Yefimovich
Race Dog
- Joined
- May 4, 2008
- Messages
- 1,233
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- 0
- Location
- Dar es Salaam, Tanzania
- Bike
- BMW R1200GS
Awesome! Waitin for more :mwink:
Long Way Home
- Thread starter Whethefakawe
- Start date
redtiger
Race Dog
Intresting report and great pics especialy those with the SA links.
BirdDog
Pack Dog
- Joined
- Jun 15, 2007
- Messages
- 287
- Reaction score
- 0
- Location
- Gauteng - Ranburg (Bromhof)
- Bike
- BMW F650GS / Dakar
Enjoying his thread. If I read between the lines correctly you dont seem to think much of the 'good old usa', the truth is, niether do I. Talk to me about the back roads of England, now that's history.
Maverick (R.I.P.)
Race Dog
- Joined
- Jan 24, 2006
- Messages
- 2,616
- Reaction score
- 7
- Location
- Prince Albert
- Bike
- BMW R100GS / Kalahari
Whethefakawe said:
No probs dude, we will be here for a while so when in the neighbourhood just let me know :biggrin:
Whethefakawe
Race Dog
- Joined
- Jun 21, 2006
- Messages
- 621
- Reaction score
- 2
- Bike
- KTM 950 Adventure S
Let's get this part done. How's this for a kick in the hairies - I'm sitting on an island in the Med in the middle of summer, and just spent three days in bed with flu. :BangHead:
After leaving Bishop the road started climbing up to the Mammoth mountain ski area. Over 7000 feet, so a nice brisk ride early in the morning, summer or not. Beautiful scenery, lots of trees and mountains. I followed a group of Porsches for a while, some kind of dealer delivery group or a test drive of some kind, never quite caught up to them to find out what it was. These things outrun and out-accelerate most bikes, but especially a loaded 950 believe me.
Most of this trip, and I mean all but maybe 300 k's, was on backroads and twisties. Excellent riding with one very annoying aspect: in summer CALTRANS, the state transportation department, does maintenance on these roads. Because of the american obsession with control and safety, every time workers do anything on or near the road they have flaggers, stop signs, radios and follow-me vehicles to get traffic past 3 okes raking up leaves or 20 laying tar or whatever. I went through more than a dozen of these, sat with five cars halfway between nowhere and fuckall for 20 minutes waiting for 4 cars to be escorted from the opposite side: :BangHead:
The further north I rode in California, the less people I saw. There were stretches I didn't see another vehicle for ten minutes at a time. Unbelievable. I mentioned it to a local in some little town and he just grinned at me. Most of the 40 MILLION people in this police state live in the southern third, and in the San Francisco Bay area. Both those areas are hellish to me - simply too many people crammed into one place.
Lake Tahoe was exactly that: a mass of people, on a beautiful summer day in July. I did about 50 k's along the western edge and headed away from it as soon as possible
No denying the beauty of it though.
I avoided Reno, and after looking for food and petrol in several little towns that were shut on this Wednesday afternoon, found a Mexican place open, Soon after my reserve light came on, did 60 k's on it (by my calculations I can do 80 on reserve) and started to dread THE PUSH I knew was about to start.
Then.......
Someone had a sense of humour it seems. The place was named that cause it's the only petrol station for many miles all around :laughing4:
Saw this interesting sculpture next to the road somewhere:
There were something like 300+ fires burning in Northern california, at times it looked like heavy fog. I found a campsite at a lake almost at the north end of the state and pulled in. It had taken me two long days to ride through California from south to north. Yebo Gogo it's a big fuckin' place. A country, for all practical purposes.
It had the SIXTH biggest economy in the world, last time I paid attention to statistics.
Check the limited visibility at the campground:
I was out of California by 0830 the next morning, into central Oregon which is very rugged and bloody cold that time of the morning, even in mid-summer. 4 DEGREES C in fact. Somewhere in southern Oregon, early morning:
The western US, and especially the northwest, is a geologically young and active area. The edge of the Pacific Plate runs inland all the way more or less parallel to the coast, and there's a string of active volcanoes all along it. From south to north, Mammoth Mountain and Mount Shasta in California, mounts Hood and Adams and one whose name I forget in Oregon, then Mount st. Helens and Mt. Rainier in Washington. Mammoth and Rainier have both rumbled in the last few years, and St Helens still smokes. Not to be a wise-arse, but St Helens erupted in 1980 (or was it 82).
So the northwest is full of interesting geological features, if you like rocks like me.
The life of the fuckin' party, I am.
There are several huge layers of basalt all over the area from ancient eruptions, and in some areas you can clearly see it;
The quicker lava cools, the finer crystal structure the rock has, and the harder it is. Granite is lava that cooled relatively slowly and formed big crystals. Basalt, which is black, cooled fast and is hard as a mother farker. I forget what causes it, something to do with the rate of cooling as well, but basalt often forms six-sided columns like in these shots and it can be very spectacular.
Enough about my OTHER fetish ;D
Further north I stopped at Crater Lake which is a volcano that erupted bigtime about 8000 years ago if i remember right. The water is 600m deep, and it's 300m to the surface fromm the rim. 10 k's across. This hole is bigger than the one in Kimberley.
I was trying to get out of Oregon before camping somewhere but traffic got very bad on the two-lane road and i was tired so had two more beers:
Some "real biker dude"" and his ""bitch"" on a Hardly camped about 10m away from me. She was all over him like stink on shit until she eventually fell asleep (I assumed) the whole evening, I was lblowng beer out my nose the whole time. She was a real dog, too. He was a very tolerant oke. Or maybe just not as badass as he tried to look :imaposer:
One state to go, then the good stuff :biggrin:
After leaving Bishop the road started climbing up to the Mammoth mountain ski area. Over 7000 feet, so a nice brisk ride early in the morning, summer or not. Beautiful scenery, lots of trees and mountains. I followed a group of Porsches for a while, some kind of dealer delivery group or a test drive of some kind, never quite caught up to them to find out what it was. These things outrun and out-accelerate most bikes, but especially a loaded 950 believe me.
Most of this trip, and I mean all but maybe 300 k's, was on backroads and twisties. Excellent riding with one very annoying aspect: in summer CALTRANS, the state transportation department, does maintenance on these roads. Because of the american obsession with control and safety, every time workers do anything on or near the road they have flaggers, stop signs, radios and follow-me vehicles to get traffic past 3 okes raking up leaves or 20 laying tar or whatever. I went through more than a dozen of these, sat with five cars halfway between nowhere and fuckall for 20 minutes waiting for 4 cars to be escorted from the opposite side: :BangHead:
The further north I rode in California, the less people I saw. There were stretches I didn't see another vehicle for ten minutes at a time. Unbelievable. I mentioned it to a local in some little town and he just grinned at me. Most of the 40 MILLION people in this police state live in the southern third, and in the San Francisco Bay area. Both those areas are hellish to me - simply too many people crammed into one place.
Lake Tahoe was exactly that: a mass of people, on a beautiful summer day in July. I did about 50 k's along the western edge and headed away from it as soon as possible
No denying the beauty of it though.
I avoided Reno, and after looking for food and petrol in several little towns that were shut on this Wednesday afternoon, found a Mexican place open, Soon after my reserve light came on, did 60 k's on it (by my calculations I can do 80 on reserve) and started to dread THE PUSH I knew was about to start.
Then.......
Someone had a sense of humour it seems. The place was named that cause it's the only petrol station for many miles all around :laughing4:
Saw this interesting sculpture next to the road somewhere:
There were something like 300+ fires burning in Northern california, at times it looked like heavy fog. I found a campsite at a lake almost at the north end of the state and pulled in. It had taken me two long days to ride through California from south to north. Yebo Gogo it's a big fuckin' place. A country, for all practical purposes.
It had the SIXTH biggest economy in the world, last time I paid attention to statistics.
Check the limited visibility at the campground:
I was out of California by 0830 the next morning, into central Oregon which is very rugged and bloody cold that time of the morning, even in mid-summer. 4 DEGREES C in fact. Somewhere in southern Oregon, early morning:
The western US, and especially the northwest, is a geologically young and active area. The edge of the Pacific Plate runs inland all the way more or less parallel to the coast, and there's a string of active volcanoes all along it. From south to north, Mammoth Mountain and Mount Shasta in California, mounts Hood and Adams and one whose name I forget in Oregon, then Mount st. Helens and Mt. Rainier in Washington. Mammoth and Rainier have both rumbled in the last few years, and St Helens still smokes. Not to be a wise-arse, but St Helens erupted in 1980 (or was it 82).
So the northwest is full of interesting geological features, if you like rocks like me.
The life of the fuckin' party, I am.
There are several huge layers of basalt all over the area from ancient eruptions, and in some areas you can clearly see it;
The quicker lava cools, the finer crystal structure the rock has, and the harder it is. Granite is lava that cooled relatively slowly and formed big crystals. Basalt, which is black, cooled fast and is hard as a mother farker. I forget what causes it, something to do with the rate of cooling as well, but basalt often forms six-sided columns like in these shots and it can be very spectacular.
Enough about my OTHER fetish ;D
Further north I stopped at Crater Lake which is a volcano that erupted bigtime about 8000 years ago if i remember right. The water is 600m deep, and it's 300m to the surface fromm the rim. 10 k's across. This hole is bigger than the one in Kimberley.
I was trying to get out of Oregon before camping somewhere but traffic got very bad on the two-lane road and i was tired so had two more beers:
Some "real biker dude"" and his ""bitch"" on a Hardly camped about 10m away from me. She was all over him like stink on shit until she eventually fell asleep (I assumed) the whole evening, I was lblowng beer out my nose the whole time. She was a real dog, too. He was a very tolerant oke. Or maybe just not as badass as he tried to look :imaposer:
One state to go, then the good stuff :biggrin:
Watty
Race Dog
- Joined
- Jun 22, 2006
- Messages
- 3,954
- Reaction score
- 3
- Location
- Port Elizabeth
- Bike
- Suzuki Djebel 250XC
Whethefakawe
Race Dog
- Joined
- Jun 21, 2006
- Messages
- 621
- Reaction score
- 2
- Bike
- KTM 950 Adventure S
After warming up the 950 to 4 bars at higher and louder RPM than required with the unsilenced Akrapovics pointed at the loving biker couple next door's tent the next morning I headed north again. 12 k's later I went through another generic town the name of which I don't remember
America is infested with ---MART's. You name it: Walmart, KMart, Quickie Mart, Supermart, Foodmart, Tyremart, GunMart, 24 HourMart, SportMart. A mind-numbing array of words combined with MART. But I had NEVER seen one of these.
DON'T ask me what the fuck they sell. I really didn't want to know, just kept going. Didn't even kill the engine to take the photo.
Except for the bit around Crater Lake, most of Oregon was a snooze - heavy traffic one a two lane road most of the way until closer to the morth end, in the Mount Hood area:
I started seeing more and more dualsports, mostly BMW 650's for some reason.
Crossing the Columbia River into Washington was dodgy. The bridge's road surface is made of steel grid with lengthwise grooving, it was like riding on a bunch of mini-ruts while looking down at the river. Best thing was to imagine it's sand, let the wheels wander, keep the power on and DON'T LOOK DOWN. When I did, instant vertigo and a drunken wobble across the narrow lane with logging trucks coming the other way. And it's not a narrow little stream either;
After almost testing the exact size of the 950's reserve capacity again I ended up on a brilliant little road going around Mount Saint Helens. It was a perfect day, lots of twisties and GREEN like you won't believe. Riding down this canyon of green created another visual illusion:
I was amazed at how disorienting the strobe effect of the trees and shadows was, interesting feeling. Couldn't help but wonder what it would be like if you were gerook on some Jamaican Red or Maui Wowie.
At a Mt St Helens overlook a well-intentioned tourist driving a bus-sized "R -V" managed to cut my legs off despite the wide angle lens on the little Nikon: :violent1:
Saw plenty signs like this one. You' know you're in deep shit when you must navigate by them :laughing4:
The roads were stupendous for a while, but further north turned into busy two lane rural roads all the way to Seattle. The last 90 minutes to my long time friend Jim's house was no fun.
Unfortunately he wasn't there, away on a trip, but he left me detailed instructions on how to get in, where to drop my kit, where the cold beer was and how to switch on the jacuzzi. Not to mention, I then took his very sexy Brazilian wife to dinner :biggrin:
The next morning the shipping documents for the bike was delivered by courier and I was on the road to Canada, about 160 k's away by freeway, soon after. It was Friday, and I really didn't want to spend hours in the queue going across the border so i steeked it. I was under pressure to get to Vancouver freight terminal before 4 pm so they would have enough time to receive it, and I had to push the fuel range cause they needed less than a litre of fuel in the tanks.
The stone post is the actual border but the checkpoints is a bit beyond. It took me 45 minutes to get through, I killed the engine and duck-paddled all the way until the incline got too steep. The 950 didn't overheat. :biggrin:
By the time I got to the airport i was tired, the oke receiving freight was busy so I called it a day and got a hotel room just off the airport. Relatively expensive, but I went to a nice English pub across the river and got mildly pissed. Next day I took the bike back, disconnected the battery, showed them there wasn't much fuel in it (actually almost 3 litres by my calculations, but they couldn't see any so they were happy :biggrin: ) and loaded it into an LD3 shipping container. "Can"as they say in the freight industry.
I can't say enough good about the whole experience of shipping the bike from Canada, organised by Motorcycle Services, whose name I got off the HU website. Not ONE snag, friendly, helpful, professional people.
Quite the opposite of trying it in the fucking USA. Don't even THINK about it, just stick a number 2 pencil in your left eyeball and twist instead. For a few hours until it stops hurting. At least it WILL stop. ENUFF SAID
:middlefinger:
Went back to San Diego, picked up some shite I'd left behind, sorted out a few things in Phoenix and got the LAST seat on a flight to Filthadelphia. Saw my Ugandan friend Josh in the cheap hotel I dossed in and then, poetically, got the LAST seat on that day's flight to Frankfurt. This was all on the POS airline I was sucked into by a corporate merger, so I enjoyed every ironic second of it. The yanks like to talk about the "freedom bird". In accounts of the Vietnam war that's what they called the plane taking them home after their tours were over. I'm sure they call it that in Irag as well, I have no interest in finding out. The two most abused words in america are "freedom"and "hero" and they throw both around more than I say "fuck". (Which is more than here, by the way). They don't know the definition of either one.
I flew to Europe on the same type of plane as my bike :biggrin:
But this was truly MY freedom bird. The wheels left the ground at 1657 local time on 31 July 2008. Jammed into seat 24D, a middle seat towards the rear, I cheered a bit and people gave me strange looks. I didn't bother to explain.
Next morning, the REAL ride began :biggrin:
America is infested with ---MART's. You name it: Walmart, KMart, Quickie Mart, Supermart, Foodmart, Tyremart, GunMart, 24 HourMart, SportMart. A mind-numbing array of words combined with MART. But I had NEVER seen one of these.
DON'T ask me what the fuck they sell. I really didn't want to know, just kept going. Didn't even kill the engine to take the photo.
Except for the bit around Crater Lake, most of Oregon was a snooze - heavy traffic one a two lane road most of the way until closer to the morth end, in the Mount Hood area:
I started seeing more and more dualsports, mostly BMW 650's for some reason.
Crossing the Columbia River into Washington was dodgy. The bridge's road surface is made of steel grid with lengthwise grooving, it was like riding on a bunch of mini-ruts while looking down at the river. Best thing was to imagine it's sand, let the wheels wander, keep the power on and DON'T LOOK DOWN. When I did, instant vertigo and a drunken wobble across the narrow lane with logging trucks coming the other way. And it's not a narrow little stream either;
After almost testing the exact size of the 950's reserve capacity again I ended up on a brilliant little road going around Mount Saint Helens. It was a perfect day, lots of twisties and GREEN like you won't believe. Riding down this canyon of green created another visual illusion:
I was amazed at how disorienting the strobe effect of the trees and shadows was, interesting feeling. Couldn't help but wonder what it would be like if you were gerook on some Jamaican Red or Maui Wowie.
At a Mt St Helens overlook a well-intentioned tourist driving a bus-sized "R -V" managed to cut my legs off despite the wide angle lens on the little Nikon: :violent1:
Saw plenty signs like this one. You' know you're in deep shit when you must navigate by them :laughing4:
The roads were stupendous for a while, but further north turned into busy two lane rural roads all the way to Seattle. The last 90 minutes to my long time friend Jim's house was no fun.
Unfortunately he wasn't there, away on a trip, but he left me detailed instructions on how to get in, where to drop my kit, where the cold beer was and how to switch on the jacuzzi. Not to mention, I then took his very sexy Brazilian wife to dinner :biggrin:
The next morning the shipping documents for the bike was delivered by courier and I was on the road to Canada, about 160 k's away by freeway, soon after. It was Friday, and I really didn't want to spend hours in the queue going across the border so i steeked it. I was under pressure to get to Vancouver freight terminal before 4 pm so they would have enough time to receive it, and I had to push the fuel range cause they needed less than a litre of fuel in the tanks.
The stone post is the actual border but the checkpoints is a bit beyond. It took me 45 minutes to get through, I killed the engine and duck-paddled all the way until the incline got too steep. The 950 didn't overheat. :biggrin:
By the time I got to the airport i was tired, the oke receiving freight was busy so I called it a day and got a hotel room just off the airport. Relatively expensive, but I went to a nice English pub across the river and got mildly pissed. Next day I took the bike back, disconnected the battery, showed them there wasn't much fuel in it (actually almost 3 litres by my calculations, but they couldn't see any so they were happy :biggrin: ) and loaded it into an LD3 shipping container. "Can"as they say in the freight industry.
I can't say enough good about the whole experience of shipping the bike from Canada, organised by Motorcycle Services, whose name I got off the HU website. Not ONE snag, friendly, helpful, professional people.
Quite the opposite of trying it in the fucking USA. Don't even THINK about it, just stick a number 2 pencil in your left eyeball and twist instead. For a few hours until it stops hurting. At least it WILL stop. ENUFF SAID
:middlefinger:
Went back to San Diego, picked up some shite I'd left behind, sorted out a few things in Phoenix and got the LAST seat on a flight to Filthadelphia. Saw my Ugandan friend Josh in the cheap hotel I dossed in and then, poetically, got the LAST seat on that day's flight to Frankfurt. This was all on the POS airline I was sucked into by a corporate merger, so I enjoyed every ironic second of it. The yanks like to talk about the "freedom bird". In accounts of the Vietnam war that's what they called the plane taking them home after their tours were over. I'm sure they call it that in Irag as well, I have no interest in finding out. The two most abused words in america are "freedom"and "hero" and they throw both around more than I say "fuck". (Which is more than here, by the way). They don't know the definition of either one.
I flew to Europe on the same type of plane as my bike :biggrin:
But this was truly MY freedom bird. The wheels left the ground at 1657 local time on 31 July 2008. Jammed into seat 24D, a middle seat towards the rear, I cheered a bit and people gave me strange looks. I didn't bother to explain.
Next morning, the REAL ride began :biggrin:
Lootch67
Race Dog
- Joined
- Jan 25, 2006
- Messages
- 1,310
- Reaction score
- 0
- Location
- South Ockendon, Essex, UK
- Bike
- Honda XRV 750 Africa Twin
You make me feel like that broad "all over him like stink on shit" but that's very much how I'd describe my fascinations with the Ride Report. Great stuff!
NO GOOD
Race Dog
Lucky you.What a trip!!
Brink
Race Dog
- Joined
- Mar 27, 2007
- Messages
- 1,154
- Reaction score
- 1
- Location
- Johannesburg
- Bike
- Confederate (all models)
Great read :thumleft:
Whethefakawe
Race Dog
- Joined
- Jun 21, 2006
- Messages
- 621
- Reaction score
- 2
- Bike
- KTM 950 Adventure S
The flight landed in Frankfurt shortly after 0600, after exchanging money, a nice continental "fruhstuck" and a 20 euro taxi ride I walked into the frieght office at 0811 sharp. No hassles - I had to walk 200m to customs to clear the bike, which took 10 minutes and 36 Euro, then 50m to the warehouse, connect the battery and repack some kit, and by 0930 I was on the bike looking for a petrol station.
I had become extremely fed up with america and all their kak. The quick, friendly, hassle-free treatment I got in both Canada and Germany was a delight and only increased my disdain for everything american. In the month since I've gone through an interesting mental process as I get more distance between the present and my former life there. While I try not to get wound up about it things pop in my head randomly that makes me laugh or want to moer the next yank I see. :evil6:
It will take a while to process it all and flush as necessary, should be interesting. One day I'll write a thesis or a book about it. "The Big Lie" say no more.
Repacking before leaving Frankfurt airport:
Since the fat people drive on the right too traffic was not a problrm, just had to get used to the relatively HUGE trucks on the narrow two lane roads. Traffic in Germany is very disciplined and efficient, as you'd expect. More on that subject later :biggrin: Shortly before leaving the land of the ignorant I'd seen an article somewhere about Nurburgring race track being open to the public most days. So my new goal in life was to go do a lap or two around the old, 1920's "Nordschleife" that's something like 22 k's long and the place where Niki Lauda got badly burned and almost died in the 1976 German GP. It was the opposite way from my destination in Greece but I tend to get single-minded so Headed in a general northwesterly direction.
I'll say it once and be done with it: the German and Italian landscape, especially in the Alps, is absolutely stunning. Overwhelming, in fact. After a while you get sensory overload as one postcard-perfect scene follows another. I took some nature shots but realised immediately that I didn't have the time or the equipment to do it justice.
Therefore I concentrated on bikes, planes, race cars and strange shit :biggrin:
I'd been awake all night, crammed into that bloody child seat (or so it felt) so I knew I'd have a few hours of alertness before I'd get stupid. On a bike in a country I'd never driven in was no place for that so I got on the autobahn for a quick trip out of the city. I had to make it to N-Ring before finding a place to spend the night.
I was doing 130 in the slow lane and promptly had the piss scared out of me by a family van loaded with lilo's and camping gear flashing by at, I guessed, 170 plus. While coming up on an Opel Astra towing a fucking caravan in my lane doing 80 minus, that was. It seemed that half of Germany was going to a caravan park someplace, and they were all in the slow lane of that section of autobahn so I got brave and stuck to the middle lane for a while. After a few Porsches and BM's passed a metre or so off my left doing well over 200 I chose the conservative option of ducking in and out of the slow lane and sometimes slowing to their speed when I saw something coming up very fast from behind.
Lesoon ONE in autobahn driving: WATCH YOUR MIRRORS
After 30 k's of this my nerves were shot and I took the next offramp into the countryside. As much time as I'd spent in Germany before, I'd never really been in the rural parts and it was quite a jol. Farms are very different from SA. All the farmhouses are clustered in little villages, some as little as 500m apart, with the surrounding lands free of buildings except the occasional shed. All those fairy tales and nursery rhymes I'd grown up with came back to me. This is the land of wolves, witches, dwarfs and Princesses in towers, of Little Red Riding Hood, Goldilocks and the Pied Piper.
I expected to see a shoemaker or a kinight on a horse in this medieval village named Muenster-Maifeld. Right out of the Middle Ages FOR REAL
After crossing the Rhine and passing through many more villages I eventually started bracketing Nurburgring. Yer think my forum name was randomly picked? Not exactly. I flat-out REFUSE to get a GPS. Give me a map, and a compass in the bush or desert and I'm happy. I navigated all through Europe with a road atlas and by road signs and the direction of the sun. That was a bit of a problem cause it was cloudy on several days, plus I was disoriented, the compass in my head was still spinning from the flight over the ocean. And yes, I took some wrong turns or wandered around like a drunken sailor looking for places sometimes but it's part of the fun, innit??
It started raining lightly just before I got to Nurburgring so I stopped at a small petrol station to put on my (untested) rain gear. What can I say, I lived in a fucking desert. You can't plan EVERY little aspect of life now can you? I didn't realise that the fence across the road was the racetrack fence, but found out 2 k's later when i rolled into the litlle village of NURBURG. Very picturesque, with motorsports in its blood, as I soon found out.
A hotel in Nurburg:
The friendly owner of a little bar/retaurant on the right end of this place organised me a room in a "gasthaus"or B+B I had passed on the edge of town. I spent several nights in places like these, all were very nice, and cheap, which was now an issue cause I'm a jobless bum.
The B+B is 200m (if that) from the entrance to the track. The track goes by the house not 70m away. The owner told me about all the races they have watched over the years sitting on lawn chairs in their yard. GP's, 24 hour races, bike racing (to this day) and much more. It's literally like living inside Kyalami, with scenery.
The track entrance is gearhead heaven. There''s a buzz of excitement about it, and some very beautiful machinery. Cars and bikes at the track entrance:
The track exit, in the same spot:
On Saturday morning I went and did a lap. 20 Euros to play Jackie Stewart and hopefully not Niki Lauda. It was a long weekend in the UK so the Brits invaded Germany again, this time in Lotuses, Mini's, Jags and on any kind of bike you can imagine. The Brits are very serious about racing anything on wheels, and this lot was not in the mood for a Saturday morning sightseeing trip, as I found out on the track. The last time I got scared that badly was when the priest said :....you may kiss the bride".
It was like the autobahn without the caravans and trucks. Despite Nurburgring's official status as a "one way public toll road"" with signs stating that normal traffic regulations apply, everybody knows the score. I loved it: "bring anything and go as fast as you want, if you fuck up don't come cry to us" is the understood, and accepted, reality.
You could NEVER do anything like this in "The Land of Freedom". You'd have to sign legal waivers as thick as a telephone book, the fucking cops would be out there pulling people off the track for speeding, you'd have to get a tech and emissions inspection............all in all it just would not happen in america. Never.
I had planned on doing maybe four laps, but one was enough. The track is magnificent, twisting and climbing and descending through the forest, with several banked turns that you see in old photos of Grand Prixs. I took my camera and wanted to stop and take a few shots. HA. Bad idea. Consequently, all I have to prove I actually did a lap is the ticket:
There I was........day 2 of the rest of my life, on a bike that still has to take my sorry arse to Joburg, dropped in the middle of a race I didn't know was a race until a few corners down the track, with heavily souped-up Porsches, Mini's, Lotuses, Agustas, Ducatis, GSXR 1000's, old Alfa's, Ford Escorts and sensible family sedans trying to kill me or at least run me over, on a 22 km long rollercoaster of a track. I even saw one or two small buses that resembled SA taxis, and by the way they were thrown around, probably were.
I did take away a lesson or two from Nurburgring: "aufgedonnert" in German does not mean Wolfgang chucked his GSXR down the road, but "souped-up" :imaposer:
And let me tell you, there are few sounds as thrilling as one of these new Porsches going by "on song", even if you are bekakking yourself at the time. It's a magnificent sound.
Bike park at Nurburgring, mine hiding in the background
Niiiiiice
My presence is required at the feeding trough. More later.
I had become extremely fed up with america and all their kak. The quick, friendly, hassle-free treatment I got in both Canada and Germany was a delight and only increased my disdain for everything american. In the month since I've gone through an interesting mental process as I get more distance between the present and my former life there. While I try not to get wound up about it things pop in my head randomly that makes me laugh or want to moer the next yank I see. :evil6:
It will take a while to process it all and flush as necessary, should be interesting. One day I'll write a thesis or a book about it. "The Big Lie" say no more.
Repacking before leaving Frankfurt airport:
Since the fat people drive on the right too traffic was not a problrm, just had to get used to the relatively HUGE trucks on the narrow two lane roads. Traffic in Germany is very disciplined and efficient, as you'd expect. More on that subject later :biggrin: Shortly before leaving the land of the ignorant I'd seen an article somewhere about Nurburgring race track being open to the public most days. So my new goal in life was to go do a lap or two around the old, 1920's "Nordschleife" that's something like 22 k's long and the place where Niki Lauda got badly burned and almost died in the 1976 German GP. It was the opposite way from my destination in Greece but I tend to get single-minded so Headed in a general northwesterly direction.
I'll say it once and be done with it: the German and Italian landscape, especially in the Alps, is absolutely stunning. Overwhelming, in fact. After a while you get sensory overload as one postcard-perfect scene follows another. I took some nature shots but realised immediately that I didn't have the time or the equipment to do it justice.
Therefore I concentrated on bikes, planes, race cars and strange shit :biggrin:
I'd been awake all night, crammed into that bloody child seat (or so it felt) so I knew I'd have a few hours of alertness before I'd get stupid. On a bike in a country I'd never driven in was no place for that so I got on the autobahn for a quick trip out of the city. I had to make it to N-Ring before finding a place to spend the night.
I was doing 130 in the slow lane and promptly had the piss scared out of me by a family van loaded with lilo's and camping gear flashing by at, I guessed, 170 plus. While coming up on an Opel Astra towing a fucking caravan in my lane doing 80 minus, that was. It seemed that half of Germany was going to a caravan park someplace, and they were all in the slow lane of that section of autobahn so I got brave and stuck to the middle lane for a while. After a few Porsches and BM's passed a metre or so off my left doing well over 200 I chose the conservative option of ducking in and out of the slow lane and sometimes slowing to their speed when I saw something coming up very fast from behind.
Lesoon ONE in autobahn driving: WATCH YOUR MIRRORS
After 30 k's of this my nerves were shot and I took the next offramp into the countryside. As much time as I'd spent in Germany before, I'd never really been in the rural parts and it was quite a jol. Farms are very different from SA. All the farmhouses are clustered in little villages, some as little as 500m apart, with the surrounding lands free of buildings except the occasional shed. All those fairy tales and nursery rhymes I'd grown up with came back to me. This is the land of wolves, witches, dwarfs and Princesses in towers, of Little Red Riding Hood, Goldilocks and the Pied Piper.
I expected to see a shoemaker or a kinight on a horse in this medieval village named Muenster-Maifeld. Right out of the Middle Ages FOR REAL
After crossing the Rhine and passing through many more villages I eventually started bracketing Nurburgring. Yer think my forum name was randomly picked? Not exactly. I flat-out REFUSE to get a GPS. Give me a map, and a compass in the bush or desert and I'm happy. I navigated all through Europe with a road atlas and by road signs and the direction of the sun. That was a bit of a problem cause it was cloudy on several days, plus I was disoriented, the compass in my head was still spinning from the flight over the ocean. And yes, I took some wrong turns or wandered around like a drunken sailor looking for places sometimes but it's part of the fun, innit??
It started raining lightly just before I got to Nurburgring so I stopped at a small petrol station to put on my (untested) rain gear. What can I say, I lived in a fucking desert. You can't plan EVERY little aspect of life now can you? I didn't realise that the fence across the road was the racetrack fence, but found out 2 k's later when i rolled into the litlle village of NURBURG. Very picturesque, with motorsports in its blood, as I soon found out.
A hotel in Nurburg:
The friendly owner of a little bar/retaurant on the right end of this place organised me a room in a "gasthaus"or B+B I had passed on the edge of town. I spent several nights in places like these, all were very nice, and cheap, which was now an issue cause I'm a jobless bum.
The B+B is 200m (if that) from the entrance to the track. The track goes by the house not 70m away. The owner told me about all the races they have watched over the years sitting on lawn chairs in their yard. GP's, 24 hour races, bike racing (to this day) and much more. It's literally like living inside Kyalami, with scenery.
The track entrance is gearhead heaven. There''s a buzz of excitement about it, and some very beautiful machinery. Cars and bikes at the track entrance:
The track exit, in the same spot:
On Saturday morning I went and did a lap. 20 Euros to play Jackie Stewart and hopefully not Niki Lauda. It was a long weekend in the UK so the Brits invaded Germany again, this time in Lotuses, Mini's, Jags and on any kind of bike you can imagine. The Brits are very serious about racing anything on wheels, and this lot was not in the mood for a Saturday morning sightseeing trip, as I found out on the track. The last time I got scared that badly was when the priest said :....you may kiss the bride".
It was like the autobahn without the caravans and trucks. Despite Nurburgring's official status as a "one way public toll road"" with signs stating that normal traffic regulations apply, everybody knows the score. I loved it: "bring anything and go as fast as you want, if you fuck up don't come cry to us" is the understood, and accepted, reality.
You could NEVER do anything like this in "The Land of Freedom". You'd have to sign legal waivers as thick as a telephone book, the fucking cops would be out there pulling people off the track for speeding, you'd have to get a tech and emissions inspection............all in all it just would not happen in america. Never.
I had planned on doing maybe four laps, but one was enough. The track is magnificent, twisting and climbing and descending through the forest, with several banked turns that you see in old photos of Grand Prixs. I took my camera and wanted to stop and take a few shots. HA. Bad idea. Consequently, all I have to prove I actually did a lap is the ticket:
There I was........day 2 of the rest of my life, on a bike that still has to take my sorry arse to Joburg, dropped in the middle of a race I didn't know was a race until a few corners down the track, with heavily souped-up Porsches, Mini's, Lotuses, Agustas, Ducatis, GSXR 1000's, old Alfa's, Ford Escorts and sensible family sedans trying to kill me or at least run me over, on a 22 km long rollercoaster of a track. I even saw one or two small buses that resembled SA taxis, and by the way they were thrown around, probably were.
I did take away a lesson or two from Nurburgring: "aufgedonnert" in German does not mean Wolfgang chucked his GSXR down the road, but "souped-up" :imaposer:
And let me tell you, there are few sounds as thrilling as one of these new Porsches going by "on song", even if you are bekakking yourself at the time. It's a magnificent sound.
Bike park at Nurburgring, mine hiding in the background
Niiiiiice
My presence is required at the feeding trough. More later.
MrBig
Grey Hound
Hel man I like your writing!
Sortof eventually figured out a way to get more enjoyment out of this as well.
Trick is to ignore the thread for at least a month and THEN go back for some well deserved catch-up.
Who am I kidding - I'm ADDICTED! :drif:
And how's that "Think Metric" sign at the border! ;D
Stoopid 'mericans!
Sortof eventually figured out a way to get more enjoyment out of this as well.
Trick is to ignore the thread for at least a month and THEN go back for some well deserved catch-up.
Who am I kidding - I'm ADDICTED! :drif:
And how's that "Think Metric" sign at the border! ;D
Stoopid 'mericans!
fixit
Race Dog
W....you got me hooked on your report. Wish that I could do it one day. Just seeing those pics brings back some memories.
Also been scared shitless a few times on the baans, especially if they give you a golf as company transport and you have to change gears with your right and and look at the map at the same time.
Keep it coming :thumleft:
Also been scared shitless a few times on the baans, especially if they give you a golf as company transport and you have to change gears with your right and and look at the map at the same time.
Keep it coming :thumleft:
CARLOS
Race Dog
I hope you going to bring out a coffee-table type book on your travels :thumleft:
Whethefakawe
Race Dog
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Nurburgring has a buzz to it that sucks you in - I had a hard time leaving. You don't even have to drive or ride the track, just being there and watching the goings-on is exciting.
Does anybody remember Production Car Racing at Kyalami in the early seventies? I was a little snotkop then and loved Alfa Romeo's, forget how that started. Those were the days of the thundering V8 Chevy Monza's of Geoff Mortimer and Willie Hepburn, the Team Gunston V8 Capri's, and the V6 Cortina's of Basil van Rooyen and the Alfa's of Arnold Chatz. Arnold was my big hero in thiose days, I met him at the track once and used to nag my dad to drive by his Alfa dealership on Jan Smuts in Craighall to see if anything exciting was happening there. We spent countless Saturdays at Kyalami, everything from club races to F1 GP's.
So when I saw this old Alfa Berlina 2000 I just HAD to take a photo. it instantly brought back lots of good memories.
This old toppie came flying by me on the track at a high rate of knots, it's an old Lotus of some kind. Or is it a Jaguar? Impressive either way.
It's difficult to tear yourself away from the excitement but I wanted to get to Munich, where I have some good friends. Going by backroads would take at least 3 days so I got on the autobahn again, a little more comfortable this time. I was on a racetrack expedition now, seriously considered going to Spa which is only about 100 k's west of N-Ring but decided to head south instead. I know myself - I would have ended up at Silverstone via Spa, Monaco, Monza, Le mans, Valencia and Assen and I didn't have time or money for it :biggrin: The owner of the gasthaus where I stayed told me that Hockenheim was on the way, near Mannheim, and that it was right next to the autobahn. She wasn't kidding. You could throw a beer can (full, but that would be a waste) out of a car as you go by and hit the grandstands. The track wasn't open, I found out that it had been until two hours earlier, and that for 9 Euros you got a tour of the facilities and one lap in/on your own vehicle :BangHead:
Next time.
I did go through the motorsport museum at Hockenheim. Absolutely incredible. They have one of the biggest collections of old bikes in Europe, specifically race bikes.
General view:
The number 1 Kawasaki is one of Kork Ballington's bikes that he won the 350 World Chanpionship on.
An old Husqvarna. It's sewing machine ancestry is more apparent than in modern Huskies:
A Munch Mammuth from the 70's, with 1200cc engine. I'd like to put that in a Volksie :laughing4:
Until the mid-thirties there were hundreds of motorcycle manufacturers in Germany, and specifically in Bavaria. A pre-WW2 Mars:
Remember the Neansderthals? You know, sloping forehead, beetle eye brows, hairy, wore skins, lived in caves? Just like Mugabe? Except they died out, and he hasn't yet? This is a NEANDER 1000, made in the same area they were found. This clean, "bauhaus"styling can also be seen on aother pre-war German bikes, including BMW's
A NECKARSULM, named for the little town in Bavaria where it was made. Check the ape hangers :laughing4:
Two beautiful early 30's Norton's:
A SHUTOFFf. Really. :biggrin:
My personal favourite, an ALLRIGHT :imaposer:
If you think motorcycles had funny names, wait till you hear the bicycle names I saw in Munich :biggrin:
This museum is exceptional, especially if you're a biker. I took close to a 100 photos, and would love to spend all day with no time pressure in it. There were many race cars too, 1980's and 90's Williams, Renault and Benetton F! cars were the most interesting.
If you like technology and engineering, Germany is the place to be, trust me. No wonder Hardly Ableson riders have such a chip on their shoulders. And here I was thinking it's beacuse of their small d*cks. Silly me. :imaposer:
Going to the beach now. Cheers
Does anybody remember Production Car Racing at Kyalami in the early seventies? I was a little snotkop then and loved Alfa Romeo's, forget how that started. Those were the days of the thundering V8 Chevy Monza's of Geoff Mortimer and Willie Hepburn, the Team Gunston V8 Capri's, and the V6 Cortina's of Basil van Rooyen and the Alfa's of Arnold Chatz. Arnold was my big hero in thiose days, I met him at the track once and used to nag my dad to drive by his Alfa dealership on Jan Smuts in Craighall to see if anything exciting was happening there. We spent countless Saturdays at Kyalami, everything from club races to F1 GP's.
So when I saw this old Alfa Berlina 2000 I just HAD to take a photo. it instantly brought back lots of good memories.
This old toppie came flying by me on the track at a high rate of knots, it's an old Lotus of some kind. Or is it a Jaguar? Impressive either way.
It's difficult to tear yourself away from the excitement but I wanted to get to Munich, where I have some good friends. Going by backroads would take at least 3 days so I got on the autobahn again, a little more comfortable this time. I was on a racetrack expedition now, seriously considered going to Spa which is only about 100 k's west of N-Ring but decided to head south instead. I know myself - I would have ended up at Silverstone via Spa, Monaco, Monza, Le mans, Valencia and Assen and I didn't have time or money for it :biggrin: The owner of the gasthaus where I stayed told me that Hockenheim was on the way, near Mannheim, and that it was right next to the autobahn. She wasn't kidding. You could throw a beer can (full, but that would be a waste) out of a car as you go by and hit the grandstands. The track wasn't open, I found out that it had been until two hours earlier, and that for 9 Euros you got a tour of the facilities and one lap in/on your own vehicle :BangHead:
Next time.
I did go through the motorsport museum at Hockenheim. Absolutely incredible. They have one of the biggest collections of old bikes in Europe, specifically race bikes.
General view:
The number 1 Kawasaki is one of Kork Ballington's bikes that he won the 350 World Chanpionship on.
An old Husqvarna. It's sewing machine ancestry is more apparent than in modern Huskies:
A Munch Mammuth from the 70's, with 1200cc engine. I'd like to put that in a Volksie :laughing4:
Until the mid-thirties there were hundreds of motorcycle manufacturers in Germany, and specifically in Bavaria. A pre-WW2 Mars:
Remember the Neansderthals? You know, sloping forehead, beetle eye brows, hairy, wore skins, lived in caves? Just like Mugabe? Except they died out, and he hasn't yet? This is a NEANDER 1000, made in the same area they were found. This clean, "bauhaus"styling can also be seen on aother pre-war German bikes, including BMW's
A NECKARSULM, named for the little town in Bavaria where it was made. Check the ape hangers :laughing4:
Two beautiful early 30's Norton's:
A SHUTOFFf. Really. :biggrin:
My personal favourite, an ALLRIGHT :imaposer:
If you think motorcycles had funny names, wait till you hear the bicycle names I saw in Munich :biggrin:
This museum is exceptional, especially if you're a biker. I took close to a 100 photos, and would love to spend all day with no time pressure in it. There were many race cars too, 1980's and 90's Williams, Renault and Benetton F! cars were the most interesting.
If you like technology and engineering, Germany is the place to be, trust me. No wonder Hardly Ableson riders have such a chip on their shoulders. And here I was thinking it's beacuse of their small d*cks. Silly me. :imaposer:
Going to the beach now. Cheers
gonedown
Pack Dog
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LostDOG said:
.....and maybe joining for a couple of pints when you eventually make it to Johannesburg!!
Maverick (R.I.P.)
Race Dog
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Yep another perfectly good lunchtime sien sy gat reading a great report, thanks :biggrin:
