Acrobats

Sunset on a warm summer evening. We looked out over the fields to the sunset above the forest on the hill, sipping earl grey tea. Inevitably we had to come inside, as we lost the warmth of the sun, but left the door open. The house was still hot. The bat just flew in. Once in the confined space and speed of the bat made for a frenetic, spine tingling display. My friend screamed "bird" in English. "Nej. Fledermuss", my bad Swedish for bat. Then the cat acted and that was really spectacular. He launched himself not at the bat but at the sofa, using it as a springboard to run up the wall, summer salting backwards over the bat. Twisting he tried to snag the bat, missing by a foot or so (30cm). His immediate second attempt up the other wall, over, sumersalting, two paws working indepenantly, narowly missed this time. The cat was impressive. The bat had now mapped the space including the two of us as bollards in the centre. It's 90% turns in the horizontal and vertical breathtaking. There is something other about bats. Also cats now that I think about it. Did anyone ever see this before? It seems unique. The bat did the only sensible thing. Using it's wonderful sonar. It left.   

A Busy Knight

"You two, arm yourselves and come with me. We have an arrest to make". The men at arms were reluctant as they buckled their sword belts. It was going to be a busy night.

Supper was cheese and shrimp paste on rye, with a soft boiled egg on top.

The knight stood on the little wooden pier looking out over the pristine lake in the forest. His mail shirt and undergarments lay neatly folded next to the tree behind him. Naked  beneath the cool midsummer night sky he breathed in deeply of the birch scented air. He opened his shoulders and flexed his long arms before diving into the cold, sweet water. He had the moment. Tomorrow could take care of itself.

The knight did not have a gut. He was not in his fifties, and at no time did he say to a damsel in distress, "be with you in five minutes, I need a pee!" 

A New Chapter Begins

I will not tackle the immigration office without advise from friends. I cannot do what I need to do here without a place of my own. I have to go onto the government radar soon. I need to manage that. The balance finally tipped. More reasons to stay than to go. Bless you all.

Have my cake and eat it? You bet. A house in England to be with friends and family. A summer house in Sweden to enjoy the journey I have begun. Thanks to Mum and Dad posthumously. If you are watching you know I am doing OK, but please overt your eyes occasionally.

This weekend I will spend in Denmark with friends, before starting the journey home via Germany and Holland. Elsa and I are still travelling well. Better than ever actually. Munching the miles. Eating the elephant one plateful at a time.

The trajectory I am on will return me here next April to find the summer house. I need Swedish language lessons this winter also.

Dear friends in the UK that I miss and look forward to spending time on. Put the tea pot on please.

Jonkopings Lan

"What do you do when you find yourself single in middle age? Dust off your motorbike and go a find people you want to see".

The sun came out finally. I have three weeks here at base. People to see, dinners to eat and beers to share. Country lanes and forest highways to ride (between the showers). So many friends to see before I leave (am I leaving?) To the coast with Roland to Soderkoping and Gryt. Stunning coastal scenery. A new area discovered. A day cruise on the Karlsberg canal With Ernst. Smoked salmon was the on board lunch not to be missed, and long conversations. What ifs, maybes, dreams hopes and fears. Ernst is a good guy and very patient.

If I start listing my social engagements I will miss someone out and offend. Not only that, it is impolite and stupid to blog everything a guy does. We have a farewell pub crawl in town tonight, but I don't want to get trashed. Tomorrow is precious. I don't want to waste an hour.

Elk Recipe

Potatis Moose is mashed potatoes. That is not what we had, just my bad Swedish. Elk with potatoes I wanted to say. I lost the word for Elk.

The Elk joint was provided by Aki frozen, and transported by motorcycle, by me, all the way back to Roland's place in Habo Lan. Roland cooked. He has done moose before. I watched, learnt, and ate. It was surprisingly similar to my Roast Reindeer recipe last week.

Take a joint of Elk(this was maybe 0.8 kilos) meat and sear on all sides in a heavy hot pan with butter. When deeply coloured all over add 0.1L of beer, and 0.1L of water, salt and pepper and some whole onions to soften in the juices. The Elk cooks over a low heat for 2 hours. If you like it pink, take a little time off. Soak fresh chanterelle mushrooms in water then fry gently in butter. Ready boiled new potatoes are also cooked in butter. Take out the meat and carve. Add a little flour to the beery juices to thicken. Then add cream. Plate up the sliced meat with chanterelles on top, cream and beer saucee and finally butter potatoes on the side.

A bottle of Tempranillo reserve from Catalonia and the job is done. We live well in the forest!

To Russia With Love

I'm stuck inside still because of the rain which starts me thinking. Not usually a good idea.

Aki and I looked at the Russian border and turned away again (as intended). I have no visa. I find myself wondering about this huge country I know so little about. What do I know? Cold war stuff? President Putin? Outside of the current western financial meltdown, a member of the BRIC economies? What do I know of her people and culture? I am ashamed to say little. Stories of corruption a crime. True? Hard to travel for a lone motorcyclist? I also hear stories of a warm and friendly people, hospitable and helpful. I also hear that the girls are the prettiest in the world.

Is there a future trip for Elsa and I? Are we going to Russia one day? I wish I knew more.

The Banrock Blues

The storm is an absolute howler
so I take a long afternoon snooze
Outside the road is a river
so I absolutely nothing to lose
I have all of my books and my music
and several bottles of booze
but all of my bottles are Banrock
I've got the Banrock Station Blues!

The Estonian Tourist

"Excuse me, do you speak English?"

The poor guys was just trying tog get lunch. He had chosen a Swedish Chinese grill. The Chinese girl only spoke Swednese. The Estonian tourist had reasonable English and had tried for menu in English. He got a menu, in Swedish.

"Yes I do" He was very pleased indeed as I translated the whole menu from Swedish to English, then because he was still in trouble, ordered for him in my bad Swedish. He thanked me, and as he walked away turned and added, "Your English is very good". "Tack", I replied with a smile that was getting broader as I walked away.

A drop of rain hit the window pane at an oblique angle leaving a tiny diagonal slash of water. It is the first of many. I only notice it's detail because I am lying on the bed watching. This soggy summer continues. It was sunny when I met the Estonian Tourist in Granna, but that was two weeks ago. Local friends are buying tickets for hot destinations, and leaving. Time to regroup. Who stayed home? Let's see.

Gunillaberg

Gunillaberg palace, Bottnaryd.

Thank you dear lady for lunch in a very romantic setting. It was truly perfect. I will not spoil it with my own words, preferring to let people check out the website to see for themselves. Let the pictures tell the story.

http://tage-andersen.com/Images/galleries/7/gallery.html

Today I am a little taller and stronger, and I thank you for that. My thoughts and prayers go with you as you do what you must do next.

Until another day.

Blessed be.

Departure Lounge

I slept in again. My energy levels are so low this trip. Is it the Domsand cold that won't let me go, or bloodsucking Fagin vampires at the banks, draining my energy through my credit cards? Bitter? You bet!
 Either way I skipped breakfast and sat relaxing with a cup of tea in front of the cage fighting middle weight title fight. Lazy days. Bliss. I don't need to set off until 3, so no panic. We had Elk stew for lunch, as you do! Aki enquired about my route back to the bout. "Highway I guess". Wrong answer. I'm a wimp today. He had other ideas. A cross coutry route with lots more bends to play in, then coffee and he can refuel my bike to make sure I actually make it to the ferry. If anyone at the UK banks was reading this would they get it? Dolts.

Soon enough tank full, and a final coffee with Aki, and it is time to head West. We will have other trips and adventures I am sure. I still didn't cross into Russia and St Peterburg is special (and full of beautiful women).

It never happened before, but statistically it has to happen sometime. They loaded the whole damned bout before me. I sat to one side for two hours, and when the last truck was on, they waved me up the ramp and into the tight little space at the very back of the boat, next to the ruddy great ramp, now a wall. Dinner was what was left when the truckers had hoovered up everything else. Still with so many already gone to their beds, I got a window seat to watch the islets slipping by with a beer in my hand. There isn't much really open water between Finland and Sweden. It is utterly beautiful.

5 hours sleep, skip 4:30 breakfast and hit the road south. Stockholm rush hour then onwards down the highway, 300 miles back to base. Old aircraft are artistically suspended alongside the road at Linkoping. It breaks the monotony. Into the forest at Fagerhult in torrential rain. Welcome home. Washing on. I'm out of clothes, then bed for an afternoon nap totally exhausted.  

Sunday

Motorcycle GP on the telly. The kids are doing kids stuff, and I'm writing bollocks with a capaccino at my elbow while Eve clears up. Domestic? Yep, and feels great this morning. Apparently we might take a stroll to a spring to get fresh water for drinking later. Eventuelt. Swedish language starting to seep back into my conscious thoughts. I start the long return journey tomorrow. But that is jumping ahead. This evening we have Reindeer for dinner. It might be me cooking. I'm not sure yet. I have checked out tomorrows journey and have time to spare. A lot of it. It is only 3 hours to the ferry at Naantali.

All that remains is to fill the tank and if I have a cash problem, it is deferred until Sweden on Tuesday. Tisdag, imogan, jag com till bok till Fagerhult, Sverige. Yep the language is still there, bad as ever. Sorry guys, I'll straighten it out eventually.

Note to self: Use a filling station with a kiosk for payment.

I'll blog again when Iv'e got the dongle from the ladies in the woods.

The Tower

......The chain mail smells of machine oil. The weight is comforting rather than heavy. My long bow is taller than me, but the quiver is empty. With grim resolution I draw the broad sword from the baldrick on my back ( Kings Lynn 2007, forged from carbon steel and sharp as hell) and move into the high guard once more. I'm no longer on the battlements looking down, but in front of the heavy oak door which is slowly giving way to the battering ram. Soon it will splinter and give way, and I will see my enemy. I am sure I will recognise them. Blood will be spilled and if the black dog is at their side, I swear it goes first.

4 in the morning. Last nights buffet on th ship, and free wine got to me.

Note to self: Wear plate armour and chain mail less.

Tallinn

As soon as we saw the red knight, I knew that he is me.

High Guard with a broad sword. I've been here before.

Honestly. Would you mug this guy? :-)



The trip to Estonia became a day trip. Reasons vary from person to person. Was bank card malfunction a factor in my agreement not to stay longer. Yep for sure.

I settled into the day trip to this ancient Hansiatic League city just fine. It is a very special place indeed, even with so many tourists and so much tourist tat. That Eve would go shopping was inevitable. That Aki and I would stumble upon a brewery was just serendipityy. We honestly had no idea they served ale in 1 litre steiners here. Having toured the old town already, we settled down at a pavement table with a guy from Washington DC, to watch the world go by. In my case definitely the disproportionate number of drop dead beautiful Estonian girls. With the older ones I am genuinely stunned to find I turn heads. Then again I don't suppose they see a drunken Englishman in chain mail with a broad sword very often. To say that we were mellow and chilled by the time Eve found us is an understatement.

It's a long day and there is a car load of booze to buy for my friends to offset the cost of the trip. In the back of the car dozing, with the low sun flashing through trees I am happy and close to sleep. Eve pulls into the drive in Nastola and I wake up a little. Just enough to transfer to my bed and dream....

The Boat to Estonia

..or Chip and Pin as this post should be called. I have to speak of banks again. Attempting to get Euros at the ferry terminal was when I knew for sure that I am screwed. The cashier regrettably told me that my card was declined, as were they all! Every card I have and I have 6. Starting a side trip sitting on the life vest box on the deck of a ferry phoning you UK bank is pants. It only gets worse when you are talking to the blood suckers call centre operative, as nice welsh girl who knows nothing about travelling with bank cards.

"The problem Mr Winterburn, and thank you for your patience (on hold for ten minutes and at international roaming charge rates)". "You are welcome. It's paper thin though I have to tell you". "The problem Mr Winterburn is a Finnish one. Their card readers cant't read Lloyd's chip and pins. It will be fine when you leave Finland". So basically according to the bank the whole of the EU nation of Finland is incompatible with their chip and pins, but it is clearly a Finnish problem. "Does that answer you query Mr Winterburn". "Not exactly. Lets do it another way. You have my money. I need my money. Finnish petrol stations are automatic requiring chip and pin. here is the question. HOW ARE YOU GOING TO GET ME HOME???? The query gets escalated so that I can be told by someone more senior that I am indeed screwed.

With blood pressure close to blowing my head off someone finally mentioned that my cards will work in a bank ATM. I hang up promising to stay in touch as I may be don't travel. Yep the ATM is happy. So I empty the sucker!

Question to self: What are the chances of cards being rejected? Moderate. What are charges for using cards internationally compared to currency exchange charges? High. What are the chances of getting mugged. Close to zero. The conclusion seems to be a return to cash transactions is sensible. It also provides the satisfaction of depriving the banks of revenue to give to their fat cats in bonus handouts. We are not "all in this together".

I have a similar suggestion for an inventive alternative to another bank product. Savings accounts with next to no interest? Stick cash under your bed!

I join Aki and Eva to settle into the day trip to Tallinn. The guy put a beer in my hand. Good call mate. I'm a grumpy old git. Ta.

A Cabin by a Lake

It is when you are dog tired on a motorcycle that you are most likely to drop it and I am totally spent. 3.5 miles of gravel road, the last 0.5 is deep and slidey with sand and declines to add to the excitement. My heart was in my mouth when the back end fish tailed. I didn't go down. The cabin was in front of me before I registered it. I was actually parked when my tired senses caught up. That was scary.

Beer in hand we are heading for the sauna hut by the jetty onto the lake. This is secluded, private, quiet. Without mosquitoes it would be heaven indeed. The Fins have no problem with nudity. I need to learn fast. When in Rome be a roman candle! 60C in steam is hot, but I am learning to like it. I do honestly. The walk to the lake sans clothes and the dive into pure cold clean water is divine. We swim a while before returning to the sauna for more cleansing. I get it. I really do.

There is a hammock having between two trees and on the following sunny morning I can't think of any thing I'd rather do...

...except maybe fishing for the first time. When did I chill down to this? Who is this guy?

I'm not going to write about all of the weird injuries and ailments I picked up at this point, because it spoils the narative, and the truth is I had a very fine time indeed. Only the climb out up the dirt and gravel track on Elsa prevents me from waxing lyrical further. Love this place.  

The Russian Border

A long day. We travel the width of Finland, the first few hours with the Bay City Bikers that we bunked with last night. These are easy people to get along with and we stay together as long as our onward journey allows. Attempting to fuel at a tiny filling station was the first indication I had a bank card problem. Since I cannot read Finnish I had no idea why the old card reader spit out my credit card. I've been caught out by old machines that don't do a selection of languages. Press the yellow button and walk away.

These guys are cruising and hanging out, reluctant to finish the outing. Aki and I have the country to cross, so inevitably we say our goodbyes. I honestly hope to see you again one day guys.  

Aki has some twisties to have fun on before a pit stop at his family home. That is when I meet Eve and the children for the first time. We are going to end the day at the family summer cabin by a lake, close to the Russian border. Eve is loading the care with food, gear and kids. After lunch and ten minutes on my blog, we head East, sightseeing and bend swinging.

Bright dappled sunlight through the birch trees as we blast through (within the speed limit of course) winding lanes, getting ever closer to the Russian border. After an ice cream at a sleepy harbour on the Baltic, we join the highway for the last 20 kilometres or so. What do you see? No hammer and sickle these days. Just a line of trucks more than a kilometre long, waiting to get their papers stamped to cross into the Federation. Before Christmas it can be days long. There is no where to stand and sight see. No photo opportunity with Russian guards. The best we can do is the filling station on the hill which "almost" overlooks the crossing. Aki fills my tank because there may be a problem with my cards. More on that later.

Russia. Did I finally ride my beloved beemer as far as we want to go? Tonight that feels a possibility, but I am tired and we have a little way still to go.

Track Side

My last post was fast. So more on the track.

Club photographers took over 4000 pictures so images to follow when they reach me. I didn't get my knee down I'm afraid.

I was sitting in the stands with a couple I had just met, when Aki found me. I had been at the track an hour and a half courtesy of the early ferry. The couple have a cabin close by and the track povides regular entertainment for them. Motorc club track practise days are part of that. I moved Elsa and all of my gear over to the club prep area. Can't call it a paddock. That would be too grand. Aki and others are getting their bikes ready. Some of them are very serious with track bikes not road legal, tyre warmers on. Gaffer tape manufacturers make a fortune out of these guys. You have to imagine the smell of fuel, and hot rubber under a punishingly hot sun. Yes, it gets hot this far north.

The elites are out first. Aki has elected to ride with set two along side me. He will move up to the elites when he is satisfied that he has all the winter kinks ironed out. So we have half an hour to watch the grown ups showing us how it is done. These guys are good. The pace is picking up if not yet exactly blistering. knees go down in the corners. No overtaking on the corners. Personal lap times are what these guys are after today. My stomach is churning to be honest. 8 minutes to go to the chequered flag. Time to get ready.

Elsa looks weird without her panniers and all of my cross continental gear. She is as stripped as she can be. I said already that her mirrors are taped up to prevent me using them. She looks tall, broad and a bit of an ugly duckling without her clothes. Touring clothes are out of place amongst track leathers, but this is my day to do this. Thor let me NOT show myself up. Apparently I give a damn. We move up to the top of the ramp leading down onto the home straight. The flag drops and in single file accelerating towards the first bend, we are into the warm up lap. So far so good.

......A blackbird flies past me pursued by two hawks. Hayabusa eat blackbirds.......

I can't find the line with the rest swarming all over me, and I am a bit scared (human after all). Aki passes and falls in in front of me tapping the side of his bike. He gives me a lead onto the race line. I have it. Slow but sure under instruction. I stuck at it for 25 minutes coming in one lap ahead of the chequered flag. That was not great. Damn!

Aki move up to the top group and I watched from the stand joining the couple I met this morning, who said I did OK for a first time out and on an autobahn bike. I sat the next set out struggling with myself. I want to play but frankly I was crap. A little constructive criticism (learning points gratefully received and I am not so crest fallen. What happened next was inevitable. It's been a while since I rode horses, but when you fall off you get straight back on.

Sitting at the top of the ramp again, looking down at the first corner, which is going to be mine. Elsa is not quick but she has a LOT of torc. She will accelerate if I have the balls to do it. Yep. I do. Into corner one looking at the track from a more horizontal angle, Vatta licks his lips and I relinquish the controls to him. For half a minute Elsa danced sure footed, before my tiny alter ego popped back into his shell, leaving me to tough it out with grim determination. Hold the line. If the guy behind wants to pace, that is for him to do. Several laps and my performance has improved 100% ( lets not get carried away. Set one was poor indeed). Honour is served and I am tired and sensibly middle aged. My left hand goes up as I slip away to the pit lane. I need a drink, and coffee will have to do. With practise and money, I could do this well I think. I live close to a couple of world class circuits in England. A guy can dream.

Once again, heart felt thanks to the two Finnish motorcycle clubs involved, and of course Aki. I had a great day. One of those you remember for life.
  

Alasatro Circuit

The Black bird flew by me with two hawks in hot pursuit. Hayabusa eat blackbirds.

Looking to enter the circuit with the other revving bikes, I invited Vatta to take the controls. He is very small just now and will not play. He looks over my shoulder petrified as I do the job myself. I can't find the line, so can't get the pace. Others are swarming all over me. Why did I think this was a good idea?

Elsa is too big and heavy. I stripped her of all of her luggage and taped her mirrors so that I am not distracted by the pursuing riders. In I went again, set three, having studied and thought. If you fall off a horse, get straight back on. This time I'm faster, holding my own, almost. I found the race line and held it ruthlessly. If the birds of prey want to pass, let them figure out how. That is their problem not mine. I am definitely getting better, but also tired, so being a grown up I made the only decision I could. My left hand went up, I moved left and coasted for the pit lane. Honour is served. I did OK for a 1st timer. Honour is served.

My thanks to Bay City Bikers for including me, and Aki in particular for making this awesome thing possible. Eight of us shared a bunk house for the night, a grill and some beers, and also a strong liquur that tasted a lot like Fishermens friends, cold remedy. Whatever, it worked wonders. Today Wednesday I don't feel bad at all.

I wonder how much a second hand Suzuki Hayabusa would cost me? 

Naantali

Sicks hours travelling with a cold is no fun anytime. Inside a crash helmet with toilet paper stuffed up your nose is grim, but I git the job done. 21:45 ferry to Finland and my nose stopped running. Too much information? Sorry.

06:45 local time, one hour ahead of Sweden, I had 4.5 hours sleep so don't feel fantastic. 07:00 sitting on the beautiful little old harbour at Naantali. The sun is shining. I should feel good. My mood is not great though. The language has me stumped. It has commonality with norther European languages. Finally I am looking over my shoulder expecting the black dog to show up. At this point it becomes obvious. Change location and change my mood. Find the race track, then get some rest ahead of the others arriving.