Travelling the world by motorbike. We’ve seen Ewan McGregor and his mate do it, jumping on expensive motorbikes and riding to earth's every sacred corner with a team of medics, mechanics and film crew in tow. But what's it really like?
Nathan Millward is a 29-year-old Yorkshireman who is riding from Australia to England – on a moped called Dorothy. He and Dot left Sydney in January 2009 when his Australian visa had just two weeks left to run and he fancied something of an adventure. He's been blogging about his travels ever since
Nathan says...
Don't ask me how far it is because I haven't got a clue. At a guess I'd say about 32 000km, give or take the odd thousand. I was neither well-travelled nor prepared in the slightest for anything that may come our way but sometimes you just have to give these things a go.
Once I'd come up with the idea of getting from Sydney to London without triggering my fear of flying it felt like I had to turn the trip into reality if I was to avoid the dreaded "what if".
I picked up my moped, a five-year-old Honda CT110 retired from the Australian Post as "too old and worn out", and named her Dot. I couldn't really afford anything better but "postie bikes" are renowned for being tough and sturdy.
Age-old Honda technology would probably be a better bike for most of the countries I'd be travelling through anyway and, although it was a bit slow crossing Australia at 65km/h that was plenty fast enough through Indonesia
When I started I didn't even know how to fix the bike but I figured people would help along the way. Was I out of my depth and ill-prepared? Of course I was. For footwear I had Converse trainers, for storage a milk crate, for accommodation a tent.
But I'm a firm believer that where there's a will there's a way. Besides, we did have the prime minister of Australia's signature on my helmet. I spotted him in a Sydney bookshop the day before we left and pounced before his security guard could shoot me.
"Best of luck, Kevin Rudd, Prime Minister", he wrote upside down on the back. Dot and I were chuffed.
My budget for everything, including the bike, the visas and all the living costs for the trip was £5000 (R62 500) - for a four month crossing. With delays and visa issues things have taken longer and I am hoping to be home before the northern winter sets in, otherwise my "Northface" sleeping bag acquired in India might be sorely tested when I hit the Alps.
The budget has gone up, but only slightly, because on the road, in these countries, I spend no more than £10 (R125) a day. That's for food, shelter if I'm not in the tent and petrol. Those on bigger bikes, like McGregor, need more because shipping and paperwork costs are calculated on the vehicle's weight and value. Then there's the cost of fuel and spares along the way.
Some riders manage to get sponsorship and corporate funding. It's a huge help. All I have - and all you need to get started - is a bike, the necessary paperwork (called a Carnet de Passage) to get your bike over the borders and the necessary tourist visas for the rider.
JUST MAKE IT UP
Getting those involves many frustrated hours waiting in line at embassies where you begin to realise that riding's the easy part of an overland trip. It's the logistics and formalities that grind you down.
That's where, as an adventure motorcyclist, you have two options. Plan or just go. Some take years to outline the perfect trip. They know where they'll stay, the road they'll take and the places they'll visit along the way. Others, like me, just make it up.
A typical day sees me wake at 5am, pack up my tent, skip breakfast, hit the road and for the next 14 hours just keep riding. Dot can only cruise at 65km/h, giving us a realistic daily distance of 600km.
At night I eat a banana sandwich, find a place to pitch the tent, sleep, then wake up and do the same thing again. It was particularly like that across Indonesia, where my error in applying for a one-month visa - not two months - meant we had to cross this vast island chain almost without stopping. It was 5000km across Australia, 6000 across Indonesia.
My main worry, always, is having an accident or taking ill. Who will scrape me up off the road and make sure Dot, my trusty 105cc, and my belongings are safe
LESS SOVIET THAN I IMAGINED
After 27 000km on the road - through East Timor, Indonesia, Malaysia, Thailand, Nepal, India, Pakistan and China - we've made it as far as Kyrgyzstan in Central Asia. All that is left now is the 10 000km through Kazakhstan, Russia and finally Europe before winter hits.
Dorothy and I have been kicking back in Kyrgyzstan waiting for my Russian visa to come through and for her parcel to arrive so I can get her running right. Bishkek, the capital, is okay - full of kebabs that come with rice and bread for a couple of quid.
It's less Soviet than I imagined and nowhere have I seen a horse and cart. Instead the locals whizz around in German cars with badges from Mercedes and Audi. They drive like the Indians, the only difference here being they have more power and smoother roads. That's probably why so many cars are wrecked by the road.
I have to get through this with just my wits, my whittled-down possessions and, of course, Dot. Everything has a place on the bike, a purpose and necessity if it's to avoid being abandoned as waste. You become attached to these things. That's why it's so upsetting when you have to say goodbye to something or see it lost. Hats, gloves, penknives and socks become casualties along the way.
I know I have to ditch some weight if Dot's going to climb the hills of the Himalayas but in truth, on the road, the past and future barely exist. You don't worry about yesterday or tomorrow, just on getting somewhere, in one piece, today.
