~u#$£n% Banks!

Sorry. A bad day at the office. I have to speak about banking. On a trip this long a certain amount of on line admin is necessary. Despite registering my travel arrangements with all relevent financial institutions, every country and date, for every card I own, they still manage to block a vital payment, requiring the use of a premium rate phone number from a cellphone in the middle of a forest in Sweden ~U#$£N% !!!!!!

They really do have the midas touch in reverse don't they? Everything they touch turns to sh--. 15 minutes and my soring blood pressure (red headed guy on a short fuse). "Security questions are for you own protection Mr Winterburn". So are condoms and ear plugs which both cost a bloody sight less than this call!" "This won't take much more than ten minutes sir (read £20) "Which of the following age categories is closest to the current age of Tim?" "Who the ~#£$ is TIM?

I got compensation payed into my account, and another half an hour later and a plate full of frankfurters and potato salad slid in front of me by Roland (Ta mate), and the transaction went through.

Enough moaning. I have to get my stuff together. I hit the road again on Monday, heading north to Stockholm and a night ferry to Finland. Tuesday I get to take Elsa for a spin around a grand prix track. I intend to see what the old girl can do. I feel some counter steering coming on. You can't corner fast enough conventionally on a bike this heavy. I'll be climbing all over the big beamer like a monkey for sure. Seriously, I am also looking forward to the reunion with Aki and Sami who were at the North Cape with me two years ago. A week with the flying Finns, absolutely brilliant. This trip will take me close to the Russian border. I don't have a visa or the inclination, so will stay in the EU this trip. I just got mugged by my bank, so don't need that service elsewhere.

Thanks to the ladies from the forest for bringing the dongle over, and telling me my coffee was good. This may be the last broadband for a while, unless I grab a coffee at Mc Donalds somewhere.

Last whine. I have a summer cold, so I'm going to get my head down for a couple of hours. After that I'll try self administering half a bottle of Jagermiester! Kill or cure. See you on the other side.

Up on the Roof

I thought it would never stop raining. That was impressive but boring. From up here the river is a torrent, passing under the bridge, rushing foaming towards the lake. Passing villagers are teaching me new words, mostly to do with not having seen the river this high before. Looking down at the forest track flooded out beneath leaden skies I must remember why I am up here. This roof is coming off! Roland is too big to get onto it, and his father Sven is 86. That makes this my job. Don't for one minute think Sven would not or could not do it. The old man is an inspiration. If I want to be as fit as him in my eighties I need to toughen up. Mostly today due to impending further rain, I am preparing. Learning this roof, removing as many bolts as I can, a panel to explore how, then stop. 2 more inches of rain are coming. Still that gives me a chance to clear the weeds along the long side of the property. Another task on my to do list.

Blue skies today and Sven is here before 9. Roland is working in the forest with the sidewinder. Sven and I share virtually no language, but no matter. The roof is coming off this morning. "Ett Tim" and a jerking motion backwards with my thumb, and Sven is happy. The roof will be off by coffee time, then he will plan the new woodwork. Sven is the gaffer today. The roof slid impressively into the garden 7 meters below, just where I wanted it, and without me going with it. Winterburn monkey genes. The carpentry plan is hard. I do carpentry, but I cannot understand Sven's instructions. Over coffee I draw a diagram of the existing structure with measurements. Thank god we share numerals. Sven superimposes his plan and off we go. Claw hammers in the loops on our trousers and pouches full of very large nails. Is this a holiday? You better believe it. Best I've had in years!

I slept well last night, exhausted in a good way. Saw muscles will ease today. The corrugated panels need to be on by the end of the day. We want to get it waterproof today. The sun is hot and relentless today and I am back up on my perch above the river. Getting the fixings in from improvised slideways is "interesting". A slide took me a little too close to the edge for comfort, but I remember pressure and friction holds from my rock climbing. No problem. No panic. This is so much fun.

There is a tradition that a new roof deserves a party. It is a Swedish tradition that even reached the American mid west. Anything that involves grilled beef and beer is totally OK by me. 

Coming up. VMCK are hosting the Swedish BSA owners rally at the weekend. Friday evening is registration for the atendees. I am one of the four man reception team.

A note to anyone wishing to emigrate anywhere. A personal opinion well tested though. Multiculturism is bollocks! You have to integrate. If it comes to it, I would gladly live by the statment I have just made. I can put my money where my mouth is on this one. 150 words of Svenska so far says so.

The Side Winder

The lumber machine is impressive. A monster. I had no idea how felling is done in the 21st century and that is what Roland does. To an english guy of a certain age, memories of Thunderbirds and the rescue of the mighty side winder come to mind. This one has one huge arm to grab trees. If I understand correctly, having grabbed the first one the hand sends information to the computer in the cab. Internet info is provided to the operator on market needs and preferences for logging. Then the side winder can start felling. 800 trees a day !!! Hells bells.

Only 1% of the forest is natural. Almost all of it is planted for timber. If I understand correctly fir (tree) means timber and implies building. Fir are timber trees. These are spruce no surprise. There is work as well as timber in these forests.

...and Rainy Days

In the forest is a lady with two beautiful daughters and a dongle. We take coffee with her and the yougest girl before returning here with the dongle. That is how it works here, and why my posting is so sporadic.

Sunday it rained on and off all day. The mild hangover has gone, and so has Englands Euro 2012 hopes with lousy penalties again. I had checked out house prices in a real estate/bank window last week. I can afford a cabin style single storey property in the Habo area. Would I enjoy it? That set Roland off. He got the pick up out and gave be a tour of the tiny places hidden away from the highway. There are a few for sale to snoop at. The views from the balcony of one are to die for. I will gather enough information for allow a decision later. I have enough to do right now and the Swedish housing market, like the English one, is falling.

Monday: 16 (40cm) inches of rain since yesterday and still it rains. Motorcycle transport dictates that today is a rest day. However. Roland is also unable to work felling trees, so we go into town in the rain, in the pick up. I buy work clothes ready for dry weather. I am going to help him replace his conservatory roof.

Tomorrow I need to go to the bank to get Euros ready for Finland. I head north for the ferry in a week to continue this years journey. A side trip to Talin, Estonia is in the offering. Mondag nesta vecka jag ska till Finland och Estland. My Swedish is improving and so it should. I am putting in some work to play my part while I am here. While I'm at the bank maybe I will ask about accounts, houses and stuff, just in case. It will be easier to gather information here, than from the UK.

Still it rains. I hope it stops soon. There is really only so much you can do with heavy rain.  

Dog Days

The sun shines each day. The afternoons are hot. It can be like this during the Swedish summer. When the sun shines there is no finer place on earth. Time enough this week (before midsommer) to enjoy long walks through the forest to the lake, sometimes looping around the back of the village and light factory. 4.5 miles a day. My host worries I will get thin, so feeds me extra ! Coffee shared in the morning, in the sun. The dogs are play fighting, mother and daughter. That the puppy loves Roland there can be no question. The older dog has a different relationship with him. If she is not taken on trips, she takes her revenge by chewing up his shoes.

Afternoon tea with cakes. My own habits are also part of the routine this four days of summer. Midsommer and the rain are coming, but for now life is soft indeed.

Could I live here?  

Midsommerfest 2012

The sun is up and it's very warm this Friday morning. I have time enough to march out 4.5 miles (english) before getting my stuff together to go over to the club house in Domsand. I don't suppose I will fell like walking tomorrow. Tomorrow will be a slow day.

Potatis med dill. That is my job. Well at least the peeling. Start at the bottom. Funny how things turn out. Two years ago trying to explain to me the campsite was closed was difficult. Monica's solution, with the agreement of the others, was to let me stay on and invite me to the party. Two year on I am a club member and peeling the spuds. I smile a lot today. I absolutely adore midsommer. Raw herring (sill), beer and schnapps. Songs and dancing. The weather started to turn just as we were ready to eat, but we got away with it. The rain held off until 8. By then I had got drunk, stopped drinking, and started to sober up again. Lots of dancing with the girls then.

I put my camp bed up in the little lounge, and in what seemed like no time at all a knock on the door told me ready or not, it is time to put the coffee on. The long breakfast and sobering up begins. The breath tester is on the table between the coffee pot and the cheese. I am in the first wave sober. Apparently I didn't dream it. I actually stopped drinking at 8pm. That's new.

Never the less the day is slow and back in the forest Roland and his brother are no better than I. An afternoon nap and Euro 2012 football is all that is left for the rest of the day. I am well satisfied. If I wanted to stay sober, I wouldn't have made Sweden my second home.  

Campingvard

I need my Swedish numbers, fast! I took my turn in the campsite office. What slipped my attention was that it also included serving at the snack bar for the evening. I have 30 more words than I had at the weekend. This is important for me. This is hard so I'll volunteer to do it again.

Midsommer on Friday I am helping with the food. I also have it in mind to put my name on the work roster for the BSA traffen VMCK are hosting the following weekend. Actually, I just wrote it in my blog, so I guess I volunteered. Good job!  

Into the Forest

I first met Roland last year, on my daily walk to the lake. He bought the house, took down the for sale sign and started the renovation work. We shared coffee, beer and conversation. He invited me to stay if I returned, and in the spring this year duly reminded me. So here I am, with Roland's spare room. A huge flag pole stands in the centre of the big front lawn, as is typical here. The sun is shining and the forest is full of bird song.

Forest people live at a slower pace and that is just fine for me. It honestly only took until lunchtime Monday to recover from the traffen. It is impossible to stay stressed in this wonderful location. I have fallen into familiar Fagerhult habits. A long walk to the lake, sun on my face and the scent of pine in my nose. Simple pleasures. An apple and a bottle of water while I sit on the lake shore looking out over this massive lake. It is bigger than any in northern italy. Sailing boat ply the silver blue expanse. Part time skippers enjoying an early summer afternoon. Please let it be like this for the holiday at the weekend and our midsommer fest.

I spoke to mum. It's been a while. I feel so much stronger now. Time heals.

I stopped by and said hello to Lars and Janet who's stugar I used last year. That resulted in a dinner invitation for myself and Roland who is an old friend of theirs. Stephan also stopped by to say hello. Returning to this sleepy village was a good idea. Salve for the soul.     

Lilletraffen

The venue is huge. It's a holiday park the rest of the time. Tents, caravans, cottages (cabins), apartments. Ernst and Johan have secured two six birth apartments. I am to go in with Johan and crew. The financial logistics have been interesting over the last few months. My thanks to Ernst for bank rolling my share to save me the unreasonable BACs charges.

My first sight of the apartment block sitting perched on a hill under a cliff with views out to sea and cruise ships on the horizon, should have been idyllic. It was not. There are maybe 12 apartments. VMCK has three. The rest are the weekend camp for scores of hooligan bikers. They have sound systems with speakers a metre tall booming out their music ( note to self, if the music is too loud, you are too old!). A huge inflatable pool filled with all of the blocks hot water, provides a medium for aquatic drunkenness. Johan and crew are missing. They arrived yesterday and have burrowed under the wire. In Ernst's apartment we can hardly speak above the music (rhythmic, with a melody and lyrics, so I guess it is). Ernst and Janne are going into Visby on a foraging mission. I am not needed, but take off with them anyway. I need to regroup. Temper under control I returned with them an hour and a half later. Johan and gang are back and planning an evening escape into town for dinner. It is unanimous. We are all going.

Dinner in Visby was Italian and very civilised. This is honestly the stuff great vacations are made of. A strong pound Stirling takes away a lot of the pain of buying Swedish beer. Still I am staying sober. I am not confident on the traffen site. Drunken behaviour is getting worse. Johan's lot got no sleep last night. The bedlam continued pretty much until breakfast and beyond. Back at base we go to the beach where it is quiet. Many of the VMCK camping contingent are here. I hear I told you so a little. Camping in a remote corner amongst tightly packed trees has given them a quieter location. They are nicely set up. Back at the apartments the party is in full swing. Drunken young men ride their motorbikes around the park doing burn outs, wheelies, stoppies etc. One guy sozzled and swooping in drunken loops managed to hit the only obsticle in an arc of 120 degrees, a tree. Crunch! he is flipped forward in a summer salt, to land on his back, fall asleep and start snoring. This incident or similar is repeated ad nausiam. Ear plugs in and to bed sober. The pounding of the music can be felt if no longer completely heard. Relative silence at last, maybe 2:30.

5AM. I have no idea why the teenager felt the need to go out to the bike park, switch on his KTM, and rev the nuts off it. Tony is angry. Johan and Matts, grim but resigned. I am amazed. A teenage boy who has not discovered masturbation!!

Breakfast was mostly quiet. The brats are sleeping it all off at last. We ride out to explore the north of  Gotland, catching the small free ferry to Faro. Everyone is a little tired today but it doesn't spoil our enjoyment of this special place. Crepes in the afternoon sunshine with strong coffee, then the long ride back to the mad house. That evening having relaxed a little with my surroundings, we all get into the party mood in the main hall. England beat Sweden at soccer so I keep my mouth shut. I dislike some of our players but it is impossible not to be delighted when we win. Then the band are playing with the sexiest saxophonist I ever saw. A big blond Swedish girl who would scare the shit out of me, if only.

The final day it rained persistently until 3. A soggy exploration of Visby town is in order. Lots of coffee and ice cream, and more than a few cakes are consumed before we return in anticipation of the prize giving ceremony. I have to be in contention for the furthest travelled.

I travelled the furthest but they gave the prize to a guy from Boden instead. Hey ho. Actually I sulked but being English would not complain. Our ferry back to the mainland isn't until 4:20 PM so we kill more hours in Visby, tiring ourselves out in preparation for the long ride home. Even an hours shut eye on the ferry couldn't remove the effects of persistent sleep deprivation.

Let me be clear. Time spent riding with friends is always a joy and I would not have missed the opportunity to visit the island of Gotland again. If you don't try something new, you learn nothing. I actually know myself a little better from this experience.

Sitting at the top of the gravel slope down to Roland's at 10:30 pm in the drizzle. I dismount to take the kinks out of my legs. Maybe I should leave Elsa at the top and walk in tonight. Nope. Cramming chocolate gave me a sugar surge and I'm awake. All the way down without the old girl wagging her tail once. Job done. Feeling totally exhausted I went to bed to sleep a fortnight hopefully.

Friends

Early start. Ernst, Laila and I meet the gang at a filling station East of Jonkoping at I time I prefer to be in bed. Smiles. So many people I like and am pleased to see again. 30 bikers heading for the ferry and the island of Gotland. It's a long job and every biker in stiking distance is heading for the rally at Visby the island's capital. It is a huge meeting I believe. VMCK were at it in force 5 years ago and have fond memories of a great time. For 7of us though Janne has the use of his sister's holiday cabin for the night. We will get to the rally tomorrow, soon enough.

Sunshine and blue skies. A great place for 7 friends to catch up after a year apart. Osten (73) has his new lady with him. She is lovely. The women are organising everything except the barbecue which of course is mans work. It takes real men to burn the meat just right. There is nothing to this story except a few drinks, hearty food, conversation, a lot of smiles and a few hugs here and there. Even when conversation switches into Swedish for long periods it is still great to hang out with good friends. I wish this could last a week.

Fagerhult. Home for a While.

Dinner last night was cowboy food. Corned beef, canned tomatoes and beans. Beef and bean porridge. Not elegant but honestly tasty. Breakfast is the same. I made a lot. I took nothing off the bike so get away is early. Moens Klint to the Olesund bridge in gentle morning sunshine. Uneventfull thankfully. I know these roads and by German or British standards they are not busy. The bridge is truly awesome. 17 miles of engineering genius and not a body in sight. Have you seen the Danish/Swedish drama? Dark and very Scandinavian. The toll is 21 euros well spent. Malmo and north onto the long straight highway to Jonkoping. It takes all day but it is not hard. 4 pm into Fagerhult and returning touches my heart at last. Picking my way through the village to find Roland's place. The understanding is that I am staying with Roland for the summer. Does he know this? Is he home. Plan B is one night with Ernst and Laila in Bankeryd, ready to leave for Gotland.

The track down into the forest is steep and deep with gravel. Not easy for a big girl like Elsa. She fish tails alarmingly as we descend. If I meet a car coming the other way, I will drop her. That is for sure. I can't stop on this stuff ant this angle of decent. At last Roland's place amongst the pine trees. Roland is outside next to his truck. I get a smile from the big guy. He was not expecting me for five more days, but no problem. Roland's place is a project like my place, so I feel right at home. I'm exchanging some of my labour for a bed. I like this way of living.

The evening I ride over to Bankeryd for an hour with Ernst. Plans for tomorrow include a 06:15 start. Apparently each day has two 6 o clocks! Back to Roland's to sort my shit out and get to bed. 

Snarle Up

There is never a toilet when you need one.

This takes longer to write than for it to happen. Adrenylin flooding a brain produces something like Matrix bullet time. Amazing how much processing can be done in three seconds. WE are amazing.

Red stop lights. Smoke from burning tyres and vehicles bouncing on their springs as ABS saves lives. I am well rested. It is early in the day and I am alert at 100mph (160kph). Middle lane on the Autobahn travelling north fast, still south of Hannover. Heartfelt thanks to Andreas. We stayed sober last night. The guy is a good influence for me.

So here is my three seconds. Emergency stop is automatic programming. I am fast today. Elsa will stop, I am sure. FLASH in pictures not language. Basic Physics. 100 - 0, Elsa will stop I will not. A quarter ton decelerating from 100 mph. The energy has to go somewhere. It will launch me at some fraction of that speed. Bracing arms and legs to stay with her. The car behind me may shunt me. Gap to the right. Big enough. Dump as much velocity as possible, the jag right for the gap. Plunge up through the cars in the fastest filter I ever did. I have to get away from the rear of the incident. I can die today if I am not clever, strong and lucky. Six car lengths leaning onto the bars to get as much of my meagre muscle onto the steering as I can. Too narrow now. I stop. Impact behind not serious. Someone got nudged. Fuck! Off and running. Six more car lengths in full motorcycle gear. Then I stop at last, to breath. Hands on knees getting my breath. Kids in the people carrier to my right are crying. Their mum is trying to calm them. The terror in her eyes mirrors that in mine. It's over for now. No one seriously hurt here. We are not going anywhere. Someone handed me black coffee from a thermos. It was then I first thought about a toilet. I'm human after all.

The traffic starts to move a little. The cars part to let me go forward so I filter carefully. It still takes 45 minutes for me to get off the autobahn, never knowing what the original incident was that caused our secondary one. Jane wants to take me back onto the autobahn and into the chaos, with no understanding in her programming for what just happened. A mental apology to my motorcycle and gadgets for abandoning them to run forward away from danger. Honestly I intended to make the hard shoulder and embankment. I thought to switch Jane off but her compass is my best tool if I ignore her twittering. Still I pull up at an SOS phone to check my position. Funny how much German I have in an emergency. The trucker wound down his window, travelling in the opposite direction stop start. I translate: PROBLEM? (shouting). LOST. WHERE ARE YOU GOING? DENMARK ( removing a paper map and flipping it over on the tank. HAMBURG. GET LEFT. TURN FIRST LEFT, KEEP GOING ON THAT ROAD. THANK YOU MY FRIEND. Back into the traffic people letting me in. Every road north is clogged with autobahn refugees. The good looking woman in the convertible is looking at me. Hamburg? Yep. I stick with her and flirt. Adrenalinn still? I takes all morning. The circumnavigation not the flirting.

Eventually I reach Hamburg in the afternoon, to nudge forward in contraflow, stop start through never ending road repairs. I consider the possibility I will not make Moens Klint tonight. I will also get tired soon. Past Hamburg and the run to Puttsgarten is good and quick. A ferry at 5 pm takes me to the Danish coast coffee in hand. Disembarkation and I have a warning light. Elsa blew a low beam in her light array. An annoyance and a fiddly job for later. It is still a long journey to Moens island east of Zealand. My bed is reserved and none refundable. Reception at the hostel closes at 7. Jane will not accept the address. My machines appear to be annoyed with me.

The post code leaves me with 4 square miles (English not Swedish!) to search. I have ten minutes before staff leave for the day. Be logical. The main road leads to the national park. The Hostel is no that road. Push the old girl to get there. I made it with 2 minutes to spare! Shame the reception clock is fast and they have left. If I had not found an envelope with my name on it I would have honestly set up my camp bed in the dining room. Still, I made it. Dinner better be quick. A shower and set up a table on the lawn overlooking a pristine lake. Fish jumping I sware. Dinner is dry rations off the bike. Mosquitoes drive me inside. We don't always get the journey we planned. The best thing to do with a day like this is go to bed. Day dreaming of white cliffs and dinosaurs that have to wait for another day. Tomorrow I have another long day to get to Bankeryd, to leave for Gotland with VMCK the day after.

In my dreams I am endlessly breaking and terrified. Why do I do it?

Transition Town Leamington

This may be my last post for a few days. I'm travelling now. We shall see.

Andreas continued to give me the guided tour of this charming town and the hills around. The castle (Burg not Schloss), is a stunner, as are the views down onto the city. We walk and talk, mainly about alternative lifestyles and the inevitable end of the oil. I have to check out Transition Town Leamington when I get home. They have a project going that may be interesting. Fellow travellers with an eye to the future. Sunshine with just enough cloud to avoid sunburn.

Sushi! I just had the best meal for two years. There are some other contenders, but my first experience of Japanese food really hit the spot. The chef is polish, such is Europe.

This morning I am too relaxed. I need to shake a leg and get my stuff together. I have to get everything back onto Elsa, which will take some fiddling. I have six hours without breaks ahead of me, including the ferry from the German baltic coast to Rodby, Denmark. This evening I am in Moens Klint, amidst the dinosaur fossils and near to the white cliffs overlooking Katagat.  I can almost smell the salt in the air already. Sorry for my clumsy spelling. Tuesday I cross the awesome bridge from Copenhagen to Malmo, and on up a quiet highway, heading for home.

Enough for now. Load up, and an autobahn to negotiate.

Bielefeld

Inspiration, but more of that later. Mostly the sun shone. Andeas and I went over to the university for lunch and a look around. He is conducting researchh into altruism. He thinks differently and we are surrounded by young people. New ideas are inevitable given the room to grow. Bielefeld is nice, lean and comfortably German. The beer at the brew house was perfect though the burger would have fed three like me.

Sunday we met up with the couch surfers. The idea is that you join the club and share accommodation all around the world. They are overwhelmingly young, and mostly students I think. The girls are so young that they make me aware of how old I am in relation, but their company was perfect. Thank you ladies. We spent most of the afternoon and evening as a group, avoiding the football as much as is possible. We converse in English (thanks all) for me and the Bangladeshi student with the wicked sense of humour.

I stood on the roof terrace and took in the 360 vista of the city, including the schloss. A green and pleasant place. My Uncle was hera as a soldier after the war. I wonder what he would make of modern Bielefeld. I think he would like it. Note to self, go and see Uncle Dennis when I get back.

My Moodscope scores are high just now. This journey suits me well. The timing is right this year.  

Autobahn

Two hours done and I'm over the border (not marked) into Germany. The speed limits have gone as the road becomes the autobahn. You can go as fast as you like. No limit. That changes the dynamics somewhat. You have to learn this as a step up from highways and motorways. My average velocity is 140kph (100 miles per hour) Elsa is purring nicely. Even fully loaded this is easy for her. Her top speed isn't much more, maybe 160 kph. I'm alert and well rested. The fast lane is empty 1.5 km ahead, 1 km behind in the mirror. Double check. OK, move out. The Ferrari was more than a kilometre back, out of visual when I started my move. At 250kph he was on me in seconds maximum. His 250  (160 miles per hour) gave me insufficient time to get back in. Ferrari's have great brakes, so no problem. Actually, that is the last time I will use the fast lane. I'll stick with the slow stuff at 140 :-)

You cross a country quickly at 140. Satnav Jane's posh English pronunciation is now delivering Germish, but she took me directly to Andreas' door. Kein problem. Time to catch up and news, ans take his guided tour of this charming university city. 

Cafe Zero

The capachino is good and the sun is shining. Gulls dive for fish amid the white horses. A nice morning coming into the Hoek. For a very short while it is calm and peaceful here in the on board cafe. I don't need a full breakfast. Another 15 minutes and I'll have to get cracking. Disembarkation soon.

Last nights storm didn't happen. It turned left and headed for Scotland. Not before I went without dinner, went to bed hungry and took the sea sickness pills. Next thing I knew was a good morning public announcement. It was as if I had been in bed five minutes. I managed to feel cheated that the storm didn't arrive. Then again I am a very bad sailor (not a good situation given my lifestyle), so no complaints. I got away with that one. Yesterday was bad enough though. I got a drowning in the A14.

45 minutes sitting on Elsa waiting for the trucks, caravans and camper vans to leave. A yaght, Day Dreamer trundles forward. I wonder where she is going? Then 30 labretta scooters start up revving enthusiastically. My nasel passages are stinging from so much two stroke shit. If they don't get us out of here soome I'm going to choke to death. Mod victory at last over six aging bikers.

A wave to two dutch motorcyclists and the German guy who severely tested my German language, in a nice way. Ich bin ein European. Into the Dutch motorway system, four hours riding to Bielefeld, Germany. I'm organised and alert which is a surprise. Drive on the right. The switch in my head didn't let me down. It's natural for me. My confidence came back. Cool.

Thors English Biker

The god of thunder likes me. He gave me another storm to ride through. It is arriving now, so I'll nip off sharpish, running ahread of it East. It's going to be unpleasant and wet, but I hope the high winds will be behind me as I ride. Latest forecast suggests the full force gale will not reach the north sea. It is still going to be one of the roughest sailings I have take.

A storm like this gives me the jitters. I've gotta go. More later, on the other side.

In my mind I can hear Riders on the Storm, the old Birds hit from the sixties. Fond memories.

T Minus One

At least it's dry at the moment to load the bike. Will it be by the time I finish this cup of tea? This dreadful spring weather continues, and Gales are forecast for my North Sea crossing from Harwich to Rotterdam. I have extra straps to lash Elsa to the deck, and tablets to control my poor stomach. I expect to go to bed hungry tomorrow night on the boat. It beats the alternative! If the ferry sails I will disembark at breakfast time at the Hook of Holland near Rotterdam, then head East into the Dutch road system and then the autobahn's of North Germany. I am scheduled to spend the weekend in Bielefeld with my friend Andreas. The guy I told you about who rode his bicycle around the Baltic in 2010.

Today's plan is to get everything on to Elsa and then back her into the garage, ready for lift off sometime tomorrow. With rain all day forecast, I might as well start out mid afternoon after a good meal. Probably my only one before Bielefeld. Sea sickness is an opportunity. I need to lose weight. My leathers are tight again.

The main points of my later trip from Sweden to Finland are now agreed with Aki. We have a race track day in the West of Finland, some chill out time at his weekend place near the Russian border, and also a side trip over to Talin Estonia as foot passengers on the Baltic ferry. All that is virtually a month away though. For now I just need to focus on getting the journey to Bielefeld done, then on Monday start the run up to Jonkoping Sweden to meet the guys and girls of VMCK, ready to go to Lilletraffen on the island of Gotland.

Satnav Jane is charged and ready, loaded with routes to do her job. The blue tooth on my helmet is also charged ready to receive her posh and bossy instructions. I have maps for when she has one of her senior moments. boB is out of sorts having been in hibernation too long. Notice his new name. boB is Bob backwards! He had a breakdown. He thinks he should have been an Ipad. No sign of Vatta for months. I'm not even sure he is coming on this trip. Black Dog stalked us last year. I'm hoping he is also missing this time.

Friends ask if I am excited. It may be excitement, but more likely it is pre trip nerves. Travelling alone by motorcycle through the motorways of Northern Europe is no small thing. But then again it is what I do. Time to get cracking.