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I had went to bed early, and did set an alarm clock for the first time in weeks, to 06:30. That gave me time to enjoy waking up lazily in bed, procrastinating getting up while enjoying my own company. Breakfast was the only poor one I had this trip, that went nicely with the theme of this visit to Fes, croissants were stale and worthy of one single bite, orange juice hadn't seen an orange since an industrial factory somewhere once processed them, and coffee tasted like Nescafe. In Morocco there's no excuse for non fresh orange juice and shit coffee, but it made sense as that hotel didn't even offer a breakfast free stay, they had to push people to eat it I was ready to go a little after 7, but as I looked around the streets seemed really wet and it was going to be dark for a while after leaving, so grudgingly put my plastic rain pants and jacket on. By 07:25, I was ready to go: Put navigation on heading to Ain Dorij, and rode off, google maps took me out via tiny streets that seemed more complicated than needed, but the low traffic showed me a less seen side of Fes. It was interesting. Getting out of town and rain starts to steadily fall, at 08:15 I had had my only really challenging moment on the road and stopped to enjoy the sunrise a little, on a particularly muddy and poorly surfaced bit of road tilting to the right, I was forced to brake a little and basically slid off the road, I spotted the gravel bit outside the tarmac and simply pointed to that and rode it for a while. I am most impressed at the Mitas E07 + Dakar, they're sound tires even if the manufacturer warns that they have poor performance in rain and cold. 08:15: Rain properly starts to fall shortly later, my phone is now safe in my jacket and I stop for a moment's rest after spotting shelter. Someone takes my picture as for whatever reason I was enjoying it quite a bit. The above was at 08:55, I then put the phone back in my jacket pocket safe from the weather, and rode all the way to Tangier with no need for it. Navigation was easy and although I was riding on less than main roads I knew I had to go pass Ouezzane and then Chefchaouen, it proved easy. Rain didn't stop for the rest of the morning, averaging from hard to very hard and very windy at the same time. I got stopped at a checkpoint and after the initial small talk the officer told me I had been spotted at 95kmh on a 60, I got off the bike with the helmet open, got my right glove off and introduced myself, told him I would be more respectful from now on, but that I was intended on catching the Ferry and wanted to not miss it, all while putting my biggest possible good guy big smile attitude. Then he asked me for my papers while looking at the back of the bike, and asked where I was from as clearly I didn't have a French or German plate, upon the answer of "Portugaise" he enthusiastically shook my hand and after becoming friends sent me on my way with a big smile and a "ride safe" farewell. Portugal is a good nationality to be in Morocco, our national football team shares the same colours, and we both like beating the French and Spaniards. From there it was very smooth to Tangier, if plenty of wet. The last miles before Tangier were dry and windy, which allowed the overalls to dry on the outside. I had money with me so stopped to top up the bike at a Shell station, rode into Tangier feeling like a road worn adventurer, and quickly got lost in lunchtime traffic Stopped at a cafe with outside tables on a common street and ordered a sandwich. While it took forever to arrive I took the overalls off and made myself comfortable. Turns out my overall pants aren't really waterproof anymore, my jeans were wet on the outside all over the waterproof stitches, and my chest and upper back was fully wet too. Good stuff! The bike looked proper and had just proven to be a trusty friend, a true work beast or a war horse: It was good to ride to the port without the blasted rain suit, hang around for a little getting in line for the bike to be x-rayed, it all went easily as if hipotetically crossing between any European countries. The crossing was a little choppy, the storms seemed to have angered the Mediterranean and the boat rocked heavily the whole trip. At first it was funny like so, look at the water level in the horizon: But after a while people started to get a little tired of it, I felt like having a piss but sat firmly in my seat at the risk of falling over when walking or throwing up if standing, two guys started praying to Allah, and a few people had hands on their faces like trying to prevent eyes from popping out. We made it ok though, lack of paperwork on the boat was a bonus, I don't envy people crossing the other way and having to write stuff down, I would succumb to that for sure! Got out of the boat in my due time, and pushed the bike along with all the line of cars that got off the boat before I did. Tarifa looked stormy, so I put the rain stuff back on, the time at Tangier and on the boat had dried my clothes so I felt comfy and fresh. It was past 16:00 by the time I rode out of Tarifa, I had looked at hotels around there and also the weather forecasts, it was rain for the next few days, so feeling fresh after the ride from Fes I decided to go home for the night, Waze sent me via Badajoz which wouldn't have been my preferred route, but as it was raining through Sevilla (or was it Huelva already? I don't know...) I was lazy and followed it's guidance. Storms were littered all around, with orange warnings for heavy rain so I figured there must be a reason for the longer route. Right before entering Portugal I stopped for a snack after riding all the way from Tarifa in heavy rains. 20km into the trip a water barrier descended upon me with such violence that water pushed into my overalls with ease through my neck and wrists. This stop made sense, and the tiny jamon con queso bocadillho provided me with a little comfort from the belly outwards. The beer is 0% alcohol, too. The snack and fuel stop was at 20:09, I made it home at 22:54 and the bike looked pretty much like I did except prettier, just as wet. That was an epic day riding, around 300/320km in Morocco's backroads and around 700km in Europe with port crossing and a choppy ride in the middle of it, I felt like it was a proper day to end a proper trip, and was comforted by a hot shower in my own house, that I grew to love from Maria. Heated up some of Sofia's shepherds pie and opened a bottle of red wine. I was feeling energized when arriving home, despite the long day, but as soon as food and wine hit my stomach and I settled from the excitement of riding through rain storms, I started feeling tired. That night I fell asleep moments after laying down, and the rain lashed the outside of my bedroom walls through the night. On this trip I travelled with Maria and Sofia, and have to thank you all for providing an audience, the taking pictures everywhere provided with a distraction to some of the very intense feelings I had. I got through it and the extreme darkness I feared didn't appear, only sorrow and the memory of loving times did. I hardly ever felt alone on this trip. It was a nice one, there will be more. Thank you for all the nice comments.

No, it’s Portuguese for

You mean that with the deletion of Marcel's thread my masterly takedown of creationism has been lost forever? Took me ages to nick all that science shit off Richard Dawkins and make out that I understood it...

The sun was shining and the cold wind from the last few days had gone, so I decided that a little bimble was in order. I topped the tank at our local supermarket and headed up to Coursan. Then across to the Narbonne northern bypass and peeled off north towards Ginestas. The traffic was pretty light, so it was easy going. A guy on a T100 Bonneville caught up with me just before Saint- Marcel - sur- Aude. We tried having a conversation at a set of lights, but engine noise and language barrier put paid to that! He turned off shortly after anyway. I carried on North and eventually crossed the Argeliers - Trebes road. This is where the ride starts getting a bit more interesting, as the road was then heading into the Corbieres hills. After a bit, I turned off this road to head towards the medieval town of Minerve. This road follows the hillside on one side of the valley of the river Cesse, so it twists and turns around rocky outcrops. French drivers have the mindset that nothing should be coming the other way on blind bends, so extra care is needed to not meet one of them on your side of the road when coming around these bends. I stopped just before the town to get some photos. The town is perched on a rocky point where two rivers meet and have carved two valleys/canyons through the rocky landscape. I rode through the town and headed up to the carpark that overlooks it. There's not much of a view of the town from there, so I decided to carry on up the single track road into the hills for a bit. There didn't seem to be too much more up in that direction, but there were some nice views towards the Pyrénées. It was a bit hazy, so the snow on the peaks was barely visible. I headed back down to the town and set sail for home. I stopped once more to take some pictures of a village, sitting between a low cliff and the river, which has no water in it at the moment. I took a slightly different route back. Going through Argeliers and Capestang, before peeling off towards the south again, through Montels and Nissan- les-Enserune and back to home. Not a huge ride, probably around 100-110km, but nice to get out on the bike for a while.

just some pics from the 3 hours i was out for today. weather is, as usual this time of year, wonderful. Blue skies. 25deg and a light breeze. I followed a route I had not really planned some tie ago but had forgotten to tick the box "avoid gravel" on the gps route planner...

Out for a tour of the countryside with the Missus....near Sumpter... Blue Springs summit.... elevation: 5,864 ft.

Decided to sod the front garden off for today and do my Annual Pilgrimage to Strata Florida Abbey instead. Most of you have seen these places before but if Pete can keep repeating himself them so can i LOL I set off a little late it was 10:30 by the time i was on my way the weather was overcast and cool, i had a nice slow road ride until i hit the road from Ystradfellte to Heol y Senny i always seem to get carried away on that road and it brought me to my first lane of the day where i ended up fixing the gate as it was off its hinges the dopey fucker who fitted it put the bottom hinge upside-down so all the weight is on the top hinge a rough fix it should go in the bodge section but it works fine don't know how long for though. While i was here i found one of those Geocache things it had a £1 coin in there a pack of fag papers and some weed so i nicked the quid and threw the weed i didn't have a pen to sign the register LOL I stopped to open a gate further on and when i turned around the bike was on the floor it had rolled off the stand and ended up breaking the rivet pin on the gear lever so this is what i had been riding with all day it was ok and it didn't make any difference to shifting and i saved the bits before they got lost there's been some tree maintenance on the next lane this was all enclosed, certainly was easier to ride not ducking under low branches Further up it's still overgrown The track goes down to the right in this photo and the easiest way to ride it is straight out into that fecking gate almost pushed my spine out my arsehole when i hit my head on it From here i headed over the firing ranges to Tirabad and through the Crychan Forest onto Cynghordy and this lane which is very wet and mucky though the winter months a lot easier to ride in the dry From here i was onto the Llyn Brianne road another one i seem to speed up on, no photos as the riding was fast and flowing and i didn't want to stop, the top end of Llyn Brianne brings you to the start of Strata Florida in the background is the road to Tregaron another great road When i got back to the bike i spotted a flat fox poor fecker Onto the baptism and there's plenty of water for it the river crossings were straight forward enough it was the puddles that would catch you out when i rode through two of them i knew they were deep because the bike went quiet as i rode though At the furthest point from home here just past Llyn Teifi and onto Claerwen Res Top end of Claerwen Res this kind of track is where the XR excels it is so nice riding it along here. Looking over the dam wall i'm heading for the track on the right of the river But there's another river to cross first i played it safe and swept around to the right straight through almost had me in last time A bit further along after Bobs step A long road ride from here to Talybont on Usk where i headed home over to Trefil and across to Merthyr Talybont Res i'm riding the other way just turned the bike around to take the photo same on the Pontsticill res photo Pontsticill res From here it was over my mountain and home, it was a ride I've needed for a while spent most of it on the pegs because my arse was sore. It was a 172 mile loop. I'm in the middle of changing the oil and filter now ready for the next ride.

As we are all coming from different directions we met at a Greene King pub near Portsmouth Port on Sunday evening. There was a lot excitement, roast dinners and chat. We board seamlessly at 23.00, exchange cabin numbers in case of emergency (no mobile reception) and get straight into our cabins, we dock at 6.30am french time (5.30am uk time), my alarm goes off at 4.30am and I instantly think - who’s stupid idea was this South West Caen (Ouistreham) Port obviously not in 7hrs 33 mins as it was an overnight ferry. Off the ferry and five mins to a cafe right next to the port for a quick croissant, a chat about the route, riding in France and to allow the ferry traffic to dissipate. Glad I had my ipad on hand to show the priorite a driote signage as only one person was familiar with it and they appeared often on our ‘no-motorway’ cross country route! It’s grey, rainy, not the most fun for riding and no matter how hard I try the pace is a bit too slow to be fun but it takes folk time to warm up to riding on the other side of the road when you’re not familiar with it and I’m kind of glad I’m not dealing with any kamikaze riders. Quirky little house over three floors, surrounded by grape vines, as you’d expect in the Loire Valley. We arrive in Sancerre far too late to tour the vineyard which is a bit of a shame but after so little sleep on the ferry everyone is exhausted. The day has stretched out far beyond all comprehension and with a supermarket stop to pick up some steaks we only make it to the house after 7pm. Another friend joins us at this point ready to party and finds us all in zombie mode I may have avoided taking everyone into Paris but the cross country route was not without a price to pay!

Some fine wine, hot food, good sleep and by the next morning most were raring to ride over the border to the Swiss part of Lake Genèva for a bit of lunch and snap a pic with Mont Blanc in the background. Of course it’s end of the ski season so a lot is shut and lunch turned into a vending machine affair Whilst enjoying the lake our ‘on the spectrum’ friend (there’s always at least one in every group isn’t there ) whacked out three different water colour paintings of my mates house in under two hours! It was gorgeous out there Still a bit chilly from the mountain air we opted for quick showers, warm jackets and Kir Royals to warm the cockles. This was followed by far too much wine, we were still laughing about what we couldn’t remember the next morning

I left about 10.45 this morning to meet up with @Skippy in the Natural Park Area across the border in Almeria. First proper run the bike has had for a while, and you'll be disappointed to know there's no abandoned villages this time. Apparently the last village I visited with Skippy traumatised him because he thought he was back in the Blitz! Also traumatised his bike and his jacket cos they both fucked up as well. So here we go......all upbeat, touristy type of shit. These are taken on the way to the Natural Park......a BOTM prospect there I'd say! Roads were jammed as usual! Conditions were amazing......about 20c there and going up to 26 later on. I had to find some grim, devastated shit just to cheer me up though...... And then it was on towards the Natural Park.......there's always bikes here! I parked up by Skippy's Tracer....... Went into the picnic area.......Skippy was already there! Along with 3 groups of Spanish bikers! Didn't take them long for all of them to fuck off when I got there though! So we were there for a while and then it was back to the bikes! The plan was to take him into the Granada province and show him some of the area up around the reservoir at San Clemente. Cos this type of Spain is the polar opposite of where he lives! Eventually we got to the reservoir.......he was surprised to see snow on the peaks! That doesn't happen on the coast! Less and less water all the time! Skippy then followed me back to the town and set his GPS to take the "Adventure" route home! He hasn't logged back in yet.......so maybe he did end up in an Abandoned Village after all?

Had another good trip out with the Welsh Wizard, no devastation, or destruction, no broken bike, brand-new jacket is still fine, I think he was quite disappointed that nothing broke or fell off. Got back to the Brit enclave about 4.15pm……….had some daft Spanish twat pull across me but I live to ride another day.

This feels more like a miracle than a result. I have new hearing aids and I can fucking hear!!!!! Mr Slowly started talking to me as we went through some doors and usually if someone’s behind me I can’t hear what they’re saying, maybe a muffled noise but no actual words. I hadn’t realised I heard all of it when I replied and he said you just heard what I said even though you couldn’t see my face. He then suggested I connected them to my phone and put some music on. I love music. Going deaf and not being able to hear music has been most painful so I was reluctant to spoil such a win by highlighting a loss. Curiosity got the better of me and I played a tune with a prolonged percussion section that contains cymbals, hi-hat cowbells etc all mixed in. I haven’t heard a cymbal for about 10 years but I could hear it all. Every instrument was distinct, the clarity is fantastic, I cried for so long my head started to hurt. I can’t believe it. I know it’s temporary and eventually I’ll get deafer but right now I feel so happy I could cry. Oh look at that I am

Today I made the cakes ( yes, 2 different ones) more drunk, and being a vet I have the right tools to get the booze right in the middle!!

Was??? Still is!!! Turned 20 this year, I have had almost from new. We have been together for that long!! Best car in the World!!

Yer a Polish woman told me you're good for that.

No.....not the bike! Obviously I have no idea how to do shit like that. I'm talking about the reservoirs, because we've had years of very little rain. And there's now a serious drought situation. Now I'm not one who normally looks for more rain, but every year the price of straw for the horses has been going up. We used to pay around €400 for a year's worth......but last it was €1200 and we had to have it brought in from Albacete. Which is about 150 miles away. So an increase in rainfall and the filling of the reservoirs is critical.....not just here, but throughout Spain. So off I went to check the current situation. Luckily, the weather was great......around 20c! So it was perfect conditions! The approached into Castril.......and the wall of the Dam. This is The Style! I was amazed when I saw the levels in Castril because when I came here last Summer it was very low indeed. This is probably the highest I've seen it in 5 years! It's nowhere near it's highest, but the water line has gone up a lot. Two car loads of a Spanish family then turned up......three generations of them. So I ended up having to take a load of group photos of them. They weren't from Andalucia because they were speaking Spanish in a grammatically correct way rather than slurring words and leaving out letters in words. Lovely people......couple of hot girls in their 20's with them. I wanted to get a photo with those two, but I couldn't very well tell the rest of the family to get out of the way! Then it was on to San Clemente.......the levels there had risen a bit but nothing like the scale it had in Castril. Most of the land you see here was underwater when I came here in 2005...... Had to get the obligatory shot on the bridge.....obviously destined to be BOTM for April. Bike ran great as usual.......these rural roads are the perfect place for it. And it actually made me think......"Why am I considering selling it?" Well there we are! I got out and did something......and in doing so, I made a positive contribution to the forum! Some of you lot should try it sometime!

6 of us from Fowey went up to Devon today to see the National Hillclimb Association first event of the year. We stopped for breakfast near Poundstock. They thought us old fuckers must be dodgy as we had to pay before they would serve us any food. I personally was flattered that they thought I could do a runner. . It was very nice though and they warmed up after awhile When they realised we were behaving. Trip Stats It was an interesting meet with several interesting bike’s although most seemed to be modified crossers. There was one combination so I guess that won its class. Hartland Point was vey pretty with Lundy Island out on the horizon. Some pretty big balls in terms of pace. Mental buggers. Some interesting stuff in the car park, well to me anyway. Also our little band, my other mate wouldn’t take his Ventura into the field Don’t Blaine him it probably weighed over 300kegs We stopped in Bude for a cuppa on the way home. Had a chance to look at my mates V4 Ventura on the way home. Detuned V-Max motor. Very big bike but beautifully put together. Bloody good day out with the old codgers.

Might go with this one, not sure yet

I’ve been down to Weston hospital today as my mother was rushed in yesterday. Anyway she was much better today although she’ll be on beta blockers for the rest of her life now, she’s not doing bad for 85 years old . I went on the donkey as hospitals are a fevking nause to park a car .

So some peeps on here go on about rugged individualism and what it takes to ride a bike. In my book that involves getting out there and riding no matter what the conditions are So none of your going out on a dry sunny days to visit some DBM's in an abandoned building or luring some poor cockney into a pic nic area so you can show the poor sod your groin !! This is rugged individualism , ploughing on through all conditions .................... You might have to stop at a cafe on the way .................... but that's fine because you're not scared that your bike may end up covered in shite ............................

I often wonder what goes on in my, admittedly very spoilt, Jack Russell crosses head. Everyone of his toys has a gimped right front leg, non of the others are touched but he always attacks and takes the stuffing out of the right front. The only exception is his walrus where he has gimped the right front tusk. ???

Bollocks to all this politics, you can look at my motorcycle instead! Had a little bimble over to Trebes, which is in the foothills of the Corbieres. It was slightly chilly when I set off, but it warmed up a bit on the way back. I didn't actually go into Trebes castle, I'm saving that for a visit with Mandy, and to do a bit of a walk in the gorge there too. The roads were pretty quiet once I'd got past Narbonne, so it was a nice ride.

Quite impressed that you managed to affect another country’s whole politic discussion to suit your son, Pete!

Just heard from him, he is dealing with family stuff and his home PC is fucked, I think he accidentally shat on it.

As I was heading out after lunch, four bikes arrived, one of them worthy of a picture.

More shit riding today…..

I’ve been hanging around one of Croatia’s national parks the wife is determined to wear my legs down to a knub

Got out this morning on Miss USA , I was looking forward to see how she would run after deleting the side stand switch. I rode up the A46 towards Stroud and gave it soome beans when it was clear, smooth acceleration all the way up to 80mph so all good there. Later I took it down the rough Fosseway section with the whoops and again it was fine, no coughing, bamging or cutting out. On reflection I think that switch had been going bad for over a year but I was mis-diagnosing it as a carb problem, anyway all good now My destination at Stroud was Capels Mill, a fascinating place and well worth a visit.

Meanwhile, in Colorado ...

This is the story of two events that came together, in a happy, match on the first days of January 2023: I turned 50 and did my first Moto tour! The idea to combine the 2 started a couple of months ago, when my friend Barbara said she would love to come over from the UK for my birthday, I immediately thought it would be great to do a test run of my Motor tours and organise the very first one! She was up for being a guinea-pig and it was decided to start in Lisbon and end in Faro, to be even more special and try to find the better weather! As it happens, December was full of work and stress and by the time I picked her up from Lisbon Airport on a dark and gloomy evening of January, my head was in bits and I felt like I had been run over by a train!! 3 days before “launch” and I hadn’t organised a thing, not even dog seating so we could actually go away without the dogs! I motivated myself somehow and called the Bike rental company the day Barbara landed and secured a bike from this lovely guy that laughed at how short the short notice was! Hey-ho, someone with a good sense of humour is always a blessing!! He was amazing, bringing the bike to us and collecting it from us in Algarve, offering for us to use it more days free of charge if we wanted saying January is slow for his business, make the most of it, he said! The company is MOTORENTOUR - Motorcycle Rental & Tours and I highly recommend it. We will work together in my business endeavour @Turtle_Mototours, a great partner to have. So we had a bike, check, I then booked the Hotel, check, and after that got a dog sitter, with even shorter notice, to look after the pooches, everything checked!! NOTE: Thank you @trustedhousesitters for being the best thing ever when it comes to pet sitting while we go on holiday. And on the 7th of January, we were ready to go but not before I had to see a doggie with an inflamed eye on a last minute call... because I cannot say no and because I am a one woman band and have to work on all fronts. The weather had been great the days leading up to our trip, only somehow it turned spectacularly on a downward spiral and we set off under all sorts of warnings, of all colours and descriptions and we sure got it!! Fully kitted up in several layers of water proofs, we used up all my extensive gear resources between us, and being made of stern stuff, we faced the big storm, with its heavy winds and lashes of sideways rain, the rivers of water on the motorway and the sliding drains across it, Barbara on the rented Benelli TRX 500 with its 45 HP and me on the solid Speed Triple with Michelin 2CT Sports tyres. The tyres were the least of my worries, Michelin does rain like no other, even Cup tyres stick somehow (!), my issue was the darkness, seeing I totally forgot to put the clear visor on..., not only IT IS clear, dahhh, but also has a pin lock, very useful in damp conditions and it was damp! Anyway, after 1 hour and a half of rain pounding our spirits, undeterred as they were, we were in need of refreshments and something nice in our bellies. The service station toilets had Dyson hand dryers and we took great advantage of those magical machines as much as possible, warming up our hands and drying the gloves insides. This is me next to the Dyson feeling delight to be out on the bike with my best friend!! I really was!! We hung our jackets on the chairs and by the end of lunch I am sure some ducklings could have swam in the puddle under the chair!!! We got a break in the weather after refuelling our stomachs, the rest of the afternoon, dark as it was ( although it could have been my visor!!), the weather relented a little and we reached the winery estate safe and sound and with just the odd spot of rain. Its a place I absolutely love, those of you that follow mine and @pedros reports, have seen it before, a few years back I made a video there for your annoyance/entertainment! Its called Herdade do Sobroso, a very nice hotel, in a traditional Alentejo farm house and the wine they make there is absolutely divine. The food is off the scale delicious! The room had underfloor heating, so we spread our gear on the floor, taking advantage of some serious hot spots and the next day there was no water in sight!! The Dinner was great!! Nothing like overcoming difficult conditions to make us feel superhuman and chuffed with ourselves! Plus a bottle of gorgeous wine also helps! They brought us the starters, just little things they said… in reality that could have been the meal already! Wonderful scramble eggs with wild asparagus, grilled cheese in a coquette, mini chicken pies and tempura prawns were “the little things” before the main meal. For me came a soup made from a fish that is a “cousin” of the shark, delish, and for Barbara pork cheeks, something her grandmother used to cook, but somehow those survivors of WW II rationing didn’t pass-on the knowledge of using and cooking every scrap of food and modern Britain as no idea what a pork cheek is or how it tastes, unless its in a sausage! Barbara, being a lady from Cheshire and farming background, loved it!!! #noveganshere Dessert were 2 deceivingly small cakes, specialities developed in Convents where bored Nuns converted their lust into the sweetest of sweets using kilos of sugar, eggs and almonds. Not for the faint hearted ( or diabetic!), on a normal day not ideal after such a meal, but in that setting, with that wine and after the giddiness of the day, another 1000 calories was not going to harm anyone! OK, maybe the liver got slightly harmed… That house is, for me, the perfect kind of home. The one story building, with high ceilings, showing the inside of the roof and its wooden beams, the enormous fireplace, made that way to smoke the chouricos and salamis in the olden days, now burning the most lovely fire and giving us a hug of warmth and comfort that only a real log fire on a stormy night can give. The staff did a great job of keeping us topped up while we melted into the sofas and I felt like my Grandmother was going to pop round the corner at any given moment, that's how much I felt at home! Dolce far niente… We woke up on the day of my birthday and, unlike what is normal on my birthday, it was very gloomy and actually raining! It never rains on my birthday!! On arrival the day before, we had encountered the owner of the Estate and on knowing of my special birthday, he requested us to stay fora birthday lunch and kindly offered me a bottle of bubbly, so we were already half way to staying... Again this place wraps itself around me like a snake and enchants me to stay!! We looked at the sky, not looking good… We then headed to the breakfast table and it didn't take us long ( not even 5 minutes!) to decide we would have the lunch, the bubbles, the afternoon tea and also the diner!! We were definitely staying another night and celebrate my birthday in style by doing nothing! Not something that comes natural to me, but it was exactly what was needed and I accept, there is something very nice in the Dolce far niente way of life, must practise it more. Breakfast was delicious and very well presented! After breakfast we had a leisurely stroll around the house, not straying to far, not wanting to exhaust ourselves!! Lunch was wild boar roast with vegetables and migas, a unique speciality of this region that I will refrain myself from explain, it needs a post of its own!! What followed next was the loveliest of surprises, organised in secrecy by the two best people in my life, Barbara and @Pedro. They colluded together to organise a birthday cake, with candles (!!) and the staff made a chorus of 2 singing the happy birthday song! I was beyond embarrassed and also very grateful for all the thought and care they had put into the whole thing. As birthdays go, it is very hard to have a better one. We proceed to eat the cake and drink the sparkling wine all afternoon, next to the fire, dragging ourselves for a little walk before dinner to say hello to the bikes and laugh at everything, funny or not so funny, in a way that only a whole bottle of bubbles can do! Especially considering Barbara actually paid a lot of money to rent the bike and we did around 250 kms in total so far! We laughed at this realisation and our motorcycling achievement, the best thing for it really! They had promised us a light meal for dinner, after 24 hours of solid eating and drinking, and one might say it was… lighter…fair enough! Delicious yet again and followed by fruit, not the infamous Catholic cakes intended to make celibacy a little more bearable! Morning came with heavy rain but the Weather App was adamant that it would clear after 10am, so we took our time with the great breakfast, ordering scrambled eggs and bacon and filling ourselves with bread with tomato jam, very traditional in the South of Portugal, and more orange cake, my absolute favourite. We somehow managed to get into our trousers, a difficult endeavour I have to say… packed, loaded the bikes and, as forecasted, blue sky forced its way between the dark clouds and we set off totally and utterly like new people, feeling relaxed and years younger, , which in my case, was a great way to start a new year, a new decade even!!! We were going direction South, to Algarve, searching for its famous Winter warmth, soft light and general pleasantness all round. There is a reason Brits have been moving there since the 60s, following Cliff Richard, the very first to buy a Villa and spend Winter enjoying the delights of this stretch of land, many times more akin with the other side of the Water in its mannerisms, architecture and personality then with the Continent it is solidly attached to. You can feel Northern Africa there, the sand is different, the houses have flat roofs, the people are darker and even after almost 8 centuries of Christianity, you can easily confuse the typical Algarve chimney with a minaret from a mosque. Algarve comes from Al Garbe, meaning Occidental, because it was the Westerly part of the Al Andalus, the moor Kingdom in the South of the Iberia peninsula. It has a geographic border with the rest of Portugal, 2 ridges of mountainous terrain that made it hard to capture from the moors and give it a distinct ambience, so marked that until Portugal become a Republic in 1910, it was always referred to as “The Kingdom of Algarve”, so the Portuguese Kings were titled as “King of Portugal and the Algarve”. Never had a King of its own, but throughout the centuries it always enjoyed a deference no other part of Portugal had, not even Lisbon! Algarve is also defined geographically by water, in the East the River Guadiana that separates it from Spain, in the South and West the Atlantic Ocean in all its force and glory. While the East side of Algarve is mellow and romantic like the River Guadiana, a strong favourite of the Arab Poets that populated Al Andalus before it was destroyed by the Christian Conquest, the West is Wild, windy, salty and unforgiving. Sagres, where the land ends and the Sea begins, the most Westerly point in Europe, could not be more fierce and violent when the Gods of the Sea so decide, a magical place with the always enchanting and alluring energy of all “finis terra” locations. Algarve is by no means my favourite part of the small country that is “Portucale”, but it's aloof nature and the influence of a culture I like to study and understand, fascinates me. Unfortunately it's become a one trick pony to the majority of visitors that only do the beach, the bars and the hangover, overlooking its amazing history, visible in its castles and roman ruins and in the writing of erudite moors that studied the stars from their Sheikh Palaces, where they also wrote beautiful poetry. In fairness, the beaches are the best and we enjoyed good walks on them on our last day! @Pedro has a specific point on the road entering Algarve via the mountains where he feels like Africa is calling and the wind feels warmer and everything gets better! For us it was a little like that too, we travelled down avoiding the majority of the rain, going between downpours and drying out pretty fast and once over the ridge, indeed the temperature went up and the rain stopped, letting us enjoy the views and taste the Sea in our mouth even if we could not see it yet! The lovely people at the Wine Estate made us a “pack lunch” each and we stopped at the entrance to Algarve to eat and relax a little before heading to Triumph Algarve to look for some gloves for Barbara. Unfortunately when we got there it was closed, so we proceeded to meet a friend of mine that has moved to Algarve and kindly invited us to stay at her house. For those of you that do Golf, we stayed right next to ( inside even…) one of the most famous Golf Courts in the World! Famous why, you may ask?! Because it's on the cliff and one can Golf right to the edge and if one misses the putt, the ball either lands on the beach 30 metres below or it actually goes in the Sea! I find that particularly funny!! As nice as it is to enjoy a day in a super luxurious place, with the greenest of greens around you wherever you look, it's very “resortie”, not very genuine and hard to walk a dog when they keep knicking the golfers balls from the Ts or jumping in the Golf Course manicured ponds and lakes!! Funny, but not for long, those golfing guys get very angry ( look at Trump!) and they have weapons in the Golf bags and buggies to chase us!!! The last thing we did together was to visit the beach in Faro, where I had been previously with Pedro and once at the famous motorcycle meet that happens every year around June/July time. Barbara also became a little in love with Algarve and must have really missed it, flying home from Faro to a very cold and snowy Manchester!! The 2 of us have been friends for 21 years, we have shared so many amazing motorcycle trips together and also not so amazing life events, we can talk non stop for hours and now that we travel with intercoms, the chat can continue on our travels, amusing on the onlookers when 2 women go past gesticulating while riding a motorcycle!! We said goodbye at the airport and 1 hour later her rented bike was collected and thus ended my 1st moto tour!! It was a test run of the bike rental, the hotel booking and the invoice making, and it all went really well, so I am a lot more confident Turtle Mototours will kick off in 2023 and will be successful! I stayed in Algarve for another night and the next day set off relatively early with the intention of reaching Estremoz!! I have a lot of roots in this town, but more than that, I have a 2nd family as well. Before moving to the UK it was where I settled working in farm practice with a great vet that was already 76 years old when I started working with him! He retired at 92 and now, carrying 98 years on his shoulders, he is still as mentally sharp as ever and a joy to be with. I visit as much as I can, every minute counts when the journey has been that long… In 1999, when I started my life there, I just fitted in like a jigsaw piece that was missing and in spite of wandering off to the lands of Northern Europe and the years that have passed, it's still the same and so I just turn up unannounced and there is always a seat at the table and a bed ready to sleep in. Life is good to me!!! Had to fill up before starting the day and the Hipster in me actually asked the owner of this beauty if wanted to swap!! Luckily he decline saying his drivers licence is only up to 50cc!! To reach Estremoz was a full day's riding, all little roads over the mountains in Algarve first and they are stunning at the moment!! Again there were some serious showers that gave me a good soaking because I had no waterproofs determined as I was my optimism would beat the rain and it did!!! After 2pm no more rain, my non waterproof clothing dried out and I was happy! And hungry!! Decided to do a Pedro and go into a little village looking for some food and BUM! Found a cool, mega traditional restaurant. I went in and there was that moment of a Cowboy movie when the stranger walks in the Saloon and everyone goes quiet and stares at the unknown character standing at the bar!! In my case the staring is more intense given I am a woman, alone, ON A MOTORCYCLE!! This stuff doesn't happen in these parts, where men are men and women are, mainly, in the kitchen!! It's the interior and south, a very small village and like anywhere, a smile goes a long way, so I smile and it's all good. Turns out the owner also has a Triumph and, inevitably, bikes brought us together and we discussed motorcycling and motorcycles for a while. The food was simple, but gorgeously home made! This is a land I know well and I absolutely love! I even start talking with their accent without realising it, which used to leave Pedro, and others, a bit baffled, but, my roots are in Alentejo, it's like I go back in time!. So after smiling and asking for my food, I sat down next to 2 old men and we talked about sheep and cows and crops, because deep inside I am a countryside lass!! After, 2 doggies came, an 18 year old, must be tough as old boots to survive so long in a place no one will ever take her to a vet (!) and after that, a 1 year old gorgeous Collie, with whom I shared some food and that for sure had fleas… Made me think next time I will take a vet kit with me! That was one of the most beautiful afternoons riding I have ever had. The fields are so, so beautiful… Thanks to the miraculous amount of water that has blessed this land of constant drought, the fields are green with grass and peppered with yellow, purple and white from little flowers blooming, a little early in fairness, making the whole thing look like Turner painted it himself!! No one does countryside like Turner, fact! The funny moment of the afternoon, stupidly I did not stop to photograph, was finding a game of Cricket in the middle of a small village buried in the Portuguese deep South! I almost fell off the motorcycle in amazement!! And laughing! Good or bad, not sure yet, we now have in Portugal a lot of intensive production of vegetables in greenhouses. In the South some towns, previously empty and abandoned, have found a new life with this industry and the manual labourers it hires. Well, I hope they hire and pay them, not enslave like in other parts of the Iberian Peninsula, mainly in Spain!! They come and they settle and they play cricket, which is so extraordinary and nice!! These are people from Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, South East Asia and I have nothing but respect for them and for the, mainly very old, locals that were sitting around the ex-football field watching this impromptu game of an incomprehensible sport for anyone in the World other than British or Countries where Britain left a flag! At this point I was racing the Sun, trying to arrive before it set, because after that my visor is woefully inadequate and it goes bloody cold!! For that reason there are no pictures to show you and no amount of words will ever transmit the beauty of a January evening and its soft light illuminating the mountain I had to cross, bringing cork trees alive in oranges and greys and kissing the earth goodnight till the following day. I do have some photos of the next morning on my way home for your enjoyment! Sometimes all we need is a friend; Sometimes all we need is a change of scenery and a challenge; Sometimes all we need is to do nothing for a day; Sometimes all we need is love and kindness; Sometimes all we need is a great day-ride alone; And sometimes life gives you all of the above in 5 days!!! Thank you for reading.

And by 11 all the wall paper will fall off the walls

Stuffed now ……..

Can’t beat the homemade ones, these are courtesy of the current wife ………you can’t get too close to a naked flame with these bad boys

06th December, Tuesday Dawn at 08:05 from my hotel room. Breakfast my hotel was not included in the room price I paid, and I didn't feel at all captivated by it either, too international and I'm feeling like an adventure. The plan was to swiftly ride out of Marrakech and through the Atlas heading East. Roads are cool, views are cool, weather seems to be behaving, all's cool. I ride out heading to Azilal. Already out of town I am not missing breakfast, but I am missing something to start the day comfortably instead of just water, so stop by a Café Mobile. The quality of the expresso these guys put out from the back of a small van is amazing, 10 times better than the best you can get in most Europe except Portugal and Italy, and even then there might be a case for Morocco's roadside café. The guy is surprised I take pictures of his car, but I tell him that's not very common in Portugal. He quickly says that if I plan on making a Portuguese business he is available as a partner , but being no fool quickly says that in Portugal you probably need fees and permits and taxes, there you just set it up and go. At 6 net dirhams per expresso it IS pretty good business. He did follow good practices on cleaning the stuff and preparing it for the next coffee using boiling water, more so than most cafes in Portugal, I was amazed. Maybe one of these days I'll start going for the more complicated coffees like milk and foams and sugars and all that stuff, maybe after going back to Taroudant and staying in the gay hotel too Azilal is a very civilized place, if I were to go live in Morocco for good and looking for a place to properly live this could well be it. I stop to send a postcard home Tagalf, just a village full of people living a hard mountain life, all the kids smiled and laughed though Donkeys, always stop for donkeys Riding out of Azilal, a young man is hitch hiking along, not a tourist but a kid on trainers and just jeans and a sweater walking along a road, he must have been 17 or 19, I wave back and he salutes me with their gesture of waving at you and then touching their hearts, so I ride back and offer him a ride. Carried him for maybe 30 or 40km in 7 or 8ºC, he should have been freezing but always with a smile and happy to not be walking. When I left him he said he was going up to Beni Melal, maybe another 30km but going north, he had no problems thanking for the ride and I watched as he walked away decidedly down the road, hope he got a ride instead of walking through the night as it's cold there. Stopped in Aghbala, it was 15:17 when this picture was taken. Aghbala has many qualities: it's got a kick ass adventure sounding name, it's busy in a Atlas exotic sort of adventure way instead of nasty city way, smoke from coal grills and woodburning chimneys was wafting through the air, streets were paved with mud covered tarmac, people couldn't give a shit about me being there except for kids, I spotted a little snack place with a hot metal plate, so stop the bike and walk in. The lady running the place didn't speak a word of french but we got along, I managed to get my favourite sardines served inside a bread long with diced tomatoes and onions, it was pretty fucking awesome and flavoured perfectly. Just the kind of thing to pick you up. Picture does not do it justice. Also had a kind of sausage, that feels like mostly paprika inside with little meat, it was quite spicy. I've no idea what it's made of. As I was eating, there was a lady with a child in the back. The little girl completely taken with curiosity came to investigate me from a safe distance. After a few winks she finally gave me the biggest smile, I didn't catch that on a picture though. Nothing like a silly traveller to make women put on a pretty smile for a crazy foreigner Feeling comforted from both a great meal and the warming smiles, I crack on! The plan was to make it back to Imilchil, the little mountain village I had passed through a few days before, and take the lovely mountain dirt pass again, going again to Boulmane and then coming back north up the Todra Gorge. This would add at least a day to my trip but who cares, I make progress... Temperatures drop substancially, it's now about 16:30 and it's been between 6 to 8ºC for the last hour or so, then it becomes clear the more mountain passes crossing the Atlas aren't a good idea, I'll let the pictures tell you why, that white stuff is where I'm heading. I've been to Imilchil and that area in days that saw me enduring 35º before and after, and still being sort of chilly there, it didn't sound like a half pleasant idea to go past there with snow on, so that plan was discarded and I fell back on plan B, Plan B was to go near Zaida, and stay back on the same place I did before. Funny enough that's what me and Maria did in 2017, stayed there once going South and once going North. I went, and about one hour later got there. It was now getting proper cold in the area. I tried the check in and nobody was there, the restaurant and you could go in and rob the place, nobody around, tried to see if the room I wanted was open and it wasn't, then tried everything again and found the TV room, everyone was watching the first half of the Morocco vs Spain match. I got my key and we left formalities for later, quickly had a hot shower and made it there to watch the end of the match. Morocco won on penalties, their goalkeeper "Bono" was gigantic and eliminated Spain. Most people lost their shit, the single one guy in front of the tv not jumping? He's a Spaniard: Now, Moroccans are insane about football, they will now way more about the portuguese league than I ever will, they'll know players names from the first 15 teams in Portugal, and that knowledge extends to Spain, France, Germany, England and Italy, it's amazing. They will watch most things with true enthusiasm, and that day Portugal was to play agains Switzerland. My new friend Mamoud proclaimed he would watch the match with me, so now I had to I had my dinner of preserved citron and chicken tagine, and it was very much amazing, and drank a 375cc bottle of Moroccan wine. It's not the greatest wine, it's below average in Portugal, but you live according to your surroundings What happened next was a thing of beauty, as I sat down to watch the match, 10 minutes after it started there were two guys there; one Moroccan, tall guy built like a closet, had a big smile but only one crooked tooth to be seen, then the other was clearly European. As he didn't say hello back when I sat down I asked if he was Moroccan and he answers with a very distinct superiority: "Moroccan, me? I'm Swiss!" I proudly stated I was Portuguese, and the Moroccan guy just erupted into the loudest laugh, and went to scrub his hands together in a way that clearly meant "game on!" Portugal finished the first half with 2 or 3 goals over the Swiss team, clearly going to win, my Swiss fellow traveler wasn't a good looser. I went out and smoked a cigarette with Mamoud and another guy, now part of the small group of avid football fans. I went and bought another wine bottle, to share with Mamoud, but did the gentlemanly thing and went to offer some to the Swiss, who coldly stated he was having a beer. So, instead of ordering a big bottle I got another small one, Mamoud wasn't much of a drinking and I felt awkward to drink a normal amount amongst company with unknown beliefs towards alcohol. German tourer parked for the night outside the restaurant, I can see the appeal in proper winter: The Swiss made fun of Moroccan wine, and went on to nurse the one sip left on his beer glass for a while, stating that in Portugal we do have nice wine. I agreed, and swallowed my mental response in which I told him that being a Swiss he knows shit about wine. Portugal won 5-1, the dude quickly got up 1 second after the final beep and stormed out, he was a twat and sadly the first contact I had with another foreign motorcyclist. Had another smoke with Mamoud to celebrate, who turns out used to ride a 125cc 2 stroke Yamaha (it went up hills with two big people no problem) said our farewells, and went to bed. It was properly cold that night, but I slept great after a day of motorcycle riding, mountains, good food and a little wine in me, and enjoyed my comfy bed with really heavy covers.

04th December, Sunday Wake up at my own pace after a night well slept. This traveling all day does provide for good sleep, and I can definitely feel that compared to when at home. I am also in love with the feeling of packing stuff to the bike, which takes 5 seconds with BMW's Vario cases, then have something to eat and some hot beverage, and then ride off like you're a pro. Makes me feel like a movie star The plan is to ride back east for a bit all the way to Four El Hism on the R102, then turn the bike North and use that canyon to climb over the mountains over to Argan territory, stop at a small town that sells some Argan based products, and then go in the direction of Marrakech past the most Star Wars sounding city name ever, Taroudant, and the Tizi N'Test mountain pass, all good stuff to look forward to on the start of the journey north, I certainly wouldn't be reaching Marrakech's chaos today, though, and was unsure where to stop. Ahead of me, I knew I had some of the best mountain roads over the following three days. Morning cold and saying hello to donkeys when stopping to put on my warm gloves. Reach the palm trees of Tamarnt and head north on a gorge road, the R107 starts down on the desert, enters into the mountains via a gorge, climbs on the end of it and goes to Tafraout: Arriving in Tafraout at almost 14:00, I shop around to buy a little bit of pure Argan oil, and have some amazing chicken for lunch And at 15:00 get back on the road north, heading to Taroudant! This was to be an amazing bit of the trip, Argan trees grow very slowly so most of the ones I see over these mountains are really old, it's a great experience. Over near the other side of that valley there is Taroudant, it was now about 17:30 so I was going to get there at around sunset time. Traveling here took forever, the roads are amazing and worthy of more time, the distances aren't even that great but I kept stopping to look at trees and pick a few argan seeds to take home. Temperature was climbing as I approached the valley in front too, which felt great after the morning's cold. Beyond the valley, you get the first glimpse of the Atlas too, it's always an impressive landmark to approach. Taroudant is a walled city, like a smaller less chaotic Marrakech. It's got a cool vibe to it, I stopped once for tea in the middle of the day and liked how it felt, back then it was quite a hot day though, and I was happy to sprint for the mountains, today it felt warm as I arrived which was good, the next day I knew I was going to be cold at 2000 meters. Being a walled city, it's got a few doors around it, but makes navigation hard, I searched on google maps for a hotel and found somewhere on the outskirts, it was now getting dark and I felt tired, so went for it, what happened next was a bit surreal. I showed up at the place and it was a riad sort of thing with a walled in garden like what is normal on the outskirts of town, it looked alright but had disco music blaring. I park the bike inside the closed gates, and there's a weird ambience going on. Walk into reception and the guy tells me they had a 700 dirham room for me, I laugh at him and tell him they've got some at 500 in booking, and he tells me to sit down and talk. Now, this dude sits down next to me and very quietly, and gaily, tells me to consider a special price of 400 dirhams with breakfast included, and that I should let him show me the room. It doesn't sound good, I get a weird feeling again and tell him no deal, and I prepare to leave, he then insists and tells me that for 400 dirhams I get the room, breakfast, dinner, and that he would really be happy if I were with him so he could show the room to me, and doing that he simply lays his hand gently on my leg. I then realize what sort of place that is, why I had a weird feeling when saluting the guys sitting on the garden, how weird and out of place the Ibiza type music sounded, and what really came with that room, so quite quickly told him I'd stay nearer to the city center, and left. I then find another place inside the city walls, it's pricier but seems really very nice and less chance of sex with other men. After getting a little lost I did find the location, and was delighted to ride a little bit of a weird access street lodged between the city walls and the hotel entrance itself. This hotel, the Moulin de Taroudant, (can't say Taroudant without picturing Jedis and light sabers!) was an old water mill now refurbished by a french guy, they had nice comfy beds, rooms with no offers of sex, and a very relaxing restaurant where I had a pretty gourmet fish skewer and aubergine pure, it was good. After a nice shower to wash the road off me, I was delighted to have a glass of Moroccan white wine outside, and then eat by the fireplace, where I met a nice older couple of Scots, and staid late drinking red wine with them. Charlie and his kind wife (with a very weird name that I can't for the life of me remember) were great company. I slept well, having had a bottle and a half of pretty average red wine I felt ready for bed. The next day? Mountain roads surely await, and adventure

28th November, Monday, I wake up in absolute silence feeling what you feel when you´re warm in bed and it's clearly cold outside and it's been a quiet sleep, however, I mustn't lay in bed too late as there's a tasty breakfast awaiting and my plan for today's ride is to go on mountains, over more than 2000 meters through broken roads and challenging terrain, I've done that before but in summertime the days are a lot longer and the risk of being in the mountains after sunset isn't being really really cold. Also, particularly exciting and always in my head was trying out a pass that I did previously intended on doing but never did because of rains and whatever. Being alone gave me a freedom of choice that comes with not having someone precious holding on to you, and also a lot higher offroad capability from not carrying a passenger. Firstly, packed everything onto the bike and went for breakfast. I like to have the bike all ready to go before breakfast, just putting on the helmet and tightening the jacket without the fuss of luggage feels a lot more relaxed when you do go. Now, I drink wine frequently at home, and you would think that quitting that alcohol intake would make me lose weight when on the road here, but what empty calories I no longer ingest here are amply replaced and more with breakfast calories and sugar, Moroccan breakfast pancakes are a weakness that I indulge in, and when it's really cold in the morning and you're setting off just one hour after sunrise having a good warm breakfast in you is very enticing. So, msmen and eggs and orange juice and coffee: Starting up I usually don't warm up my bike, but after a cold night outside and the oil at 05 or 06 degrees, I do: From my hotel making way to Boumia and the mountains, if you want to check on google maps you go from Boumia to Imilchil via the tiniest numbered roads available, this is my stuff! The bikes rides really well in altitude, the speeds are low because it's really twisty and the surface is challenging, plus the people here are ultra friendly. When there's no effort being made to translate road signs, you are on the right kind of roads I came up to this school transport van, which are frequently the most modern and better vehicles in rural Morocco, in the mountains they usually have double wheels in the back and are driven quite competently over a variety of challenging terrains, I stopped to let it cross this oued because I couldn't ride as slowly as it did. All the kids inside were waving back. As I was waiting for the van to cross the water, I was approached by a young kid wanting to take a picture of me, after I said yes and struck a pose I offered to take a picture of himself on my bike using his phone, and he was delighted, this in turn brought in two of his friends and we spent a few moments there. That was very cool, kids are quick to come up to you and ask for stuff like candy or a dirham, but once you stop and engage them offering a sit on your bike they suddenly are out of their confort zone and instead become curious and treat you with hospitality, such as their elders treat travelers. It's a good thing to experience, they still asked me for a sweet but I only had a tiny piece of cake wrapped in paper from the breakfast, they promptly split it three ways which ended up being barely nothing for each of them, and gave the biggest part to the girl. That makes you appreciate things. Riding on: Again, once upon a time all this was tarmac: I stop for a few work calls, my phone re-entering an area with data coverage that it was monday and I had a few emails arriving. The fact that I was parked in the below location while everyone that I spoke to in Spain and Portugal pictured me in an office made me feel very cool and special. Gusts of dry dust over a mountain pass beat a desk everyday! While that was happening, Morocco was going on around me: I reach Imilchil at 14:00, and stop for hot mint tea, Imilchil is a small town that feels epic. You get there are are bombarded with smells from grilled meats, coal smoke from bbq wafts in the air, there's exposed animals hanging from the butchers, dust blows, it's high in the mountains so it feels like adventure, pure adventure! Also people will salute you in a respectful way to then leave you about your business, it's one of my favourite places ever to stop for tea while making you feel like Indiana Jones. From Imilchil I go South, and at Agoudal consider what gorge to take down into the plains, Todra Gorge is very scenic with a very easy road, the colours of the sandy rocks is gold and it's an amazing experience at the end of the day under sunset lights. However, I went via the Dades Gorge. The R704 is one of Morocco's great roads, in my opinion, it's in the map in yellow and has a speed limit of 80kmh for the most part. This is very Morocco as you'll see, it's a very dangerous road if you're caught on a storm as the drops are fierce more so if you are driving a truck as it's a narrow road, or it used to be. They are making it wider and tarmac, they're working from each end and at first I'm disappointed to find this: But then, all of a sudden, the new safe and wide road ends and you're back to the old mountain pass, that's a good thing because to drive at illegal speeds here means to ride properly: My iPhone's camera doesn't translate the depth of the surrounding views: Again, I strike a pose, it felt silly but made me feel accompanied This R704 is amazing, I might have to go back next year because this is going to end and wide safe tarmac just doesn't have the same appeal. And just like that, it's over and returns to a normal Gorge road, with concrete oued crossings and village kids playing after school The first time I was in Morocco, in 2014 on the 1150GS, I remember coming this way on the oposite side and being turned back because the rains had caused mudslides to block the road, it was much narrower and more dangerous back then, but the views remain impressive: The long shadow reminds me I'm about to run out of sunlight and go for my planned hotel, but first still have to ride down into the riverside and into the gorge itself Although the sun was going down and already 17:30, some locations are just mandatory stops. Plus now it's all pretty much nice tarmac through easy marked locations so it's no longer a problem if night arrives. The below picture is one of Morocco's most publicized bits of road, and it was shot from the hotel I planed on staying, it was opening in 2016 when I stayed there with Maria and Rui, but I arrived a few days too late and they had closed for the season. Instead I rode another 5 or 10km and stayed somewhere else, arriving just as the sun drops bellow the mountains. Parked the bike in front, and still had time to have a hot shower and to sit outside with my laptop for a bit, before dark and coldness really arrived. The complimentary tea and cookies were good hospitality, I forgot I only had that tea at Imilchil since breakfast, riding kept me busy since morning. Dinner was a little bit of a missed hit on them, it was included in the room price as sometimes it is around these parts as you can't just pop out down the street for a restaurant. The hot pumpkin soup was amazing, the rest was a little weird but A for effort anyway. I liked it was hot and comforting, but not really memorable. Bedding was comforting, two layers of blankets over the sheets in a firm mattress, it felt cozy under heavy covers sheltered from a cold sharp night outside. I fell asleep late but comfortably, and slept soundly as one does after a busy day of dust and big views.

‘You mention diet again and I will piss in your boots’

Soft pampered lap dog, no fierce family saving rat killer. He caught a bloody huge rat in the garden this morning and dispatched it with aplomb. Back to soft loving family pet now but proud of him for taking the rat out. It's the second time he has done it, in the summer we had a rat get in the house and sorted that one to. As my daughter calls him Odious Maximut, as she thought it appropriate he have a gladiatorial name

Bobo neleg ought to be driving a boat. Fred clearly thinks he's riding a goat. Skippy's parked up beside the spanish main Whilst Pete has chosen a dago train Tango,s bike is looking for water and Pedro's seems to be with one of my daughters A tractor, a horse and a Harley clearly designed to haul only one choice left, better call SAUL

My submission now features a monkey which shows that anyone can ride a GS and even monkeys have taste!

Shock, horror......I actually got out on the bike this afternoon! Probably need a lie down now!

Went out for lunch today to this awesome spot by the water. It’s down a few backroads and in the middle of nowhere, but the food is great and the scenery was lovely.

Since I’ve been on here for over a week, I thought it was probably about time I posted something vaguely bike-related by way of introduction. My first biking experience was when I was 13 or 14, herding cows on a friend’s farm with an old 125 of some description. As much as I would have loved a bike at 17, a car was the only practical option for a gigging bass-player, so my biking career was put on hold for the next 20+ years. My wife and I actually took our tests together and spent a year or so happily tootling around on a couple of ZZR600s until I got bored by the gutlessness of the thing and switched up to a ZZR1200. I absolutely loved that bike and covered a lot of miles on it, especially after I started using it for all my European business trips. I hate the hassle of flying, and of having to rush back to the airport when the meeting you’ve been sitting in all day is just starting to get interesting. On the bike I can do as I please – just turn up at the Channel Tunnel vaguely at the booked time and pay a bit extra if I’m much too early or too late. I don’t think I’ve ever had to wait more than 45 minutes for a crossing. The furthest I’ve ever ridden in a day was on that bike - from Basel to Harrogate, which seemed like a good idea at breakfast in the hotel when I decided to see if I could get home in time for tea. By Cambridge the novelty had very much worn off, and by the time I hit Yorkshire I was properly fed up with the whole idiotic enterprise. With road closures and diversions it ended up being just shy of 1,000 miles. I hung on to the 1200 as long as was practical, but in the end it started to get too unreliable. Roadside repairs are one thing and I certainly did my fair share of those, but when bits started falling off it on the motorway I realised it had to go. The final straw was when it caught fire on the E19 around Antwerp. I’m still not quite sure what happened next. I’d hired an Electra Glide in California a couple of years earlier, and no description I gave anybody of the experience ever rose above the excremental: the engine was shit, the gearbox was shit, the brakes were shit, the handling was shit. It was like the Rickenbacker bass – iconic, but fundamentally a turd. And yet… there is something about that engine that gets under your skin. And so it was that when the mighty 1200 had to go, a faecal-brown Electra Glide is what I replaced it with. I had taken the new Fat Boy out for a spin first and liked it far better, but I didn’t fancy riding an un-faired bike across Europe on a regular basis. The first thing that struck me about it (other than the size) was just how comfortable it was - perfect for those long European trips. Sadly, the first thing that struck my wife about it was its overt homosexuality. I endured months of goading before things finally came to a head when I took it on a trip to Germany. No sooner had I got onto the A1 for the long slog south than I discovered that she had replaced everything on my iPod with The Village People. Let's just say that cruising though Mainz with ‘YMCA’ blaring out of the stereo is not exactly the most heterosexual I’ve ever felt. It also introduced me to another new experience, which was being overtaken by cars – even really crappy ones. Something clearly had to be done, so I replaced it with a K1600GT. Now that was an astonishing bike in almost every respect – silky smooth, incredibly comfortable, totally unflappable in the corners thanks to its fancy front suspension and obscenely quick – but as strange as it sounds it didn’t excite me. The ZZR and the Harley both had character – they were a more visceral experience that left you in no doubt that you were riding them, whereas the BMW was refined to the point that it felt like I was just gliding down the road on a magic carpet, completely detached from the sensation of riding. It took me a good while to realise that it wasn’t the bike for me, at which point I switched to the R1200GSA that I still have now. So, that’s my biking history in a nutshell. Well – almost. On holiday in France about ten years ago I conducted a spectacularly self-destructive experiment with the local cider and then went onto Ebay in a state of totally diminished responsibility. I awoke the next morning to a flurry of emails congratulating me on being the proud owner of a life-size Dalek, an aquarium with an assortment of mechanical fish, an industrial quantity of plastic dinosaurs, and a Honda ST1300A. I bought it as a barely-running restoration project, and after ten years it is now a non-running reminder of the dangers of Ebaying under the influence. Every now and then a couple of bike enthusiast down the road come to look at it over a mug of tea, so with any luck I’ll get shot of the damn thing before much longer…

WOW, let's not carried away and take two pictures on a ride! I find more simplicity helps with this, I just took my phone. You don't need stuff complicating the getting on and off the bike, gets tiresome. Thank you for the compliment, but I really need to work on my English, it used to be a quite more elaborate. That's interesting and exactly what I was thinking about myself on most of the ride back. I have found out several things about myself. During the moment it sometimes felt surreal and like it wasn't really me experiencing moments, it felt sort of like reading about someone doing what I was living through. Sort of a weird numb feeling sometimes in which I surprised myself at little I was feeling, but at the same time I fell apart and lost control in other situations. What made me break up emotionally were not feelings of sadness but of reliving events that happened. I still feel like I left Maria there and it still broke my heart to come back and leave her again, that's why I rode straight back home. It'll still be very hard to go back again, similarly hard but with less of the unknown factor, and at the same time I will go back for sure and avoid a few places that didn't show me love. I always have had a relationship with places that I like, some reward me for the relationship some don't, some just take and don't give back and they're like a difficult relationship to which I come back again and again. I really missed the adventure feeling of being somewhere completely not European, and that feeling of riding into a small mountain village with smoke in the air and food smells, I miss that now already. I also learned I can ride better than I thought through some sorts of terrains, and it gave me confidence on the bike, and I was never tired or bored or not feeling like riding in the morning. I enjoyed doing this alone, and that hurts me and makes me feel like I'm betraying a lot of things I can't even pronounce.

Look away now @XTreme

Just a short 40 miles ride as I needed to be back home by 11.00 am. So the first thing I needed to get used to was riding a bike with a 19'' front wheel again, once I got used to that it was plain sailing. It has decent power for an air-cooled 803cc twin, brakes are adequate, suspension is firm without being harsh and the handling is sublime. I'd heard about problems finding neutral but I didn't have any great problem, the bars are a bit of a reach so I've pulled them back slightly and I may add a one inch riser. It must have been re-mapped by the previous owner to match the Leo Vince silencer (cat is gone) but fuckmine is it loud Anyway, I did a variety of roads and a very short bit of motorway and I like it. It has attitude (definitely isn't boring) and It's drop dead gorgeous imo. and a coffee at the Portishead marina on the way home ..........