tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58055201727528704402023-11-16T04:04:19.518-08:00Scooters Ride the WorldRiding the world on small bikes, just because we can.Rhodabikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07898021035934693821noreply@blogger.comBlogger132125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5805520172752870440.post-68030360997270410692013-02-03T14:38:00.000-08:002013-02-03T14:38:00.583-08:00TurkeyBefore we left home, Istanbul - and Turkey in general - was about as far as I could imagine riding. I'm not sure why but I seemed to have some mental yardstick that made places beyond seem misty and vague, and I was unable to imagine anything about them other they how they appeared on a map. And that was despite the hundreds of images I had seen on the internet, in guide books or on TV. I think Istanbul was fixed in my mind because when I was a child, I had a book about capital cities of the world. It was only small, and a freebie from a cereal packet, and the page I looked at most often was the page about Istanbul because I liked the picture - a white building with funny tops that Mum told me were onion tops, and it was set against a deep blue sky. That picture fascinated me and that was the image I had in my head as we rode towards Turkey.<br />
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We had intended to drop down into Turkey from Bulgaria and head straight to Istanbul but bad weather across Europe delayed us and we had to rethink our route. Expensive insurance requirements in Serbia and Macedonia also influenced us, so instead we headed south from Bosnia and Herzegovina to Montenegro, Albania and Greece before turning east towards the Turkish border.<br />
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The crossing from Greece to Turkey was rather longwinded, courtesy of mutual dislike on both sides, with soldiers from the respective countries guarding each end of the bridge that separates them, giving us opposing instructions. But at least there were banks and places to get food there at this border, even if the ATM was difficult to find an then reluctant to give up cash from the disliked neighbour.<br />
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But it was here that we got talking to two British blokes taking a lorry back to the UK from Istanbul. It turned out that they worked in the film industry that their cargo was motorbikes - the bikes that had been used in the recently filmed and now released James Bond film, Skyfall. And they let us have a look at them, which was great.<br />
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But five separate gates, two hours and one visa ( me only - Nadine didn't need one for some reason, much to her glee) later, we finally left Greece and entered Turkey, only to be stopped ten kilometers down the road and subjected to a full document check. Luckily we had bought insurance at the border although we later discovered that despite what the border police had told us, it was not compulsory for EU citizens, and they had made a few Euros at our expense. But in the circumstances, there was little we could do, and anyway, the piece of paper and my IPA card satisfied the two cops and we were on our way pretty quickly.<br />
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And because we had crossed the frontier further west than originally planed, we were near to the Gallipoli Peninsula, and so decided to go there first.<br />
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Gallipoli is known for a nine month campaign in the middle part of WW1, involving mostly Australian and New Zealand troops (Anzacs), also known as the Dardanelles Campaign or the Battle of Canakkale. The Allies needed to take the Ottoman capital of Constantinople ( now Istanbul) in order to secure a sea route to Russia. The campaign was a disaster for the Allies but it set up modern day Turkey and its founding leader - Kamel Ataturk. Gallipoli is known as Gelibolu in Turkey and is a peninsula - Turkish Thrace - which forms the European part of the country.<br />
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The place now seems very peaceful and is covered by pine forests and very sandy soil. There had been floods just the week before which meant that many of the roads were covered with a sand wash and the banks had been carved by water. But I still tried a bit of off roading and took a tumble, smashing a mirror. But at least I didn't park my bike on a patch of sand and have it sink up to the rear axle. It took both of us and all our strength to pull it out; thank goodness it wasn't a bigger bike or we would still be there.<br />
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We stayed in Eceabat that night, in a hotel right by the ferry terminal. This ferry enabled us to get across the water to get to Canakkale and then down to Troy.<br />
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On that ferry, we met a gang of Austrian bikers on Goldwings, who seemed very amused by our intention to ride all the way to Mongolia on our little scooters. But they were nice guys and we chatted to them for the whole crossing, and later saw them on the road to Troy.<br />
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Troy (as in Helen and the wooden horse) is an actual place and an ancient ruin. However, its not just the ruins of one city but nine consecutive civilisations, all on top of each other. But even after nine incarnations, there's not much there to see except piles of stones and various cats that have taken up residence, but it's one of those places that you have to go to, so that's what we did. And now we've ticked that one off the list.<br />
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After another night in the same hotel - an an earthquake which I slept through, we set off for Istanbul via the northern coastal road. of the Sea of Marmara. It was a bit windy which made riding difficult as the wind really rips at your head and neck. But it was still warm and sunny, and rather than take main roads, we picked our way through coastal villages and towns, and through small places dotted up on the sparse mountainsides.<br />
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The scenery was beyond spectacular and it made us realise just how lucky we were to be able to actually go places. I don't mean as rich people, but as ordinary people able to opt out for a while and not be tied to an office, a stressy boss or skiving colleagues or whatever. We had both worked and saved to be able to do this, and were doing it as cheaply as possible, riding cheap bikes and roughing it, but the thing was that we were actually doing it, and that was pretty awesome.<br />
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Pottering along was also a good way to see the countryside, and we stopped for lunch in an olive grove by the side of the road.I can't remember what we ate but I think it was probably stale bread and a bit of cheese that had seen better days, washed down with some warm bottled water but it really didn't matter.<br />
On this day, there was some sort of celebration going on, which seemed to be the focal point of every town and village that we passed through. Bans, flags, soldiers and parties. It might have been a national day or something but whatever it was, we had many cheery waves thrown our way.<br />
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We eventually arrived in Istanbul at rush hour on a Friday evening, into the most insane traffic ever, both in volume and driving style. Yet the little scoots coped very well, winding through the jams and sneaking up hard shoulders. far from annoying people, occupants of cars seemed to love it, especially when they saw we were foreign. People hung out of moving windows shouting to us, asking us where we had come from, taking pictures of us and making way for us to cut across lanes of traffic. It was totally bonkers and a real rush to ride, yet not once did we feel unsafe or overwhelmed, either by the driving standards or the woeful capacity of our bikes. I think that ride through Istanbul's mega congestion will be one of the highlights of both of our lives.<br />
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And to our surprise, we found the Istanbul Bike Clubhouse very easily and met up with some UK friends who had arrived the day before. Mehmet and the Istanbul guys were great - very welcoming and helpful, and they allowed us to use their garage, tools and expertise for several days for some serious bike farkling.<br />
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They also helped us with some mods and repairs - they drilled out a broken exhaust studs and also showed us how to mend broken spokes, of which I had several, and made a bit of a rack to secure the spare fuel cans. The spoke lesson proved invaluable when we reached Kazakhstan, the land of no mechanics, no help and lots of punctures.<br />
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We then spent three days wandering around the city on foot, being guided by Mehmet and seeing the sights, the back streets and being told the history of the place, as well as interesting little snippets as we went. It was an excellent tour and well worth the sore feet that we had at the end of it.<br />
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On thing that troubled us both was the behaviour of some tourists at the Blue Mosque. Turkey is a Moslem country but it also welcomes non Moslems and is very open and accommodating when it comes to visiting places. We both had scarves to cover our heads and wore long trousers to ensure our legs and ankles were covered, although the leg thing did not seem to be necessary. However, head covering was a must, yet women were removing their scarves once they had passed the entrance people. Not very respectful nor a great way to promote understanding etc. If it's that much of a problem, then don't go to such places. Not cool and as it's their country, they make the rules.<br />
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Mehmet also made a few phonecalls on our behalf and discovered that the Georgia/ Russia border was now open to non Georgian or Russian citizens. That meant we could ride the whole way to Mongolia and not take a ropey old ferry across the Black Sea to Russia, at a cost of £400.00.<br />
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We left Istanbul to ride east and made good time, despite rain and dust. As we had also crossed the Bosphoros, we were officially in Asia. People continued to be nice to us, they all seemed to be called Mustapha, and everybody wanted to make us chai, which was lovely but we would never have got anywhere had we accepted their offers, so most of the time we declined, albeit after a brief but friendly chat.<br />
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Things went well for a day or so, despite more bad weather, but then my bike started to drop oil badly. It seemed to be dripping out of the head and into the exhaust pipe, and the engine loosing compression, suggesting a leak somewhere, so we tightened everything but it made no difference. Eventually we called Mehmet who directed us to Kastamanou, a town to the north of our intended route, where he said he would send an English speaking mechanic to help us. He turned out to be a non English speaking artist with no idea at all about anything faintly mechanical, but he was very nice and bought us food. He also found us accommodation and took us there - albeit he was on the bus which we had to follow on our bikes, mine smoking badly,backfiring, and limping pathetically. The following day he took us - via the same bus/bike method - to town and found us a mechanic.<br />
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The mechanics were great blokes and really helped us out. They also bought us lunch and generally chatted to us while instructing the junior mechanics. They tidied up writes, fixed the clutch, changed the oil and replaced the head seals. But the weather turned really bad with heavy rain. Apparently this is a daily occurrence in the summer, and something to do with the nearby mountains, their cooling effect, and convection. It was enough to keep us there for three nights and we realised that we needed to get on the road early in order to get the best part of the day.<br />
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So that is what we did on the day that we left, and we rode about 60kms before my bike broke again, with exactly the same problem that had marooned us in Kastamanou. Unfortunately, this time we were miles from anywhere and high in the mountains.<br />
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Poor old mehmet got another call as we knew we could not fix this by the side of the road and despite what the mechanics in Kastamanou had said, neither of us believed it was as simple as another failed oil seal. And even if it was, what was causing them to fail?<br />
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An hour later, two men in a pickup truck arrived, heaved both bikes on the back and drove us to Sinop, the most northerly town in Turkey. One of the men turned out to be co owner of a bike shop, the other just a driver. Again, they thought it was a failed oil seal, and indeed when the head was removed, the seal was distorted. But why? I had already decided that if it was not a quick fix, then I would buy another engine and get them to fit it into the frame. However, they insisted it was the seal, and replaced it the following day after we had been hosted by them and their family. Again, really lovely genuine people, who made us very welcome.<br />
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But the seal failed yet again and after just 50 kms, so it looked like a new engine was the best option. However, that is when we encountered a touch of the 'we are men and men know best' mantra that seems to prevail in that part of the world, especially when it comes to anything mechanical. They were very nice about it but there was no way that they would concede, insisting instead that the head be sent by overnight bus to Istanbul for welding, and then returned, where it would all magically work. So we had to agree, albeit with the proviso that if a good repair could not be made, a new head was to be sent back. That turned out to be a good call as it could not be repaired, and had we not instructed them, we would have been marooned for longer. People meant well and were exceptionally kind but a straightforward engine swap would have been cheaper and quicker, but it was clear that it was just not going to happen.<br />
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So whilst we waited, the mechanics - Kadir, brother Atilla and several of their biking friends took us sightseeing and showed us around Sinop.<br />
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Again, they were very kind to us, and we even ended up having tea with the Police Commissioner who gave us perfume and chocolate.<br />
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Eventually, we got underway again but our Russian visas had started and we were still a country and a half away from that huge place, which we needed to enter and exit twice within thirty days. Time was becoming a real pressure and we knew we would have to rethink our route. We rode steadily eastwards along the Black Sea coast and my bike was good, with no sign of dripping oil. However, Nadine's clutch was slipping badly despite the Sinop mechanic replacing it with a new unit we had bought in Kastamanou. We tried to fix it, and took it to pieces on a garage forecourt but the inner screws had been tightened with an impact gun and were just too tight, so we we had to reassemble it and hope for the best. Luckily we later spotted a motorcycle mechanic shop which was open ( on a Sunday) and the owner helped us. We also had a tremendous stoke of luck when the man living next door wandered over to see what the two foreign women were up too, and revealed that he spoke fluent English - which he'd learned in Norway. So he translated for us, in a Norwegian accent, and it all worked out just fine.<br />
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By now it was already 1800 hrs but fortunately for us, we were closer to the Georgian border that we thought, so we decided to try and cross that night. Several hundred other people had clearly thought the same thing too, but again, fortunately for us, they were all in four wheeled vehicles - cars, vans and lorries, and were all arguing about who should be first in the queue. But being on small bikes, we were able to ride around them and get to the front while they carried on shouting at each other and insulting each other's driving. Then just as we got to the front of the queue, a heard of Alpine cows wandered through - and nobody batted an eyelid. They were really pretty cows too - all long lashes and brown/black faces and they walked right through the formalities. Bizarre.<br />
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Despite the cow distraction, we crossed the border very quickly, providing a source of amusement for the assorted police, customs men and still arguing drivers. Stamped out of Turkey, quizzed at the Georgian line, stamped in to Georgia, requizzed and then sent on our way with waves and shouts of ' 'Foreigner womens! Welcome to Georgia', we were just one smallish country away from Russia, and so far, the scoots were still behaving.<br />
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However, we were about to break a real no no as far as bike riding goes; riding in the dark. But we had no choice. Batumi town where we crossed was several kilometres further on, but after a few kilometres, we were diverted off the main road onto a track in pitch black. Actually, the track was more crater than track and we had no idea where it was leading us. So there we were, fully loaded, dodging craters by feel and people by luck, unable to see, and not having any idea of local road rules. Then just as we'd been flung into it, we popped out again, right next to a garage were there was a truckies motel. The owner not only gave us a room, but told us to ride the bikes straight into the lobby which we did, and he cooked us dinner. Neither of us had any idea of what it was, nor did we care, and we even found some dollars with which to pay the bill because he couldn't remember the exchange rate for Euros. But we had survived another day.<br />
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<br />Rhodabikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07898021035934693821noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5805520172752870440.post-6309887684337808022012-11-26T18:02:00.005-08:002012-11-26T18:06:50.414-08:00SkyfallOK, so this is not strictly about bikes......but it does have a tenuous bike link because when we were in Turkey ( the chapter on which is currently being written up and should be published by the end of the week - probably) we bumped into the men who were freighting the bikes from the latest Bond film 'Skyfall' from Istanbul back to London. And later we were taken to several locations around the Grand Bazaar and adjacent streets where the opening chase scene was filmed. So when we discovered that filming in and around the Skyfall House was not done in Scotland but in Surrey, which is just down the road, we just had to see if we could find it........<br />
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The A3 is the main ( non motorway) road from London to Portsmouth and it is a pretty good route, apart from the bit just south of Guildford, where it enters a valley, known as The Devil's Punchbowl, just north of a small town called Hindehead. For years, this was a major bottleneck for traffic and there was no way round it. Then several years ago, a tunnel was built, by-passing the town and magically vapourising the traffic problem. It did backfire a bit though, in terms of local businesses, which have now lost out on passing trade, in a sort of very scaled down version of the Interstate effect on Route 66 in America.<br />
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But the area surrounding Hindehead is very rural, covered in heathland and pine woodland, with tiny hamlets dotted here and there, and its one of those places that you skirt en route to other places It is very nice, yet much of it is also used by the MOD, but the recent discovery of some rare lichen (yes really) there meant that instead of being sealed off and used by them and them only, the MOD was forced to share it with the rest of us, film makers included. But one good thing about the MOD being around is that the land has a history of being blown up and driven over, and practised upon by soldiers - and that means that there are various military artifacts hidden amongst the trees.<br />
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And one such artifact is a mock up of the Atlantic Wall from WW2.<br />
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The Atlantic Wall was what the Germans built as anti tank defences in order protect their newly acquired lands (France) from the Allies, when the war was still going well for them. France, having a very long western coast, was clearly vulnerable to attack from the Royal Navy and friends. So when they came to plan D Day, the Allies rightly anticipated that landing along that coast would not be easy. Thus the mock up, built in 1943, was to train troops for the landing and give them a chance to practise overcoming the blockades. It also allowed them to develop specific and precise ordnance to breach the heavily fortified concrete wall.<br />
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Evidence of this activity is apparent along the length of it; there are many gaps and exposed metal rods.<br />
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There are also patches of dragons teeth, anti tank fortifications, which troops developed tactics to overcome.<br />
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This particular piece of wall was used by Canadian troops, and the area is very reminiscent of Canada, particularly some of the birch and pine woodland covering the Canadian Shield. And rather bizarrely, the long since abandoned concrete has now been colonised by various plants, the lime in the concrete offering optimum nutrients for flourishing plant life.<br />
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But just up and over the ridge to the left of all these pictures, is a huge sand and rock basin, devoid of trees but covered with heather. And this is where the Skyfall house mock up was. There is actually a small army camp in the basin, an area which I think is called Hankley Common.<br />
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This camp was used by the film crews during the making of Skyfall, and although it is off the beaten track, there are pre-existing forest roads which enabled trucks, equipment and props to be taken in and out.<br />
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The house was built on a platform so when they set it off, it didn't damage the plant life. Pretty considerate really.<br />
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If you've seen the movie, cast you mind back to the bit in Scotland ( supposedly) when Bond and M arrive in the DB5 at the Skyfall gates, go up the drive, and then look down into the valley where towards the house. Well this is the location folks.........minus the house.<br />
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After that, we went and had a look at the old A3. Sounds very odd I know, but now that bit of road has become redundant thanks to the tunnel, it is in the process of being turned back to nature, with the tarmac being ripped up, and the track being allowed to grass over. It will be a cycle and walking route, with great views over the whole Punchbowl.<br />
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Overlooking the route is a monument to an unknown sailor who was murdered here back in 1787.<br />
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Apparently he was walking back to Portsmouth and his ship, when he stopped off at a pub in nearby Thursley. There he met three men who could not afford a meal, so he bought it for them, plus beer, and paid for it with a golden guinea which he had earned from his last sea voyage. After he left, they followed him and cut his throat. They were arrested the next day and hanged a few hundred metres away on Gibbet Hill, and their hanged bodies were coated in tar and suspended from the Gibbet in chains, where they were left to rot. Today, the spot is marked by a Celtic cross, erected in the 20th century because locals believed there was an evil air about the place. It is also the second highest point in Surrey, surpassed only by Leith Hill.<br />
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<br />Rhodabikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07898021035934693821noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5805520172752870440.post-54604447389547542212012-11-26T03:41:00.004-08:002012-11-26T03:44:02.940-08:00Our kit, our mods, and our spares<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span lang="EN-US"><b>This is </b></span><b>what we did and what we took, and there was nothing that we didn't use - frequently.</b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
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<b>Nadine's most useful piece of kit was her Leatherman, mine was the tarp. We used both pieces of kit everyday and they were invaluable.</b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
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<b>The multitool Leatherman was used to farkle the bikes, cut rope and cable ties, modify clothing, and mend my arm. The tarp became a shelter, something to sit on, and a bike cover, as well as a base for mending engines and fixing punctures. It cost £10.00 from B&Q in Sutton.</b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><b>Our Adjustments</b></span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]-->-<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US">Replaced engine mounting bolts</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]-->-<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US">Reinforced electrical blocks with cable ties</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]-->-<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;"> </span><span lang="EN-US">Spark plug cap and spark plug - replaced both</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]-->-<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US">Taped the inside of the wheel
rims</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]-->-<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US">Tightened and Loctited all
bolts </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]-->-<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US">Taped the headstock wiring to
stop it chaffing</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]-->-<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US">Rerouted the wiring under the
fuel tank to stop chaffing</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]-->-<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US">Removed the kick-stand cut-off
switch</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]-->-<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US">Removed kill switch </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]-->-<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US">Put extra shock absorption in
the rear lights</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]-->-<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US">Wired the licence plate to the
bike</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]-->-<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US">Jubilee clipped the footpegs</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]-->-<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US">Added sat-nav wiring and 12v
chargers</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]-->-<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US">Extended the rack</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]-->-<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US">Fitted some Grip-Puppies on the handlebars</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]-->-<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US">Fitted eyelets to attach
baggage to front of leg shields</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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</span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US">Built a cage around the
headlamp</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><b>Our Spares</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]-->-<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US">Clutch plates and puller</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]-->-<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]-->S<span lang="EN-US">pare rear tyre each </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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</span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US">Chain and sprocket set</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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</span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US">Inner tubes </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]-->-<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US">Wheel bearings </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]-->-<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US">Spokes</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]-->-<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;"> </span><span lang="EN-US">Tub of grease</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]-->-<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US">Throttle cable</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]-->-<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US">Spare number plate</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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</span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US">Bulbs</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><b>Our kit</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;">•<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US">2 Tents</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;">•<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US">Down Sleeping bag and silk
liners </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;">•<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US">Beds</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;">•<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US">Cooking kit</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;">•<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US">Minimal personal kit</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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</span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US">First Aid Kit</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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</span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US">Paw Paw cream</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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</span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US">Leatherman</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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</span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US">Tarp</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;">•<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US">Minimal tools (only what was needed and doubled up where possible)</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;">•<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US">IPod and Laptop</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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</span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US">Rehydration tablets</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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</span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US">Photocopies of important
paperwork</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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</span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US">Fake licences for Russian
police</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;">•<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US">Camera – waterproof and good</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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</span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US">USB storage sticks and SD cards</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--EndFragment-->Rhodabikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07898021035934693821noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5805520172752870440.post-8603997414326864672012-11-23T03:05:00.000-08:002012-11-24T11:17:46.620-08:00Illness, Injury and medical precautions<br />
Plan a trip anywhere, and the health question is likely to come up. 'What happens if' type things sneak into your mind and if you're not careful, can make you paranoid and scare you silly. But in reality, it really is not that big an issue.<br />
<br />
Both Nadine and I are just normal, regular women. Neither of us are super fit but we are basically OK, and generally healthy. Neither of us is prone to any particular condition, common or uncommon, or any regular medication, although both of us have various injuries existing but healed injuries that still need occasional managing. Nadine has a knee injury and a back niggle from a bike accident, and I have a shoulder/arm injury from a pushbike argument with a car. But that is it. Yet we did this trip with no backup or specific training, and no particular planning, proof that it is possible to just get on and do what you want to do, regardless of the gadget and bike assumptions that some people seem to swear by.<br />
<br />
Having both ridden in Africa earlier in 2012, we had already had a number of jabs for things like Yellow Fever, Typhoid, Polio, and Hepatitis. These are things that we knew about and knew we would be going into areas where they were common, so it made sense to get sorted before we went. It also meant that by doing so, we would not be taking away vaccine and medical treatment from locals who needed it yet had no other opportunity to get it.<br />
<br />
Some of these jabs were free from the NHS, whilst others were done for a fee by the Superdrug Travel clinic. Jo and Julie at the Clinic in Croydon were excellent and went out of their way to identify danger areas and find information on managing conditions for us. That really helped put stuff in perspective too.<br />
<br />
Meningitis was another jab we had. We knew that on the Africa trip, we would be in and around a hospital where medical cases were routinely mixed, and quite possibly would come into contact with carriers, so it made sense to have this. But just before we went, the Muslim Council for Great Britain sponsored an initiative to inoculate anybody going to Muslim countries in an attempt to reduce the spread of meningitis at the hajj or routine religious gatherings. The existing vaccine stopped you getting a particular strain, whilst this one also stopped you carrying it, which again made sense as neither of us wanted to get Meningitis, let alone transport it across the world and into places that we travelled through, either in Africa, Europe or Asia.<br />
<br />
The big one though was Rabies. At £150.00 for three jabs, it is quite expensive and it only buys you 24 hours to get help and possibly survive should you get infected, as opposed to dying a painful death on the spot. But we knew we would be out in the wilds and likely to encounter fierce dogs, so we decided to have it. And nowadays, its just three simple injections in the arm, and not a painful ordeal with along needle as it used to be.<br />
<br />
Once we had done that, we needed a sensible and manageable medical kit that wouldn't get us into trouble. We both needed painkillers for our existing injuries, but some common medicines ( stuff containing codeine for example - a common ingredient in many over the counter medicines - is dodgy in some places) and even alcohol wipes are illegal in some countries and if caught, jail is the likely result, so we didn't want to go down that route. And we had limited space, so anything that could be put to double use, and could be used for anticipated incidents was preferable. Nadine - being a nurse - was in charge of this.<br />
<br />
We took two bandages and a roll of sticking plaster, anti histamine cream (for bites), painkillers as above with prescriptions, and a letter from our doctors, all stamped with surgery stamps just in case. Former Soviet block countries love stamps on paper, even if they can't read it - looks good and official. We also had some saline wash for cleaning road rash injuries and washing sand out of eyes, some sutures and some diarrhoea pills. A roll of gaffer tape which was also good for general fixing of bikes and luggage and a good supply of rehydration tablets completed the set up.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW2jFDTL94GIpAhvQQhAStPr-jI3-kH84UmXnGf3qEyip4ESd0pJ99aAQGrW1oyfV67vCP5h3jmJAdwbDFDauW6afJniqfS7KuXmr-V5XZIkPxpFbxjMWDawhLYTRs7WuiDvfHOgncuW6U/s1600/PB230480.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW2jFDTL94GIpAhvQQhAStPr-jI3-kH84UmXnGf3qEyip4ESd0pJ99aAQGrW1oyfV67vCP5h3jmJAdwbDFDauW6afJniqfS7KuXmr-V5XZIkPxpFbxjMWDawhLYTRs7WuiDvfHOgncuW6U/s320/PB230480.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
We took Zero rehydration tablets, and had had Nuun in Africa. Both were good but the Zero was cheaper so that is why we took them, and they really saved us on several occasions.<br />
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Dehydration will make you feel rubbish, and that in turn will affect your thought process, reaction time and judgement, all of which are crucial on a bike. It will also give you a headache, but its not just a question of replacing fluids - you need to replace minerals too, which these tablets contain. So every morning, we took one each in a litre of water, and again at lunch and in the evening. We took more if we had vomited or had upset stomachs too or if we felt tired or not quite right. And they worked.<br />
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But however much you prepare, you can still get ill. We didn't fare too badly on that front, although both of us did feel a bit rough at times, and had heatstroke, despite drinking plenty, being covered up, and resting.<br />
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We kept an eye on what we ate, avoided stuff if we didn't like the look of, and cooked our own food much of the time. And we weren't silly with drink either, which is quite easy to fall into if you get caught up in the vodka drinking ways of eastern Europe and Russia.<br />
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I don't eat meat but knew that I would probably have to on this trip; either that or starve. Nadine, however, will eat anything. But I'm not precious about it and abstain because I don't like it very much. But for me was a bit of a trial because I knew that it would probably be too rich for me, especially if it was greasy. So when I did have to eat meat, I made sure that it was as well done as possible, and I didn't have too any problems. And fish is not an option as I hate it and it hates me, although I did accidentally eat it twice in Russia and was immediately violently ill afterwards. But the allergy excuse works well if put on the spot and you really can't do the expected thing or avoid it beforehand.<br />
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Then there are injuries. Given the type of trip we were riding and the roads and terrain we were encountering, a crash or two was very likely. And with motorbike crashes, injuries usually result.<br />
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But again, we were sensible and didn't worry too much about what could happen. Some of the driving in countries like Croatia and Albania, Russia and Georgia was appalling and I think that both of us half expected to have an encounter at some time, and were half prepared to sort the other one out. But we rode carefully and had some close calls, but no prangs which was good.<br />
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I did fall off and injure my arm though. It was a slow speed tumble on gravel and sand on a particularly bad road in Kazakhstan, and the bike just went from under me, tangling my left arm as it did, and catching my wrist. I knew I had done something to it as it hurt, and my hand and fingers swelled. I got my wedding ring off before it got really bad, but I couldn't grip the bar nor turn my wrist and I knew it was broken, although I wouldn't admit it. I think I thought that if I did, it would somehow be even worse. But Nadine made a back slab and bandaged it on and we carried on riding. There was nowhere to get any medical attention anyway, and that's probably all they would have done, had there been.<br />
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I did eventually go to a hospital about a week later where the rather blurry X-ray revealed nothing, so I was able to keep pretending. But the silver lining was that it was my left hand and there is no clutch on the bikes were were riding. Had it been my right hand - my throttle hand - that would have been difficult.<br />
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We fared well for the rest of the trip, although we both got a flu like thing in China. I wasn't too bad but Nadine was very ill with a high temperature and the shakes, but we were holed up in an air conditioned hotel by then, so we managed it with Paracetamol and fluids, and lots of sleep, which she excels at anyway.<br />
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The dilemma for me though was that it was three days before we flew home and if I found a doctor, it was possible he would declare her unfit to fly but it was unlikely I would be covered to stay behind and look after her. There was no way I would have left her but it would really have complicated things with tickets and visas, so I decided to keep a careful eye on her and she how she went; if she had not improved by the morning, I would get medical help. Fortunately, she was better when she woke up although still not good but she by resting and drinking plenty of water with rehydration tablets, we were able to get the plane as planned and get home OK, although it took a good two weeks for both of us to get fully better.<br />
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<br />Rhodabikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07898021035934693821noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5805520172752870440.post-32241987084431152062012-11-22T17:45:00.001-08:002012-11-26T03:27:23.813-08:00About the bikesIs there such a thing as an ideal bike for a trip? No, probably not as there are so many variables that no one bike can do it all. And in any case, the bikes that we chose to take were probably - on paper at least - exceptionally unsuitable for the trip we planned to do. Yet our decision was actually quite sensible and was based on recent experience and a wish to be involved with as much of the environment that we would be passing through as we possibly could. Neither of us ever intended this trip to be about bikes or gadgets; we just wanted ride to Ulan Bataar, and see everything that we possibly could, even if it took a while.<br />
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Originally, we were going on different bikes. I had intended to do the ride on my Yamaha 250 dirt bike, and Nadine on her BMW 650ST, but we were both so impressed with the capability of the Honda C90s that we rode down to The Gambia a few months before, that we started to think about smaller machines.<br />
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The Gambia trip was already an established trip to donate Honda C90s to health workers at a hospital to help them reach patients living in outlying villages, but as C90s were getting scarce, four people on that trip trialled new Chinese 110 copies of the Hondas, and we were very impressed with their durability and simplicity. We had also seen at first hand the problems that the copies had, modifications that were required, and most importantly, how to service them.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT3jh5O7N-SGgnTrZfdjSxeNc3cUmALgiYZw4DfBV6DHRCWTK7KihcYVbEazJzVj5t0yV0rW7Z3YR4oagTBX6OlytETfqgIm9h5WP1mfH40DGV91UGlFOSn71Ly0sZCzPJ6aDVWdxsfy3v/s1600/P1020749.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT3jh5O7N-SGgnTrZfdjSxeNc3cUmALgiYZw4DfBV6DHRCWTK7KihcYVbEazJzVj5t0yV0rW7Z3YR4oagTBX6OlytETfqgIm9h5WP1mfH40DGV91UGlFOSn71Ly0sZCzPJ6aDVWdxsfy3v/s320/P1020749.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chinese 110cc copy with two Honda C90s in Africa</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Taking new bikes meant not having to fix wear and tear problems or replace parts. And having the same model of bike as it meant only one set of tools, the same spares, and learning how to fix just that model. Neither of us were interested in speed or gadgets either - which was just as well as these bikes had neither - but we just wanted to ride and do stuff for as long as our money and time allowed, so slower was good.<br />
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So we bought two brand new scooters still in bits, and set about assembling them. That gave us an added opportunity to learn about them as we did so, and alter stuff from the start, rather than have to adapt things that were already in place.<br />
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We had a stroke of luck when it rained heavily over the Easter weekend, and actually managed to get ahead of ourselves with planned modifications. On the advice of Tony at Riders, we rerouted the wiring loom, which is located under the fuel tank.<br />
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For some reason, the factory squeezes the loom through a part of the frame where it chafes against the fuel tank and eventually rubs through. So we took the whole thing out and replummed it through a bigger gap, thus reducing the risk.<br />
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The wiring is not generous, so options were limited, but after a bit of fiddling, we managed to get it to where we wanted it.<br />
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Tony also suggesting adapting the side stand cut out switch. This switch works backwards in that it cuts out when depressed against the frame as the side stand is lifted, but because of where it needs to be, it is<br />
vulnerable to bashing or breaking. And as we knew we would be riding off road most of the time, then it made sense to remove it before it broke and prevented us from starting the bikes. But we had to bridge the look by joining the cut bare ends to complete the circuit.<br />
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The wheels were next on the list. We had learnt on the Gambia trip, that gaffer tape on the wheel rims was a very effective means of cutting down on spoke damage to the tubes.<br />
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Snapped spokes were something that was high on the likely list, so we removed the new tyres off, binned the paper thin rim tape, and bound each rim with several layers of gaffer tape, before replacing the tubes and tyres.<br />
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Nadine's bike was ready first, and it fired beautifully but refused to spark; we suspected dodgy caps and /or leads but it still refused to play a even after we changed those both a few days later. After much head scratching and some spot on advice from Peter Darke ( Darke Cycles, Sunderland and a riding mate from the African trip), we pinpointed the non starting to a dodgy kill switch. Again, this was a backward switch which worked when the circuit was competed, so we cut the wires and insulated the respective ends. We eventually removed both kill switches because it was so easy to accidentally lean on them and then wonder why the bike wouldn't start. But we only learnt this the hard way, after Nadine spent half an hour trying to push start my bike in Greece and swearing like a trooper at the bike and me.<br />
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We also replaced the two bolts that hold the engine in the frame. The Chinese ones seemed OK but Honda ones are made of better quality steel, so we dropped both engines out and slipped Japanese originals in, just to be sure.<br />
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Those were the only running modifications that we made, although we adapted a couple of things too. Nadine built a mesh cage around the headlamps to reduce the chances of it getting smashed by stones or during falls.<br />
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A sheet of garden mesh and some garden wire from B&Q in Wimbledon, a bit of bending a a few holes dremmelled into the headlamp casing, and it was ready to go, and at a fraction of the price of Touratech c versions. I think it cost about £8.00 to make two. And we opened the headlamp and rear lamp casings and put bathroom sealant along the seams to reduce vibrations and damage to the bulbs. This worked quite well.<br />
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We also extended the luggage rack, using a length of steel wardrobe rod cut into four lengths, and then jubilee clipped together and onto the proper rack. It was only ever intended to carry volume rather than weight, but was actually surprisingly strong, and we lashed the spare tyre and fuel cans to that. Oh and we screwed four eyelets onto the leg shields and used Rok straps to secure a sleeping bag, stashed in a drysack to keep it dry, and wired the number plate onto the frame incase it snapped off ( this happened twice in Africa) so that we didn't lose it. We had a spare just incase because crossing borders or just roadside place checks without number plates can be a right old nuisance, and a good fining opportunity for enterprising police along the way, so it is well worth avoiding.<br />
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We were dead chuffed when the bikes worked, if a bit surprised too, but it was surprisingly easy. Type approval came a few days later, but the most frustrating bit was waiting for DVLA to assign registration numbers so that we could get plates made up. That took so long that in the end, we only managed to clock up 27kms before leaving for the trip. But it was Ok, and we ran them in as we went, taking it steady for the first 500kms, which got us to Luxembourg.<br />
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As far as luggage goes, we took minimal kit. We each had two small ex army ammo type panniers on the inside of the leg shields, and we carried spares, tyre pump and tools in these. Then we each had two larger ex army webbing panniers lashed together, waterproofed and slung across the luggage rack. Our gear was in carrier bags inside as well, and I think the whole luggage system cost us about £40.00 each. Everything had to fit into those or it got binned - apart from our tents which we tied onto the rack.<br />
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The first farkling session was in Luxembourg where we changed the oil; we had emptied the Chinese oil out as soon as we started building the bikes as it was very thin and very swarfy, and replaced it with good 10w40 oil. We also adjusted and oiled the chains and removed the kick start arms from both bikes. These are really useless and allow very little room, even for small feet. But we kept one just incase, and later used it in Kazakhstan when Nadine's electronic ignition failed and deep sand made push starting impossible. Both exhaust guards came off too - useless pieces of metal.<br />
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By Salzburg in Austria, the engines felt like they were running well, and we were getting a comfortable, if stately, 40-50mph (70-80kmh) with ease, and they were also very good on fuel. Even in pricey old Western Europe, it was only costing us eight euros to fill both bikes, and we were getting about 100kms each for that.<br />
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The bikes kept going well although the exhaust on mine started to rattle. The collar was loose despite the bolts being tight, and at first I thought some baffles had come loose inside. But it didn't affect the performance of the bike, but just made my arrival very noisy.<br />
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The first puncture of the trip went to Nadine - front pinch puncture due to hitting some roadworks a bit too hard. But we fixed that ok, and without taking up any of the offers of help from locals. It was nice of them but we were OK.<br />
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The next major servicing session was in Sarajevo. We had access to a garage at the hostel so we stripped the bikes down and worked on them.<br />
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I took my rattley exhaust off but the problem seemed to be a loose connection between the collar and the cylinder head, although the studs were tight. So I made some cardboard gaskets from a cereal packet and that did the job. In fact, they held good all the way to Turkey I think, where they eventually caught fire and singed my leg.<br />
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Nadine's throttle cable had worked loose, and we removed the whole headstock and plastics off to repair that as it had snagged inside. There was a slight panic when she dropped the tiny clip that holds the needle in at the carb end, but we eventually found it ok. We also fixed a rear puncture there - my bike.<br />
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A few days later, and the rattle was back on my exhaust. By now we were in Croatia and had clocked up 2500km, and it was time for another oil change. Unfortunatley, during that service one of the exhaust studs snapped off and so we had to clamp it to the cylinder head with a super large jubilee clip, which did the job, but it did nothing for the noise.<br />
<br />
We carried on to Albania, where mine needed its clutch sorting, as well as the rear lights and indicators. I wasn't too worried about the indicators which had not been right since about Belgium, but despite various efforts to replace bulbs, clean contacts and check wires, we had not been able to fix. But by now we were in countries where nobody uses them anyway, so it didn't matter.<br />
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The brake lights, however, we a different matter. Nadine's bike was running fine, although a bit rich, and she usually needed petrol before I did, so we just fixed what we could before we left for Greece.<br />
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In Istanbul, we were hosted by some local bikers who run a club, and help visiting riders. Mehmet and his pals were really nice blokes, very welcoming and generous, and just all round good people. Their club house had a workshop and tools, which they put at our disposal, and also gave us a hand to fix stuff that we couldn't do, like drilling out and replacing the broken exhaust stud.<br />
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<br />
We stripped the bikes down completely there and gave them a full service. There were several broken spokes on my rear wheel which were very fiddley to replace but we did it ok. That proved a useful lesson as later on it the trip we would have to do it again, roadside and in baking heat, whilst being watched by fascinated locals.<br />
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Nadine's bike was OK though. We did an oil change on both, greased the chains and took her brakes apart as they were juddering slightly, although intermittently. We thought it might be corrosion around the cam that pushes the shoes outwards, so we cleaned it off and it seemed to do the trick.<br />
<br />
A few days later further east in Turkey, my bike started to leak oil. We had stopped for petrol and were wiling time away while a thunderstorm passed overhead, and noticed oil dripping out of the bottom of the engine. But no hole or gap could be found, so we tightened everything up, topped the oil up and set off, only for it to happen again. But this time, the bike steadily lost compression too, and thus power, which mean far from romping along at a blistering 70kph/40mph, I was reduced to a smoking 40kph/20mph.<br />
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Mehmet from Istanbul arranged for somebody in a local town (Kastamanou) to help us) and we managed to limp there very slowly and were taken to a mechanic, who fixed the leak for us. Or so he thought.<br />
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The oil was coming out of the head where the exhaust pipe attaches, so it seemed like a gasket problem. They were replaced, but the same problem occurred again two days later, then another three times, by which time we were in Sinop, northern Turkey.<br />
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There was clearly something structurally wrong with the engine but it wasn't something we could see, and never did manage to find even when much later, we took the whole engine apart and inspected it carefully. The gaskets were good, as were the casing seals. But retrospectively, we think what probably happened was when the exhaust stud was drilled out in Istanbul, the drilling went a bit too deep and weakened the cylinder head so that as the bike ran and pressure built, the weakened wall was subjected to higher significant pressure, which eventually caused it to fracture, and as the whole thing heated, the fracture expanded, forcing pressurised oil to spurt out and drip down to the bottom of the engine where it found its way out through the exhaust port.<br />
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I decided that a new engine would be the best idea as repairs, although very cheap by western standards were costing us money and we didn't really know what the extent of the damage was. And we also wanted to be sure that the engine would be ok, the further east we travelled. However, getting a new engine proved impossible because there wasn't one available locally, and the mechanics, although lovely and very helpful, wanted to repair mine rather than replace it, and would not be persuaded otherwise. It was definitely a 'you're girls and we're men - we know best' moment and we had to give in.<br />
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In the end, they sent the cylinder head back to Istanbul for repair, but when nothing could be done, a new one was sent back on the night bus and they fitted that instead. Inspection of the old one revealed extensive wear and tear around the exhaust port and some bad pitting inside the casing. It could have been a bad casting from the factory, made worse by the rattling and then oil pressure problem; who knows. There was nothing we could do, so we just set off again, hoping that the repairs would help. And they did, although the bike still needed regular oil top ups.<br />
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Nadine's clutch then started to play up, slipping and not pulling the bike along properly. Her bike had always been meatier than mine, but mine was now pulling away from lights and uphills far better. She could catch up eventually, but it was more of a gradual build up than acceleration. We tweaked the clutch ourselves and did take it apart once on a garage forecourt, but although we had a puller, we were unable to loosen the screws that held the plate casing on. They must have been done up with a compressor gun in the factory as they were budging for nobody. On future trips, an impact driver is a must.<br />
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But true to form, and just as she was getting really fed up, we stumbled upon a motorbike workshop. It was right on the coast and near to the Georgian border, and amazingly was open - on a Sunday- and we only noticed it because it had two tatty old motorbikes leaning against each other out front.<br />
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What a lovely bloke Musa was too. It was just a one man band, and eventually and with the help of a man who lived next door, we managed to explain to him what was wrong with the clutch. He took it to pieces, removed the plates which he said were rubbish, despite being brand new ( Chinese and bought in Kastamanou) and replaced them with some heavier duty jobs. That did the trick and the clutch was OK for the rest of the trip, albeit with a bit of adjusting now and again, but that was something that we did oursleves with a screwdriver and spanner.<br />
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As we moved eastwards and the roads got rougher, the bigger wheels and the lightness of the bikes really made a difference. They were easy to ride over the bad road surfaces and also negotiate roadworks, steps, verges and fields, potholes, rivers and craters with ease.<br />
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Although we both ride bikes as our principal means of transport, both in the UK and in Australia, the whole point of this trip was to see as much as possible, using bikes to do so, rather than go on a bike trip and see stuff in the process. I don't think either of us ever regretted taking the scooters rather than bigger bikes because we had agreed from the start that this would be a pottering along trip, seeing what happened from day to day. As long as we kept going, looked out for each other and stayed safe whilst still pushing the experiences we were accumulating, then that was ok. No daily mileage quotas, no average speeds, no set rules, other than be in the right country with the right visa at the right time.<br />
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After Turkey, the bikes kept more or less running as they had been since being fixed in Sinop. Oil still dripped from my bike, but it got no worse and I just topped it up every time I refuelled. It was an expense we could have done without but then living was so cheap and we were wild camping most of the time so we had no accommodation costs, that it really didn't matter that much. And when we had to go through border posts, I stuffed a rag in the leak to stop it dripping onto the concrete and attracting attention and fines.<br />
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We did daily checks and adjustments of course. Tyres, brakes, lights, nuts and bolts, but had no problems there. We both had a few broken spokes, mostly in rear wheels, but that was hardly surprising given the extreme rough terrain we were riding daily. Fortunately, the spoke replacing lesson in Istanbul had taught us what to do and we ( particularly Nadine) got very good at it. And when we ran out of spare rear spokes, we moved stronger rear spokes around and interspersed them with smaller weaker front spokes to spread and reduce stress on the wheel.<br />
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The valves caused a bit of a problem on my bike, and that was something we were unable to fix, although we did pinpoint the problem by eliminating other possibilities and tracing things back logically. But again, the mechanics in Astrakhan wouldn't believe us because we were girls, and we had to wait for several hours while they poured over the bike before announcing that they had identified the problem - the valves. Zzzzzzz.......... I think it was probably the inlet valve but to their credit, they did replace them and that bit of the bike at least, worked fine from then on.<br />
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Punctures were something that we expected to be dealing with daily, but although we did have them - about ten in all, five of which were in one day- we had surprisingly few, given the distance we rode the surfaces we encountered, and the fact that we rode most of the way on stock rubbish Chinese road tyres. Retrospectively, what we should have done was to have replaced the existing tubes with heavy duty spare tubes, and taken heavy duty spares with us, rather than rely upon standard tubes.<br />
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We patched when we got punctures, and they held good apart from when we reached Kazakhstan and the heat generated by friction, as well as the 44 degree air temperature in full sun was too much for the glue, which it wouldn't allow to set. We just couldn't get repairs to set sufficiently to retain air once we got the bike back on the road. It was very frustrating and quite demoralising, but there was nothing much we could do.<br />
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Luckily, our last repair in our one good tube held up, and even that had been mended before, but using ordinary bicycle repair glue rather than the supposed heavy duty motorcycle grade Slime glue that would not set.<br />
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Tubes are heavy and bulky so it wasn't practical to take a pile of spares, and the Slime glue was supposed to be good. It had no upper heat limit, but it failed just when we needed it most, and was surpassed by a nondescript tube of nothing glue from Wilkinsons. Mad. Perhaps we would have had even more punctures had we not taped the rims before we left; who knows.<br />
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Despite the mishaps and the daily wear and tear en route, both of the bikes made it to Ulan Bataar, a journey of about 9000 miles/13000kms. That in itself is incredible for two town bikes of dubious build quality. But they lasted, and they lasted well. The frames were good, the engines were mostly good<br />
( apart from described here) and even the rubbish tyres held up; both front tyres lasted all the way without much visible sign of wear, and the back tyres were changed in Russia for better grip, although they still had life left in them. We had no major cable, sprocket, chain or brake issues, and much to our surprise, and despite the extreme bashing we gave these bikes, they worked just like they were supposed to. Would we take them again, now knowing what we know about the terrain, the heat, the problems? Yes, definitely. Without hesitation.<br />
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<br />Rhodabikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07898021035934693821noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5805520172752870440.post-45047814653042519192012-11-07T08:57:00.002-08:002013-02-03T11:37:55.872-08:00KazakhstanWell all we knew about this place was that it was Borat's manor, and that it was a long way away. And we were right on both counts. But as we also discovered, it is also very big, very hot, and very full of nothing. Kazakhstan is the biggest landlocked country in the world and is also the size of Western Europe.<br />
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It is also the ninth largest country, as well as the world's biggest producer of uranium. It was also probably the most difficult place that we rode through because of the isolation, the heat and the the relentless flat landscape, but also the roads, which were just something else.<br />
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Our original plan was the enter Kaz at its western border with Russia, near Astrakhan, ride round the top of the Caspian Sea and drop down to Aral, then Baikanour, where the Russian space programme is based, before carrying on into Uzbekistan and the rest of the Stans and the Pamir Highway. But because of the delays in Turkey and the bad roads in Kaz, we knew we wouldn't make it. We wouldn't even have made it on bigger bikes in the restricted time that we had.<br />
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The problem was always the Russian visa. Although getting a visa is now simple in comparison with what it used to be, it remains a right old performance and is costly. It is also something that you can only get in your home country, or country of residence, and it can't be extended. We'd opted for a month ( 30 day) tourist visa, but in retrospect and had we had more time in general, we might have gone for a three month job instead to ease some of the pressure, but I don't think either of us realised just how big Russia is.<br />
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It is overwhelmingly huge, and we had to get from the Georgian border to the Kazak border, through Kazakhstan, and the other Stans, then back out and across Russia to Siberia and down into Mongolia. All in now just three weeks and on appalling roads, and without any further problems, something which realistically, wasn't possible.<br />
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We each had a particular place that we wanted to see on the trip. For me it was the Aral Sea, for Nadine, Lake Baikal, but it looked like we would both miss out. So we decided to ride eastwards anyway, see how far we could get, and then work out what to do. We considered catching a train, or getting the bikes onto a truck, but we really had no idea of either how to do that or or whether it was possible, and of course we couldn't ask people or read up on it because of the language difficulties.<br />
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Both of us found Kazakhstan was quite a difficult place, not because of administration, or people but because of how empty the place is and how little people travel about. And because few people go anywhere, there didn't seem to be much of an infrastructure.<br />
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But we didn't know this until we got there, having waited at the Russian/ Kazakh border for several hours in searing heat and at the mercy of swarms of midgey fly things. The boys in Astrakhan had given us some potion to sort them out though - baby lotion mixed with baking soda. it did work but the swarms were still too much.<br />
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They were horrible and they got everywhere - up your nose, in your ears, on your face. Everywhere and the air was thick with them. We had one net hat that somebody had given Nadine in Astrakhan, but it wasn't that good as the netting was too short and ended at chin level so they still got in, although one hat was better than no hat.<br />
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There was no shade at the border crossing either and initially we used the tarp for some makeshift shade, attaching it to the bikes and sitting under it. But that was difficult as we had to keep moving, so we gave up and just stood in the shade of nearby vehicles when we could.<br />
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It all depended where they were in relation to our bikes though because if you moved too far away and the queue moved, somebody would squeeze in front.<br />
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There were also quite a few cars which drove down the side of the line to the front, causing waiting drivers to gesticulate and shout at them. But some still got through. Trying it on seemed to be the done thing, though neither of us wanted to do that here, although for some reason, it seems to be an accepted thing on bikes. Thierry, a French bloke we met a few hours later told us that is exactly what he did - rode to the front of the queue and was waved through without rancour or comment.<br />
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There was a gang was a of women selling water and fruit from baskets at the border. It was obviously quite a profitable sideline and these women were well dressed, and clearly in good health; not peasants or anything. They homed in on us several times because as westerners, we were a potentially lucrative source of income, but we had water so didn't need any more, and also had food there which we didn't want to eat because we'd eat midges too.<br />
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We were there quite early - about 0900 I think, but there were still cars in front of us, but the queue actually moved quicker than it looked like it would. Nobody tells you what to do or helps you at these crossings so its all a bit hit and miss, and you just have to try and work out what is expected of you, and do it accordingly. They soon yell at you if you don't, but will also chuck you out of the line if you're not careful, so the trick is to try and glean some sort of indication and work from that, and stand your ground without annoying anybody too much while you're trying to do so.<br />
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And the border was a bit of a remote outpost, with a big ' no man's land' of dried up desert in between the two sides. There were a few ramshackle huts, a wire fence, and a metal gate, with border police opening and shutting it at will. The huts were really rough and had little shuttered hatches, through which you had to slide your passport, rego papers, and immigration card before the person behind snapped it shut. Presumably they wanted to keep the midges out of the hut but it didn't look like they did it any differently anyway, even in midgeless times. But it was OK and we provided a source of interest for the other waiting drivers, some of whom tried out their English on us, which was amusing. And they liked it when we did a bit of Kazak in return, which we hammed up for the occasion specially. Then of course you have to do it all over again on the other side of no man's land, but by then with half an idea of what is expected.<br />
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We bought insurance at the border post, again from a bloke in a hut. Retrospectively, I don't think we would have bothered had we known how meaningless it was in Kaz but having come from Russia where document checks happen all the time, we played safe, and we thought there might be a chance that the Russian police might ask for the Kazakh insurance when we crossed back into Russia. But as it was, in Kaz we hardly ever saw any police and insurance doesn't mean anything anyway. It's not like in the west where its a 'must have' driving document and nobody pays it anyway.<br />
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But we got some, and returned to our bikes to find that our lunch had been nicked by some kids. Little shits. And again, these weren't poor kids but well dressed and well fed - some of them a bit too much as they were porky and sweating profusely in the heat- so they clearly nicked our food because they could rather than because they needed it. So that didn't please us as we had nothing else and no means of getting anything more, and its a real liberty when local people assume that all westerners are rich and can afford to lose things. Not us, and no, it is not alright or excusable. We are not Charley and Ewan, nor do we want to be; we worked hard to save up money for our trip, we weren't sponsored, nobody gave us anything, nor did we want anything. But somehow, some locals seem to think that all travellers are loaded. Wrong. And many of us travelled long before those two and their entourage appeared, and will continue to do so. So don't nick our stuff; it is not OK.<br />
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There was a vast and very noticeable change between the landscapes of Russia and Kazakhstan. Whereas Russia had been very lush and cultivated, Kazakhstan was dry and arid, with buildings made of mud instead of timber.<br />
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And the absence of trees meant there was very little natural shade, even along the river that we did eventually come across. It was a large river but oddly, flowed through baked earth steppes.<br />
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The animals changed too - out were normal cows and in were camels and big cow things, and the latter had got the heat sussed, standing belly deep in the water to cool down and drink.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two humps - Bactrian camel</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">smart cow</td></tr>
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And every now and again, there was a huge building, probably something to do with agriculture.<br />
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We were a bit peeved at having had our lunch stolen, and although there was no point in getting upset about it, we never left the bikes loaded and unattended after that. However we didn't have any choice on this occasion. We were also rather rattled and as a consequence, failed to change money at the border post because we knew we would get striped up on the rates, and thought we would do it in the next town. But that was a big mistake as there was no bank, no ATM, a very unhelpful supermarket which wouldn't take a card although they take local cards which were also visa and master card, and a hotel which refused to change anything (most will usually exchange dollars, but I suspect that it was easier to tell us to bugger off than it was to do some work) That meant we were unable to buy anything food, nor could we get fuel. We had some, but not enough to go many more miles.<br />
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So we sat in the shade for a while, wondering what to do, and topped my bike up with oil ( it was losing oil rapidly because of a bodged repair by a mechanic in Turkey.) Then a big KTM passed, having just come through the borer post. It turned out to be Thierry from France, and he also needed local money. We bumped into him a few hours later at a petrol station where again, nobody would take a card ( and you have to pay first in these countries, so its not as easy as taking the fuel and force them to take other currencies or end up with nothing) He managed to do a deal on the forecourt with a local driver, swapping some dollars for Tenge ( Kazakh money), and subbed us some for water and fuel.<br />
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All this took quite some time, and the afternoon was passing by. We had planned to camp near to the Caspian Sea, and Thierry decided to join us. We found a track down to the shore, and all headed down it. However, it soon became a problem for him on his heavy bike in the fesh fesh and he dropped it several times. It was so heavy and the sand so light that it took all of us plus some passing shepherds to right it. But not the scoots. Nadine fell off once but just picked it up and carried on but our bikes coped really well with the dust and pulled as if nothing had happened.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ9PUAljqL2mNIfdqP7w1fEWDvgEK_BeNtJuXS5mJtVQgp-DTdgsHabgRNF-AbiRGO0Z9QxL_I9EGyxxs7BEoZcv6DsUO3XLsQNSNLAx27mF8fHyvMxdZLRNq9-KJPiBck5M5mRk3COGu0/s1600/DSCF6336.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ9PUAljqL2mNIfdqP7w1fEWDvgEK_BeNtJuXS5mJtVQgp-DTdgsHabgRNF-AbiRGO0Z9QxL_I9EGyxxs7BEoZcv6DsUO3XLsQNSNLAx27mF8fHyvMxdZLRNq9-KJPiBck5M5mRk3COGu0/s320/DSCF6336.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nadine downed by the fesh fesh</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It did help that we were able to drive across the scrubby vegetation though because the roots knitted the sand together, but Thierry's bike was far too heavy and had it got bogged down up there, there is no way we could have dragged it out. So he had to continue on the track.<br />
<br />
We eventually made it to the shore line, which was deserted and so which we had to ourselves.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_3hjicqa86JqeQwRwdibSNcomCyINj9wRN_MFfLsNorhiw9dCln7ut3aJpdyEDxtSVQumC3HZIb4ZGdyEOGrwUFWlDQ0DPU4VZTk9rlSk-1aIlmKNmMopGDDRXYQ3uTYVWOow9VeFuRCK/s1600/DSCF6339.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_3hjicqa86JqeQwRwdibSNcomCyINj9wRN_MFfLsNorhiw9dCln7ut3aJpdyEDxtSVQumC3HZIb4ZGdyEOGrwUFWlDQ0DPU4VZTk9rlSk-1aIlmKNmMopGDDRXYQ3uTYVWOow9VeFuRCK/s320/DSCF6339.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Deserted shoreline around the Caspian Sea</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmVGTjuEUTsCppVs8dp8ubzBPmjFaD_1mFCRui5r7wivOsXCp4RBhQdJyggi43XjkHwI5qycLzirIgV_R2ympMADc7fS_6zt4QSi4r70VLMa0piHVvdF8qprw456YcOnGNpVAUVKe1JAuJ/s320/DSCF6340.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">not much vegetation to hide behind though</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We also washed ourselves and our clothes in the Caspian, which was great because it is fresh water. We also combined all the food we had, and ended up with a reasonable meal.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC7kmAoN0dUEvmlaGkCgIeLcjdZbMOF0lepM578eevTjWfvXxhV5j2G5Z96Zc24hhjeEp9oZDuUk9O5HysUAdUDeZU13YBx7NtQnlQNuzzby6qaCxi5poqIEdi-NVixa0jsARKF7ewa8f2/s1600/IMG_1138.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC7kmAoN0dUEvmlaGkCgIeLcjdZbMOF0lepM578eevTjWfvXxhV5j2G5Z96Zc24hhjeEp9oZDuUk9O5HysUAdUDeZU13YBx7NtQnlQNuzzby6qaCxi5poqIEdi-NVixa0jsARKF7ewa8f2/s320/IMG_1138.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLLQ7VAbH5NZ9nIR9tyBullGvkc8yG0e9Nz1Thsy5H6jf65zD7C7BhY5vtaqPhyphenhyphenPYtLKE3_3fK3h6y9mAbivklsc8ZEtDxpEsEC6kgia0SUfTsM0F2KjgDtRG01apzCw6gYF4-NUlO1KiE/s1600/DSCF6342.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLLQ7VAbH5NZ9nIR9tyBullGvkc8yG0e9Nz1Thsy5H6jf65zD7C7BhY5vtaqPhyphenhyphenPYtLKE3_3fK3h6y9mAbivklsc8ZEtDxpEsEC6kgia0SUfTsM0F2KjgDtRG01apzCw6gYF4-NUlO1KiE/s320/DSCF6342.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Now clean!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
The sunset that evening was stunningly beautiful, and after the day's ordeal and dragging the bikes around, all of us slept exceptionally well.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ_T580R2_X8H264DuZlwu7nG9qf3I5S3iaf4TuonDlivWZEs2znyOtlcKSuTllKWyNdCIjlb9VCE_vpm4mgnFViycvt2UloYczJ_MEjtpx8w1WE_FTxGXJ6EfHsySFnS3F2V25ONEa_pp/s1600/DSCF6344.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ_T580R2_X8H264DuZlwu7nG9qf3I5S3iaf4TuonDlivWZEs2znyOtlcKSuTllKWyNdCIjlb9VCE_vpm4mgnFViycvt2UloYczJ_MEjtpx8w1WE_FTxGXJ6EfHsySFnS3F2V25ONEa_pp/s320/DSCF6344.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset</td></tr>
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Sunrise the next day was pretty good too.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCmIKhjR2zvYqzngTOkZi6xC0TfFrwcA74vI70lPjlDW2yx99FY3QQmobw7iq3fGoqAfcI0yRhaklOozE0MaiKZk8kI78UGn6zdcrcE58zdTSgjhQenaPPbKN9rTghTqXs9FS2SpExoD1o/s1600/IMG_1168.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCmIKhjR2zvYqzngTOkZi6xC0TfFrwcA74vI70lPjlDW2yx99FY3QQmobw7iq3fGoqAfcI0yRhaklOozE0MaiKZk8kI78UGn6zdcrcE58zdTSgjhQenaPPbKN9rTghTqXs9FS2SpExoD1o/s320/IMG_1168.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
The following day, the fuel, water, money and fuel situation was urgent, so the three of us stuck together and made it to the next town, some 50 kms east. We saw very little en route though and did feel a little vulnerable because of our isolation and lack of supplies.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZfB3NyUgTsJoQ0JB9hCEynKaxvoo_hFQZ-FgB20f_lXlLqfbcFWVXnU1cH0a_gMPqeSIa9GttAXlvOy-RMOZrzQcBWI0ysQDxaK9pkk2gidUyvg9tJ3xbMg2kJ3x3PCZf6ng-uVuvJG9b/s1600/DSCF6366.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZfB3NyUgTsJoQ0JB9hCEynKaxvoo_hFQZ-FgB20f_lXlLqfbcFWVXnU1cH0a_gMPqeSIa9GttAXlvOy-RMOZrzQcBWI0ysQDxaK9pkk2gidUyvg9tJ3xbMg2kJ3x3PCZf6ng-uVuvJG9b/s320/DSCF6366.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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But when we made it to the town and found the ATM, it had no money in it. However, Nadine found some us dollars in her bag, and we managed to change them in the bank. It seemed like the whole of the town's population was in there, hiding from the heat, so once again, we became a visiting circus with everybody stopping what they were doing and staring. This could have been intimidating, but not only did we not care, by then we had learnt to smile widely, bow and wave, and say 'hello' loudly in Kazakh and generally play to the audience which made people laugh and chat to us, not that we could understand what they were saying. And some followed us around and inspected the bikes.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8RNH9dtr_WL6NBig1jJQPlMOC-LMxBpdhPOHQweOFsIRx48zrbu6SUja2zDCdxEeGZ4sc3uAC0v4SmcPjZcTI0UXnM2B2sHeIGEAgeZDJF49wE8-tIn_nKLQxp24kt3Tn_NSfrCmloFTD/s1600/DSCF6389.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8RNH9dtr_WL6NBig1jJQPlMOC-LMxBpdhPOHQweOFsIRx48zrbu6SUja2zDCdxEeGZ4sc3uAC0v4SmcPjZcTI0UXnM2B2sHeIGEAgeZDJF49wE8-tIn_nKLQxp24kt3Tn_NSfrCmloFTD/s320/DSCF6389.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">outside the bank</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiooqMyllrO9kOZZdD5hyphenhyphensuE223i7-KzvqJwSyga4Urj-ft0dLK405cvFE3eZbPVj_TVjBbIzXBmaYSS5cJNRhSr5e9pdwykNK5eRHwvTXpqbarl3-XiWwXTfp_DttUvLEoVDwXS4ZJhJgr/s1600/DSCF6392.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiooqMyllrO9kOZZdD5hyphenhyphensuE223i7-KzvqJwSyga4Urj-ft0dLK405cvFE3eZbPVj_TVjBbIzXBmaYSS5cJNRhSr5e9pdwykNK5eRHwvTXpqbarl3-XiWwXTfp_DttUvLEoVDwXS4ZJhJgr/s320/DSCF6392.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">being inspected by locals</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieU2eXXCJsq5FIestJDtXFCblVVZzddYQ-oprlMH5zPVnKTKptYd4_R5wEzFJQehquhIQYsRmsehimSMZPs0E1B33yckSL6C5LkVNqWc-BoFR5r5TCJGlpSXIMhtJbuC3fHPOWlptw2k4X/s1600/DSCF6391.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieU2eXXCJsq5FIestJDtXFCblVVZzddYQ-oprlMH5zPVnKTKptYd4_R5wEzFJQehquhIQYsRmsehimSMZPs0E1B33yckSL6C5LkVNqWc-BoFR5r5TCJGlpSXIMhtJbuC3fHPOWlptw2k4X/s320/DSCF6391.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The High Street<br />
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The above ground piping looks out of place in the heat of summer but it is an indication of the extreme winter they get here, and the need to stop the pipes being covered by deep snow and frozen.<br />
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So once we had money and fuel, we found a cafe for food. Nadine and I were the only women inside, and everybody stared again, but were friendly and allowed us to watch Ugly Betty on the TV with them, in English, with Kazakh subtitles.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh-CIH-a0TXbrbYWwN-zczTReZA1hq7gJfbN6CxcqWO-AcuSybsW_z2ya4ZbohyUvNGExqfySm8Ma2Ws59vnQGSugmpb689T0AaN9Vbu0jrgPROtPUCuLO0BB_OPw0-yFTwotjnu2BK7Ku/s1600/DSCF6397.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh-CIH-a0TXbrbYWwN-zczTReZA1hq7gJfbN6CxcqWO-AcuSybsW_z2ya4ZbohyUvNGExqfySm8Ma2Ws59vnQGSugmpb689T0AaN9Vbu0jrgPROtPUCuLO0BB_OPw0-yFTwotjnu2BK7Ku/s320/DSCF6397.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thierry and Nadine in the cafe</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
After that, we parted company with Thierry. His bike was much faster than ours and we would only hold him up. He was a top bloke though.<br />
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We wild camped that night, not far from the train tracks.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiKH2grdMoqjN8pgq1giYejuSLDw-_LDKTempe4gvtOzvc9J15YuSJK3MoKZCUi6fD5ULtL8QIfGcuRBjLOjdvptE48p91Wzexs6YO2ZC5JH1bZcCtuLbpeWYr-yImv3ymBwSKgE7gcXhk/s1600/IMG_1170.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiKH2grdMoqjN8pgq1giYejuSLDw-_LDKTempe4gvtOzvc9J15YuSJK3MoKZCUi6fD5ULtL8QIfGcuRBjLOjdvptE48p91Wzexs6YO2ZC5JH1bZcCtuLbpeWYr-yImv3ymBwSKgE7gcXhk/s320/IMG_1170.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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There was no vegetation to hide behind and no civilisation to even consider a hotel, so we ducked down out of sight behind some piles of earth near to where they were putting some pipe into the ground. But there were no signs of any workmen, and there was nowhere else to camp, so that had to do.<br />
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And I had a mishap earlier in the day...broke my wrist. So Nadine just patched it up. Then we ignored it.<br />
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We didn't have any dinner that night either because we had lost our food. Not nice.<br />
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But the following day, we made Aytral, a big city in western Kazakhstan and a centre for the oil industry.<br />
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Oil is a big deal in Kazakhstan and the wealth that it generates is obvious all around, with familiar stores, flash buildings and big, new vehicles all over the place.<br />
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There are also lots of foreign workers and it was funny to hear English on the streets, albeit with mostly American accents.<br />
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We were tired this day so we decided to stop by about 1400hrs and find a hotel. So we got some food in TGI Friday ( yes really) but on the way there, were stopped by two men in a car who asked if they could film us. So we smiled sweetly, were filmed, then had something to eat. We also chatted to the waitress who was most impressed that we were on bikes and had ridden from London. A few days later, as we pulled up outside a hotel further west in Aktobe, two blokes asked us if we were the Gobi girls. Apparently they had seen a news piece on us in the Aytral newspaper, announcing our arrival, and displaying a picture - the picture that the film blokes had taken. We had been papped and were famous, which was pretty funny.<br />
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We serviced the bikes in Aytral too; changed the chains, changed the oil, tightened bolts etc. But again we missed out on dinner, which I found particularly difficult. But when we emerged in the morning, we discovered that the hotel staff had covered our bikes for us to protect them against sand and rain during the night. This chap was the grounds manager and he was very sweet, so we gave him a couple of badges and things, with which he was delighted.<br />
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Then we set off towards Aktobe. I can't remember how long it took us but it was a very hard ride. Bad roads, incredible heat, and heat stroke, so we stopped in the only bit of shade we could find - under a railway bridge, over which large goods trains trundled every 15 minutes, shaking everything within a hundred metres. We stayed there for several hours and only covered about 40 miles/70 kms that day. Not good but better than crashing and making things worse.<br />
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We took it steady for a few days, camping where we could and getting food in local towns. These were invariably off the main routes though so you have to turn off and ride into them, which was a bit like cowboys riding into a place. People couldn't believe what they were seeing, and we couldn't believe it when we asked directions, expecting the local chap to speak only Kazak, and he spoke to us in English telling us that the supermarket was the building with "not the green roof but the other colour". He meant blue! And there was nowhere within miles of the place, so the chance of him having ever left it were slim. By 'town', I actually mean a simple self contained small settlement, more like a village, so its highly unlikely he had ever been anywhere. Yet here he was speaking English to us.<br />
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But I felt ill and so went outside to throw up. However, I didn't get the chance because I was immediately surrounded by locals wanting to chat. So poor old Nadine was left to do the shopping, whilst I concentrated hard not to disgrace myself. But when she reappeared, they quizzed her too and looked at our map of Kazakhstan, although it became apparent that they had no idea of anywhere more than about 10 miles/17kms beyond their town, in any direction. </div>
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The women were quite interested in us too, and the lady above came over to have a chat about what our lives were like as women from 'somewhere far away'. She was cool and probably not as old as she initially appeared.<br />
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And the kids were fascinated by our helmets.<br />
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We continued to meet people along the way, either in shops or by the side of the road when we had punctures. These kids were really nice kids and they took me to find water whilst Nadine removed her wheel. The village where they lived was very dusty and had nothing there, and they were all playing in the dirt with on bikes and with sticks etc, and all were pristine. They stayed with us for about an hour and one mum came to see who we were and what they were up to, but was perfectly happy and went away again. We gave them a few bits and pieces when we left, and they waved until we were almost out of sight.<br />
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By the time we made it to Aktobe, we were filthy. Really filthy. And we couldn't find a hotel. We stopped at a travel agent to ask, just as a gang of youths on bmx came by. They led us to hotel Amsterdam, a 5 star job, and were quite surprised to be given a room. This is where the men came up and told us we'd been in the Aytral newspaper.<br />
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We hired a local cabbie to ferry us around - to the hospital where they x-rayed my arm, and produced a very blurry picture, then gave me a bandage and some cooling gel, to the market to buy some spanners, and to the train station to buy tickets. He was a good bloke but played the most awful music in his cab, a clapped out old contraption of dubious origin. But it did the job.<br />
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It took us both ages and lots of scrubbing to get clean but eventually we looked semi decent and had something to eat. My broken wrist was a bit painful and needed a rest so we took a few days off and caught a train down to Aral and the Aral Sea, the place I most wanted to see on the whole trip.<br />
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The Aral Sea used to be the fourth largest inland sea in the world and Aral was an important fishing port on its shores. But back in Soviet days, they decided that the barren land in the area could grow cotton - white gold - and dammed the two main feeding rivers to irrigate it. This caused a major environmental disaster as the Aral Sea shrunk, the fishing industry collapsed, and the once long established and thriving town and hinterland became an empty dustbowl. And that was only recently - 40 years ago or so.<br />
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The train ride was an overnight sleeper job.<br />
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But the train is the major travel conduit in Kazakhstan, and that is where most activity is found, far more so that along the roadside. So from the train, we saw quite a bit of local life.<br />
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Our biggest worry though was that we would not be able to read the train station stops, and so miss Aral, but the guard said he would wake us.<br />
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However, he didn't and we did miss our stop, having to get off two hours down the track in the next town and catching a local bus back. And the guard had the cheek to shout at us! Silly man................<br />
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Some women gatecrashed our compartment and took over a bit, but they were OK and when they realised what had happened, wrote us a note to show to a taxi driver to take us to the bus station and put us on the right bus back to Aral. They also told us how much it should cost so that we didn't get ripped off.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF6D7BrPUc7fQOp4k-lN8JtXb_EnMQS5wei_XGtnigXKc1v2a3O-NNil-biCNLQsWGGC2trIxCLqXgPozqZyDjl0G7sDxFbh_Doh5zpZYEBn9hXidfSTlctNapUdjZiQ63FloN0ew34Xsz/s1600/DSCF6691.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF6D7BrPUc7fQOp4k-lN8JtXb_EnMQS5wei_XGtnigXKc1v2a3O-NNil-biCNLQsWGGC2trIxCLqXgPozqZyDjl0G7sDxFbh_Doh5zpZYEBn9hXidfSTlctNapUdjZiQ63FloN0ew34Xsz/s320/DSCF6691.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the bus station</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_za_97nn6jLqcCY_9fZGZtVMOWscTE5Z_cKvbAA7nWN7XyNu4gAxx2fwZ87cFxdSWJlg9UEOM8r-6CIv0AUuoxhTVFl2jZF36tqQBt-y5R0JA8gKd5P82HbHZT0H_d1yqCNQdjXIU7B-Y/s1600/DSCF6695.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_za_97nn6jLqcCY_9fZGZtVMOWscTE5Z_cKvbAA7nWN7XyNu4gAxx2fwZ87cFxdSWJlg9UEOM8r-6CIv0AUuoxhTVFl2jZF36tqQBt-y5R0JA8gKd5P82HbHZT0H_d1yqCNQdjXIU7B-Y/s320/DSCF6695.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">on the local bus with the locals<br />
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The ride back was very bumpy and rather tortuous, particularly for the poor goat that was trussed up in the back. But the bus got us there and cost us hardly anything. The local people seemed nonplussed with our presence and we even got a seat - both of us squeezed onto a small seat with an old lady.</div>
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Aral was horrible Really horrible. A scorching dustbowl that reeked of mouldy fish. And there were no beached boats to be seen. But I could at least tick it off my list. Evidence of its former glory was all around though, with statues and murals marking the fishing industry, and fishermen's cottages, now curiously out of place in a dry and dusty town, far from any water.</div>
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But we did glipmse what was left of the sea, albeit in the distance, but there was no way for us to get nearer to it. </div>
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We had a good wander around but were over the place after a few hours and fell asleep under a tree near an ATM. One thing that we both noticed was the lack of outside life in Kazakhstan, presumably because it is so hot in the summer ( most days were 42+ celcius ) and very cold in the winter. Nothing much grows in these extremes and people seem to do what they do indoors. But had to wait for the train back which didn't leave until 2336hrs that night, so we hung out in the train station waiting room which was nice and cool. And we watched people come and go.</div>
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Again, the train woman said she would tell us which train was ours but she didn't and we nearly missed it as a result.</div>
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Thankfully, our bikes were still where we'd left them in Aktobe the following morning ( covered up in the hotel forecourt) so we retrieved them and set off westwards again.</div>
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We spent more days living rough, and got a bit fed up with the relentless emptiness of the place, and met various locals en route, some of whom rode the bikes. <br />
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On one really bad day, I had five punctures, which Nadine fixed.<br />
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And again we were helped by some really nice people, like a man and his son who fixed my one remaining tube with special compound glue.<br />
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And another man, the owner of a motocross shop, who gave us two heavy duty tubes and two headlamp bulbs, and refused payment for either. He also gave us coffee, mare's milk and chocolate.<br />
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Eventually made Petropavlosk up near the Russian border, where we were again helped by locals on bikes.<br />
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By now, we knew we needed to get a train across the remaining bit of Russia as we would be unlikely to reach the Mongolian border within our remaining visa time, and overstaying would mean huge trouble and arrest. So we decided to get the Trans Siberian to Ulan Ude. This stops at Petropavlosk but then the train line crossses and recrosses the border several times, yet nobody could tell us whether by being on the train, we would be classed as in transit and so not actually entering the country. So in the end, we had to ride to Omsk in Russia, 300kms beyond the border and catch it there. But at the border post we were arrested - for accidentally violating our Kazakh visa. </div>
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According to the guards, we were supposed to reiterate it each time we stopped for the night. They meant revalidate it, but this was something we had been told we no longer needed to do; it was a left over from old soviet admin. But nobody had told the border guards that, and we'd been camping most nights anyway, so would not have been able to. But they wouldn't listen, and kept asking us to explain ourselves. But we hadn't got anything to explain - we had done what we had done, so we settled in for a long wait. Eventually, and after two hours of us watching their chief play backgammon, they cracked first and allowed us to go. We didn't get fined either - which was probably what they were after all along - because as they said to us ' if you had money, you would be on bigger bikes". Really.</div>
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But while we had been incarcerated, the word had obviously gone round about us and our bikes, and the younger guards had dared one of their number to ride a scooter when we emerged. We weren't in a position to refuse, so he jumped on my bike and set off - but it was obvious that he had never ridden before and he careered around, out of control before stopping. Luckily he didn't crash it but the other guards, including those who had locked us up, were crying with laughter - real tears - as they all waved us off and into Russia. </div>
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Rhodabikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07898021035934693821noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5805520172752870440.post-23664743587507342362012-11-02T15:20:00.000-07:002012-11-03T11:07:21.244-07:00Georgian Military Highway<span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">This route was an added bonus, which we only realised would be possible while we were in Istanbul. The original plan had been to take a ferry across the Black Sea from Trabzon in Turkey to Sochi in Russia as there was no land crossing from Georgia to Russia for third party nationals. However, about a month before we left home, the border was suddenly opened, and we had the opportunity to ride instead of sail. That alone saved us about $400.00 USD each, which was also very welcome, and freed money to spend elsewhere. We already had our Russian visas, which did not specify a specific entry point, and some friends had crossed there a few days before at Kazbegi, so we knew it was possible.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">The highway (GMH) runs up from the Georgian capital Tiblisi, to Vladikavkaz in Russia. Vladikavkaz is actually the capital of the Republic of North Ossetia- Alania, but politicaly still remains part of the Russian Federation, and lies in the foothills of the Caucasus mountains. It's an old route, the highway having been started in about 1799 to transport troops and arms. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">We had had a hard ride across Georgia to get there, having ridden on really awful roads from the border with Turkey, and survived more really mad driving. Everybody seemed to drive flat out all the time, and skim us as they passed. Again, it wasn't an act of aggression but just the way that they do things on their roads but it scared the crap out of both of us. And because Georgia is a mountainous country, our route was dictated by terrain rather than choice, so everybody was going the same way, and on a new motorway which still seemed to be under construction.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 19px;">On that road, we encountered what must be the poshest petrol station in the world. It was huge, set well back off the road, and finished in chrome and polished aluminium, and totally out of place. But there was nobody there, and not that many people passing by either. Very odd and more reminiscent of the MacLaren HQ in Surrey.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">We saw several police convoys en route too. Big black 4 x 4s with blacked out windows and about fifteen vehicles in each convoy. It wasn't that far from Tblisi, so maybe it was the president or somebody, but we didn't hang around to find out. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">That night we stayed at Mtakheta, about 20 kms north of Tiblisi in a family home with a room for rent. The town is the ancient capital of Georgia and the place where Georgian christianity developed. What is noticeable is the surrounding hill sides, with monasteries and churches dotted on top of them.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhuf1UHqMBHUmTNnmugiCRMZbn-ok4wzVFAwHwSQfHBwEyE70U7Do6yt6mWzOSMRtmECT0xBhMLhRjbQlCbVPgRcoI4aJwBLkUJy4easz7aVHDfAnke_po8M3kbjAeYWSDJ5oKAc1SqhqY/s1600/IMG_0444.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhuf1UHqMBHUmTNnmugiCRMZbn-ok4wzVFAwHwSQfHBwEyE70U7Do6yt6mWzOSMRtmECT0xBhMLhRjbQlCbVPgRcoI4aJwBLkUJy4easz7aVHDfAnke_po8M3kbjAeYWSDJ5oKAc1SqhqY/s320/IMG_0444.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">We were lucky too because we </span><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 19px;">couldn't find anywhere at all and spotted a man walking with his young grandson along a quiet side street. We stopped, intending to ask him if here was a hotel or campsite nearby, but before we could, he offered us the room. It was ok and the family was very nice, but it was recently renovated and the shower didn't work, and there was no place to cook. But it was better than sleeping in a hedge or pressing on, which neither of us wanted to do. And it allowed us a fresh start for the next day.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 19px;">The route north up the GMH runs for about 150 miles/200 ams, and climbs steadily as it does so to about 2600metres, from Stepantsminda through the Kazbegi Strict Nature Reserve, to the border post at Kazbegi. It got quite cold as we climbed too, and the landscape changed from spectacular and open to almost Alpine like.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 19px;">We met a Dutch couple several miles up, parked up and overlooking a dam. </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZmui02aD_V533HltTAYTqlnuCTzgta-o3APg1d4h8F8GResQ0Fo_G82XCGTpHHAEBNxCNucrtUk2HfLAiTY-UMnfqxzZ6-zBEjW4AsCzsHXoB6xb0h9Dbqa76hC5opUpcTWtz1lU31WG0/s1600/IMG_0448.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZmui02aD_V533HltTAYTqlnuCTzgta-o3APg1d4h8F8GResQ0Fo_G82XCGTpHHAEBNxCNucrtUk2HfLAiTY-UMnfqxzZ6-zBEjW4AsCzsHXoB6xb0h9Dbqa76hC5opUpcTWtz1lU31WG0/s320/IMG_0448.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7DUoc5bUr2tky8rs2vJgcTDMxTpJkcVlAhRnAkuRbCJPg2yj5KqKQozP4CUeBfZIB3RF2c-ek4K1kYNWNBnDaoWP5DrTpTEeMuPKsWCtjcXdt54iS-uncZ3oj39Vvu4Si4Fiin4cs3tK5/s1600/IMG_0450.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7DUoc5bUr2tky8rs2vJgcTDMxTpJkcVlAhRnAkuRbCJPg2yj5KqKQozP4CUeBfZIB3RF2c-ek4K1kYNWNBnDaoWP5DrTpTEeMuPKsWCtjcXdt54iS-uncZ3oj39Vvu4Si4Fiin4cs3tK5/s320/IMG_0450.JPG" width="240" /></a><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 19px;"></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 19px;">They were travelling in a 1952 German fire engine that had been given to the Dutch government as part of war reparation, and they had been all over the world in it. </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1l3j1TBZacNE6293ewwtlRz4UZ5p5SESLnQxWLefbc1dSAy9r97hKAJ9XMdt0FZ3WrM4TRMtBwslUgCk4K81rpFIMgJ8omFy3GZ7xKrsbEx1nnLtRHz_yjs_V53r3wplpWXtAUW_VMwB0/s1600/IMG_0452.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1l3j1TBZacNE6293ewwtlRz4UZ5p5SESLnQxWLefbc1dSAy9r97hKAJ9XMdt0FZ3WrM4TRMtBwslUgCk4K81rpFIMgJ8omFy3GZ7xKrsbEx1nnLtRHz_yjs_V53r3wplpWXtAUW_VMwB0/s320/IMG_0452.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 19px;">Apparently they handed over about 300, but now there are only a few left, so they are quite rare. Cool vehicle though, and pretty hardy. They invited us for coffee but we had no time as we really needed to be up and over the pass in full daylight, having been warned that the road near the top was very rough and unpaved , and a bit dodgy on both side of the border. There were also unlit tunnels - and by unlit, I mean completely dark, so we didn't want to be caught out there.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 19px;">So we continued on, pausing to add a few layers as it got colder, and met a very drunk man who appeared from nowhere.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBBghNDmt112LWfVvPbo-T6KNygAlSjyeSb1BmIkMSIcRHnB23yEUKeZ3YNMWrdcF8_SGZ0KyJ5E8OuapO97OKmb0Ww0p-oAp95ZcbUWCeTEX2MAlJ7XfWJbbWuV_vCtmEd_ceD2jZv8dK/s1600/IMG_0474.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBBghNDmt112LWfVvPbo-T6KNygAlSjyeSb1BmIkMSIcRHnB23yEUKeZ3YNMWrdcF8_SGZ0KyJ5E8OuapO97OKmb0Ww0p-oAp95ZcbUWCeTEX2MAlJ7XfWJbbWuV_vCtmEd_ceD2jZv8dK/s320/IMG_0474.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq8E-ZcJ_HdgR3OGdF4OXQFRFL_a117yba8dAuy-xhdNzYZ-D22IdggoXfDHHcCeQkyFRaE-ZLitFjKG3d14OBGCpAYzkRCwpCztzv3Uo2h1Mg9io5Ie09pjLvMuXiYIV2sS3JLlCYT8Ng/s1600/IMG_0471.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq8E-ZcJ_HdgR3OGdF4OXQFRFL_a117yba8dAuy-xhdNzYZ-D22IdggoXfDHHcCeQkyFRaE-ZLitFjKG3d14OBGCpAYzkRCwpCztzv3Uo2h1Mg9io5Ie09pjLvMuXiYIV2sS3JLlCYT8Ng/s320/IMG_0471.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC_G1kzAvO3tINQsfk251ketOLQAl3puY0RTlivtPtnE4_zHMtdT6VVUHAfcUdos7uWm3UuD2g7G7psHTHgW4h8eSuYlSxN-sAQ93izPJ5jMX8kga0UrEiNyGNiN9u4Ivqlp7qgL8_mAE4/s1600/IMG_0532.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC_G1kzAvO3tINQsfk251ketOLQAl3puY0RTlivtPtnE4_zHMtdT6VVUHAfcUdos7uWm3UuD2g7G7psHTHgW4h8eSuYlSxN-sAQ93izPJ5jMX8kga0UrEiNyGNiN9u4Ivqlp7qgL8_mAE4/s320/IMG_0532.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 19px;">The road eventually got all hair pinned up there too, and then the road surface stopped, about 15 miles short of the border, turning to loose gravel and potholes right across the whole width. </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig0fd1pfoAQDj00Tn-tGnxdTUR-heoJJl_4cCW-L8Iv_twUn37F2Olsf3uWfoZqV297NDG5gCDQt14KReFRehib7XzUhmd7OYD3drcx4eyQ-mwOHD6rxmpYp-1v_eNcgrOK00sLovc4wn1/s1600/IMG_1047.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig0fd1pfoAQDj00Tn-tGnxdTUR-heoJJl_4cCW-L8Iv_twUn37F2Olsf3uWfoZqV297NDG5gCDQt14KReFRehib7XzUhmd7OYD3drcx4eyQ-mwOHD6rxmpYp-1v_eNcgrOK00sLovc4wn1/s320/IMG_1047.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGwcUnZfdO_IPdheicW6Hzs90dmUpSV3p9j_8h3nirY5K1Ph-X32KnVFwtXONow6m81fcZ7zTcgHm5vBuY1woT7NSa7tnvzkxIvRFK9YO88UdGyCe7_IYOYBqgHxEIF1NVwnbIpvT0_SLd/s1600/IMG_1048.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGwcUnZfdO_IPdheicW6Hzs90dmUpSV3p9j_8h3nirY5K1Ph-X32KnVFwtXONow6m81fcZ7zTcgHm5vBuY1woT7NSa7tnvzkxIvRFK9YO88UdGyCe7_IYOYBqgHxEIF1NVwnbIpvT0_SLd/s320/IMG_1048.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 19px;">But bizarrely, vehicles still came whizzing down the road las if it was smoothly surfaced motorway. </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjELmt3wydhL-XwsHFXfd0y6CBy5W7QyQrBdh4VZUV99C5JpoVdbh7jGNUQ5nNko2ZiSA05FXay0eNWrXpTUEjeFzWx7b9L0cJozFs-d5ACi6nxHYiy8bPx4I13Qq_EJvSNfkN-1cPlSrf/s1600/IMG_1049.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjELmt3wydhL-XwsHFXfd0y6CBy5W7QyQrBdh4VZUV99C5JpoVdbh7jGNUQ5nNko2ZiSA05FXay0eNWrXpTUEjeFzWx7b9L0cJozFs-d5ACi6nxHYiy8bPx4I13Qq_EJvSNfkN-1cPlSrf/s320/IMG_1049.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 19px;">There were no trees or any vegetation up there at all, but several patches of snow and it was really open to the elements. Goodness knows what it must be like in winter, although its probably virtually impassable anyway, but they must keep the border post open, particularly now.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghIvLUQ-URxj_PLDHc8dmuclsqNXfDrPJ6pMF7O3vO68hwnauiXvGu1806MN70yp8O41OB0JNJkeHFHsEPf0-otT21LKhNgOnghUqjsljjSnAJP7JD8nko25aB_mj0h0P-u-XQ_LbAbJ3P/s1600/IMG_0523.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghIvLUQ-URxj_PLDHc8dmuclsqNXfDrPJ6pMF7O3vO68hwnauiXvGu1806MN70yp8O41OB0JNJkeHFHsEPf0-otT21LKhNgOnghUqjsljjSnAJP7JD8nko25aB_mj0h0P-u-XQ_LbAbJ3P/s320/IMG_0523.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 19px;">The tunnels were every bit as scary as we thought they would be. Hewn out of the rock, with rough surfaces and no lighting at all, some are now having roads built around the outside. Maybe its to help the expected traffic increase, while the tunnels protect the crossing from the extreme elements in winter; who knows.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG1W70Ty9xMuev7ngSifpguOxz3FSHZe4mZR3Qo1pQXpL8CWSVqY68Us5HVLFSQ20JzbwecQtuE9fF5_IuupB5FwZTqaOLjwzoPJ97YtyiEnJI6duiZbhj43V1dnGUB9J1D512eVL_Eqiu/s1600/IMG_0505.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG1W70Ty9xMuev7ngSifpguOxz3FSHZe4mZR3Qo1pQXpL8CWSVqY68Us5HVLFSQ20JzbwecQtuE9fF5_IuupB5FwZTqaOLjwzoPJ97YtyiEnJI6duiZbhj43V1dnGUB9J1D512eVL_Eqiu/s320/IMG_0505.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 19px;">The actual border post was a bit of a surprise and somewhat of an anti climax, and it is right at the top. We had hoped to change some money up there, but it suddenly appeared out of nowhere, and there were no shops or anything in it. Its probably because it was only a crossing post for Russians and Georgians until recently, and hasn't yet caught up with its new international status. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 19px;">Our arrival caused a bit of a flutter though as the guards clearly weren't sure what to make of us, but they let us through quick enough. One of the Russian guards barked something at us, but his mate just laughed and spoke to us in English. Our registration plates caused a bit of confusion too, because they are consecutive, and the woman couldn't tell the difference between JNL on Nads' bike and JNK on mine, but we sorted it by showing her the two rego certificates. Then in the customs office, they helped us fill in the vehicle forms as we clearly couldn't read the cyrillic alphabet. But as we later found out, they did lack a bit of international experience because they insisted that we had all the forms that we needed to carry on, which we did, but it turned out that we didn't have any insurance for Russia. That was ok because apparently Russian law allows you to ride or drive to the nearest town to buy some without committing any offence. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 19px;">Having crossed the border, the road was just as spectacular on the Russian side. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 19px;">There is a big Russian Army base about a kilometre or so from it, and various relics of previous border tensions, with tanks and bunkers dotted over the landscape, and patrolling armed soldiers. The scenery though was astonishing - sheer rock faces, a stoney river bed, and sun bouncing off the sides of the valley.</span></span><br />
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Rhodabikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07898021035934693821noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5805520172752870440.post-50526168513812799292012-11-01T11:41:00.001-07:002012-11-02T10:51:13.736-07:00To rural Kent aboard PizzaBikePoor old PizzaBike will be my steed for the next few weeks while my left wrist heals.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidkbbOqX6_GnotDIB8QXEvrr5c96KcHlYimZROqomPWTFFwlh2PEQU9qioXEMYCA_i-oj16Ok-P6reRhkzvq_tGDiVgqYbOgEUvEG2p3mB1zKtnb0_hwXwPjpYeDGyBb-A6IskxJ2L0Hwo/s1600/PA300802.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidkbbOqX6_GnotDIB8QXEvrr5c96KcHlYimZROqomPWTFFwlh2PEQU9qioXEMYCA_i-oj16Ok-P6reRhkzvq_tGDiVgqYbOgEUvEG2p3mB1zKtnb0_hwXwPjpYeDGyBb-A6IskxJ2L0Hwo/s320/PA300802.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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It's OK for me to ride as it has no clutch, and I like it anyway as it's light and easy to ride and can be dragged out of dirt or picked up easily, should the need arise. That makes it very useful for poking about remote lanes and villages where falling off is high on the 'likely' list.<br />
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So today, starting on 19000 miles dead, I rode her up onto the North Downs in rural Kent, on a very bright but blustery autumn day, with big black clouds interspersed with sunbursts and blue sky.<br />
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And it was cold. So cold that I actually wore my winter gloves and about 200 jumpers. But I was still cold. My plan was to wend my way to Kent via the A and B roads to Dode, a village abandoned during the Black Death plague in about 1350. It's not far - maybe 25 miles/45kms from home.<br />
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There must have been a storm last night because there was so much debris on the roads. Far more leaves and branches than normal and lots of standing water, even on well used roads. Perhaps it was the tail end of that storm they had on the east coast of America; we usually get their leftovers in the UK, courtesy of the south westerly prevailing winds.<br />
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I followed the A25 down through Westerham, Braestead and Sundridge, to Riverhead and Seal, before turning off at Wrotham to climb up onto the North Downs. I stopped briefly at Westerham and snapped a picture of Churchill<br />
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and General James Wolfe,<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg04yVG_PxBklz-i8Ir9huprHHFI2UEKorivgBnFr9VQtuSTiAHBITECWf4kIfWCxl-uFVr-Uc777j2urhbjymXEuc09Ppa0xgkpsB8AVqw8cMrFY9N0Wp-RYwjzZUwucKs1gP9xtLw6q9f/s1600/PB010814.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg04yVG_PxBklz-i8Ir9huprHHFI2UEKorivgBnFr9VQtuSTiAHBITECWf4kIfWCxl-uFVr-Uc777j2urhbjymXEuc09Ppa0xgkpsB8AVqw8cMrFY9N0Wp-RYwjzZUwucKs1gP9xtLw6q9f/s1600/PB010814.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg04yVG_PxBklz-i8Ir9huprHHFI2UEKorivgBnFr9VQtuSTiAHBITECWf4kIfWCxl-uFVr-Uc777j2urhbjymXEuc09Ppa0xgkpsB8AVqw8cMrFY9N0Wp-RYwjzZUwucKs1gP9xtLw6q9f/s320/PB010814.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg04yVG_PxBklz-i8Ir9huprHHFI2UEKorivgBnFr9VQtuSTiAHBITECWf4kIfWCxl-uFVr-Uc777j2urhbjymXEuc09Ppa0xgkpsB8AVqw8cMrFY9N0Wp-RYwjzZUwucKs1gP9xtLw6q9f/s1600/PB010814.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg04yVG_PxBklz-i8Ir9huprHHFI2UEKorivgBnFr9VQtuSTiAHBITECWf4kIfWCxl-uFVr-Uc777j2urhbjymXEuc09Ppa0xgkpsB8AVqw8cMrFY9N0Wp-RYwjzZUwucKs1gP9xtLw6q9f/s1600/PB010814.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg04yVG_PxBklz-i8Ir9huprHHFI2UEKorivgBnFr9VQtuSTiAHBITECWf4kIfWCxl-uFVr-Uc777j2urhbjymXEuc09Ppa0xgkpsB8AVqw8cMrFY9N0Wp-RYwjzZUwucKs1gP9xtLw6q9f/s1600/PB010814.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg04yVG_PxBklz-i8Ir9huprHHFI2UEKorivgBnFr9VQtuSTiAHBITECWf4kIfWCxl-uFVr-Uc777j2urhbjymXEuc09Ppa0xgkpsB8AVqw8cMrFY9N0Wp-RYwjzZUwucKs1gP9xtLw6q9f/s1600/PB010814.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">, </a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg04yVG_PxBklz-i8Ir9huprHHFI2UEKorivgBnFr9VQtuSTiAHBITECWf4kIfWCxl-uFVr-Uc777j2urhbjymXEuc09Ppa0xgkpsB8AVqw8cMrFY9N0Wp-RYwjzZUwucKs1gP9xtLw6q9f/s1600/PB010814.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg04yVG_PxBklz-i8Ir9huprHHFI2UEKorivgBnFr9VQtuSTiAHBITECWf4kIfWCxl-uFVr-Uc777j2urhbjymXEuc09Ppa0xgkpsB8AVqw8cMrFY9N0Wp-RYwjzZUwucKs1gP9xtLw6q9f/s1600/PB010814.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg04yVG_PxBklz-i8Ir9huprHHFI2UEKorivgBnFr9VQtuSTiAHBITECWf4kIfWCxl-uFVr-Uc777j2urhbjymXEuc09Ppa0xgkpsB8AVqw8cMrFY9N0Wp-RYwjzZUwucKs1gP9xtLw6q9f/s1600/PB010814.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><br /></a><br />
both commemorated here on the Green, by separate statues. Churchill lived just down the road at Chartwell, whilst Wolfe lived in Quebec House, which was his childhood home. And if you haven't already made the connection, Wolfe was the bloke who sorted out the French in the Seven Years War, and the Battle of Quebec, which prompted the French to hand over their land possessions in Canada to the Brits.<br />
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Westerham is only a small place but it boasts two men who at different times, made a huge impact on the World and helped shape modern history. It also has some very nice teashops but I didn't stop at any today as I'd only just left home.<br />
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By the time I reached the lanes not far from Wrotham, evidence of last night's rain was all around. I stumbled across several puddles like these, dotted around. And yes of course I rode through it but didn't get a picture as it would have meant riding no handed and even I think that is beyond the call of duty. Probably.<br />
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I just waited for an obliging car to rock up to save me walking through to test the depth as it was too cold for a swim and I had my new camera to think about.<br />
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But the views from the top of the Downs were worth the effort.<br />
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I was even colder by now and hungry, so I stopped at a chip shop. Proper chips too, none of that fries business. And they really hit the spot as I scoffed them in the sunshine. Best I go cycling again tomorrow morning to cancel their legacy out then.<br />
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It's funny what you find hidden away in familiar places. I have passed signposts for this place so many times but have never gone to see what lies along that lane. But it was a little church alongside a farm, right in the middle of nowhere.<br />
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And Pizzabike had a bit of a pose in the sunshine.<br />
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I dropped down into Rochester, which I hadn't meant to do, but having ended up there, I had a quick look at the Castle and the Cathedral. Both are really impressive and overlook the River Medway.<br />
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But those clouds were getting blacker and blacker and gathering over the river. This bit of the river was famous in the early days of aviation when the Short brothers opened a factory on the banks, just downstream. This is where they pioneered the piggy back system that the Americans later used to launch the space shuttle. Only the Short brothers, back in the day, developed it in order to run an airmail postal service across the Atlantic, using a modified Sunderland flying boat - Maia - and a small seaplane - Mercury. Maia carried Mercury and then Mercury took off from it, thus extending its range. Simple, effective and ingenious.<br />
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And you know that feeling of annoyance when you know you're about to get a good soaking.......<br />
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.....well I didn't as it somehow bypassed me.<br />
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But it produced some spectacular light which made even the roadside weeds look interesting.<br />
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This is the M2 bridge - in its day, the longest span bridge of its type in the World back in the 1960s. Looks tiddly now though.<br />
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I eventually reached the bit of the Downs that I had been looking for although I couldn't find Dode, although I knew it was very nearby. A combination of being cold and wanting to get home before the sun went down and it got even colder, meant that I gave up without too much of a search; I'll save that for another day. But I did stop at Paddlesworth Church, which is in the same parish as Dode. And it was open too, much to my surprise, so I spent 15 minutes inside, out of the wind, and having a look around.<br />
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Again, it was in the middle of nowhere. Its about 900 years old, although some bits are probably a bit older. The village that it served was wiped out during the Black Death, and it was amalgamated with Dode Parish afterwards. Its still a consecrated church although no longer used for worship, and for about 250 years, was used by the nearby farm as a barn. But it was empty today.<br />
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So that was it. Time to head for home, after a round trip of just under 100 miles/164 kms. And I still didn't get wet. Excellent!<br />
<br />Rhodabikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07898021035934693821noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5805520172752870440.post-41576284527885038832012-10-31T10:23:00.000-07:002012-10-31T10:32:57.760-07:00Ulan BataarUlan Bataar - commonly and colloquially referred to as UB - is the World's coldest capital. It sits sits at 1300 metres above sea level, and in a river valley The name means ' Red Hero', and the city started off as a nomadic Buddhist settlement which moved twenty eight times before somebody finally had enough, and parked it permanently where it is now.<br />
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I was last here seven years ago, in the winter. It was not only astonishingly cold then (-40 Celsius at night) but also noticeably quieter. I'm not sure if that was a seasonal variation or just that the place has grown, but whatever the reason, its basic infrastructure definitely can't cope, and that adds to its strangeness. <br />
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At first glance, it looks like the average modern capital city with glass buildings, flash cars, neon signs and well dressed people, all mixed in with old or traditional stuff. <br />
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But seemingly not in the same way as other major cities, with monks in full monkly robes driving the newest model cars or walking along with briefcases, and young business people chatting on I Phones or working on I Pads while riding on oxen carts. It is such a weird mix which really takes you aback.<br />
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There has definitely been a recent upsurge of wealth here, and there is now noticeable western influence with shops, cafes and bars. Go into a shop, and you will find the latest flat screen TVs, the latest phones and all manner of designer clothing. But most of the customers live in the ger communities - where there is no running water and no sanitation. It's just a different take on what is important for everyday living and what is not.<br />
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Some are imports, like pubs, micro breweries and pizza restaurants, whilst others are a mixture of Chinese imitation and local perception of what foreigners expect, even if they don't. And they don't always interpret the place names as we would......<br />
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However, it is the basic infrastructure that gives the game away; UB is a facade where very little works as you might expect, or in such a chaotic and disorganised way, that you'd be forgiven for wondering what is going on. It is as if ideas have changed too quickly or disposable wealth arrived without a spending outlet for the city to develop systems to keep it going. It has cars, it has shops and restaurants - often operating at near western prices but far from western service levels - it has buses and banks, yet there seems to be no underlying system for any of these things and so rather than create and help develop the community and each other, they just clatter along regardless in isolation. There seems to be no overview or plan for anything in this place, just an expectation that if the raw materials are there, the place will somehow grow and work. However, that is not really the case.<br />
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The roads are a good example. It is a small city and the road network should be adequate in terms of comparative size.....but whereas the traffic volume has increased with wealth, the road conditions have not, and are terrible because nobody repairs them or pays taxes to allow even weather damage to be put right, let alone damage from wear and tear.<br />
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Furthermore, their use is so bizarre that the place is gridlocked at least twice a day; nobody takes any notice of traffic signals or gives way, and it all gets so much worse when the traffic police arrive, allegedly to sort it out. Rather than facilitate flow and move obstructions, they stop vehicles arbitrarily and cause massive snarl ups. They are totally ineffective and laughably useless, although they do look the part with flashy bikes and white wellies.<br />
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We arrived in the city during peak hour on a Friday. Not the best of timing but having ridden right across Europe and Asia, we thought we'd seen it all. But UB was something else. It was almost like a fairground ride, with vehicles driving at each other and filling spaces, seemingly without any idea or hope of making progress. And of course they hit each other and blocked more bits of the road as a consequence. Yet nobody seemed to know what to do. Nobody moved crashed vehicles, nobody set up diversions, and everybody stood around waiting for somebody else to do something. It was quite incredible, but as one woman later remarked ' these people are nomads - they are not used to roads or signs and have no idea of how to live with other people. They just drive and if somebody gets in the way, they hit them.' People just drive to where they want to go, and only a physically immovable structure will stop them, and then only temporarily. But far from aggression, it's more to do with total incomprehension of how things work.<br />
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Then there are the banks. A 24 hour bank in the city centre that only opens between 0900 and midnight, and ATMs that only operate on Visa not Mastercard ( or the other way round - forgotten which, but it it was the opposite to what I needed) or will only let you withdraw cash in minuscule denominations. We had to withdraw the equivalent of £500.00 in £2.50 lots to buy a replacement motorbike, which emptied the machine, much to the annoyance of waiting customers. But as the lady had already filled it that morning, she was reluctant to do it again - despite it being empty and therefore useless. Or the tourist information place where people know even less about their city than the average first time visitor. It is very confusing at first but once you accept that is just the way that it is, then it becomes easier to deal with.<br />
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Tourism is on the up too. I've already mentioned bars and restaurants and there is definitely an understanding that visitors mean cash, and people will spend it at places of interest.<br />
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But the balance of what is charged and the service received, particularly in some restaurants, is still way off, which can be rather tedious when you're hungry and tired and have spent all day supporting the local economy in other ways. But I guess that is all part of the travel thing, and its about knowing when to just laugh and accept it, or object and move on.<br />
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'Reasonable' , 'ripoff' and 'cheeky git' haven't quite hit home yet with some chancers either, like the monk at Gandan Monastery who wanted an additional $5.00 USD per picture for general pictures inside the grounds, despite us having already paid an entrance fee. But his efforts were wasted on us and he didn't get any dollars at all in the end.......but he did get some free advice, especially from Nadine.<br />
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This bloke was on the phone in between hitting the gong for prayers<br />
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Or one waiter who took our order in a restaurant but neglected to pass it to the chef because he wanted to practise his English on us. Not funny late at night when there is nowhere else to eat.<br />
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But then we also went to places that were completely free and spectacular, like the Ziasan memorial on a hill to the south of the city.<br />
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It commemorates Soviet soldiers of WW2 and is now a bit tatty and dilapidated, but its probably one of the best places to look out over the city.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zaisan Memorial overlooking the city</td></tr>
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What is evident from there though is the extent of spread of the city in the last seven years. New apartments have sprung up everywhere, and the Winter Palace, once clearly visible from Zaisan, is now hidden amongst new buildings.<br />
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But for us, UB was always the main point of the journey, and anything further would just be a bonus. It was our original destination, and a place that at until we reached it, always seemed so far away. But I don't think that either of us really seriously ever doubted that we <i>would</i> make it. Not aboard our trusty scooters.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">scoots on Zaisan Hill</td></tr>
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<br />Rhodabikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07898021035934693821noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5805520172752870440.post-85431436838933030952012-10-22T09:29:00.002-07:002012-10-24T08:23:52.406-07:00Places revisitedWell, not exactly. The plan is to revisit in terms of sifting through the thousands of photos taken this year on rides across Africa and Asia, and then writing about what we did here and what we saw there. So it's more of a reflection I suppose, a consideration of stuff now that we're back home with time to spare. It wasn't possible to post pictures every day anyway, due to lack of WiFi, or security worries, particularly in Africa, and even when we could, we were limited by slow connections.<br />
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And on the subject of being back home.......that was far harder to deal with than any of the actual travelling or difficulties that we faced, and it hit me very hard; I think it got to Nadine too.<br />
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For me, it was like a malaise, a feeling of being disconnection and not belonging anywhere or being part of anything anymore. I lost interest in everything ; a real listless time during which I lacked motivation for anything, even riding. <br />
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So much had happened in three and a half months and I knew that I had changed as a result, yet back at home, everything seemed to have stayed still; stuff and people just plodded along as usual, seemingly getting nowhere, and taking ages in the process. It all seemed so pointless and ridiculous as a result, almost inconsequential, and it really got to me.<br />
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Neither of us were prepared for it, which I suppose is not surprising, given that we had no idea that it would happen.<br />
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But two months later, we're over it, and I am now working my way through pictures and movies, and will be posting stuff as and when I can.<br />
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<br />Rhodabikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07898021035934693821noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5805520172752870440.post-14704032191972349222012-10-22T04:33:00.000-07:002012-10-24T08:24:33.549-07:00Belgium - while we're scooter less.....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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..........we take the bigger bikes on jaunts. Far better than not riding at all, which would be unthinkable. And winter is definitely coming, so we have to make the best of the Ok weather while we can. It's not too cold at the moment but it is wet and the leaves are coming down in their millions, making the ground slippery. We're hoping to have the Mongolian scooters sent back very soon.....but until then, bigger bikes it is.</div>
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And this weekend, Ypres/ Ieper Belgium was top of the list of 'must go' places. A long weekend and a short hop across the Channel via the Tunnel, an even shorter hop through Northern France, and we were there - Mike and Sue on a BMW 1200 and a Tiger 800 respectively, Nads on her 650 BMW, Gordon on his Transalp and me on my Hornet.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6vMPAShFoQLPeZSi_QOMcebF9CqXVUZkF01pGPNIv5crTv5hfKSMI09KngOlA_mOkAzFZKYxS9vF19dF4PRJsKCw1LLwwOckTs2BAv_f6aTCISaJ4lh1FhYpFKYVkdnagnntTi2mCsymj/s1600/PA190467.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6vMPAShFoQLPeZSi_QOMcebF9CqXVUZkF01pGPNIv5crTv5hfKSMI09KngOlA_mOkAzFZKYxS9vF19dF4PRJsKCw1LLwwOckTs2BAv_f6aTCISaJ4lh1FhYpFKYVkdnagnntTi2mCsymj/s320/PA190467.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Surprisingly, nobody missed the RVP at the Tunnel on Friday morning, and we all got on the train we were supposed to get on. Yaay.<br />
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Even had time for a coffee and a pose. Weather wasn't too bad either.<br />
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Not so over the other side though, where it was drizzling. it didn't bother any of us unduly as we all had wet weather gear, but it does make everything look so dismal, and Northern France is not the most picturesque of places at the best of times. But we took the rural roads rather than the autoroute, and eventually stopped for a late lunch just south of the Belgian border.<br />
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I say 'border' but of course this is Europe where there are no borders and sometimes its difficult to know exactly where you are. But this was France. I think.<br />
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One of the best bits about travelling by bike is that people chat to you and volunteer information. The owner lady at our lunch stop turned out to be a biker, had a Harley, and had travelled extensively on it through Europe with her husband and his mates.<br />
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And she'd only got her bike licence at the age of 52 - but had done 84 000kms on her Harley since then. Definitely a very cool woman. Never did ask her name but it's a great lunch stop, and it's right on the junction of the D933 and D455.<br />
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We eventually arrived in Ypres later in the afternoon, after more wandering through villages. This was not a hurried trip.The hotel was ok - a Best Western job on the outskirts of town but within walking distance of it. And they let us park our bikes outs front for free....better than the Novatel in town which wanted 11 Euros per night per bike. No thanks.<br />
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You have to love some of the town business signs though...<br />
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Ypres is one of those towns that copped it badly during WW1. It looks delightfully quaint and impressive, and it is.....but its totally rebuilt, having been smashed to smithereens by constant shelling, so trashed that only one tree and one bit of a building remained standing. But it was painstakingly repaired by locals who used salvaged original materials, and they did such a good job that you would never know. The only giveaway - and again you'd have to know as it really isn't obvious at all - it the occasional newer stone on a facade, inserted when an original was too damaged to reuse.<br />
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The building which dominates the town is the Cloth Hall and if you look at it, its a testament to the town's former wealth. <br />
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It is fabulously ornate and was one of the World's biggest commercial structures in its day - a medieval equivalent of the twin Towers, but not rising from a city but a little town in the middle of rural Belgium. And like many towns along the western coast of continental Europe and eastern England, it was all down to the wool industry.<br />
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Ypres is probably most famous for its nightly service of Remembrance under the Menin Gate. Every night at 2000hrs, since about 1920, and whatever the weather and regardless of who is there, local fire brigade buglers play the Last Post as a tribute to fallen Allied personnel of WW1. I've seen it many times, but it is always moving. But this weekend there was` a problem with the electricity and it was very dark underneath the arch.<br />
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So many names, and no known graves, and the Menin Gate is only one of a number of huge WW1 memorials. In recent years, it has become quite a big thing, especially with British school groups and youth groups, particularly since the Government included it in the National Curriculum.<br />
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This stuff is part of what we are, and why the world is as it is and it's not for somebody whose only problem is getting to work on time, to tell people how to think.<br />
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What was interesting though was the following day at the German cemetery at Langemark, we were stopped by a Belgian journalist who was writing about national patterns of remembrance. He said there was apparently very little German interest, but lots from Brits, Australians, Canadians and New Zealanders. Maybe they just do it differently. Or maybe they don't. Who knows.<br />
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There is a huge difference between the German and Commonwealth cemeteries though. Whist the Commonwealth ones are pristine and airy and made of light stone, the German equivalent is very dark and a bit creepy. I suppose its just a question of style but there is definitely a marked difference.<br />
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Langemark - German </div>
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Tyne Cot - Allied</div>
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Also checked out the Flanders Fields Museum in the Cloth Hall. Again, impressive even if you're not that interested in WW1 because its about real people and the recent history of the World as we know it, rather than actual war stuff. Stories of real people caught up in something not of their making.<br />
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Most of these places are scattered over a fair sized rural area and the roads are not great - particularly on street bikes. Concrete roads, covered in mud, side winds, tractors, and standing water all add up to testing rides but then that's what as bikers we should be doing - riding our bikes and getting as much practice of adverse conditions as possible.<br />
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The market was on in the Square on Saturday, so we had a poke around that too. Markets are something that we've really lost in the UK, that higgledy piggledy mishmash of stuff and stalls.Now we just have supermarkets and samey old gear.But not here,where the weekly market is still a community focus as well as a social gathering.<br />
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The cafes are pretty good too and something that just had to be checked out, Waffles, pancakes and coffee on a rainy Saturday lunchtime. It had to be done.<br />
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And then a quick wander down the street to that other Belgian thing - the Choclatier, of which there are several in Ypres....<br />
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Stopped at Blankenburg on the way home. Its on the coast, on the Belgian/Dutch border. One of those seaside towns that have been there for years and you wonder why,given the cold weather and the grey sea. But at least you're safe from sharks. And pirates.<br />
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A quick nip through the Tunnel, and time for a quick rest for Nadine.<br />
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Then a good soaking on the way back, and we were home 80 minutes later, much to the relief of one son who had been locked out by the other. It was an accident. Apparently.<br />
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<br />Rhodabikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07898021035934693821noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5805520172752870440.post-82399819042634738052012-10-16T09:10:00.003-07:002012-10-16T09:10:35.906-07:00Another Mini adventure…….Lincoln<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">October 6<sup>th</sup> – my birthday – and
four of us left South London and hammered round the M25, then up the M11 and A1
to get to Lincoln as quickly as we could because we were on an overnighter; Tony on an XJ6, Gordon on a Transalp, Nadine on her BMW 650ST, and me on my
Hornet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">The weather was superb….blue cloudless
skies, warm autumn sun, and a real pleasure to ride 200 miles up the eastern
side of the UK in such conditions. It
should be made illegal NOT to ride a bike on such days. And as many of the
usual car-driving - while - texting numpties seemed to have stayed home, the
journey was even better.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">We stayed at the Castle Hotel in the old
bit of Lincoln, in the newly renovated and separate apartment, with views of
the castle and the cathedral. It was so central that the interesting bits of
the city were right outside our front door, which made the bit of wandering over
cobbled streets to nice pubs that we did, very bearable. Mind you, we were rather rudely
awoken by the Council the following morning when they decided to jet wash the
park benches at 0730, but they soon finished, so that was OK. And anyway, it
was different from being awoken by London traffic.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeQU0z6XuV2_N4oVcaGJs_E_92zRCMrtD_wr-76FSPTTiAaMD2Oa1unQjQW5_jBI_5cl53zpBO9PSLuvB0guxA9ZtXtZ71WE8VH8kOqx0x1thX2PiuINQeNsfJzY6HpgYT_jCNAMY6GMyi/s1600/IMG_1414.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeQU0z6XuV2_N4oVcaGJs_E_92zRCMrtD_wr-76FSPTTiAaMD2Oa1unQjQW5_jBI_5cl53zpBO9PSLuvB0guxA9ZtXtZ71WE8VH8kOqx0x1thX2PiuINQeNsfJzY6HpgYT_jCNAMY6GMyi/s320/IMG_1414.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2dJni976nvw7MFjLJGwz1jLGaVbNTypZoAsqDo0GwhjSuXYBxAPFfGQa8Trxw8mfygmpt1-VGCvhxq7GmQgp3551153dOI39OgUckqy8MUiWXpK21Lr2WhUYQAATlzbCIDruSgrQSU3cT/s1600/IMG_1472.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2dJni976nvw7MFjLJGwz1jLGaVbNTypZoAsqDo0GwhjSuXYBxAPFfGQa8Trxw8mfygmpt1-VGCvhxq7GmQgp3551153dOI39OgUckqy8MUiWXpK21Lr2WhUYQAATlzbCIDruSgrQSU3cT/s320/IMG_1472.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">So by mid Sunday morning, and with just one
of the gang nursing a bit of a sore head (nope, not me!) we set off to ride
home via the fabulous and empty roads that cris cross that part of the country.
The weather was still great, and there was still nobody much about, so we had many of the roads to ourselves.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">There is something really stunning about
England in the autumn sun. Dark earth in freshly ploughed fields, leaves just
starting to turn shades of red, gold and orange, low slung silver sun, and mist that never quite
makes it above the hedgerows, all set against a clear blue sky. Lovely. And of
course from a bike, you can smell the hedgerows and the fresh earth and all
that other stuff that you miss from a car.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">And given that I was the only one in our
gang of four who hales from these shores, and it was my birthday, I decided to
take the others on a satnav extravaganza of familiar place names, just to
underline who spawned what in the days when the world was still flat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">So first stop was New York, a remote string
of houses strewn along just one road.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_QA6owvPKinVEfbf4f3m_b6qcxgbwquMsQrdrUFvSUlh3eYjsa5_OZJcIzWudVHQaUS4AS6TunyVedYClg23rcZ8UQGUDmaV80cqaP3eJczoL4oDuEsMqd3BypmRYrRsjra9UueZEyJZC/s1600/IMG_1497.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_QA6owvPKinVEfbf4f3m_b6qcxgbwquMsQrdrUFvSUlh3eYjsa5_OZJcIzWudVHQaUS4AS6TunyVedYClg23rcZ8UQGUDmaV80cqaP3eJczoL4oDuEsMqd3BypmRYrRsjra9UueZEyJZC/s320/IMG_1497.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Next up was Botany Bay farm, which confused
Nadine somewhat as her Botany Bay is even further away from New York than this
one. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj8WVQgNVPLDUZJff91efTadQzP5pnDptrv837jJ8XXNG6DYN-grSuvk9Cb0rU6VqIyoTx0i3uTQMR1qyHI7OXPJ4g1jbqVSl9TCZt7gRk3JoMpJx9StufCKPW-2hm_n6xG-0cuLHj8MIn/s1600/IMG_1493.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj8WVQgNVPLDUZJff91efTadQzP5pnDptrv837jJ8XXNG6DYN-grSuvk9Cb0rU6VqIyoTx0i3uTQMR1qyHI7OXPJ4g1jbqVSl9TCZt7gRk3JoMpJx9StufCKPW-2hm_n6xG-0cuLHj8MIn/s320/IMG_1493.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-YUKEvKeO7TwVqITpzOOLudT1McAT-ERR2aJE-kji50zGSm-4IaiprLtNVYDTK7X0D3wvEMRo6Nd9N9UJ_fsxg9rowTF202C5lbeTEYDnH1LpXhWaN2UiQGouIqV2b3EkLhOkKbPJEX5O/s1600/IMG_1503.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-YUKEvKeO7TwVqITpzOOLudT1McAT-ERR2aJE-kji50zGSm-4IaiprLtNVYDTK7X0D3wvEMRo6Nd9N9UJ_fsxg9rowTF202C5lbeTEYDnH1LpXhWaN2UiQGouIqV2b3EkLhOkKbPJEX5O/s320/IMG_1503.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span lang="EN-US">Then of course there was Boston, a sizeable
market town, and its stump, visible across the Fens for miles around. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhum6OyW2qLkZiu-LCPXLkf_0veJgCETiPRaL_MVCMziX-2SYbAsy-AhLHnt0PfVxNqKIaz3UI3D85CqkRQ_k-Qu-jzzqRb-f_ZiqI8MT4Avs1yzQ4UcHyJRa3qsu43kq1NGmfZhmjHtQgE/s1600/IMG_1498.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhum6OyW2qLkZiu-LCPXLkf_0veJgCETiPRaL_MVCMziX-2SYbAsy-AhLHnt0PfVxNqKIaz3UI3D85CqkRQ_k-Qu-jzzqRb-f_ZiqI8MT4Avs1yzQ4UcHyJRa3qsu43kq1NGmfZhmjHtQgE/s320/IMG_1498.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US">The stump
is the church tower, yet the church itself is massive and more like a
cathedral. It is ornate, both inside and out, and really impressive. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEVpM7AUtliHXuEej4RPb-VFzlvTfmssWcRoVAM2Fg2J9iqWto1bkym4TOuTaTWqZStDOzw8_HF3g59zPJ1iYBZKyXhK68TkrnbYwYnlC7Ds-lkrE1lqr0mI8GDDfQ6qw6qQxDjQctlULi/s1600/IMG_1518.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEVpM7AUtliHXuEej4RPb-VFzlvTfmssWcRoVAM2Fg2J9iqWto1bkym4TOuTaTWqZStDOzw8_HF3g59zPJ1iYBZKyXhK68TkrnbYwYnlC7Ds-lkrE1lqr0mI8GDDfQ6qw6qQxDjQctlULi/s320/IMG_1518.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<br />
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US">There was
a christening going on inside, but the place was so huge that nobody seemed to
mind us trooping in and looking around while they carried on with their thing.
We were quiet and polite, even if some of the kids were distracted by the
tiptoeing bikers, and took more interest in us than the vicar.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSOnU0zedx29oAbWBKCyx2LBwTmacZoLHX6mcFAbbwox7BI0oMqDHi7NJd-pTd6Q3A98ZPhPkZZfjNArMfkEOl9ul7Jasfw9KB2T-ajH83do2UyCsd6g1t4GnR7PmijDA5_G-qsUQqCKzG/s1600/IMG_1516.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSOnU0zedx29oAbWBKCyx2LBwTmacZoLHX6mcFAbbwox7BI0oMqDHi7NJd-pTd6Q3A98ZPhPkZZfjNArMfkEOl9ul7Jasfw9KB2T-ajH83do2UyCsd6g1t4GnR7PmijDA5_G-qsUQqCKzG/s320/IMG_1516.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">What was particularly cool was the time
line that somebody had put together of people who had left Boston back in the
day and done stuff that achieved World prominence. Can’t remember his name, but
there was a special mention of a Bostonian who had sailed with Mathew Flinders
and found a few hills in Oz.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span><span lang="EN-US">There are also many Poles and people from
the Baltic States in Boston. I guess it’s on that side of the country nearest
to that part of Europe and not far from ports such as Harwich, Lowestoft and
Hull. And there is lots of agricultural work in that area to keep people
earning.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">After a walk around Boston and a quick
sandwich in the sunshine, we carried on through Upper Holland and Lower
Holland, both low laying small country towns in the Fens, complete with
drainage ditches, canals and flood warning sirens. Don’t think we saw any
windmills or pushbikes though.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Last stop of the day was Denver, just off
the beaten track between a couple of bigger roads, before scooting through
Cambridge and onto the M11 for the blast home.
<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">We didn’t have time to make it to
California on this occasion, which is just up the coast a bit, but it was still
a good day’s ride and amusing to upstage more famous namesakes. We covered about
500 miles/800kms on the round trip, and had a good time riding twisties and
straight bits, as seeing some beautiful countryside. Just goes to show- your
own backyard can be just as interesting as a far flung jaunt….<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<!--EndFragment-->Rhodabikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07898021035934693821noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5805520172752870440.post-34291451789048257112012-10-14T02:16:00.000-07:002012-10-14T02:29:43.970-07:00A few days in Paris<br />
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It's getting really autumnal here - very cool, dark mornings, low sunlight, and shortish days, a sure sign that riding days are limited, and you must get out and ride whilst you can, because the winter is coming.<br />
<br />
So ride we did - to Paris.<br />
<br />
We took four days ( three nights) and nipped down to see Lionel, whom we met in the middle of Mongolia back in July.<br />
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We set off on Nads' BMW, two up on Tuesday morning, and headed for the Tunnel. But of course, missed the train we were supposed to be on, and had to take the next one, arriving in a murky Calais at about 11.30 French time - an hour ahead of London.<br />
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We had a good run down, taking the A26/ A1, which is a bit boring but quite quick, and arrived about three hours later, after just two fuel stops and a bit of faffing about.<br />
<br />
Two up is not great but it was to keep the costs down, and we shared riding/pillion, which made things quite comfortable for both of us. Nads' bike also has more room than my Hornet, and will skip along quite nicely at 130kph.<br />
<br />
Lionel lives quite close to the end of the A1, and we arrived just as he was finishing washing his Blackbird. He works permanent nights, but had managed to sleep and wash his bike before we arrived. Bonus. Severine ( his housemate - not sure how to spell her name ) who also works at night - nothing dodgy though - was also up and about, although she sounded like she was dying from a chest infection.<br />
<br />
Spent a pleasant evening with them, and another friend ( Benoit) who rode over on his XJ6, looking at respective recent travel pictures and mini movies, eating, and drinking wine.<br />
<br />
The following morning, after a leisurely breakfast of French breads and pastries, we set off for central Paris, following Lionel. However, we'd only gone about 100m before we noticed his rear tyre was deflating. So off we all went, through the back streets to a hidden motorcycle dealer, where Lionel ended up having to buy a new rear tyre and we poked about looking at the hundreds of bikes that were there. Even found a Hornet, just like mine, although three years younger but not in as good nick.<br />
<br />
Spent the afternoon and evening exploring Paris on foot and on Velib bikes, clocking this bloke and his ladders.<br />
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Rode most of the way to Monmartre before parking the bikes and walking the rest of the way, which was just as well because it was very hilly and Nadine's knee was hurting her.<br />
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So we checked out a few pavement cafes.<br />
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Then caught the funicular up to Sacre Coeur, had a wander through the basilica, saw the nuns doing their stuff, then walked back to the hotel.<br />
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Slept well after all that walking too. I always thought that Sacre Coeur was quite old but it's not - it was built in 18 something. Still spectacular though, albeit that it wasn't sparkling in the sun like it usually does because the sun stayed firmly above the grey clouds.<br />
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On Thursday, we set off on another foot exploring day, this time using the metro and Shanks' pony to get around.<br />
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It rained heavily at lunchtime, forcing us to seek refuge in a bar and drink wine, but we coped.<br />
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The sun eventually came out and we ventured out again, wandering around and ending up at Notre Dame, via the Eiffel Tower, the Champs Elysee, where there were the usual essential 'must have' items for sale.<br />
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Then we paid a quick visit to the Arc de Triumph which we didn't go up because they wanted a tenner each to scale something that commemorates France's rather infrequent military victories... and we'd both been up it before anyway.<br />
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Paris also has some great street names....like this one; Fishing Cat Street.<br />
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And some people who like to make it difficult for themselves.<br />
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All to soon, it was Friday and time to ride back to London. This time we took the A16 which follows the coast as it gets further north, and is a bit more interesting. But crikey, was it windy and stormy..... really hard work riding but ok for the pillion, roles which we once again shared. <br />
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The constant buffeting was so tiring that Nadine fell asleep - fortunately when she was on the back - but it was OK as its quite easy to wedge the pillion in with topbox and soft panniers fitted if you slide back on the seat which I can just about manage and still reach the bars. But she did wonder why she couldn't move when she woke up.<br />
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The ride back took us longer because we stopped for lunch at a service station where there was a pasta restaurant. It was good food, although it did take ages to appear.<br />
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The French might do food ok ( although this was Italian) but they're not good at ' quick', which is difficult when you're hungry and have a train to catch. Eventually we ate, reached the Tunnel OK ....but missed the train ( again) so jumped on the next one and were home 80 minutes later.<br />
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A good mini trip and a great ride. And we didn't even get wet! Yaay!<br />
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<br />Rhodabikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07898021035934693821noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5805520172752870440.post-58047680456616212902012-10-14T02:15:00.003-07:002012-10-14T02:15:58.677-07:00It's been a few months....well, two actuallyYep, we've been back here in the UK now for two months, following the scooter ride across Europe and Asia. However, neither of us has been idle, and we've actually managed to get some stuff sorted ( such as damaged hands, knees and feet), speak at a couple of HUBB meetings about the<br />
ride, and also fit in a few additional mini trips as well as day rides and stuff. And that is in addition to the usual things that have to be done on a daily basis - you know - sorting out the house, fixing the bikes, doing the shopping, paying the bills, etc etc.<br />
<br />
And a kitten has now moved in - a six month old wild child called Mayday, whose favourite pastime seems to be sofa scratching. Not for long Mayday...you <i>will</i> lose you know.....<br />
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<span id="goog_1515045397"></span><span id="goog_1515045398"></span><br />
<br />
We're also partway through planning the next biggie - a scooter circumnavigation and crisscrossing at will to interesting places in Oz in 2013. But in the meantime and to stop riding withdrawal symptoms, this is where we've been:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>The Isle of Wight</li>
<li>Lincoln</li>
<li>Paris</li>
</ul>
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And it's lucky Belgium's turn next weekend with a five handed WW1 Battlefields Tour on bikes ( Belle, Gordon, Nads, Mike, Sue )<br />
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Rhodabikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07898021035934693821noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5805520172752870440.post-31309173892188862812012-08-11T04:48:00.001-07:002012-08-11T08:15:46.325-07:00Last Day...Can't believe that today is the last day of the trip; it's
three and a half months since we set off, and here we are, at the opposite edge
of the world, wondering where the time has gone. In reality of course, we have
done so much in that time and covered so much distance, but we have kept moving
forward and in doing so, have lost any sense of placement. It is a really weird
feeling, because although we<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>know we are
in China, we could actually be anywhere in the world as the usual reference
points that serve as spatial boundaries have changed, and no longer mean
much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe that is because we rode here
rather than flew, and absorbed the changes gradually the further we went, thus
avoiding the culture shocks that often occur when you fly.<br />
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Both of us had travelled extensively before this trip, but
this time round, we both feel totally displaced. That's not good or bad but it
is very definitely an odd feeling, and it is hard to put distance into
perspective as a result. Its a bit like money; spend five hundred quid and it's
easy to understand but spend five or fifty grand and it sort of starts to loose
meaning as the boundaries start to change.</div>
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Anyway, enough of the thinking stuff and back to what we did
today on our last day in Beijing. Nadine was a lot better this morning,
although not totally recovered, but was well enough to go out, albeit that she
was very tired. So we tubed it to Tienanmen Square (we would normally have
walked) and went to a nearby market where we found all sorts of interesting
toot. Why is it that foreign toot is so much more intriguing than the toot back
home, especially as it's all made in China anyway?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So we spent a couple of hours wandering
around, being shown all sorts of things we didn't want to buy like knives and
suitcases, haggling with stall holders over things that we did, and picking up
several small bits and pieces to take back home for people. </div>
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Then we wandered back via the city gates to the tube
station, where the melon man was doing his thing, the same man tried to sell us
the same kite that he has done every day this week – we're not sure if he
really doesn't recognise us because we all look the same or he is just pushing
his luck. Either way, we didn't buy it because we already have one.<br />
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The same people were asleep in the tunnel under the gate, in
the shade, just as they were when we passed by earlier in the week. I'm
assuming that they have moved in the meantime, but you see so many people
asleep in public places, that it's entirely possible that they have stayed put.</div>
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<br />
We also watched a wedding party arrive as we left the hotel;
the car was parked right outside and all done up with flowers. It really struck
me how western the bride looked too – white dress, bouquet, hair all done up
etc. There was no signs of any Chineseness about any of it - apart from her
features and the car rego.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was
clearly quite a posh wedding and I wondered why she'd gone for that look as
opposed to something more traditional. It<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>was the same with the wedding that we accidentally gatecrashed last week
in the Legation Quarter; the whole wedding party – bride, groom, guests, cars,
flowers, clothes - looked like they belonged in Central London or down town
Sydney.<br />
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There is clearly a thing here about mirroring western styles
in just about everything, but the Chinese are so clever in the way that they go
about it. They don't copy but adopt, assimilate and then tweak to fit in with
Chinese ways, a sort of imitate and infiltrate approach. And it works because
everybody does it - it's not just a big city thing. They seem to have total
confidence in themselves as a nation, and they have no qualms about nicking
ideas and repackaging them as their own but they do it subtly; western clothes,
western haircuts, goods, bands, sports, goods, TV etc – they' re familiar to us
on the surface but all have a Chinese touch about them, and it is very
impressive.</div>
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So now we're back in the hotel, our bags are packed – except
for the carry on stuff - we've checked in, got our seats, and we're ready to
head back to London. I'm a bit concerned about our additional luggage though –
we've paid for one extra check in bag and are allowed one piece of hand luggage
each, but there is the small matter of our bike helmets. They are too big to go
in the carry on, and I'm not paying for another bag, so it could be that we
have to wear them. Watch this space.......</div>
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Just a little bit more from this evening...</div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Raining in Beijing
tonight. Ventured out for a some local scoff which was OK but not great, then
stopped off to get this guy to put a protective screen on Nads's camera. Bless
him; it took about 15 mins, he did a great job and charged us just two quid!!</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>Rhodabikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07898021035934693821noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5805520172752870440.post-45787449964505343402012-08-10T09:16:00.001-07:002012-08-10T09:16:40.200-07:00Oh dear...Had to replan today because Nadine was unwell. Despite the
wet towels and the paracetomol last night, she woke up still feeling crap and
so stayed in bed all day, trying to sleep herself better. It sort of worked and
she will be OK tomorrow which is just as well as I'll be leaving her here if
she's not as tomorrow is the last day of the trip.<br />
<br />
I went into the city to get some food, which was interesting
as always, Check out these turtles and stuff in the local supermarket. Also
bought a large bag to pack our assorted crap into – cost all of two quid - and
then managed to stuff most of it into a workable arrangement.<br />
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So tomorrow, hopefully, we will have one last trek around
Beijing before heading back to London on Sunday morning. The long flight will
allow us to write a talk for next weekend and sort the photos to go with it.
Neither of us can quite believe that we actually did make it all the way here,
on unsuitable bikes, having decided it would be a laugh to try it. I'm not
quite sure that had we thought about it properly, instead of just doing it, we
would have actually had the bottle to set off. But we did and we had a fabulous
time; we've been to some great places, met some great people, got into many
scrapes, and what's more we're still talking......</div>Rhodabikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07898021035934693821noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5805520172752870440.post-78341339206599227502012-08-09T11:42:00.000-07:002012-08-09T11:42:22.767-07:00We did it!!!!<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Yep we
did – we found something made in the UK. Look at this – a London black cab. OK
so it's a left hand drive and the logo is wrong but its def a Hackney
carriage....and we don't think it's made in China.......</span><br />
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Went to
Peking University today, right on the outskirts of the city. My great uncle
taught her back in the 1920s – he was a professor of English. The place was
pulled apart following the Cultural Revolution in 1949, but what was left of
his stuff and didn't make it back to the UK is still there. Books and papers
etc. We didn't see any of that of course but we did have a look around the
campus and found another excellent sign in the Library foyer. Of particular
interest are points<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>four and seven.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The
campus was quite nice, with a big lake in the middle, and old pagoda and some
lions. Now can you see what I mean about the Olympic 7 star hotel building
being modelled on a dragon's head?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We came
back to the hotel in the late afternoon because I felt rubbish and needed to
sleep. We've both had headachy colds and sore throats this week and its finally
caught up with us. I recovered by about 1900 hrs so we went out again for a
wander.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;">Spied more funny things
while wandering the city.....like this woman's great sightseeing shoes, the
Chinese road digger, and the monks parading their threads outside McDonalds, as
well as some open air welding in the middle of the street. Odd things most
definitely goes on in London too but it's a case of not noticing the
familiar.</span><br />
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">But then
Nadine started to feel feverish and unwell , and started radiating heat. So I
had to do the nurse thing, make her go to bed, and then sort her out with wet
towels and paracetamol; revenge on behalf of all those patients she has
tortured over the years with ice packs etc. But it seems to have worked and she
is now asleep and snoring very loudly on her side of the room; this is when it's
good to be in a hotel and not camping...</span></div>Rhodabikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07898021035934693821noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5805520172752870440.post-25262245345720357182012-08-08T08:26:00.000-07:002012-08-08T08:26:11.778-07:00We did absolutely nothing today...<br />
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Nothing at all. It was great. Just caught up with sleep, did
some jobs and watched the Olympics. And drank gin. No horrible humid heat to
deal with, no spitting pedestrians, no tourists. Back to normal tomorrow though
as our clothes are now dry. Yahoo.</div>
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And we'll be on a mission - to find something that is made in
the UK rather than China, just to see if it works the other way round.</div>Rhodabikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07898021035934693821noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5805520172752870440.post-90088812693879314752012-08-08T08:01:00.000-07:002012-08-08T08:29:06.258-07:00Great Wall and then some...<br />
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We booked a tour for today because we'd had enough of amusing
ourselves and decided that somebody else should work out an itinerary for us.
And what a good move that proved to be. For a tenner ( quid) our whole day was
sorted , and what a great day it was. And we got lunch.</div>
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First up were the Ming Tombs en route to the Great Wall. A
collection of 13 tombs of moderate interest but at least they are now ticked
off the list. Then a jade factory where the craftspeople were doing their thing
and turning out some pretty cool carving. The balls inside balls were
especially good, all being carved from one solid block of jade and apparently
representing family unity and strength. Or something.<br />
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then the Great Wall
which was just stunning, albeit very touristy. We've all seen the pictures, and
heard the rumours about it being visible from space ( it's not) but to see it
for real, just<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>there amongst some hills
was pretty incredible. Pinch yourself to make sure you're not dreaming
incredible. It just looms up at you; amazingly steep, with uneven steps that
you have to scramble up, more like hauling yourself up a ships' ladder than
actually walking up stairs on a large structure. As usual, it was also very
hot<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>with a<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>scorching fug hanging over the valley,
enveloping bits of the Wall and holding in the heat so that even just a few
steps raised a drenching sweat<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everybody
without exception was soaked and heaving for breath. And not just because they
were old and fat.</div>
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Visibility from the Wall was poor because of both the fug and
the hills, which are actually very close and must have been an ace in the
builders' favour when the Wall idea was hatched. It was actually a collection of
various attempts in several places over a huge time span. It looks almost
impossible to top the ridge upon which its built, yet on every tower, there are
downward pointing arrow holes just in case anybody tried. Yet both the Mongols
and the Manchus succeeded<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Wall runs
for several thousand kilometres but only some bits are restored; much of it is
a line of crumbling old rocks and rubble.</div>
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Descending the steps was even worse than going up,
particularly as people kept just sitting down whenever they got tired. Right in
the middle of the path. Not good. But once again, the many tourist orientated
signs did not disappoint! Endless amusement at the translators' expense.</div>
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WTF Sign - read bottom line!!</div>
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Had a good lunch – included in the ticket price, followed by
a dash around a silk factory where they insisted on telling us how silk was
made. Sometimes the organised tourist thing is welcome, and this was actually
quite interesting, and we now know that for every 1kg of silk, 80,000 double
cocoons ( double containing a male and a female lava) are needed. Might win
some Trivial Pursuit games now. And they make tea out of silk worm poop;
strange but true, and no, we didn't try it.</div>
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We were starting to flag a bit by now, so it was just as well
then that we got taken to an International Cooperation Centre – a Chinese
Government run institute for encouraging relations with Tibet, although I'm not
quite sure just how much say Tibet got in the cooperation bit. Anyway, this
place was a medical centre where we got a foot massage which was superb, and
diagnosis by<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a Tibetan doctor who was
amazing. He did something to Nadine's damaged knee with his open palm – no
touching but some weirdo voodoo stuff that made her knee spark and crackle.
Both of us were looking around for tricks but there weren't any – just him
doing his thing and she said it immediately felt better. Then the foot massage
bloke put his hand on my neck – the bit that has been causing me major problems
for 18 months and which the NHS has failed to fix despite lots of medicines and
bumblesome timewasting. I didn't ask him to, nor did I tell him anything about
it, but he went straight to the correct spot, told me what the problem was and
then treated it. And like Nadine's knee, it felt better immediately.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe it was physiological, maybe it was a
load of old crap, but<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>something happened
and if it helps fix it and stops the pain, then I'll happily believe anything
they tell me, especially as the western stuff has most definitely NOT worked.<br />
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Stopped by the Olympic Park again on the way back and
wandered through assembled Chinese sleeping on park benches, chatting, flying
kites and chastising children, just as people do the world over after work.
Also discovered that the tall Olympic building that we spotted the other day is
now the best hotel in Beijing – 7 stars no less – and is modelled on a dragons
head. It took a while but I can see that now – look at the top in profile and
then compare it to the stone models that are everywhere, and you'll get it.
Possibly.<br />
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We washed all of our clothes when we got back – all of them -
and then realised we had nothing to go out in. So we had to order room service
and stay put. Oh well – we were tired anyway.</div>Rhodabikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07898021035934693821noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5805520172752870440.post-21248160671981620232012-08-06T10:27:00.002-07:002012-08-06T10:27:42.593-07:00Tian'an Men Square & Teashop...Got the bikes again and went down to Tian'an Men Square via
the Legation quarter. Went past the old British Embassy again, but didn't stop
this time, so didn't get chased off. Bugger. Tried to see the back of the
building around the corner, but we were unsure which one was the right one.
Happy with what we know though.<br />
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We then got to the square, parked up the bikes, and went for
a wander past Mao's Mausoleum. The statues out the front were quite impressive,
much like the Russian Communist style statue. The mausoleum was shut, only open
in the mornings, but who knows, you could just be looking at an empty box, so
we aren't too fussed we didn't get a look in. We then went past the old gates
in the wall around Beijing, which are quite impressive. The wall no longer
exists, but the gates are quite imposing and colourful, and because the tunnels
that are under the massive buildings afford some shade, and also create a wind
tunnel which gives some relief from the oppressive heat, people mill about
resting, sleeping and generally chilling out. We do find it very amusing that
they don't seem to do nappies here, instead they just put a slit in the kids
pants for easy access. Simple potty training.</div>
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Also found the zero point for all highway measurements in
China.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It's the point from which all
distances are calculated, and is marked as a compass.<o:p> </o:p></div>
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We then made our way back to the bikes with the aim of going
to the Underground City, a network of bombproof tunnels Mao insisted on
building in case of a Soviet attack. It contains everything you would need,
including hospitals, food and weapons, but it was never used. You used to be
able to go in and wonder about, but because the tunnels are unstable and collapsing,
that is no longer the case. Thought we'd go and check it out anyway. We took a
few wrong turns, got a little lost, and ended up riding the bikes through a
pedestrianised shopping street. Dodging people, we made our way in the general
direction we thought we needed to go, and got distracted by a Tea shop.</div>
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<o:p> </o:p>We stopped to have a gander, and ended up spending the
afternoon sipping different teas, and buying the shop out. Thing is, we forgot
we were on bikes, and had to figure out how to carry the stuff. The girls in
the shop were great and helped us tie it on the bikes with ribbon. Scooter
style. With their great work, we managed to get the stuff back safely. The
Underground City will have to wait for another day.</div>
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We've booked a tour tomorrow to see the Great Wall, so watch
this space. Apparently, we have been led to believe, it is more than a pile of
stones.</div>Rhodabikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07898021035934693821noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5805520172752870440.post-83507639454708821262012-08-06T10:13:00.000-07:002012-08-06T10:13:41.263-07:00Lama Temple and Olympic Park...The Lama Temple to the north of the city centre was top of
the agenda this morning and it didn't disappoint. One of the things we both
have in common is a dislike for museums and historical stuff but the temples
here are so magnificent and so spectacular that even we have to look at them.
But not for long. Just long enough to think 'cor, look at that' take a few
photos and then move on, plus take a few pictures of people doing temple things
like praying and making offerings.. A temple is a temple and a bit of old
architecture, however colourful and ornate it is, and is just that.<br />
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But the Olympic Park is different again. What and amazing
creation in the middle of nowhere. An assembly of silver shapes and<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>structures built for the 2008 games. Remember
the Bird's Nest – the main track and field stadium? It was always cool on TV
but when you get close to it, it is just mesmerising. It is massive, all steel
girders intertwined, and it really does resemble a birds nest. And the aquatic
centre looks just like an alien<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>egg pod,
getting ready to hatch.</div>
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The whole Chinese thing really comes across on this site. Ok,
it was designed by Swiss Architects working with Chinese artists, but it is
Chinese through and through,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>total self
belief<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and confidence in themselves and
their abilities, a sort of detachment and lack of need for any other nation. It's
very powerful but also quite scary, although everybody here without exception,
has welcomed us and been very accepting of western visitors.</div>
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We didn't go in either – not sure if you can anyway – but we
gawped at both, plus the associated additional buildings from the walkway that
links them all together. That has become a sort of communal park where families
gather, people skate, eat, take pictures and whatever takes their fancy. We got
dragged into one official photo to pose with some girls – maybe they thought
we'd bring them good luck or something, or then maybe they just thought we were
passing sights to behold. But either way, we are now preserved in the official
photo records of one resident professional photographer that hangs out there.</div>
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It was very strange to at the Olympic Park while the current
Olympics is still underway in our home city. That seems to amuse people here
too and they can't quite believe that we have come all the way from London to
Beijing for no reason other than we just wanted to.<br />
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Stopped off at Chaoyan Park on the way back. This was the
site of The Olympic Beach Volleyball, but now it is a communal leisure park. All
very cool, with people doing whatever they fancy – Tai Chi, weirdo jogging and
waving their arms about, sitting on park benches and chatting or just
wandering.<br />
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<br /></div>Rhodabikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07898021035934693821noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5805520172752870440.post-40178375568971132542012-08-05T09:04:00.000-07:002012-08-05T09:04:19.345-07:00TEMPLE OF HEAVEN...<br />
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After another relaxing morning we headed for the Temple of
Heaven. A temple to pray for good harvest in the centre of a park. As we
wandered through the park there were people milling about everywhere. People
playing mah-jong, cards, or just chatting. There were groups of people creating
flash-choirs, singing what sounded like folk songs, though without
understanding it's hard to tell. No-one was bothered by us wondering about
taking photos, and mingling with the crowd. Some were as interested in us as we
were in them, and put on a show for the camera and allowed us to be part of
what they were doing. One of the best bits of travelling is blending in with
the locals and being part of things. Them being comfortable with our presence
is quite a privileged feeling. It was quite enjoyable just to sit and listen to
the music, and watch people play their games. It was much like speakers corner
in London's Hyde Park, where people can do they like and no-one is bothered.</div>
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<br />
We saw the temple, but because of the oppressive heat, we
didn't hang around too long. It was quite pretty, with a lot of tourists, but
it was soon time to move on.<o:p> </o:p><br />
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From there we went to the pearl market, which contrary to the
name, sells more than pearls, though that is a large part of the markets. The
sales girls on the whole were characters, and the sales pitch usually on the
cheeky side. We bought some t-shirts from 2 girls who were very good at the
banter. After we had succumbed, we told them about the trip we had just done.
They were so impressed they didn't believe us and wanted proof. So we swapped
email so we could do just that.</div>
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We bought a few knick-knacks at the market, though none of
them pearls as we couldn't afford the ones we liked. Of course. Then we headed
back to the hotel where we watched the olympics before going to a chinese
restaurant where Nads had Peking Duck, which has to be done when in Peking.</div>
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Another great day all round!</div>
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</div>Rhodabikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07898021035934693821noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5805520172752870440.post-71833395153927156922012-08-03T11:35:00.000-07:002012-08-04T02:39:22.634-07:00Fabbo day!<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Very murky and humid today, with tall buildings
disappearing into the low cloud. And hot too, although not too bad early , and
we got up and out and hired bikes, as we've been threatening to do for a while.
It was good because it allowed us to cover a lot of ground, and have a good old
explore without the footache, which was a bonus. </div>
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One of the best things about today for me was
finding the old legation quarter; it is just behind the hotel – literally in the
next street, and it is of particular interest to me because my great aunt lived
there back in the day, when Beijing was Peiping (before it was even Peking).
She lived in the British Legation for a while, which we now know is just off
Tienanman Square, having come to China as a nurse in 1924. She moved in when she
married; her husband was an ex pat academic who taught at Peking University. She
later established herself as a credible photographer and produced photographs
for various artists to work from, as well as recording contemporary Chinese
life. Her and her stuff is one of the reasons I wanted to finish the Gobi Girls
trip in Beijing.</div>
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The legation buildings are now all in Chinese
hands of course, although most have plaques on them detailing their former use.
We found the Belgian and French, American and Swedish buildings but couldn't
find the British one, so we gave up, intending to try another day. But then I
saw a funny picture- guard peering through a head sized window with his feet
sticking below the fence that was covering his body. So I stopped to snap it –
and was immediately accosted by by a policeman ' no photo, no photo, give me
camera, give me camera'. Nope, not likely mate and I tried to escape but he
caught me, even though I accidentally ran over his foot. In the end I did delete
the picture as he was so insistent, and he let me go. But unbeknown to him, I'd
taken a few and still had them, and when we got back to the hotel and were going
through where we'd been and what photos we had, Nadine realised that he was
actually guarding the old British Legation. Coincidence or what? I am dead
chuffed, both to have found it and to have a photo!! Yahoo. The building is now
some important government security building, hence the stringent – but now
breeched – security.</div>
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<br />
Had a good ride through one of the hutong
districts. These are little courtyards made of walls between dwellings, and
although many are being cleared – they are a bit like courtyard slums with
several families living very close together – some remain. They are in central
Beijing, and are really higgledy piggledy – apparently they were built like this
to keep out spirits because the latter apparently can't turn corners. Mind you,
we didn't do much better on our bikes, and had a few close calls, but the locals
seemed to find it quite amusing, particularly as we tried out our three words of
Chinese on them as we picked our way around the bird cages bicycles and babies
being washed in doorways.</div>
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Nipped along to the old Astrology Centre too. Its
now surrounded by modern buildings but is the home of Chinese astrology and
houses eight important celestial measuring contraptions. Not sure what they're
for other than measuring celestial stuff and we didn't go in, but I am sure they
were very useful. And there was another odd sign there.</div>
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<br />
Spent the afternoon in the hotel room, watching
China stuff everybody else at every olympic sport going, eating crisps and
drinking gin and tonic. Well, the heat is tiring.</div>
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Now off to Wangfujing – aka Snack Street to
inspect scorpions and other insects on offer as delicacies. This could be
interesting......</div>
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Later..... well snack street didn't disappoint.
Imagine a busy high street type road, full of designer shops and people dripping
labels, and then stick some little but noisy and crowded alleyway markets on the
side and you've got a pretty good idea of what the place looks like. Go down an
alleyway and it turns into an Aladdin's cave of all sorts – the usual toot that
is found in markets the world over, but then the food, and that is something
else. Crazy food.; bats, frogs and snakes on skewers, still wriggling scorpions
covered in sauce, tarantulas on sticks, skinned baby chooks, and big black
scorpions, roasted but still with claws, all lined up waiting to be bought and
scoffed by clamouring locals. It was like a restaurant version of the bar scene
from Star Wars,, but neither of us were brave enough to partake. But we did buy
a sweet peanutty thing that a bloke offered us to taste. That was good. Also
had dinner in a local eatery. Ordinaryish food where you just pick a plate of
stuff and they cook it for you. That was OK too.<br />
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But the coolest bit of the evening passing the
park just down the road. People were dancing , ball room type dancing, in the
open space.. Nothing particularly odd about that, except it is very near to a
hospital, and there were about 10 patients also dancing, in their pyjamas, in
couples or on their own, just for something to do. Beats watching NHS TV I
suppose.</div>
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<br /></div>Rhodabikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07898021035934693821noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5805520172752870440.post-90141036143809116722012-08-03T10:16:00.003-07:002012-08-03T11:42:59.134-07:00Forbidden City...<br />
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We finally made it today, although not as early as we'd
planned. It was super hot and humid and very crowded, but you can't visit
Beijing without seeing the place. It really is magnificent; a whole complex of
buildings and courtyards that only opened to the public in 1949. Before then,
it was the preserve of Royalty only, and it has been the symbolic centre of
Chinese culture since it was completed in 1420. Twenty four emperors ruled over
500 years, until the last one abdicated in 1912.Once you're in, you can wander
about freely and most of the buildings are open. It almost doesn't look real
though as it's colourful and well kept. It looks almost Hollywood-esque, but this
is actually the real deal.</div>
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Its named the Forbidden City after one of the gates. Only
certain people were allowed to approach it, all others having to stay a minimum
of 20 paces away.</div>
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<o:p> </o:p>But they were quite organised, especially when it came to
fires. On each roof is a collection of roof guardians. These animals are
associated with water and so apparently protect buildings against fire. but
just in case they got it wrong, these giant iron vats held water to throw on
fires, and<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>in winter they were covered with
quilts to stop the water from freezing.</div>
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And this stone carving was something else. Carved out of one
bit of stone in situ, they sprinkle it with water to stop it cracking. Can't
remember any facts about it but it's big and pretty cool.<br />
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<o:p> </o:p>We stayed all afternoon but moved at snails pace because the
complex is so big and the weather so hot. But that proved to be an excellent
people spotting opportunity, Chinese families just doing their thing in the
crowd.</div>
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<o:p> </o:p>Some really don't dress for sight seeing though. Look at
these shoes.</div>
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And as usual, things go on to keep the place ship shape. The
cleaning people just get on with it, using giant chopstick things to pick up
litter. And I'm not sure if these mops were white when they started out, but
they were washed and black and drying against the last Emperor's fence this
afternoon.</div>
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A really entertaining aspect of Chinese tourism are the
misspelt signs that abound. Either misspelled or not quite right. Perhaps its
just the translation of characters to Latin script that is the problem, but we
now have a growing collection of corkers. This is the top one from today.<br />
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When it got too hot, we went back via Tienanmen Square to the
hotel to chill in the air conditioning. It was still hot at 2100 when we went
out to eat. Will def do the bike thing tomorrow.</div>
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<br /></div>Rhodabikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07898021035934693821noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5805520172752870440.post-65708314655613626122012-08-01T11:22:00.000-07:002012-08-01T13:56:50.167-07:00The Sights of Beijing...<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
We tramped miles and miles today. Goodness knows
how far we walked but it was a long way. Started off downtown and collected my
camera which just as they promised, Canon mended it within two days and for
free. Yipee. Thanks Canon. We had to buy an umbrella en route as it started
raining again – that cost us 10p, and some men nearby were welding bus wheels in
the street right next to the umbrella man. Then we stopped at Starbucks – yes,
they're even here in Beijing – for a quick coffee and scone, then we started our
wander. <br />
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Went through a hutong first off – a traditional
street with all sorts of shops and stalls and people hanging about. Little
crowds of men playing some board game are everywhere too.<br />
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Wasn't sure if this dog on a scooter was a take
away or a pet. You never know in China – and check out the hair do on this
blinged up dog as well. He was sleeping on the couch of a shop selling nothing
but cats – seriously! There were cages of them, plus one pot of mice.</div>
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Checked out the bell and drum towers which are
remnants of the old wall that once surrounded the city. The 25 bells were bashed
to mark the hours of the day. Not sure how the spare one fitted in – maybe it
was used in unison with the bell for the other respective hour or something. </div>
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From there we went up to the White Pogoda in Bei
Hai Park. This was an imperial garden until 1925, and was designed by Kublai
Khan who sorted it out. Its on a rocky island in a lake and there are great
views of the city from up there. Also ate some lotus flower seeds. These come as
a plant head which looks like something out of the shower head, and it contains
big acorn like seeds, which you split open and eat the insides. they are a bit
bland but ok and the kids selling it became all giggly when they realised that
we wanted to try it.<br />
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Also checked out a drink that we'd seen the locals
downing. They drink it from a stone jar via a straw. It turned out to be some
sort of sweet drinking yoghurt and was actually very good. It cost us 0.5pence
and we're still alive to tell the tale. Bargain! Came back via Tiananman Square
and the People's Great Hall. There are soldiers every few 100 metres, standing
with their backs to the raod and pedestrians an, facing the hedges. They stand
motionless and to attention and I bet each one could tell you exactly how many
leaves there are on each plant. What a soul destroying job.<br />
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Also found the old railway station which was built
by the Brits in the early 20<sup>th</sup> century. Its now a museum but there is
no mistaking it – it could have come straight out of London yesterday. Not sure
what they would have made of the 24 hr KFC that is now right next to it
though.<br />
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Stopped by a Chinese chemist today because my
shoulder is playing up yet again and needs sorting. Needless to say, we couldn't
find any western medicine in there but the pharmacist gave us a potion soaked
onto a sticky patch. You stick it over the bit that hurts and it all looks very
official, in a proper box etc. It pongs something awful and we have no idea what
it is - eye of a newt or something - but it seems to be working. And it only
cost a pound; another bargain!<br />
Now back in the room and switched the TV on – its
some military channel with generals in full uniform singing love songs to the
troops, who respond with well choreographed waving. Very odd and rather Top of
the Pops meets Royal Tournament with a bit of mush thrown in.<br />
<br />
Ate in our room tonight too as our feet were too
sore to venture out again. We have discovered that it is the same price too, but
unfortunately, they got our order wrong three times before we got what we had
ordered. A bit frustrating but we got there in the end. Might hire push bikes
tomorrow as we can cover more ground that way. We have both noticed how our
postures have changed since we stopped riding. We had clearly adopted
comfortable poses that allowed us to rides big distances on uncomfortable bikes,
day after day. But now we're walking, it is something else and it is quite an
ordeal to pack in as much in as we can.Rhodabikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07898021035934693821noreply@blogger.com