving again! Alas the snow will once more decend on bishkek this fine day and he shall resume the waiting game.

He has been stuying his new maps of China in close detail ( well as close you can at 1 to 6 million scale) and doing his darndest to find someone else stupid enough to cycle with him for some of it.

The Itchy feet might just been the tiniea as a result of infrequent showering......

Surviving Almaty

2010-01-09T22:39:00.000-08:00

I have just been to the national musem of Kazak instrument in Almaty. I am here to chase visas so figured i would make the most of it an see some sights while i was here. I emerge from the warm building and step back into the snow. Across the way is the war second world war memorial. It is a stricking momument with all off the nations of the former USSR represented. Set someway in front of this is an eternal flame. I take a rather arty picture of the monument through the flame and then decide to take a walk through the park behind....

I here a voice call out and see a policeman beckoning me over. This will be the second passport check in two days as he asks for my papers. My visa is in order so i dont really anticipate any trouble. He keeps my visa and motions for me to walk with him. He takes me back to where i had just taken the photo. Apparently there is a porblem because i put my foot on the base of the monument to take the photo. I appoligise profusly for my mistake but he wont buy it. He wants to take me to the police station. Now i start to drag my heals.

He takes me and points to a CCTV camera implying that he has evidence. The camera points the wrong way i and i severley doubt it still has the ability to rotate to have filmed me accidently placing one foot on the monument. He wants me to walk with him but i want to keep this in the open. He asks me if i am carry narcotics or a rifle. I smile and say no. He wants me to open my bag. Now i sense that he really has nothing and that he is just fishing. I hold my ground, saying i cant give him the money now starts demanding as i dont have any.

I am starting to shiver now from standing around in the cold. The same questions, the same answers. He has nothing on me and he knows that i know this. Its rather like a poker game- whose is going to call bluff.

Eventaully he tires of my bad Russian and decides i am not worth his effort. I somewhat cheekily offer to shake his hand as he lets me go. Crooked cop nil Emrys one!

The New years visit to the Dacha

2010-01-05T06:36:00.000-08:00

It is Sunday morning in Bishkek and the week of New years Shenaigans has begun to draw thankfully to a close. I am meeting with Salavat, one of the interns from the Alpine fund and we are off to go food shopping. We have 11 children and 2 adults to feed so i am glad when i spot the director in her car. I wasnt't looking forward to cramming it all on a bus!

The food looks enough to feed a small army- 24 loafs of Lipioshka ( Kygrz bread) 4 blocks of cheese, 2 dozen eggs, 1 kg of potatoes, salted capsicum, dill and assorted other bits and pieces- but i am sure it will be devaoured in short order. When we are done i leave Salavat to go and pick up the children while i jump on a packed marshrutka and head up to repair a few things at the Dacha before the kids arrive.

The previous weekend Tim ( my housemate) and I had made one of the windows into a fire escape. When i arrive i note the butchering job we did on the window frame and try to make a mental note to buy some putty to cover it up. I nail some of the loose planks on the front deck and soon after hear voices. 7 girls and 3 boys plus Abdibek (my english student) decend on the Dacha.

The next two days are a riot of excitable children. On the first afternoon i watch as they make tobbogans out of anything they can find ( plastic bags mostly) and hurtle down the slope a short walk from the Dacha. The following day they return to the dacha battered and bruised- nothing malacious- just the result of a day spent ice skating.

Monday night is a games night. I rack my brains for ideas that will work in the confined space of the Dacha. The kids have a ball trying to circumnaviagte the table, trying to move a box of matches while supporting themselves with one hand and playing coin soccer. Salavat also has a host of games which i hope i can remember for the next time i am there.

On their second night, exausted from the absence of sleep the night before, the kids sleep soundly. I am the first up and have said i will cook pancakes. They are all done and it is 930 and the kids are still sound asleep! I send the one awake boy down to the spring to fill up the buckets with water. They eventaully emerge and scoff the rather heavy (you cant't but Self raising flour in Kygstan) pancakes in short order.

The weather has turned a bit average and so we do some more games inside. Soap hockey nearly ends in a brawl so we end that rather qucikly. Refelcting i dont think it ever did not end in a fight whenever i played it either! Note for next time. A blindfold obsticle course in the garden and another run of tobogoning and its time for me to leave. I am off to the Kazak emabssy to pick up my visa. The joys of visa's in ex-soviet states in a story for another day...

"Thank you (for) making us smile" says the poster that the kids have hung on the wall in the Dacha. "Thank you for making me smile" i say to myself as i look at some of the crazy pictures the kids have taken with my camera.

www.alpinefund.org

The Alpine Fund

2009-12-02T01:37:00.000-08:00

I have hung up the cyling boots for a couple of months and have settled into Bishkek, the capital of the smallest 'stan, Kyrgzstan. At present i am teaching english 4 times a week. Twice to the children who work at the markets in Bishkek and twice a week to boys who have left one of orphanges and are being helped out by the Alpine fund to settle into thier new lives.

The organisation i am working for is called the Alpine Fund. It was set up by an American mountainer several years ago. The idea was to use the amazing mountains that make up 90% of Kyrgzstan's land area to teach vulnerable children some life skills. The children come from several orpahanges around the city. The organistaion also work with two centres for the protection of children. These are located at the two main markets and support children who's familys work at the markets.

As mentioned above i am helping out by teaching them English. This costs very little, other than my time. Ideally however we would like to return to the original aim of the organisation which was to challange and grow the children using the mountains and valleys around Bischkek. This however does cost some money. Fuel for the bus, food for the kids etc. At present the Alpine fund is flying by the proverbiable seat of its pants with only irregular trips to the mountains for a small number of the children.

If you are interested in seeing the changes the alpine fund has made to some of the kids lives you can go to the website and read some of there stories. You can also follow the link if you wish to support the work that i and the team of other volunteers are doing here. http://www.alpinefund.org/.

Cheers

emrys

A few things i have learnt about bikes and bicycling..

2009-11-17T03:35:00.000-08:00

So far i have learnt how to....
When cycling, blow the snot from your nose under your armpit, not over your shoulder.
Pee on the bike. Have yet to master this whilst actaully moving however.
Fix a broken chain. It will however break when you least want it too.
Mend a bent rear dropout. With a shifting spanner of course.
Chain my bike to a train window frame.

I still to learn how to pre-empt the horn blast from an approacing truck. You know its coming but it still gets you every time
Gaffa will fix everything. Even holes in a tent

The Allen key that fixes most things on your bike will be the one that you loose first.

The Jornal

2009-11-09T22:40:00.000-08:00

I have been very studious in keeping a journal while i have traveling. It probabaly doesnt make for the most exciting reading. I do however have a line for the most memorable moment for each day. Some of these are fairly mundane but a few make for some mildly interesting reading when i refelct upon them....

Listening to Betovens grosse fuge whilst being chased by three montserous dogs

Trying to sneak in a beer during Ramadan in Turkey

Going to a Russian versus Azerbajian football and seeing the crowd throw lighted fireworks at each other

Having my hair washed by some random dude who put me up for the night

Being filmed by a Kazak TV crew drinking camles milk

Getting cracked onto by two drunk 40ish year old women

Having a group of disabled orpans dance when i played violin for them ( some of them screamed too though...)

Crawling thourgh a Kazak roof to hang wires for w new cafe.

etc........

I am now headed to Almaty to pick up my Kyrz visas. From there it on to Bishkek where i will swap the cleats for climbing shoes and teach some orphans to rockclimb over the winter.

Food for thought.....

2009-11-04T21:46:00.000-08:00

I have been going with the rule that " if the locals eat it......it must be ok...." Only a couple of mild doeses of the trots so its seems to be working.

The growing list of weird and waccky stuff i have eaten so far includes:

Boiled Pigs feet- a little stange to get in a muslim country but no matter. A little greasy but palatable enough.

Camels milk/Yougurt- not sure which it was as it had chunks in it. Rather salty but im sure i could get used to it.

Norwigan Brown cheese- courtesy of the crazy Finns in Baku. A bit like a cross between burnt Onions and Coon ( aussie cheese).

Chocolate butter- Like normal butter but with chocolate in it.

Geogian wine-Sifted through a pair of grandmas dirty nickers. Rough as guts but seemed to do the trick all the same. If you skull it like you are supposed to you cant taste the leaf residue.

Piriniki- stable food on the road in Kazasktan. Chunky buscuits with icing on the outside.

I sure the list will contuine to grow with the trip......

The storm rages on....

2009-10-29T22:20:00.000-07:00

The storm turns into a full on blizard as wead head back to Kulasari. I was actaully covering the distance faster the day before on the bike as we sit on about 17km an hr max.

We pass the oil field which is now a nicer shade of white indeady of black oilly goodness. The road is ashphelt but puntuated by lada sized potholes and long streches where the ashphelt has gone altogether. As the snowget thick the poor lada begins to struggle in some of the more muddy sections. I am sitting in the with the front cog of my bike threatening to severe my jugular if we stop in anykind of hurry. I havent got my seat belt on as the bag fromt the trailer is preventing me from moving anywhere at all.

We come to a rather soft section and the Lada is not liking it much at all.The front wheels are stuck pretty hard in the mud. Then the engine stalls and the guy in the passenger seat gets out to try and restart the car. I look at the fuel gauge which is flashing empty. I am beggining to wonder if maybe the tent was a better option than freezing to death in a car in the middle of nowhere. The engine restarts and its time to push. First one person, then two and then three of us are trying to get the car moving. The snow is being driven into my face by the wind and i am now covered in mud thanks to the spinning wheels. Eventaully she moves once more and we are off, only to have to repeat the process three or so more times. We all breath a collective sign of relif when we are back on the main road.

I am taken to the drivers house and fed. Having not had breakfast i am very greatful. I am invited to take a nap which i do. The train i am told leaves at 230 am.Later the driver returns and we move to his house to wait for the train. As happens when its cold and snowing in Kazakstan, a bottle of Vodka apears. Not fancing a drunken train trip i politly decline thier offer.

By 1 oclock the driver who was going to take me to the train staion has passed out. The rest of the crowd that had gathered are not looking in much better shape. Thankfully they call me a taxi and we pile in to head to the station.

The station is in total darkness. I feel like its back in the war and there may be an incoming airraid. On some signal, im not sure what everyone moves to the platform which is likewise in total darkness except for the light of the approching train. The train over shoots the platform and so everyoe then has to run to catch up. There is a caotic scramble as a seething mass of people tries to capture some of the few remaining bunks on the train. I lock the bike and throw my bag on a bed...

Putting my tent thought its paces

2009-10-27T08:49:00.000-07:00

Its 6 o clock or so and i have just cooked dinner and am enjoying the peacefullness of the Kazak steppe. I look up and notice that the sky is brewing some clouds. "could get some rain," I say to outloud. Funnilly enough there is no response. I watch the sunset and then retire to my tent to try to work on my Russian a bit. I have been on week 4 of the teach yourself russian course for a month now!

At midnight or so i notice it is raining rather heavy. The ground is now soaked and has loosened my pegs. I fumble for the rain coat and go out to take a slash and sort it out. A little damp i head back to bed. I notice my tent is leaking from the cealing, no holes but i think the seams need some work. I curse my lack of forsight and move my sleeping bag away from the drips.

I wake at 4 and its like the somone has made the winds gods, very, very angry. The rain is still teeming and it feels very close to the point where the tent will self destruct. I pack my bags in the tent, not really sure why but i guess i will have to make a break for it somewhere. Sleep is impossible to i sit up and wait for the sun to rise. Perhaps the coming dawn will calm things down.

At 630 i go outside to sruvey the scene, its windy but the rain has eased. Then its start hailing. "I am going to die if i go out in this" i say to myself but i cant even hear it as the wind carries it off. I lament my choice of campsite- about as exposed as one could be on the Kazak steppe. I return to the tent and my now wet sleeping bag and reslove to sit it out......

10 oclock and i hear a car too. Its snowing now and i scmable for my overtrousers and try to unzip the tent. The car is just pulling away but they turn around. I jump in the back seat. I deciede discretion is the better part of valour so amid hand signals they tell me they are going back to where i had come from the day before and we agree top put the bike in the car. Its not cheating if i have already ridden over the same ground i tell myself........
And that was just the start of a rather amazing day.......

A Concert in Baku

2009-10-13T07:52:00.000-07:00

I am at the Music acadamy in Baku, thanks to my very kind hosts i am about to get some 'culutre' The only culture i have had in the last few months or so has been between my toes so i am bit excited. I am about to learn a thing or two about concert going in Azerbaijan......

The 730 start time comes and goes. The ambassdor, who has helped to fund the concert, paces up and down somewhat impaitently at the front. The camera crew from the local TV station arrive about 15 mins later and the ambassador conducts a 'doorstop interview' with the help of a translator.

Its 750 and there is still not sign of the performers. I wonder if they have gotten stuck in Baku's crazy jumble of one way streets.....

The toilets are at the back of the room but i notice that if anyone gets up they walk via the front of the room. Seeing and being seen are everything in Baku, so it seems.

Finally a young violinist appears on stage. He is a young lad of 18 or so, a first year student at the acadamy, i read on the programme. He plays a difficult work by a local composer in comanding style. It was an impressive performance, i sense the he knows this also.

Next up is another student, a girl this time. Her performance is also very impressive. It is marred however by the antics of the camera crews. Moving nosiy tripods, walking up on stage and worst of all jamming the camera ( spotlight and all) a meter or so from the poor girls nostrils. They later zoom in on me, clearly the importance of having a forighn looking vistor cannot be underestimated (being tall, with blonde hair and blue eyes has never been such a blessing and a curse). I refrain from making rude jestures as the camera hovers near my face. Causing a national outcry for giving the one finger salute wasn't really on my trip itinary.

The concert continues with another pinano student. She plays Blue Rondo Alla Turka by Mozart and i think of pictures of lighting showroom flashing by(The De-lights add in Adelaide in the Mid-nineties for the un-informed). The tune was also used to sell lighting here in Azerbaijan i saw the otherday. The audience continues to talk and the camera crew get riddiculusly close to the poor girl. I admire her paitence as she doesn't miss a beat thorugh the entire ordeal. She didn't however stay to collect her bunch of flowers at the end and i sense that this may have had something to do with it.

The hightlight of the evening and reason for the concert is a visit from a Norwegian fiddle player. He has been working with some local musicians and tonight has been joined by a renonwed Mugab player ( Similar to a violin but played like a 'cello). Clearly not used to working with a translator the fiddle player rambles for a while as the translator does a supurb job of keeping up. He attempts to draw some very tenuis link between Azeri music and Norwegian music. 'There are only 12 notes, of course some of it is going to sound the same' i think to myself.

They play a set of tunes that includes both Azeri and Norwigian folk tunes, the fiddler playing the norwgian tunes and then pausing while the Mugrgab player takes over. Thankfully the camera crews must have had deadlines as they vanish midway though the performace. I cringe though as yet another mobile phone rings with the owner having a lenghty conversation in front of me.

The concert ends and the ambassador thanks all for their attendence. I leave feeling happy for the experince but perhaps a little wiser as to what i may expect the next time i attend a concert in Baku....

Music on the Road

2009-10-13T07:05:00.000-07:00

The sun is up as i emerge from my tent. Although i am not claustrophic I am finding that i don't like to be in the tent with the door sealed up. Perhaps its my safety instinct kicking in and wanting to see whats coming, that or needing to get away from my own stench...

I am feeling rather unmotivated and it is a rather tawdry 9 oclock by the time i finally get the leg over and clip my feet into the cleats. My motivation doesnt really increase that much being on the bike and i deceide its time for some music therapy. I rummage in my bag for my trusty, non Ipoo'd, mp3 player. If i was any good at physics i would try to work out how it is that, no matter how carefully i wrap the headphones cable, it will ALWAYS be notted when i got to use it next. I try the balance myself on the bike as i untangle the cable.
Its finally in my ears and its time to pick a song.

First up is comes Tom Waits. While i am big fan of the guy, 'Rubys Arms' isn't prehaps the greatest song to get one motivated. 'Sorry Tom' i say as i hit the next button. The random function on my MP3 player isnt so random. I hit the next button as i get the Crash Test Dummies 'mmmmm' AGAIN. Not so kean on hearing about the boy who got into an accident and couldnt come to school! Redgum is next with 'The beumont Rag' i listen to John Schumans rant with a smile and remember that my friends parakeet could whistle the opening bars. I reminds me a bit too much of home so i skip again.

In my rush to get everything packed to leave for the trip i put my teach yourself Russian course in with all the other music. I scramble for the forward button as i hear the annoying guitar intro, 'lesson 4, lets speak Russian fast and fluently' 'Zavtra ( tommrrow)' I say as i fiddle with the player while trying not to swerve into the on coming traffic.

I finally settle on some 'Batterz'. I sing along to the words, '....son im afraid its much worse than that, your mother has turned into a spider' 'Your mother has turned into a spider' i harmonise i reply and realise that the nearby fruit seller is looking at me very strangly. I laugh as i try to get the speedo sitting above 20kms an hour.

The Great Visa Chase

2009-10-08T05:00:00.000-07:00

It is Monday morning in Baku and its times for me to start chasing the visas that will let me continue the trip. I have spent a wonderful weekend being spoilt by a family here but now it is time to get on with it...

The Uzbek emabssy is first on the list. I try without success to hail the no 3 bus which the trusty lonley planet says will get me there. The driver either doesn't see me or chooses not to stop. I give up and decide to walk. Its a bit of a hike up to the top of the hills that overlook the main part of town. I learn quickly that its only the wealthier countries that can afford to rent offices for embassies in the centre of town. The poorer countries are out in the 'burbs. Australia doesnt even have an embassy so i'm not sure what that says.

I reach the top of the hill and the area where the embassy should be. The address says lane number 9 but none of the lanes are labeled. I wander the rather busy street hoping there may be a sign to help me out. I am regreting not taking a more decent map as the poxy map of greater Baku in the LP just doesn't cut it. After an hour or two my tired legs override my frugal instincts and i get in a taxi. He takes me there, at the very end of the lane i had walked past 4 times! He asks 4 mannet, well more that he should for the 400 hundred meter journy, and i curse under my breath for not setting the fare before i got in.
I am given a chicken drumstick by the very cheery ( and rather bored) security gaurd while i wait to here what i didnt want to here. I do infact need a letter or introduction. I smile benarly as he hands me a shiny brouche for an Uzbek travel agent who can 'assist me'. I wonder weather slipping a green back into my passport may have facilitated the process and wander off.

(Letters of Introduction are a soviet era hangover that is designed to ensure you spend money on goverment hotels. They are usually more expensive and take far longer to obtain than the visa themselves.)

Next its off to the Kazak embassy. Another rather lenghty but alas futile walk that leads me to a bank where the embassy used to be. 'Its moved' says the security gaurd ' somewhere near the europe hotel' i look at the clock that says 4 and concede defeat.

The Next day i am off bright and early. I have found the area where the embassy should be on the internet and even have the benfit of a street directory.
Alas there is still no sign of it.

I meet an electrical engineer who offers to take me there. Some how however we end up in a cafe drinking chai. I drink my tea and wait paitently, hoping the situation maybe resloved in my favour. Eventaully i am put in a taxi, told what the fair should be and have the directions given to the driver. He drops me off at the far end of the street, clearly not happy enough with the fair to drop me any closer. I get there to find he has dropped me at the Turkemenistan embassy. Here a stan there a stan everwhere a stan....... Someone says the Kazak one is near the Europe hotel ( the other side of town) i mutter and get in a taxi 'Europe hotel' i say

The embassy was closed for the day when i got there........

It's day three of the great embassy chase. I have a spring in my step. I know where i have to go and...... its not that far. I am even there 10 mins early. Eventaully a rather serious women beckons me in. I try to get her to crack a smile, not a bright idea emrys, she scowls at me. Stalin would have been proud i think to myself. The two week wait for the Uzbek LOI is beyond my level of paitence so i have decided to blow it away altogether. I fill in the kazak form, '2 month' visa i tick. Stalin's cousin behind the counter takes my passport and my US $40. I leave somewhat satisfied though a little nrevous that they still have my passort........

The good the bad and the Ugly

2009-10-03T10:37:00.000-07:00

Its my first day in Azerbajian. 1st things 1st i need a bit of money so i can by some food. I rock into Balakan. Lonely planet describes it as a little sleepy but it seems busy enough to me. I try the first ATM. "Cannot dispense funds". Time to try another. 20mins of ridding around and i am no closer to finding another bank. A voice in a Moskvitch calls out "Bank" i say making a circling motion "around here"? His car does a U turn and i follow.

We find a bank. Somehow though i end up with 40 mannet in one mannet notes. So now i have a wad of cash like a mafia boss to try and conceal. He also finds me a hotel but it is well beyond my budget. He speaks a little English and with a little to ing and froing he invites me back to his place. I am very grateful as the rain is starting to hose down. We share a meal and i try to learn about Azeri culture as best i can before i tumble into a wonderful bed. The ( very) good

The sunny weather of the previous day has gone and that night it hammers down. I wake to see the storm has yet to pass. I thank my hosts as best i can as i put on my waterproofs. The rain heaves too and the passing Kamaz trucks do a good job of picking it back up again to hurl at me. My hands are cold and my nice yellow pack looks like it has taken a dive in a mud wrestling pit. Its going to be one of those days.......The bad

A new country means new bactria for you to adjust too. It could have just waited till it wasn't pouring with rain. Sparing deatails but my second day in Azerbajian was spent in pain. The Ugly.

A border crossing

2009-10-03T10:21:00.000-07:00

The sign in front of me reads "Azerbajian border" 1km. I stop and decide to do a qucick repack. I have heard various reports of some rather shifty guards at this broder crossing and there is not much in my pack i really want to loose. I put my money belt on, though i am sure they can find that if they want it. I try and stash my camera so its buried in my bag. Knowing the anal-retentiveness of Austrlias quaratine officials i eat the kilo or so of grapes i have been given eariler that day. I put my passport in my pocket and strap myself on the bike.

I reach the Georgian side of the border. The official puts my passport under the scanner. "look at the camera" he says. Well i assume that is what he says to me as he points the webcam at me. I smile benarly. "Australia" he says, "Harry Kewel" he says and i try and look like i haven't heard it before. He hands my passport back with a smile and i try to remount the bike without falling off in front of him and wiping out the person waiting behind me. I wobble off to the Azerbajian side. A que of rusting Ladas and Mostvitchs wait on the bridge while a man with an assult rifle gaurds the gate. A rather drunk man gets out from behind the drivers seat of one and begins the usual set of questions. I try and balance on the bike as the poke it and shake the trailer.

I am eventaully ushered into the line for the booth. A man takes my passport and it dissperes. Never a good sign. I wait a little nervously and try to stay dry as as the rain starts to come down. I am trying to go thorough any "problems" they might find. I am pretty sure its in order. 10 mins later i am handed it back. 1 Azeri stamp included. I move towards the customs. I am trying to remember where i hid the 10kgs of heroin...... I hand over my passport and it dissaperes again. A man emerges and beacons be to a table.
I am so not going to unpack.
His boss calls him.
He decides i am not worth the bother and motions me off.
Another gaurd with a Kalisnakov opens the gate and i am off on my Azeri adventure....

A day in Geogia

2009-10-03T02:14:00.000-07:00

It is my last in Geogia. I am am headed towards the Azerbajian border, hoping not to have too much trouble with the border crossing. I stop when i see two men wih backpack standing by the side of the road. As it turns out they are French hikers who are 1 year into a 7 year trip walking around the world. We chat for while until a car pulls up. After some quick words which i try hard to understand we are loading my bike into the back if the van and heading back the way i have just come. We are off to a picnic it seems. I have a slightly ominus feeling that i am somehow not going to get to Azerbajian today.....

We arrive at the a house and a greated by Tika and her family. She is the only one who speaks english and soon becomes our translator. It seems today is the vintage festival- celebrating the end of the harvest of the grapes. An imporstant day in Geogia. We are invited to go and help with the picking and we acceppt the offer.

3 big glases of Vodka later ( time...about 9:30) and we are out in the fields. The burning sensation susbsides a little as me, the two French hikers ( Tierry and Killian) and the family work our way down the rows of vines. A horse wagon is soon filled with grapes and we return to the house to help with the unloading.

A small box sits on top of a big metal vat. The horse waits paitiently as we bucket the grapes from the back of the wagon into the box. A handle is then used to turn two gear wheels as the grape juice, seeds, stalks and leaves come out the bottom. We all take turns at the handle as the smell of grape juice fills the barn. The trailer is empty and its back to the field. Reversing a horse and cart is never a safe process epsecially if you are the todler that nearly gets under the wheels. A few tears from both todler and mother and we are off...

Its 4:00 and the harvest is finally done Well i never really planned to get to Azerbajian today anyway. Back to farm we go. Tika does as wonderful job translating as the crowd of family and friends want to know all about us. What we think of Geogia, if we are single, what we think of Georgia....etc. The table is set like its chirstmas dinner and its time for a toast. 1 Vegemite jar size glass of wine down the hatch........ its going to be a long night!

The Follow Dog

2009-09-23T08:33:00.000-07:00

I have made the steep climb to Sumella monestary. Its sites on a small plateau high above the town of Gergeti. This day i am lucky. I have a clear view of the both the town below and the towering Mt Kazbegi behind me.
I begin the climb up to one of the Glciers, about as high as you can go without Crampons and Trostkys ice pick. As i start the climb i hear a patter behind me. Look around to see a dog coming up the hill. She comes up to me, gives me a lick then runs ahead wagging her tail as if to show me the way. Surprised, I follow. We walk together up the mountain, sometimes she is behind me sometimes in front.
She looks rather skinny and i feel i should somehow pay her for her services. I stop for a break on a rock. I throw her some sultanans and hazelnuts from my scroggin. She sniffs at them but doesnt eat them. Beagers cant be choosers i think as i throw her s chunk of my sassauge which she eats quickly.
We continue up the hill and i put my jumper on as i notice tiny flakes on snow falling. Its a magical site as the sun shines and the snow falls. My companion doesnt seem to fussed by it all, just waits patiently for me as i take a photo. We reach the snow line and there are patches of metling snow all around. I wonder how her geet will cope.
The Glacier comes into view along with the towering Mt Kazbegi. I stop again for some photos. Eventually i reach the point where the snow and ice are getting a bit too much for my boots. I find a dry patch and sit down for some lunch. My Friend and i share the best part of a stick of metwurst and a good hunk of cheese. I sit back to admire the view while she moved away and curls up near a rock. Alas shedoesnt have thermals and a jacket like me. I take pitty or here and decide to get moving once again.

We begin the descent. The weather has turned a little and it is getting quite cold with the mist is rolling. We have decended a few hundred meters when my friend ambles to the edge of the spur. She just sits there looking out into the mist. I whistle. She looks at me but stays where she is- looking intently down into the revine. And its there that i left her, sitting pearched on a rock waiting to guide the next hiker up the mountain......

A trip to Kazbegi

2009-09-23T08:22:00.000-07:00

I emerge from the Tblisi nuclear shelter (otherwise known as the metro) into the Chaos of Didube bus station. An old man sees my pack and points " Kazbegi" he says. I follow his figner to where 30 busses witgh Georgian writing wait. I ask around and hopefully get on the right bus. A huge canvas bag is wedges under the back door to the bacl seat. The door slams and we are off..

I wince as the speed screen says 90km hr. We duck we weave we lay on the horn. I forget which side of the road we are meant to be on as we spend the same ammount of time on both. We pass a church and most of the bus crosses themselves. I wonder if i should be doing the same thing as we overtake into oncoming traffic.

The lack of a jesus bar means i have to grip the belt on my new pants to stay upright as we chicane thourgh the traffic. Eventually the traffic thinks . We begin the climb up the mountains. The road is pinned to the cliffs in some places but it doesnt seem a good enough reason to slow down! The driver spends most of his time driving one handed as he talks on the mobile phone.

We pass the high point in the range. The vista of the high Caucus mountains in front and behind me is amazing. The road is now gravel- a slight reduction in spped by i am now gripping the seat as we bump over and around Lada sized potholes. We stop to deliver various goods. Bread, Clothes, Children. We finally arrive at Kazbegi. I step outside and breath the chilly mountain air.....

Shopping Trip

2009-09-23T08:12:00.000-07:00

I have arrived in Tblisi. Being my first big city in a while its time to stock up on few things. I dump my gear at the rather funky smelling homestay and head out into the bazzar outside.
1st on my list is drugs. The legal kind that is. A stock of Fassign comes first. Thats for the giardia i really hope i dont get. Next there is some anticbiotics. A rather nasty case of the shits in Turkey rather took to my supply. There is also some more immodium- the same story. Some paracetomol to finish up. all for the grand some of about 4 lari ( about 2.70 aussie)

Next after that its some new clothes. I sent my jeans home and need them now its colder. My shirt cycling shirt has also never really recovered from getting covered in tar. I am stoked when i find a pair of light cotton pants. Exact Size. They are womens but who is going to know. Like wise for the funky shirt i find. Its a touch on the skimpy side but i am working on my man boobs so should be fine.

Next there are some bits and bobs. Powerderd milk- I make sure to get a 9 litre bag when ispot some. A cig lighter- i gave my spare one away to some old dude in Batumi. Grils hair ties- to hold my waterproof pants out of the chain.

Somehow i also manage to end up with a kilo of jam filled pastry. I wanted one but holding a finger up sometimes get a you a kilo instead.

Last are some headphones, though there is only so many time you can hear the same tunes. With the bike fixed and my Azeri visa its been a very successful few days. Its off to the moutains for a days climbing and then back on the bike and off too Baku.

Visiting Stalin

2009-09-19T04:44:00.000-07:00

One of the many statues of old Joe in the Gory musem.

I am in the town of Gory. It is a beutiful town set between the greater and lesser Caucus mountains. From the fortess that dominates the middle of the town you can see snow on the peaks of the nearby mountains. It is still dry here though. I have left the sub tropical black sea coast with its eucalypts and am in the dryer central plateau. It will get dryer as i head further east
Most recently Gory was close to the conflict zone where Georgian and Russian troops clashed. The bridge on the way into town has been destroyed but i find out later that was from a flood and not from the flighting. It is however not really why i am hear.

Gory is of course the birtherplace of Josef Stalin and i am keen to see how his hometown has remebered him.

Taking a look at the map of the town its clear to see that is not with distain the he is remembered. There is Stalin Sqaure and the main street in the town is called Stalin parade. Then there is the musem. A huge buidling and the end of a nice park. I pay my 15 Lari ( about 10 dollars) and climb the very dark staircase.

I meet my tour guide. She informs me that she is only one of two and so the tour will ne a little short. We breeze thorough his early life as a revolutionary. His aresst and escapes from the gulgas. We disscuss his setting up of a printing press for workers and his early work with the revolution. After that we move onto his part in the second world war. We see the gifts given to him by loyal ( or teffified) subjects. We even get a quick look at his train carriage. Stalin hated flying. Sadly there is now mention of the purges. No mention of an ice pick to the back of the head. No mention of the ruthless checka or his hated of the rich peasants. There was a very brief mention of his son being executed where he had the choice of saving him.
Had i not had a some idea of history i would have been considring a saint-hood for the dude!

I enjoy yet another Khachapuri ( cheese pie) beofre i jump on my bike and head of town slightly bemused but understanding somewhat a towns need to have a hero. Even if he had a few charachter flaws.......

A day on the road

2009-09-12T00:43:00.000-07:00

I am awake pretty early. I have spent the night slept on a small patch of sand created by a small rock groin on the black sea. Its about 630 and i have slept thorugh the 5 o'clock Muzeen (call to Prayer) I hear footsteps close by. I open the tent to see two men with fishing rods heading out to try thier luck. They smile and wave and i commend myself on my choice of canpsite as i watch the last of the sunrise burn away the previous nights storm.

I have breakfast and pack up the tent. I rather foolishly decide to try and get my gears running a bit better. Some men in a village the day before have kindly straightened my rear drop out but in the process i have lost my bottom hill gear. I don't really need it for the day and the hour i spend mucking around and making it worse should have been better spent.

Evenetaully i am underway. After an hour or so i stop for an icecream. Its not the best as it has been refrozen a few times. Not sure if its a black out or the shop keeper trying to save a little money by periodically turning off the freezer. I finish it while i explain my story to a group of curious young kids. They don't speak any english but are very good at hand signals. I think we more or less understand each other in a strange kind of way. I teach them how to say "G'day mate"

I arrive in Trabzon and decide to go for the internet first and then try and hunt for some bike parts. Having told the family i am still alive and well i set off parts hunting. I am hoping for a larger bike store but am not sure this is the place to be looking for such things.

I stop and ask an older man for directions and a young man appears and offers to help me. His name is Unal and his english is superb. 3 bike shops later i havent found the "super store" I was chasing but never the less with Unal's brilliant translation and local knowledge i have new brakes, a new chain and a reset derailer. I am now feeling great and i thank Unal for his assistance. He offers me to come back to have dinner with family and i greatefully accept.
Having not had lunch i am feeling rather hungry by 630 but as it is Ramadan and the rest of the family are fasting i take a deep breath and try not to think about food too much.

The food is worth the wait and i eat way more than i should. The disccusion at the table as i try to explain my life in australia and vice versa is facsinating too and i feel so greatful for the kindness i have been shown. I hope that his family is able to visit me someday so as i can return the kindness.

The shower and then the bed are heavenly and i sleep like the dead or very close too it. I hear the storm and the rain outside and reflect on an extraordinary day.

Reflections on Turkey

2009-09-09T02:32:00.000-07:00

in this issue: The bike gear and the body. Turkish hospitality. Camping. Milestones. Companions

The bike (igor) gear and the body

After nearly 2 months on the road the tally of war wounds stands as such:

3 Punctures ( 2 within 1/2 hr of each other)

1 Broken trailer. Kindly welded freee of charge in a tracking yard

The not so unbreakable BOB after been un-broken

1 bent rear dropout. Couresty of a rather impatient donkey getting its yoke hooked in my front wheel. Again fixed free of charge

How to fıx a bent rear dropout- with a shifting spanner and a rubber hammer!

Vrious gear problems which have been fıxed and unfixed by various people

1 torn tent fly. Oh for the wonders of gaffa tape

1 slightly broken tent pole. ditto

1 case of food poisoning

1 chest infection

A few tight calf muscles.

Not too bad a tally for 3000 or km.

Turkish Hospitality:

As alluded to above i have been incredibly lucky with the help i have been given whilst i have been in Turkey. This extends to numerous free meals and cups of tea. Yesterday i was stopped and given a bag of figs hazlenuts and cheese from an old couple on the side of the road. i have never really sort it but these things have mannaged to brighten a few tough days.

Breaafast on my first morning in Turkey!

While the hospitality has been amazing a few things have been a little dıssapointing. The first would have to be rubbish. Even what seems like remote beaches can still be covered in shit. This hasnt always been so and im sure there are plenty of areas in Australia that suffer from a similar carelessness. Some of the roads too ( read the previous entry on wet tar) have been a bit average though this has been the exeception rather than the rule by far. Dogs on the whole have been less of a problem here than earlier in the trip

Camping:

İ have also had some absolute gems of Campsites from beaches to forrests and the odd roadside bivvie. The odd dog and curious local aside i have never had much trouble at all. Hopefully this contiues once i get into Georgia.

Milestones:

A few have come up since the last post. Sunday will be 2 months on the road. Hopefully by then i will be on the road to Tblisi in Geogia. Yesterday i clcocked up 1000km on the Speedo. This is not so much of a milestone as i only managed to get it working after leaving istanbul. Tuesday was also my longest day so far. ( well as far as i can work out). A good solıd run of 150km. İt was nice to have some good running after nearly two weeks of slogging it up and down the mountains.

1000km on the Speedo- only from istanbul though.

Companions:

Since leaving istanbul i have had the pleasure of Rob and Bills company. Bill is cycling to india while Rob is going to Japan. Bill left us to head south to Ankara at innobolu while Rob and i cycled together for a few more days. The last 3 days i have been back on my own. After two weeks of having to make joint decsions has this has been a bit of a change. As Rob and i more or less headed in the same direction we will no doubt be passing each other again soon.

Watch dog on a beach campsite at Doganyurt.

Where too?

From Trabzon the road heads east towards Rize and then Batumi which is on the Georgian side of the border. From there i will bıd farewell to the back sea my comanion for the last 3 weeks and head over the mountains to Tblisi. i am looking forward to a beer in Georgia. Being Ramadan for most of the time i have been in Turkey has made these things a little hard to procure.

Crazy Turkish road works

2009-09-01T04:30:00.000-07:00

in this editıon. Companions. Tar. Food. To Georgia

Companions

I have had the pleasure of ten days or there abouts of company since leaving istanbul. Two English blokes who are heading more or less in the same direction as me for a while. It has taken some small adjustments as anyone who has been traveling on thier own for any length of time will understand. Mutipley the usual morning pissfart about by three and you will understand. That aside ıt has been nice to share the experience for a change. One is now heading south while the other will cycle a bit more with me till we are sick of each other.

Roads

The Turkish seem to have a little trouble with road construction. More to the point i seem to have trouble with turkish roads. Yesterday became an enforced rest day after rıdding 20km on a wet tar road. Me and everything outside of the bıg yellow bag ( Igor and Bob ( the bike and the trailer) ıncluded) was coated in sticky black tar. Turkish hosptitality however came to the rescue wıth a bloke even draining the petrol out of his chainsaw to come to our aid!

What a turkish road will do to a water bottle.....

Food

I have started eating........lots. I can now quıte happily devour an entire turkish loaf a packet of cheese and a block of chocolate in one sitting. Something like a cross between a pregnant women and a sumo wrestler. Alas for those who are worrıed that i am becomimg morbidly obese i think the reverse is happening. While ı havent lost weight i havent gained any either. A good dose of some bad chicken hasnt helped either

To Georgia.

I am continuing along the black sea coast of Turkey. The ups and downs are pretty punishing but the views are for the most part making up for it. As ı wrıte i am in Inobulu and will head to Trabzon for a rest day. From there it will be a few more days and then into Geogia where i will have to start the great visa chase for the Stans.

1 Month down, 11 to go!

2009-08-19T23:27:00.000-07:00

In this editıon:
The perils and pleasures of free camping, powdered milk, Agents for change, Dogs, Horns, A brief summary of the first month on the Rd. Attempt at translation of the blog (using babelfısh)

The perils and pleasures of free camping...
Much to my delight i found out that there are few rules governing camping ( other than common sense) in Serbia and Bulgaria. Germany and Austria have very strict laws on such things. A big thank you to Marco in the hostel Belgrade for telling me this. Since leaving Belgrade i have therefore had some amazing camping experiences while also managing to keep my budget intact. A cowherd even gave me a sausage and a loaf of bread while i was camped next to a river in the valley south of Sofia! Likewise a delightful young Serbian man and women were very happy for me to camp on their farm, furnishing with apples for dessert! A big thank you also to Hassan and his extended family for their hospitality and kindness.

Powered Milk.....
While it may seem small the benefits of powdered milk are immense to the bike traveler. Unfortunately it is very hard to come by in Europe. it was much to my delight that i managed to find it in a health food store in Belgrade. Thank you again to Marco, hostel master in Belgrade for this one.

Dogs
On a bike one very quickly learns to spot an angry dog! i am steadily loosing count of the fast sprints away from angry farm dogs! it is not the strays that are the problem. They sadly have been battered enough to shy away from people. it is, for the most part, the owners of dogs who should know better. They haven`t managed to get me yet and i have had my rabies shot so i will just keep watching out!

Agents for change....
i first had the pleasure of meeting this nice bunch of Canadians (with a few ring in Americans) after entering Bulgaria. There are 20 of them and each has raised $4000 to fund sustainable micro credit businesses in developing countries. in support of the cause they were ridding from Amsterdam to Istanbul. We met again and following day and it was nice to have some company in the crazy outskirts of Sofia. Thank you guys, keep up the good work.

Horns....
Like the dogs one quickly learns to recognize different horn blasts. There is the friendly toot from a long way off, usually from trucks, to let you know they are coming. There is also the friendly toot of encouragement, often from close range, which is also nice. Then there is the, get the f^+% out of my way, toot. Usually done from close range and often accompanied by a truck passing within a hairs breath of your backside. Sometimes there ıs a bit of the latter two together. The toots, waves and cheers of encouragement, especially in Turkey, have made a few days of pretty average ridding a little more pleasant.

The first month...
it has been one month now on the road and for the most part the trip has been going great. There have been a few hard mornings and whole days sometimes. These have been balanced by some amazing scenery and, more importantly, some incredible hospitality, which has taught me so much about the places i have been too.

Where too.....
İ have a day or two here in instanbul to get my shit together and start the visa train for the countries ahead. its also a chance to give the body a little time time to recover. From here ı will follow the black sea coast of Turkey toward the Georgian border and then into Azerbaijan. Now the fun really starts.

German translation

In diesem editıon:
Die Gefahren und die Vergnügen von, pulverisierte Milch, Mittel für Änderung, Hunde, Horne, a-kurze Zusammenfassung frei kampieren vom ersten Monat auf dem Rd. Versuch an der Übersetzung des Blogs (unter Verwendung des babelfısh)

Die Gefahren und die Vergnügen von frei kampieren…
Viel zu meiner Freude fand ich heraus, dass es wenige Richtlinien gibt, die das Kampieren regeln (anders als gesunden Menschenverstand) in Serbien und in Bulgarien. Deutschland und Österreich haben sehr strenge Gesetze auf solchen Sachen. Ein großes danken Ihnen zu Marco in der Herberge Belgrad für das Erklären mir dieses. Seit dem Lassen Belgrad, habe ich folglich etwas überraschende kampierende Erfahrungen beim auch erreichen, meinen Etat intakt zu halten gehabt. Ein cowherd gab mir eine Wurst und ein Laib des Brotes sogar, während ich nahe bei einem Fluss im Talsüden von Sofia kampiert wurde! Ebenso waren ein herrlicher junger serbischer Mann und Frauen sehr glücklich, damit ich auf ihrem Bauernhof kampiere und mit Äpfeln für Nachtisch versorge! Ein großes danken Ihnen auch zu Hassan und zu seiner Großfamilie für ihre Gastfreundschaft und Freundlichkeit.

Angetriebene Milch .....
Während sie klein scheinen kann, ist der Nutzen der pulverisierten Milch zum Fahrradreisenden unermesslich. Leider zu kommen ist sehr hart, vorbei in Europa. es war viel zu meiner Freude, dass ich erreichte, sie in einem Biokostspeicher in Belgrad zu finden. Danke wieder zu Marco, Herbergemeister in Belgrad für dieses.

Hunde.....
Auf einem Fahrrad erlernt man sehr schnell, einen verärgerten Hund zu beschmutzen! ich löse ständig Zählimpuls vom schnellen sprinte weg von verärgerten Bauernhofhunden! es ist nicht die Umherirrender, die das Problem sind. Ihnen traurig sind weg von zerschlagen worden Leuten zu werfen genug. es ist in den meisten Fällen die Inhaber der Hunde, die besser wissen sollten. Sie Hafen `t erreichten, mich zu erhalten, dennoch und ich habe meine Tollwut schoss gehabt, also halte ich gerade, heraus aufzupassen!

Mittel für Änderung….
ich hatte zuerst das Vergnügen des Treffens dieses netten Bündels Kanadier (mit einigen schellen Sie auf Amerikaner), nachdem ich Bulgarien betreten hatte. Es gibt 20 von ihnen und jedes hat $4000 angehoben, um stützbare Mikrokreditgeschäfte in Entwicklungsländern zu finanzieren. zur Unterstützung der Ursache reinigten sie von Amsterdam nach Istanbul. Wir trafen uns wieder und folgender Tag und es war nett, irgendeine Firma in den verrückten Stadtränden von Sofia zu haben. Danke Kerle, mach weiter so.

Horne….
Wie die Hunde erlernt man schnell, verschiedene Hornböen zu erkennen. Es gibt den freundlichen Toot von einem langen Weg aus, normalerweise von den LKWas, Sie zu informieren sie kommen. Es gibt auch den freundlichen Toot der Ermutigung, häufig vom aus nächster Nähe, das auch nett ist. Dann gibt es, erhalten das f^+% aus meiner Weise, Toot heraus. Normalerweise getan vom aus nächster Nähe und von einem LKW häufig begleitet, der innerhalb eines Haaratems Ihrer Rückseite überschreitet. Manchmal dort ıs eine Spitze der letzten zwei zusammen. Die Toots, bewegt wellenartig und Beifall der Ermutigung, besonders in der Türkei, hat einige Tage recht vom Durchschnitt gebildet, der ein wenig angenehmeres reinigt.

Der erste Monat…
es ist ein Monat jetzt auf der Straße gewesen und in den meisten Fällen ist die Reise groß gegangen. Es hat einige harte Morgen und ganze Tage manchmal gegeben. Diese sind durch etwas erstaunliche Landschaft und, wichtiger, etwas unglaubliche Gastfreundschaft balanciert worden, die mich soviel über die Plätze unterrichtet hat, die, ich auch gewesen bin.
Wo auch .....
Ich habe einen Tag oder zwei hier im instanbul, um meine Scheiße zusammenzukommen und des Visumzugs für die Länder voran anzustellen. sein auch eine Wahrscheinlichkeit, dem Körper eine wenig Zeitzeit zu geben zurückzugewinnen. Hier vom ı folgt der Meer-Küste von der Türkei in Richtung zum georgischen Rand und dann in Azerbaijan. Jetzt die des Spaßes Anfänge wirklich.

2009-08-08T02:39:00.000-07:00

In this issue: The 'short' run to the Serbian Border. Angry Gypsys. Getting Hungry and finally getting to Belgrad

I had camped on the Tisza river with the intention of following it all the way down to Belgrad. Alas it wasnt to be! When i arrived at the border i was kindly informed by the rather burly guard that this crossing was only for EU and Serbian citizens. She pointed in the vauge gernal direction of where the next border crossing would be. Clearly she thought i could fly! The crossing she pointed to meant a 110km circuit into Romainia and then into Serbia. One cannot aruge with such things so it was a scowl and a curse ( she couldnt speak english so she couldnt understand) and it was back on the bike.
On the upside i did get to visit Romainia. After a murderous run on the Hungarian side- Chasing the while line with trucks going at blinding speed in both dircetions. Not much fun at all. For the most part though everyone was pretty friendly. I certainly got some funny looks in some of the villages.Clearly there is not a huge influx of crazy cyclsits going through northern Romaina.
I made the mistke of trying to take a photo of one of the really cool looking Roma caravan. Pans on the roofs etc. I got an angry finger from the man and a women jumped off and demanded money for the privallage. Which i didnt have ( as i hadnt planned on being in Romainia for Very long). Someone embarressed i put the camera away and hopped back on the bike.

While the traffic and roads in Hungary were pretty average to say the least the condtions in Serbia proved a breeze in comparison. Trucks tooting some distance behind you to warn of thier approach and then, where possible, pulling into the other lane to give you room. Despite the rather damp conditions yesterday i mannaged to do around 130km and get into Belgrad late in the afternoon. I have lashed out someone and am having a rest day in Belgrad. I had a great night sleep in a bed ( the first in a while) last night after disscussing Serbian and Australian life with Marco the night manager in the hostel to the wee small hours.
After a rest day today i plan to tackkle one of the hilly roads the lead to Bulgaria. Have been more or less on the flat since leaving Germany and figure i am up to the challange.

2009-08-05T02:21:00.000-07:00

In this issue: Nearly getting shot.

Well i guess it had to happen sometime. Was bush camping last night and was just cooking dinner when i heard shots in the distance. They got progessivly closer and i got a little more nevous. I began reading though my hungarian pharsebook for 'stop, please dont shoot'. Eventually all went quiet and i was ableto set up the tent. Made the mistake of not putting the fly on however. Murphays law says that that is when i will rain and sure enough it did! Lesson learned.

Am now moving towards the Serbian border. Hope to make it there today so as i dont have to change any more Hungarian money. Bike going ok though a little damp and a little gritty after a hard run on the sand this morning. Giddy Up.

Still on the banks of the Danube

2009-08-03T09:20:00.000-07:00

In this issue.

Austrians and nudity, Slovakians and Sex, Dirt Roads

As mentioned in the previous edition the Austrian attitude to nudiny it up was rather refreshing. And i cant say that i may not have enjoyed several episodes of skinny dipping in the Danube while i was there! The Slovakian attitude to shameless loud public sex was perhaps not so refershing. In a rather seedy campground on a lake on the outskirts of Bratislave i had the plesure of being woken by such activity next to my tent at 3 in the morning. Perhaps you can put a few things down to the dark but going for it at at 8 in the morning......

That aside Bratislava, the old down anyway was rather nice. It was an afternoon bolt to get thier after having a wonderful time but blowing my daily budget on musems and the like in Vienna for the previous 5 days.

Dirt Roads.

Igor, as i have called the bike and bob (the trailer) have been copping a bit of a pasting since leaving Vienna. For the most part they have formed a somewhat uneasy tri-patriate alliance ( Spot the historical anolgy). The trailer tends to catch a little so you have to wait for the bump when you go over anything. I have been following some cycle paths and some roads as well as dirt tracks Both the Hungarian and Slovkian Roads makers have a dislike for sloping the gutters when you are crossing the roads however. This is not really a problem going down but trying to mount the kerb with close to 50 kgs on the top is no easy task.

At present i am in Budapest in a rather overcrowed and expensive campsite. A little dissapoiting as i have had some great camps up to now. I plan to get some maps here as the bike path is apprently less maked and there is nothing once i head into Bulgaria.

On the banks of the Rather murky Danube

2009-07-25T04:36:00.000-07:00

New in this edition of the Adventures of Emrys.... Musings on Germany and Austria, Technical Issues, The Scenary.

As i leave the first country and have about 19 or there abouts left to go it is perhaps time for a little refelction. The pseudu hippy in me couldn´t help notice the difference between parks in Australia and those in Germany (and Austria too for the most part). Here it is not possible to walk for more than an hour or so even in a park and not be within easy reach of other people. As a somewhat nomadic person who likes people but also likes to get away from them this is a somewhat strange concepet to grasp.
Austrians, i think, must have a rather diferent attitude to getting thier kit off. Adelaide has Maslins beach but it seems that anywhere there is water here people love to get naked. I did wonder at the comfort factor of a bloke riding a bike in his birthday suit however. Likwise for the rather portly old bloke who was rollerblading in a g string ( and nothing else). Whatever chokes your chicken i guess.

I am greatful for the generosity i have been shown by the people i have met so far too. I think i am still to burn off the kilos i put on while in Nehaus but it has served me greatly in the last few days. I can´t thank Sybilla, Martin and Georg for all they have done. And to Christoph too for help in building the bike.

And on the concept of group travel.... I met a young Australian lad in his gap year who had embarked on the kontiki experience. He confided in me they had more or less been drinking for the entire 9 days of the trip ( with another 8 or so to go). Thiers was a zig zag city tour taking in all the sites. It struck me as a rather strange way to experience a country and culture. In a semi permanent haze and surrounded by people from your own country? I know all the arguments for such tours, not having the expeince or confidence to do it on your own, safe etc and a good bit of tiking boxes too. Sometimes though life has to be grabbed by the bits. Perhaps i am a little cynical but i am feeling glad i have chosen the method of travel i have.

Technical issues:

So far they have been minimal. I think i may have shagged a crank bearing already. I has started clicking rather a bit but i shall let it turn into soup beofre i try and pull it out.

I bought some fuel which i though was stove mix. Alas it is primer for wood fires. I burns, just. Instead of my nice qucik starting stove i now have a black smoke billowing machine that takes a good 5 mins to prime. I shall be more carefull with the nex lot of fuel i buy.

I thought i had met my end when i corssed a railway line the other day. The bike when over just fine but there was an almighty crash as the trailer went over. I looked back to see my wheel in the middle of the road and the trailer ( rather like a brake drum on a certain Nt Gov vehicle) dragging on the ground. It turned out to be nothing more than the bolts working loose ( same as before on with less consiquences!) and a nice police man helped me put it back together.

The Scenary:
This has been diverse to say the least. I have been following the danube river for the most part all the way along with a few diversions into farmland. On crossing the German border the river passes into a narrow valley that was very beutiful with high mountains on either side. After this there were a few less savoury excursions into the industraial land on the edge of the river epsically on the outskirts of Linz.

And next:
I have about 5 days or so in Vienna. A chance to try and do some free stuff and not blow the budget too much . After that it is on to Hungary, Slovakia and then Bulgaria. Guolash, Pickled cabbage with rice and meat and cheap wine coming up!

Ciao

2009-07-19T04:40:00.001-07:00

The journy finallay Begins!

After a very shakey start in Regensburg the trip is slowly taking shape. The initial ride was from the top of the hill down to the danube river. Given i had only a tenious hold on the bike it was a bit of a terrifingy experience.

Once out of Regenburg however it was a relitivly straight ride along the river in mostly nice sunshine. A few rounds of getting lost and more than a few trailer upsets and it was a bit of tiring day.

I had an awesome camp in the forest but the wins and rain picked up in the night. The next morning i was greated but heavy rain that didnt let up for most tof the day.

I eventaully made it to Passau and then the mother of all hill climbs out of the town up to Nehaus. Not what you want after an 80km ride but made it none the less

Have done some serious repacking and hope to get the weight sitting lower so as it is more stable ( unlike me!) Tommrrow i will start out once more following the danube to Liz and then Vienna. One country down- 19 to go!

2009-07-13T04:07:00.000-07:00

In this edition.... trips to france, cheese, sleeping in ditches and walking tough dope fields.

Whatq crazy week or so i has been. After spending a wonderful afternoon in Regensburg with Georg i jumped on the midnight train to Paris. I had the fortune of sharing a cabin with a group of yagermeister swilling hippy americans. They were harless enough i guess and were kind enought put p with the smell when i took my boots off! I arrived to find my jet lagged mother sleeping true hobo style in the train station. What suprised me more was the blokes in army kit walking around. I thought i had arrived in Bahgdad wheni saw three blokes with assult rifles wandering around the platform- apprently its normal! Add to this the fighter jets that were flying low above us for mch of the hike and you start to wonder about the place!

I learnt a few other things about France too. First rule- nothing happens on a sunday. So in a town with 5 hotels- none of them will be open.

The view from our hotel- yes that is the road from underneath the rose bushes that we slept under!

Second the make some damn fine cheese. In a toen called Chource we had the local speciality which is some kind of soft cheese. It was like the biscuits and the cheese all in one! Our diiner that nightconsisted of said cheese on top of Carmens muselie bars- bon appetite.

On our way down to tonnere i came across a strange site. I thought mmmm 'that kinda look lke a dope plant' 'Oh that is a dope plant' 'Oh that is a field of the things' Alas it was only hemp but was good for the smell at least.

A day in Paris ( which was mnore than enough). I think i may have appreciated it less due to having walked for the previous 8 days but the hoards of American and Aussie tourists was a bit f a turn off. The que for Notre damn was about 200m long! Hence i didnt bother to go in!

And lastly i learnt about strage pictures in French Churches. This one was my fave. What i want to know is why is the bloke about to get his tesitcles cut off with a sword???? Thats a bit harsh even by biblical standards.

And since when did the 12 apostles ( i assume thats what these blokes are meant to be) take on the look of the seven dwarves????

Now i am back in Germany, first in Leipzing and then back to Regensburg to pick up the bike and start the journy! Giddy up!

2009-07-01T23:44:00.001-07:00

Another edition to the random adventures of emrys....

The Bike is progressing.....slowly. I am now waiting on a few key parts ( like tyres and tubes) to arrive but this may not happen for a few days. In the meantime i have been enjoying the fine city of Regensburg.
Yesterday i made it to the botanic gardens. Being the plant geek that i am i figured i would see if there were any Aussies growing there. A bit of searching and i eventaully found one- a trusty bull rush growing in a display of waterplants

I also had another wander around the old town and went to the regensburg history musem which is housed in a disused church. It was very interesting though none of it was in English so i had to take a bit of a punt as to waht was going on. Regensburg has been a city since Roman times and in fact still has sections of the Roman Wall surounding the old town. It was also one of the few German cities to escape anihilation at the hands of the Allies in WWII- even though it had an aircraft factory nearby.
Can someone tell me that this picture doesn't bear a creepy resembelence to a certain well know terrorist????

Oh and everyone here rides bikes!!! This was the bike stand for one of the shopping centres- a pretty small one.

Last night i went to an outdoor cinema. A rather genours farmer had donated his barn and a good section of his barley crop to the exercise. The movie was a French one which had been overdubbed into German. This takes a bit of getting used to when you are used to seeing peoples lips move in time with thier speech. It was a comedy which was just as well as i dont think my barnyard german would have been up to a complex legal thriller.

In the next adventure..... to Paris by train!

The adventure begins

2009-06-29T00:05:00.000-07:00

It has begun!

The bike:
I am sitting on the floor at Georg's house looking over the mess of parts that will soon become my bike. I somehow mannnaged to talk the lovely lady on the qantas desk in Adelaide into allowing me to have 25 kgs in my luggage- around 13 of which was bike parts. If you do the maths it means i didn't come with many pairs of undies! The bike and trailer however are slowly taking shape and we are off the bike store this arvo to gets some of the bits i couldn't fit in my luggage.

The trip:
Aside from the luggage the trip was mostly uneventful. A 4 hr delay in Adelaide meant i almost missed the onward flight but made it just in time. My seat companion on the way over was a young lass from sydney. She was the 8th of 11 chidren and so the praticlaties of this ( how are you supposed to remember all their birthdays???) formed a good part of our banter. I think my lack of catholisicmness might have tarnished her opionion of me however as she became less talkative when she found out.

Regensburg:
First day in Germany and i end up at a massive festival where it seems that the headline act was and ACDC cover band! I guess a German coming to Adelaide would have the same level of confusion if they went to the shusztenfest! The crowd however were loving it! And the performers looked in better shape the real band anyway. For a town of 100k people i don't think many people stayed at home. There were at least 7 stages ( it wasnt just ACDC thankfully) with all kinds of random performances ( an all girl ABBA tribute was another) and loads of stalls spread down the river.