Brussels to Upnarth, via Mos Eisley - Easy as A,B,C. D and E.

Today I'm traveling to Mos Eisley. As a wise one once said, "You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy." 

Actually I'm going to London, but same difference, right? According to MAGA morons at least.

7am and I'm on the road, ready for my 11:10 ferry from Calais and the lengthy border checks by the Imperial Storm Troopers of UK Border Force. Actually they're usually pretty nice, it's just the the rules are strict and if you get caught behind a vehicle with questionable paperwork - "ver are your papers?" - it's really frustrating to see the queues next to you moving, while yours is stationary. Just like Sainsbury's, right...

Well today, all that's all ahead of me; before that, it's a mini adventure just getting to Calais.

Good start, traffic is light, making good progress without needing a get out of jail free card. No escaping those pesky average speed cameras "trajectcontroles" as they are called in Flanders, which has 1200 such systems. 

The first sign of trouble is a feeling of slight looseness in the rear end, which develops into a definite wobble. Normally a wobbly rear end is a desirable feature, but not on a motorcycle at 120... I manage to reach one of the refuge bays, set back from the hard shoulder itself. My rear tyre is completely flat. 

I know the problem, my wife knows the problem, she even warned me before leaving of the problem. But I had a plan you see! The problem was a previous repair. A screw from several years ago, which I repaired, and that had done at least two track days since, and held firm. But a few days ago I noticed a slight leak, which I plugged again. But now the tyre was thinner than before and had less rubber to grip, even if the tyre still had plenty of tread left. Replugging an old repair, I now know to be a poor life choice...  Hey! Don't judge me, that's what life is about: learning!  I know, I'm only making excuses, I admit to that.

But I have time in hand, so, Plan B is mobilised. I have my rope plugs, I have my pump, so I plug it again. Job done. 

... for 10km or so. Then mademoiselle wobble comes back. Luckily I'm near the Drongen services, so pull in there. More plugs, more air, which I pay for as my rechargeable pump is low. A young, fresh A2 licence, biker asks if I need help and we chat as I make further plug attempts. By this time I'm mentally falling back to Plan C, miss the ferry, catch a later one, and find a place to change the tyre. With help of A2 guy and Google, we locate a Yamaha dealer about 8km away. My tyre holds enough for the short motorway stint before getting on the back roads. I make it to Yamaha. But it's closed. Fortunately only until 10am!

Yamaha guy shrugs his shoulder (apologetically, as we're in Flanders); they're way behind with repairs and have customers coming to collect bikes today, so no chance of a tyre change. He says maybe the Suzuki dealer on the Ghent ring could do it, and suggests a puncture repair foam to help get me there. Hmm... that could work; small gap should be filled nicely by the air dried foam. I gladly buy two cans.  He fills my tyre and pumps it to pressure. I need to rotate the tyre asap, so off I go, seeking Suzuki.

When I stop, the fountain of foam coming out of my tyre tells me this ain't gonna work. Now I'm considering Plan D, abandon the day, get recovered home and take my other bike. But I jump back on and finally make it to Suzuki via the convoluted Ghent ring road. 

But they are even more useless. No mechanics, no real sign of any proper motorcycles either, only what a Gilera connected friend over referred to as just "crappy scooters". But the lady there did recommend a BMW dealer, which Google told me was not far away. I gave them a call and the guy sounded very helpful and could fit a tyre. Result. But how to get there. I'd run out of plugs, the foam was useless. I know, I'll ride very slowly on the flat tyre... 🤦🏽

Didn't end well. But at least it ended very quickly, after no more than 40m.  But that was about 20m onto the dual carriageway and I was stuck. It was almost impossible to push backwards and going forward was not an option. By this stage, I begin to question my life choices and Plan E goes briefly through my brain: give up motorcycles - I did say briefly, think nanoseconds. I struggled a few cms at a time, but eventually a cyclist stopped to help me push it backwards to relative calm.

I phoned the BMW guy and he said he could collect me during the lunch break. But that was fine. Only two hours away, but it's a definite and solid plan. There's a petrol station nearby so I have an early lunch of a cheese and tomato panini served by a very unsmiling attendant. I sit outside, fortunately sheltered from the sun, and then the heavy rain that graces this parched land.

12:15 comes as does Plan D again: what if he can't come, what if, what if, what if. But there's a toot and I see the yellow Leie Motors truck on the other side of the road - I'm saved! I feel like the desperate C-3PO waving to the Jawa vehicle in the distance on Tatooine.

We load the bike onto the trailer, which in itself is a challenge as the rim is now spinning in the tyre after my 40m jaunt, but somehow we manage. It's a short ride to Leie Motors (no, not 'Leia' Motors), passing Drongen services (again!). My rescuing BMW guy is Han, just kidding, "Jous", and we chat about satellites, frequencies, illegal cordless phones in the 90s and cell phone jamming, as you do.  On arrival we reverse into the garage area. 

Jous decides to repair the bike on the trailer as it's tied down and stable. My bike has no centre stand making it more difficult to get the wheel off the ground, but it's doable with a collection of jacks and wood blocks.

The tyre change is easy, takes five minutes, and the wheel is back on the bike. I 'admire' the collection of rope repair plugs bursting through the inside of the old tyre... 🤦🏽 

It had a good life, commuting, track days, and tour. I generally get around 20,000km out of Michelin tyres and this PR5 was close and still had tread left. The new tyre is an updated PR6, but the GT version meant for heavier bikes. But good enough. 

While there, I have the front tyre changed too, a matching PR6 GT. I was planning to have them changed in London anyway. Jous points out that my rear brake fluid needs changing, as well as my wet front brake pads which he says won't stop effectively. But I had also seen this and had thoroughly tested them to make sure they DID work properly - I would not ride it if I had any doubts. I also asked him to tighten the damper rod nut underneath the fork as you can only reach that with the wheel off and there was a tiny leak from one side. 

You'd think with all the work, little extras, roadside rescue, and my undying gratitude, that the bill would be high, but no, a very reasonable 565 euro.

I've been thoroughly impressed by Jous, although Leie Motors is not an official BMW dealer, he's the local goto guy for old BMW repairs, he even has a collection of R1100S bikes of his own - my kind of guy. I'm really impressed by the service and even though it's some distance from where I live, I would consider going back for other jobs. He can repair car tyres too! If you're ever need a helpful mechanic close to the E40 around Ghent, he's your man.

Back on the road! No puncture worries, bliss, but my bike still feels a little loose in the rear. I stop in another refuge, but everything is fine. I think I have rear end wobble trauma.

I make it to Calais by 15:15 and Irish Ferries are brilliant and don't charge anything extra. I'll just have to wait for the next available ferry, which is at 18:20. No problem.

But border checks take an absolute age and this time I get stuck in two dead queues. I get to the boarding area and there are a few cars there. It's a long wait so I go to the snack area for some coffee, crisps and an overdue waste disposal.  When I get back to my bike about 20 minutes later there are fewer cars and I can see and Irish Ferries ship just pulling out - I have a strong suspicion that I missed an opportunity to get on the earlier ferry. 😮‍💨 But the sky is blue, the air is fresh, and I have not a care in the world, so I put my jacket down, ear plugs in, hat over my eyes, and lie back and relax. 

Eventually the ferry arrives, slightly late, and we board. Smooth journey and off at Dover. Short ride to London, petrol stop on the way, and I'm at my destination. Burger waiting for me at NotNat's cantina 🫠.  Tomorrow I meet up with my buddies Han, Chewy and Leia - you know who you are.

Colombian Conquest Day 14 - Urrao to Medellin, the end

Mark was kept awake by some random creature chirping during the night; a bird, a frog, or an insect. Who knows, it didn't bother me, I slept well.

Christopher practices his Sam the Eagle pose before breakfast arrives. I hope you appreciate the juxtaposition between the two oranges in the picture.

Breakfast at 8, we load up, and we start rolling through the valley at 9:30. I try to light Ray's fire, but he hasn't had enough coffee yet.

Not long after, we hit a roadblock: it's the army doing checks. Checks for what I don't know, but they wave us though not realising how dangerous we are. To ourselves!

We start to climb a dirt track. It's really dusty, so I hang back. I'm really tempted to squirt the throttle and be a hooligan, but it will create too much dust. With the weight of the bag on the back the bike actually has reasonable traction so it's not always possible to get the wheel spinning.

To the side of the road the equivalent of greenhouses cover the fields: rows of crops covered in semi-transparent netting or plastic. I guess it's to shade the crops from the fierce sun here. Ugly though.

My ears are popping as we climb, every vertical 150m or so; I keep checking my watch as we chug along, and we crest the incline at about 2800m. Nice views of the clouds below.

We pass through the buzzing town of Caicedo. More cowboy hats on show. We're not stopping as there's nowhere to park, so we filter slowly through the throng of people, before turning off to head out of town. 

And then we head back into town as Jeff has taken a wrong turn again. We find ourselves in a dead end, a cemetery no less, so literally a dead, dead end. 

But St. Peter says: not today, and why are you not in church?... so we do a U-turn. In reality our bikes are our church and we worship at the altar of comradeship. Amen, Brother Dom... Ahhh, bless.

Finally we escape, Caicedo, and we're back on the trail. I have my own personal Jeff moment, when I enter a bend at the wrong angle and end up where an oncoming vehicle could have been at the exit of the corner. But we're on an isolated trail with no one around. Even so, it's something I try to avoid doing.

We stop for a coffee just outside Caicedo. But it doesn't serve coffee. But we stay anyway... 🤦🏽

More juxtaposition in orange going on here. 

Again landslides feature heavily in this terrain and occasional the road has just disappeared.

At our next petrol stop we have to dismount the bikes before the attendant will fill our tanks. It's only happened once before; usually we sit on the machines without issue, but not here. 

Then it's a blast down the highway for a bit until we reach our lunch stop. The highway is a relief as the airflow helps keep us cool in the decidedly hot air.

There's a band playing, and it's loud, so we choose the spot furthest away from the noise. 

Once again the non-lunchers sit apart from those gorging on steak and chips. Traditional dancers slap the floor with their shoes as they dance, sounding like a cracked whip. Just as we leave we chat to them using our handful of Spanish - and I wish I had taken a picture of their costumes. We exchange waves as we leave the restaurant car park.

The final leg. I've soaked the jersey under my jacket with water; in the airflow this will cool me nicely. We're not on the highway long as Jeff turns off onto smaller roads that zigzag up the mountain.

We zip along some very steep roads which makes the corners tough even if they're solid not dirt. We get stuck behind a pickup truck that slows us for a few minutes until it turns off. 

Then we enter the side road that leads to Jeff's place and we all ride into his garden. But now it's our turn to take the wrong turn, as it's actually his neighbour's house - it's not Jeff's fault this time! It's our own corner man, Mick, who led us astray.

We enter the correct garden, park up, and unload the bikes for the last time. When we started here two weeks ago, we could barely see the road ahead because we were in the clouds, but now, 2270km later, the view from Jeff's garden is spectacular.

We say goodbye to Jeff and Edy, and present Edy with a little something to show our appreciation for his support throughout the trip. Many punctures, gear levers, mirrors, chain oiling, and generally keeping the bikes ridable every day. We swap dry bags for trolley bags and we pile into the minibus that awaits us.

About an hour later we're checking in at the hotel. We meet up for drinks and dinner at Steve's favourite Argentinian restaurant where the ribs are his preferred choice. Esther joins us for the last supper and we're full of merriment.

130km today, a mixture of road and trail. We could probably have tagged today's riding onto yesterday's to make a full day, but I guess this way allows flexibility for the final arrival. But we could also easily have left earlier, eaten less, and made the route much more interesting without affecting the flexibility too much.

It's been a good tour, not the best, but a great introduction to Colombia, it's people, places, and passions. Motorbikes are a huge part of Colombian life and essential to connect people in remote areas. We're glad to have contributed to that Colombian motorbike culture, even if only for two weeks.

You'll see from map below that we only covered a small part of this very large country. Perhaps one day I'll get a chance to explore more?

Now I'm looking forward to getting back home to finish rebuilding the kitchen that I started before leaving Europe! 🛠️

Where next? We already have some ideas!

🇹🇷 🇮🇩 🇦🇺

Colombian Conquest Day 13 - Jardin to Urrao

The day starts with hard labour, not ours, but the workers across the road building a house. It's 6:30am and it's Saturday - don't these people ever stop work. I've been awake since about 6am refining the previous night's blog entry - never quite happy with good enough. 

The ginger shot at breakfast leaves me in no doubt that I'm awake. Wow, that's a hit and a half! Although, it's somewhat killed the taste of the coffee that follows.

Christopher smothers his breakfast in something unhealthily sweet, we think he's not normally 'allowed' to do that... 😂

The breakfast is the best we've had in Colombia, so if you're ever in Jardin, Hotel Plantacion gets two thumbs up from us.

The hotel's three legged dog, hops by. Doesn't seem to bother him much.

It's another relaxed start for us and gives us a chance to explore the town. It's definitely touristy, but can be forgiven for the charm it exudes. But thinking of life the universe and everything, while lying on a hammock on the hotel balcony, also works. Life moves fast, but sometimes you just need to sit and watch. 

It a gentle ride out of Jardin. We stop for petrol; Jeff asks how we liked Jardin -

I liked it. 

You can tell it's warming up because as soon as our bikes are full of fuel we move to find shade wherever we can. Even in the shade I can feel myself becoming sweaty. It's only once we get moving that you get some relief.

It's similar scenery to that we've seen elsewhere, but it is definitely becoming busier with more people and vehicles. That means more vehicles to overtake too.

Most of our bikes are 300cc and they are not the most powerful of machines, nor do they accelerate like machines we may be used to riding back home. But if you wind them up sufficiently and get the engine spinning at its peak torque level they're not that bad. On the twisty roads, not having huge power means it takes longer to overtake, so you need to plan your overtakes with care. My bike has a 650cc engine with a bit more power making my overtakes a bit easier, and I often fill the mirrors of those in front of me like a scary canary as Graham calls my yellow bike, or is it me? 

When I overtake, I sometimes stay out on the opposite lane if the road ahead is clear, especially when those behind can't see if there are oncoming vehicles coming around a bend. Being ahead of them, I can see further around that bend, so if I'm in the opposite lane it suggests that it's clear to overtake.

Today's a strange day. We left late and we don't have that far to go and now we find ourselves poodling along. It feels like a filler day. It makes me think of a TV series that has run out of ideas before it's cancelled. That's now this feels: the trip has run out of ideas.

We're now following a river and heading in its same gradual downward direction. The road is a good one, twisty and grippy. But occasionally the road just stops being a road and becomes a dirt track, having been swept away in a landslide. And just as quickly, it's back to asphalt. 

It's getting very hot now. We started at 1800m and even then it was warm, but now we're around 600m it is positively toasty and almost unpleasant but for the forward motion inducing a cooling breeze. When we're stationary it's unbearable.

Another Africa Twin goes past in the opposite direction. When we stop for lunch we see many other larger bikes too: a couple of 1200 GSs, a Super Tenere, plus a handful of BMW F700/750s.

Ray walks by our table, and he's very frustrated. We're riding too slowly; at one point we're overtaken by a scooter with a kid on the back carrying a pink backpack.  It's the ultimate insult. He goes off to join Hugo for his lunchtime snooze. 

I catch Christopher and Craig having a sneaky ice-cream after lunch. Surely it's a bit early in the day for ice-cream? 

We start climbing again; more houses perched on hill tops. 

We pass through Concordia. It's a very busy and lively town. Ahead there are a couple of soldiers standing at the side of the road, but they don't seem to be on duty. As we pass, on the opposite side of the road there's a club and many other soldiers are spilling out onto the pavement. It's Saturday afternoon and they're out for a good time, but it's strange that they are in uniform.

The road is nice and twisty, just how we like our asphalt. But Jeff seems to be struggling. I've written before about how he takes unsafe lines in corners, but now it's positively dangerous. Gerard is following and at one point Jeff misjudges a corner and ends up running very wide into the oncoming lane. Fortunately there's nothing coming, but if there had been, he'd be roadkill. Just before this I had been having some fun with Christopher, but after this incident we completely back off from following him, and leave a larger gap. I feel like stopping him and telling him how unsafe he is.

When we stop in the next town, Betulia, I mention this close call and all he can say is, "yeah, it happens". I talk about how in the UK we're taught to take lines in corners to maximise the view of the road ahead. It's different to the racing line as the focus is on safety. But not only is riding this way safer, it's faster too. He says he appreciates me telling him this, but I don't think it will make a difference. 

Betulia is lively too, it has a definite fiesta feel. The main square is packed with bikes and people. 

It appears to be a big hat town as many men are wearing these. 

While I'm chilling, a stranger asks where we're from. He's an American, Shane from Montana, living in Medellin for a few years. He has relatives in Colombia and is now looking to buy a farm to grow coffee. I ask him about the crazyness going on in the US and I got the impression he was ok with it, but recognised that the world sees this negatively. He's wearing a big hat too.

While I'm leaning on the railing overlooking the square an old couple ask me something in Spanish. I don't know what they're asking, but they seem genuinely friendly and interested in us. As they leave, they both shake hands with me smiling, very happy to have met me it seems.

On the bends one often sees crosses, which I assume means that someone died there. As P J O'Rourke mentions in his book "Holidays In Hell" , you can tell the severity of a corner by the number of crosses it has. I'm not sure that's strictly true, but it's a nice anecdote.

The valley has become really steep here. In fact the back wall is almost vertical. There's a waterfall and it goes straight down. 

Stopping to take pictures is a great way to inject some excitement into today's ride. Stop, take a picture and then ride a bit faster to catch up. I do this a few times and it never gets old.

Once we're out of the valley it opens up. The river now meanders rather than cutting it's way into the valley floor; it's now wide and flat. It reminds me of Wales of all places!

It's getting dark and the temperature is dropping. I didn't realise but we've been climbing quite high again. We're now at 2200m, which explains the coolness.

Our hotel for the night is a farm. Dinner at 7pm, and I enjoy egg and chips.

125km today. Tomorrow is our last day of riding but Jeff is planning for us to back at his place near Medellin by 15h.

Colombian Conquest Day 12 - Manizales to Jardin

It's going to be a full on day. At the bikes, ready for breakfast at 7.  Leave, and be on the road by 7:30. Plan. 

We leave at 7:40. Not bad.

We're heading for Mirador El Robles: a destination for serious bird watchers. That's definitely us... 

Ohhh, those kind of birds. Well, Steve will definitely have his long lens extended. 

At breakfast we talk of unpleasant foods: rotten shark in Iceland (some have tried), wormy cheese in Spain (Steve's tried), surströmming (not tried).  We have egg with onion and tomato. No contest.

We ride on the outskirts of Manizales. It's rush hour and many locals must be on their way to work. A woman zooms by on her scooter downhill and corners the bend like a demon. We know it's a woman as we're bird watchers, or maybe it's the flowing long blond hair sticking out of her helmet.

We pass an ambulance attending to an accident on a bend, and later we see an overturned truck. Those are three only accidents we've seen while here.

We continue on the dual carriageway out of the city and it seems to go downhill forever winding its way through many corners. 

It's beginning to rain a little. I already have my rain jacket on for warmth, but many don't have theirs on yet; they must be cold. 

A Honda Africa Twin thunders past, its exhaust booming and rider waving at us; Christopher and I exchange thumbs up (he has an AT). In the opposite direction a BMW R1300GSA rolls by. I wave. The rain gets a bit heavier, but then stops.

We refuel the DRs (these have smaller tanks and they use more fuel than the Honda 300XRE bikes). As it's stopped raining there's no incentive to put on rain gear.

We climb up the mountain and soon it becomes foggy, or rather we enter the clouds from below. It's damp. I'm glad I still have my rain jacket on. 

The visibility is poor and in some places it's difficult to see if you're still following the bike in front. We pass through commercial areas with garages and cafes.

Suddenly Jeff stops and turns around and heads back the way we came. We do the same. Unfortunately Alan tips his bike, and over he goes. Two locals help him lift the bike and then push him to the side of the road as he's blocking traffic. The slight delay means the riders ahead are now some way off. Alan, Mark and I try to catch up. 

Unbeknown to us we miss the corner man on the LHS and continue back down the hill chasing the group ahead. Before we know it, we're back at the petrol station! But no sign of anyone.

We fire off a few messages to Jeff but there's no answer. We Google the hummingbird place and decide to follow Googlemaps at least until where we think the group turned off. On the way back up, a young guy on an old two stroke passes us like we we're standing still. Luckily, as we get to the junction, Edy arrives from the other direction almost at the same time.

We follow him for about 10k though some rough and muddy terrain. It's raining properly now and my visor is also steaming up making it difficult to see.

A lorry approaches from the other direction and ahead the guys stop to let it pass. But I don't slow quickly enough and end up hitting Alan from behind. This deflects me to the left and I brush the end of the lorry as it passes slowly, which seals my fate and I then hit the deck. I'm bounced around like a pinball and in the process: knocked a spotlight off, broke an indicator, and cracked a mirror. 🤦🏽

I'm unhurt, but red faced. The lorry driver helps me pick the bike up.

Back on track and we pass a convoy of pack horses. Famously these would have been used to transit drugs in Escobar's day. But now they carry tourists and goods. We pass a tourist group heading the opposite direction. They wave as we pass, and we are careful not to spook the horses. Then it's a sharp left and steep up a hill.

We've arrived at Mirador El Robles. Pretty soon we have small pots of sugar water and hummingbirds literally eating out of our hands. This must be one of the coolest experiences ever. Steve is especially over the moon and his poor camera goes into overdrive. We spend ages taking photos and discovering modes on our cameras that we never knew never existed. I get some superb super slow-mo videos, which unfortunately can't be uploaded to the blog, so you'll have to make do with stills, or checkout some of Steve's footage on Facebook, or perhaps even mine!

Ray shows that he can still pull the birds!

The day that Graham almost sees eye to eye with a humming bird. What tune I wonder?

The rain has not let up, so it's waterproofs on. Back down the steep slope and we follow the muddy dirt road for about 20km.

Eventually we start seeing road signs, which means we're getting near civilisation again. We're now riding through a banana/plantain growing area and those plants line the sides of the road. The dirt track turns to broken asphalt, and eventually sound asphalt.

We arrive in Jardin.  

There we follow signs for Cafe Historias where we have a tour of their coffee plantation. It's a steep climb to reach it and there's a commanding view over the town.

We are given lunch served in banana leaves, and they have prepared a vegetarian meal for me which is seriously delicious. It's plantain to see that Mark goes bananas over his too.

Don Diego is the owner and gives us an introduction to his family and the coffee estate. We dress the part and then he shows us around, with help from translator Andres. 

It's fascinating to hear the process, from: beans used to grow new coffee plants, to beans that are roasted then ground. We pick some berries, then they are dehusked and fermented, then dried. Roasting is done in town and the final product ground. 

Graham Matthews up for an the time he's missed on Peleton, by dehusking our pick of the day.

Who knew that washing and grading coffee was so complicated. We see the three different grades: first, second and third. We think that third grade is nothing but empty shells and detritus, but apparently it gets made into instant coffee! If this doesn't turn all of us into coffee snobs, nothing will.

We get to sample some first grade coffee, washed and "honey", made using different techniques, and the results are the best coffee I've ever tasted! Our coffee addict, Ray, is in heaven.

We note that by end of the three hour tour, Andres has remembered all our names, something that we're not convinced Jeff has mastered. That said, I'm not sure if I've remembered Andres' name correctly! 😳

After this long tour we ride into town and check-in at our hotel. Ice-cream follows dinner and a brief wander around the square dominated by a beautiful church.

The hotel is lovely and despite having an eco bias it retains its charm. But while we try to sleep there's a bizarre sound randomly coming from the ceiling. We think it's some kind of cricket, but can't see it.

165km today, and some of those are repeated km for Alan, Mark and myself.