Jan 5, 2022

Our friend Heike from Germany has had her KLR650 stored in my shop for two years, waiting for Covid restrictions to ease and allow her to return to the States. Finally in November, the US began allowing foreign visitors again, and she quickly booked a flight to Texas. We had discussed a trip to Mexico, and she was excited to go.

The first problem (for Diana and me) was that we had sold the 700 Tenere in October, and ordered a new one, which was supposed to arrive mid-December. But by the beginning of December, we found out it wouldn’t arrive until February of ’22. This left us with few options in our current stable of bikes. After a bit of discussion, we decided that if we were going to spend two months riding through Vietnam, Laos, and Thailand 2-up on a small (150cc) bike, we might as well practice now.

We picked Heike up at the Austin airport on Christmas Eve, and together we spent Christmas Day packing and preparing for nine days in Mexico. Heike took the KLR for a short afternoon ride to get reacquainted with it, and Diana and I practiced our minimalism, packing everything we needed into the small tank bag and rear tail bag on the Honda CRF250L.

By that evening we were loaded up and ready to head out the next morning.

DAY ONE: Run For The Border

We got a fairly early start for what we knew would be a long, boring day. Our destination was Pharr, Texas, on the Mexican border, about 450km or 280 miles away. The weather forecast was calling for no rain and nice temperatures for the entire nine days, so of course we left in drizzling conditions.

We initially set off on a winding route, following Heike’s GPS, which was set to avoid highways and tolls, and apparently anything that resembled a thoroughfare. After an hour or so and 32 miles, we decided to jump on the highway and speed things up a bit. The little CRF250 was doing amazingly well hauling both of us, and we were able to cruise at 60-65mph, while getting 56mpg. The only drawback was that the bike has a 2.1 gallon fuel tank, so we had to stop for fuel every 100 miles. This actually turned into a blessing though, as the seat is not built for 2-up touring, so we were happy to get off by the time we needed fuel.

We made it to our motel in Pharr before dark, and walked to dinner at the appropriately named Pato’s Tacos.

DAY TWO: Border Crossing and Into The Mountains

This morning was the first important walk-through for Heike, as the Immigration and Aduana process for getting the bikes into Mexico isn’t much different than the rest of the border crossings through Central and South America (with the exception of the Banjercito deposit required in Mexico). We discussed the basic procedures of:

Check yourself in
Check your bike in
Check your bike out
Check yourself out

Within a short time we were riding away from Puente Internacional Anzalduas and were headed towards the Sierra Madre Oriental mountains. After passing through General Bravo, China, and General Teran, we skirted Montemorelos and headed to Linares, where we started up into the mountains to Galeana, our destination for the evening.

We wandered the square, ate dinner at a small street-food court nearby, had some tequila ice cream for dessert, and hit the sack.

DAY THREE: Real de Catorce

We took the longer, more scenic route from Galeana, down through Doctor Arroyo, staying in the mountains longer rather than dropping down to the long, straight highway to Matehaula from Galeana. The road was good, and the temperatures again were just about perfect. Eventually we made it across to Matehuala and continued west on the Altiplano to the turnoff to Real de Catorce.

Real de Catorce is an old silver mining town. It was nearly abandoned, but has had a resurgence in interest based on tourism. The town sits at the top of an 18km cobblestone climb, and you must go through a mile-long tunnel to access the town. And not a straight tunnel…there’s a hard right turn in the middle of the tunnel that adds to the fun. The tunnel is not wide enough for two-way traffic, so especially on days like today, with so many tourists during the holidays, it’s necessary to allow a string of one-way traffic at a time. The line of cars waiting to pass through the tunnel was more than a half mile long, but we rode to the front on the bikes and were allowed to pass through ahead of the cars.

Even so, we managed to meet a car head-on in the tunnel. We were able to get around the car, but the ambulance behind us was not. We’re not sure who gave in and backed up, but one of them had to.

Diana and Heike did a walking tour of the town while I stayed back at the bikes. I had been here before, so I was happy to just hang out and people watch.

After touring the town, we headed back through the tunnel and down the cobblestones, and back to Matehuala, where we took two rooms at the Real Villas Motel, a “love motel” on the edge of town. For those not familiar, these motels are designed for discreet affairs: you pull into a garage attached to your room, and pay through a rotating box on the wall. There is no direct contact with the staff or other guests. The rooms are very clean, and aside from the somewhat sex-oriented layout (mirrors, jacuzzi tub, porn on the television, etc), offer a nice stay and a secure place to park the bikes. While they charge in four hour blocks, they also have an “all night” rate. We paid around $22 per room for the night.

DAY FOUR: San Miguel de Allende

In the morning we stopped at Normita’s for breakfast.

Then we headed for San Miguel de Allende. Just south of San Luis Potosì we stopped at the Hacienda Corralejo Tequila showroom for a quick tour. It’s basically a storefront for the brand, which is produced in Guanajuato, but a beautiful storefront it is.

Back on the highway, we arrived at our apartment in San Miguel by mid-afternoon. We tucked everything away, then walked downtown to the Jardin. Being December 29th, plans were underway for the New Year’s Eve celebration, and a large stage was being constructed between the Jardin and the beautiful church across from it.

From there we made our way to our favorite Italian restaurant in San Miguel, Francesco’s, where we had a great meal and drinks before heading back to the apartment for the night.

In the morning we walked downtown again to the large Mercado area and roamed the booths for a while. Jorge, our host at the apartment, was kind enough to allow us to check out at 1pm, so we wandered San Miguel until it was time to load up and head the short 60 miles to Guanajuato.

DAYS FIVE & SIX: Guanajuato

As we chose not to take a GPS on the Honda for this trip, and we wanted Heike to become comfortable with navigating in Mexico, we followed and let her lead. And as we sort of expected, within minutes of approaching Guanajuato, her GPS led her into the tunnels under the city. Of course, once you’re in the tunnels, you lose GPS connection, so when you exit a tunnel, it takes a while to re-establish a connection, which isn’t easy to deal with when in traffic. So after a few laps of the tunnels, we eventually peeled off, and I put the address for our apartment into my phone and we followed it. (I admit that I knew we were in the wrong place, but I wanted her to experience the tunnels and the confusion of the city first.)

Even with the address and above the city on the Panoramico, the location of the apartment wasn’t exact. We ended up exchanging text messages with the owner, who then sent his mother to fetch us. Fortunately we were only about five houses away, but this is a very hilly place, and we all felt sorry for the woman.

The apartment turned out to be a great place, although as expected, being up on the Panoramico road (the ring road above and around the city), it was about a twenty minute walk to downtown, and the first five minutes was steep.

We had two days in Guanajuato. The first day we walked to the Centro and people-watched, walking around the Jardin, the Teatro Juarez, and up towards the university. Since it was a holiday weekend, the place was packed with tourists, mostly from Mexico City, but many from around the world.

We had another great meal in a small back-street restaurant — again ordering three different plates and sharing them — and stopped in a small panaderia to buy some items for breakfast before heading back to the apartment. We bought enough donuts and bakery items for the three of us to eat breakfast for two days and snack on, and I think we paid around $1.50 for all of it.

The following morning we took the funicular up to the Pipila monument, and had huitlacoche on sopas. If you like mushrooms, you’ll love huitlacoche, and we look forward to it each time we visit Guanajuato.

We walked back down into town and up to the Callejon del Beso (Alley of the Kiss). This is a very famous tourist spot, and is based on a Romeo-and-Juliet local story about a forbidden love affair that ends tragically. Tourists line up to take their photo reaching across the alley from opposing balconies for a kiss.

We then walked to the Alhóndiga de Granaditas. This building is historically significant as the place where Mexican insurgents attacked the Spaniards of Guanajuato during the Mexican War of Independence in 1810. Then we wandered through some of the back streets, stopping for coffee at my new favorite coffee shop, El Horla, before heading to Xocolatl for some delicious artisan chocolates.

It was New Year’s Eve, so we spent time downtown people-watching and enjoying the party atmosphere. Behind the Templo de San Diego Alcala, we found a small square where Mariachi bands performed, and a large crowd gathered to participate. The band played Cielito Lindo (you’d recognize the chorus: “Ay, ay, ay, ay. Canta y no llores”), and then crossed the street, leading the crowd up a stairway where a neon sign glowed with the same verse.

More great food, drinks, and people, until it was time to catch an Uber back to the apartment in time to watch the fireworks over the city at midnight.

DAY SEVEN: The Beginning of the End

We were sad that our time in Mexico was coming to an end too soon, but we had commitments in Texas that required us to return. We left Guanajuato vowing to return again soon. It was New Year’s Day, we were more than 800 miles from home, and we needed to be back in a few days. So we rode north via the highway, stopping only for fuel and food. It was warm, and we were tired.

We made it all the way back to Galeana that evening. This time my favorite restaurant in town was open, and we spent the evening at La Casona del General, enjoying yet another great meal, and my new favorite drink, the Carajillo.

DAY EIGHT: Border Disorder

The next morning brought a bit of a surprise. A cold front had come through, and the temperatures had dropped considerably. Along with the cold came strong winds, making our ride even more tiring as we pushed for the border crossing near Reynosa.

As always, leaving Mexico was straightforward and smooth. We checked our bikes out, received the refund of our vehicle importation fees, and got our passports stamped. Then we rode across the long Anzalduas bridge and into the nightmare that we knew was coming: the US entry point. Since our last visit, they have installed vehicle X-Ray scanners. I assume this was an attempt to speed up the vehicle processing, but as far as I can tell, it has had little to no effect, and is actually a bit of a joke. There are signs before you get there that say if you don’t want to be X-rayed, you can get in the far left lane and have your vehicle hand-searched. The reality is that people get in the far left lane, bypass the X-ray machines, then merge back across into any lane. There is nothing preventing this save for a few orange cones that are spaced far apart. So as far as I could see while we waited for literally three hours in line, about 20 percent of the cars just bypassed both the X-rays and the hand search.

While we were waiting in line, the line we were in (marked “All Vehicles”) changed to “Ready Pass Only”. As there was no way for Heike to use the Ready Pass Lane with her German passport, we changed lanes. Then within about 20 minutes, since nobody was using the Ready Pass lanes, they changed them back to “All Vehicles”, and people from behind us in line flooded those lanes. The whole US process is ridiculously inept.

We had arrived at the line for the US Port of Entry at 4:30pm. One mile and three and a half hours later, we were back in Mission, Texas for our last night at a hotel before home.

DAY NINE: The Slog Home

The ride from the Rio Grande Valley back to home north of San Antonio is less than scenic. Much of it is long, straight, flat two- or four-lane highway. We set off in 38 degrees and overcast conditions, but at least the wind of yesterday had died down. It warmed into the upper 40s by mid-day, but the dreary skies made us ready to be home. We stopped about every 80 miles to take a break (and for breakfast tacos in Falfurrias), and to re-fuel the Honda. Heike was able to gas up every other time the Honda needed fuel.

We rolled into the driveway about 4pm, cold and tired, but happy that we had enjoyed a great week of food, travel, people and sights in Mexico.

Heike spent another five days exploring the Austin-San Antonio area, looking at riding gear, bikes (a new Royal Enfield Himalayan may be in her travel future) and relaxing at the house. This morning we took her to the airport for her flight home. She’ll be back in June, but we may be (okay, hope to be) in Europe by then. We’ll cross paths again somewhere along the way, here, there, or on the road.

March 23, 2022

It’s taken a while, and we definitely had to jump through some hoops, but as it all came down to the wire, we were successful in initiating the next leg of our trip.

Just after returning from Alaska last September, we decided to sell the 2021 Tenere 700. It was a great ride, and did everything we asked. We put 20,000 miles on it over the summer of 2021.

Since we would be starting a three year journey this year, without the bike returning to the states during that time, we decided to start fresh and ordered a 2022 model last September. It turns out that this model is still incredibly popular, and in short supply. We originally thought the new bike would be here in December, and we’d have plenty of time to get it prepped, and do some test rides and a little camping before shipping it to Europe.

December came and went, and we received word that the bike wouldn’t arrive until mid-February. Meanwhile, we booked a quick trip to Iceland in January. We also learned that unlike six years ago, when I was able to ship my motorcycle airfreight between continents for just over $2000 per trip, things had changed dramatically. There were less flights overall, non-essential shipments were limited, and prices had gone through the roof. We had originally planned to ride to Toronto last year (if things opened up, which they didn’t), and ship the bike on Air Canada to Dublin, as Air Canada does a “Fly Your Bike” program each year. But since 2020 they’ve canceled that, and there was no firm commitment that it would be reinstated this year. So I started searching for quotes on shipping the bike by air to Europe, and was getting prices in the $10,000 range, with no guarantees on when it would arrive.

With airfreight out of the question, we switched to searching for a sea-freight solution. Again we immediately ran into issues. Most people have seen photos of the cargo ships backed up outside the Port of Los Angeles. Shipping containers themselves have become harder to find and arrange, and booking a shipment more difficult. I kept hearing the same issues: “You can deliver the bike to one of our ports, but we can’t tell you when it will get on the ship, and once it does ship, we can’t tell you how long it will take to clear customs, but plan for two to three months total.”

While we are fairly open with our schedule, we have been “rolling over” our Isle of Man TT reservations since 2020, saving our spot on the ferry from Heysham, England. So we had one hard date: we needed to catch that ferry on June 3rd. By early February, we didn’t even have a bike yet.

We finally got word the bike would arrive in Los Angeles on February 18th. Around the same time, I connected with Stefan Knopf from Germany. Stefan has been shipping bikes from Europe to Florida for Bike Week for thirty years. Right after Bike Week, he loads the bikes into containers and ships them back to Europe. I was able to confirm a spot in the last of his containers which would be closed up and headed to the port on March 18th.

If we waited for the bike to ship to our local dealer here in Texas, it might be another two to three weeks before we received it. At that point, I would have about one week to install all of our gear and ride to Orlando, Florida in time to put the bike in the container. But there was a bigger problem: in order for the bike to clear Customs, it had to be titled in my name. Texas doesn’t have an expedited title service. When I called the DMV to enquire about this, and explained the situation, I was told, “Nope, and good luck”. My recent experiences told me that it would take about 12 to 14 days to receive the title once I applied for it, and of course I couldn’t apply for it until I had the Manufacturer’s Certificate of Origin (MCO), which I would get with the bike. It was looking like we would be about a week late on making the shipping cutoff.

On February 21st, we were told the bike would arrive at Yamaha on the 23rd and would be ready to pick up on Friday the 25th. We rented a Hertz cargo van on the afternoon of the 23rd, and drove the 1350 miles straight through to California, picked the bike up, and drove straight back home, arriving home on Saturday the 26th. Just under three thousand miles in a little more than two and a half days. The bike was unloaded into the shop and I went to work installing all of the “stuff”. (Pro Tip: Ford High-Roof Transit cargo vans at Hertz: $118 for the week. Yes, you read that right. That’s $17 per day, with unlimited mileage.)

First thing Monday morning I went to the DMV and applied for the title. This would be the determining factor as to whether the bike got shipped or not. The prep work was fairly straightforward and took a few days. There was only one piece from our old bike that wouldn’t work: the skid plate we use has our tool kit mounted to it. The exhaust system on the 2022 model is slightly different, so the skid plate wouldn’t fit, and the 2022 model accessory skid plate was not yet available. So it was off to the local welding shop to modify the old skid plate to fit.

The bike was finished and fully loaded on Friday, March 11th. The title had yet to arrive. In order to get to Orlando with a small safety margin, I would need to depart on Monday the 14th. I waited until the mail was delivered on Monday, and with still no title, I left for Orlando with a grand total of 150 miles on the odometer. I made it about another 150 miles before the first major hold-up:

Once the traffic cleared, I made it through Houston before hitting rain. At that point it was looking like I might be riding in rain the entire way to Orlando. It was also getting dark, so I stopped for the night just east of Houston.

The next morning was clear and sunny, and I chased the rain clouds for the entire day, making it to Bonifay, Florida that evening. Once again, the rain had stayed ahead of me until the last fifteen minutes or so. Diana sent word: no title today. Things were getting tight. If the title didn’t arrive in the mail by Wednesday, all would be for naught, and I would turn around Thursday morning and start a slower ride home.

On Wednesday I again rode towards the rain clouds on wet roads but out of the rain. I was surprised when I made it into Orlando without getting rained on. Then my luck ran out. While sitting in stopped traffic on I-4, the heavens opened up. I was less than ten miles from the warehouse where I would deliver the bike, but traffic was stopped. It was nearly four o’clock in the afternoon, and the warehouse closed at 4:30. As the traffic began to move and I made it to my exit, my phone rang in my intercom. It was Diana calling to tell me the title had just arrived, and she was sending it FedEx to me at the Orlando warehouse for delivery the next morning.

I pulled into the warehouse just as they were closing, met Stefan, and grabbed a few things off the bike quickly. Stefan took me to a nearby hotel, and we made arrangements for him to pick me up in the morning.

On Thursday morning, I prepped the bike for shipment, removing the windscreen, mirrors, and GPS, disconnecting the battery, and filling out all the paperwork. We strapped the bike onto a shipping rack, and it was ready to be loaded into the container.

The title arrived at 10:30am, and the deal was done.

Large exhale. Phew.

I flew home Friday morning (via Detroit, because it was less than half the price of a direct flight, and time was no longer of the essence). The bike will arrive in Antwerp sometime in the last half of April, and we will meet up with the bike and Stefan at his place in Heidelberg, Germany a week or so later. Meanwhile, we will continue to work on route planning, and logistics. With the current situation in Ukraine and Russia, some of our plans have changed for this year, and likely next year as well, and will have to remain fluid.

April 16, 2022

We are just slightly more than two weeks away from resuming our world travels. The bike will arrive into Antwerp, Belgium in less than a week then be transported to Germany where we’ll meet up with it. The last of our gear is packed and ready, and we’re buttoning up loose ends. We have a few more things on our to-do list here before heading out, including some last minute prep around the house so our house-sitter won’t have to worry about the little things; some travel insurance issues; and a few places we want to book in Slovenia and Croatia, where we’ll head in the first couple of weeks in Europe. And we’ve already secured two house-sits in Manchester, England and Amsterdam, Netherlands.

Speaking of Croatia, we gained some great insights on Croatia and Greece travel this past week from an unexpected visitor. While riding through Mexico, Jake was looking for an interesting route from Grutas Tolontongo to Xilitla, and Googled it. One of the two hits was a post I had made on this blog from my 2015 trip, so down the rabbit hole he went, and eventually emailed us. A week or so later, and he rolled up in our driveway.

Jake had recently returned to the States from riding in the Baltic Region of Europe, picked up his BMW and headed south to Baja then over to mainland Mexico. Leaving Mexico, he stopped by for a couple of days, and we had a good conversation, swapping stories of where we’d been and where we’re headed. We’re hoping to catch up with him some time in the next year or two in Europe or Asia.

Safe travels, Jake, and we hope to see you again.

April 22, 2022

My brother and sister-in-law invited us to a “Going-Away” dinner at their place the other night.

It was a good chance to share some last-minute thoughts on our upcoming trip, and they shared a great travel book with us:

Since we both are big Foodies, this felt like the ultimate travels along a route somewhat similar to my 2015-16 trip, but with some great recipes included. I’m already looking forward to trying several of them. Note: Don’t even glance through this book if you are the least bit hungry, or I guarantee you will end up buying it!

Ten days to go. The bike arrived in Heidelberg, Germany today. We are wrapping up our house duties here in Texas, and preparing to hand over the reigns to our house-sitter, who left Denver today on a bit of a vacation route to here.

Now it’s getting “real”.

May 4, 2022

Well, it isn’t exactly the start to the trip that we were hoping for, but we’re starting nonetheless.

We left Austin, Texas on a direct Lufthansa flight to Frankfurt, Germany. I was surprised to find that our flight was direct, as there aren’t many places you can fly directly to out of Austin. We surmised that there must be a tech company connection between Austin and Germany that gave reason for this flight twice a week, but when we boarded the plane, very few people onboard, if any, looked like tech nerds. In fact, most looked like retired tourists, and many were simply connecting through Frankfurt to other countries in Europe. So we’re still a bit baffled about the logic behind the direct Lufthansa flight to Frankfurt from Austin.

It’s probably just a result of my advanced age, but for maybe the first time, I was wishing we had a connection rather than a direct ten hour flight. Sitting in my seat after five hours, watching the map on the screen and realizing we hadn’t even made it over Iceland yet, made the flight seem like forever. I used to do those long flights to Japan fairly regularly, and it never bothered me. I’m not sure why this one took its’ toll, but once we landed in Frankfurt at 9am local time (2am Texas time), we were beat. We had a shuttle ride to Heidelberg, where the bike is stored, and we spend most of Tuesday sleeping.

We ended up with Room #1: The BMW Room for our first two nights in Heidelberg, Germany.

The bathroom in the BMW Room. All BMW, All The Time.

Although sleeping most of Tuesday afternoon meant less sleep during Tuesday night, it was probably good that we at least slept Tuesday afternoon, as the motion-sensor light outside our room continuously flashed on and off every five minutes or so all night, creating a light show in the room that made it hard to sleep.

I was determined to stay awake all day Wednesday and get back on a normal schedule, so first thing in the morning, I found the bike and rolled it out of the warehouse to put the windscreen and mirrors back on, connect the battery, and fuel up. And that’s when the “fun” started: apparently at some point during its’ trek across the Atlantic, another bike (a red one, it appears from the paint left on my bike) decided to attack our new Tenere. The right pannier and lid suffered significant damage, and there is additional damage to the right handlebar switch, master cylinder, fairing, handguard, left pannier, and our TouraTech locking GPS mount. Ugh. I will unfortunately repeat the statement I made in 2016: “The only damage my motorcycles have ever suffered during my long rides is when they have been put into the hands of someone else.” This is one of the reasons that I do all of my own work on my bikes, but there are certain points that are out of my control, and shipping the bike is one of them. I did all I could do before handing it off, and, well, the results aren’t pretty.

Fortunately none of the damage prevents us from continuing on, although the pannier damage will likely make the pannier leak during rain, and it’s where we store our electronics, so some additional preparation will be necessary. I’ve beat the lid and the box back into shape as best I can with a hammer and two blocks of wood, but a water-tight seal is unlikely.

I also ended up having to ride into Mannheim today to a motorcycle shop to find some replacement straps for the pannier lid, as the straps were also damaged in the Attack of the Red Bike. Now back at our launch point, I think we are ready to go. Tomorrow is looking to be one of our longest days in terms of mileage, as the goal is to get out of Germany. It won’t be a fun day, since we’ll spend most of it on the highway (Autobahn), but we’re one day closer to where we want to be, and we can slow down after that. The temperatures and the weather thus far have been great, although as I type this, the rain has started. I’m sure it will be brief, but it’s a good chance to see if the pannier leaks while sitting parked at least.

I was laughing at this “Heidelberg Speedway” poster, with the “8 miles southwest of Pittsburg, PA” and “Tri-State Championship for Pennsylvania, New York and Ohio”, until I looked it up. There really is a Heidelberg, PA eight miles southwest of Pittsburgh, and it was named after Heidelberg, Germany, where a large number of its’ original settlers came from.

May 6, 2022

As with many of our prior travels, my “frugalness” (okay, outright cheapness) contributed to making our first day on the bike in Europe likely our longest single day of the trip, both in mileage and time.

As I’ve mentioned earlier, the Schengen Visa Rule basically states that non-EU citizens cannot spend more than 90 days of a 180 day period in Schengen countries (which is most of the EU, plus a couple of other countries). This means that we have to be particular about when and where we spend our time in Europe, as there will come a point where we will have to leave for an extended period before we can legally re-enter. In an effort to save days on our Schengen Clock, we decided to quickly head south towards Croatia, which is not part of the Schengen system. This would allow us to enjoy Croatia a bit before high tourist season, as well as save days that we’ll need as we head all the way to the top of Norway.

I knew in advance that this first day would be a long day, because I intended to ride from Heidelberg, Germany to Bled, Slovenia, crossing through Austria, a distance of over 400 miles. Much of this would be on the Autobahn, so I felt fairly comfortable that at least it would be a good pace.

When I entered our campsite outside Bled into the GPS, I was informed that a Toll Pass was required to drive on the freeways in Austria.
“Nope, not gonna pay it.”
I hit the “Avoid Tolls” button on the GPS, which added another 30 or 40 miles to the route (and unknowingly at the time, causing another delay…more about that later).

Before leaving Heidelberg, we settled up with our host for the damage to my bike, and I have to say, I wouldn’t hesitate to use Stefan again for shipping. In fact, he is my go-to guy for shipping the bike between the US and Europe now. It was refreshing to have someone say “Just figure out what I owe and I’ll take care of it” — and mean it. The damage to my bike was a rare occurrence in his business, and he handled it like a pro. He even called the pannier manufacturer in Poland on his own to try to get me a replacement pannier before we left.

We headed out of Heidelberg, winding our way to the A5 motorway, then the A8 towards Munich, stopping only for fuel (yes, I know, we were missing some great German countryside, but we will be back when the Schengen clock is less troublesome for us). We spent most of the morning in the number two lane, at 130 kilometers per hour (about 80 mph), occasionally moving into the left lane to pass cars before ducking back to allow the frequent Mercedes to pass at 200+. The average price for 95 octane (“Super”), which is the standard fuel here, was €1.79 per liter, which works out to about $7.15 per gallon. At one convenient roadside station, we paid just over ten dollars per gallon. I was wishing I had one of those “I Did That” Joe Biden gas pump stickers, but for some odd reason, nobody here thinks the US President caused their fuel prices. Huh. Amazing what a little exposure to the real world can do.

South of Munich we turned off onto a small two-lane highway and headed into the Austrian Alps. It began to rain a bit, but only briefly. The small towns that we passed through had that distinctive Alpine look to them, and the jutting mountains and lush green grass and trees had me singing out “The hills are alive” in my headset, which Diana immediately put a stop to.

Nearing the top of one pass, I looked down at the GPS, which displayed a boat icon, informing me that we would be taking a ferry in a little over two miles. I was confused, to say the least. First of all, I didn’t know there was a lake way up here that would require a ferry to cross. And second, I had told the GPS to avoid tolls, so why was I now going to pay to board a ferry?

Minutes later, we pulled into a parking lot and up to a sign that said “Autoschleuse”. It turns out that this ferry was not a ship but a train. We bought a ticket and rode onto an open flatbed railcar for a ten minute train ride. I told Diana to get her camera ready, because the scenery must be spectacular if the pass was so narrow that they couldn’t build a road through.

The first tip-off that this ferry wasn’t a boat.

Waiting in line for the Autoschleuse.

Bikes load first.

It’s a ten minute ride. Why bother taking off the helmet?

Okay, I’m an idiot. It’s a ten minute train ride through a tunnel. There is no scenery, just a rock tunnel through the mountain. The train ferry added another 30 minute delay to our day, but it was still fun. I’ve ridden the bike onto the EuroTunnel train under the English Channel, but I’d never put the bike on an open rail car before. Checked that square, as Tom would say.

Off the train and back on the road through the Alps, we had one more pass to cross. We turned up the Wurzenpasse, which was a fun, twisting road up and over, passing the Karnten Bunker Museum (Austria’s largest contiguous Cold War blockade), and into Slovenia.

It was getting dark as we finally pulled into Bled, Slovenia, and our campsite for the next two nights. We had demolished two of our “Golden Rules of Travel”: we had gone more than 250 miles in a day, and we had ridden after dark. I intend to make up for it by severely lowering our daily mileage average over the next couple of weeks by riding between 0 and 150 miles a day max. And none of it at night.

This morning as I type this, we are relaxing in the tent, while it rains outside. The forecast doesn’t look good for the coming week, so we’ll just take it a day at a time, and listen to the raindrops on the tent for the time being.

Our campsite on Lake Bled, Slovenia.

May 7, 2022

Slovenia is a beautiful country. Very green. And as I’ve always said, there’s a reason places are so green. It’s been raining straight since shortly after we arrived in Slovenia. The forecast is for another week of rain, pretty much all day every day. We actually enjoyed the day off yesterday after the long 450 mile day Thursday. The rain caused us to miss a couple of things we wanted to see — primarily the Vintgar Gorge — but it also caused us to just relax in the tent all day, which was nice. And especially nice was the woman on the bicycle-powered bakery cart that came through the campground, selling some great pastries for breakfast.

Unfortunately by this morning it was still raining. We waited until almost 1pm before finally giving in and packing our soggy tent and gear in the rain, and heading southwest. Rather than take the highway, I zoomed in on the Google Map, and found the most squiggly road I could find. Not the best day to be climbing the Vrisic Pass, but even in the rain and fog, it was well worth it. Tons of first- and second-gear switchbacks, sometimes without being able to see the other end for the fog and mist. Incredible views off of the mountain when the fog opened up, but the view was usually out into the a white cloud. It was eerie, like swimming in a deep clear blue sea, unsure how far down it was to the bottom.

Leaving our campsite on Lake Bled, the Pilgrimage Church of the Assumption of Maria, on an island in the middle of Lake Bled. On a cliff high overlooking the lake is Castle Bled.

Near the top of the Vrsic Pass, the highest pass across the Julian Alps in northwestern Slovenia. The road was built for military purposes in the early 19th century and is known as the Russian Road. It was chilly, but still a great ride.

Just before arriving at our destination, the rain stopped. We pulled into our campsite in the tiny village of Vrhpolje, surrounded by vineyards. This place is sort of “off the map” but in a good way. Our friend Heike from Germany stayed here last year when she rode her Africa Twin to Slovenia, and told us we should visit. We’re glad we did.

Our tent went up quickly today…it was nice to set it up in daylight for a change, and let it dry out from two days of solid rain.

Directly across from our tent is a large vineyard.

Our hosts at Kamp Vrhpolje greeted us with a welcome house wine from the local vineyard.

It’s supposed to rain again tonight, tomorrow, and for most of this week. So, who’ll stop the rain? I have a feeling Croatia will stop the rain, in a few days. But hopefully the rain will be light tomorrow morning, as we have a special tour planned.

May 8, 2022

We once again listened to the rain on the tent all night, but this time along with a strong wind that we hoped would help dry the tent quickly. By morning the rain had stopped, and we happily packed up a damp tent in cloudy but dry conditions.

As we were packing, our neighbors in the only other tent in the camp stopped by. They’re from France, and are taking four months off to ride bicycles from France to Greece. There are undoubtedly easier routes to pedal than where they had been and were going, but they had a great attitude. Interestingly, they asked us about our tent — a MSR Hubba Hubba NX with the optional gear shed — and then pointed to theirs, a MSR Hubba Tour 2 tent, which has the gear shed (and rain fly) built in. The two tents look nearly identical when set up (with the rain fly on ours). But there is a big difference. Theirs is the same model of tent we used last year on our ride to the Arctic Circle and Prudhoe Bay, and they quickly confirmed the same problems with it that caused us to switch: while the Tour 2 is a simpler set-up due to the gear shed and rain fly being all one piece, the lack of ventilation due to this design causes high humidity and trapped heat in the tent, making it fairly miserable in even moderately warm weather.

Diana and one of the owners of Kamp Vrhpolje. He asked if he could take a photo of our moto, because we are the first people from the USA to arrive at Kamp Vrhpolje on our moto. They loved the Texas license plate. We loved being the first Texas motorcycle here.

The other owner of Kamp Vrhpolje (Damjana?), and the two French bicyclists. You can see their brown tent in the background. There’s a chance we might run across them again on our way back through Slovenia in a couple of weeks, although they are taking a different route south than us.

We said our “Hvalas” (thank you in Slovenian), and left Vrhpolje around 9am. It’s about 20 miles from Vrhpolje to Postojna Cave, and we had tickets for the 10am tour. I figured an hour was plenty of time to ride 20 miles, get out of our gear, cover up the bike and make it to the tour in time.

Wrong.

We made it a few miles down the highway when the Garmin GPS (now referred to as “Garbunckle” by Diana) told us to exit, and then took us down a winding two-lane road through small villages (24 to 31mph speed limit), before pointing us up a dirt road. I thought, “well, why not? A little off-road time is overdue.” Time was getting tight though, and eventually we popped out and Garbunckle said “You Have Arrived” at 9:50am.

Indeed, we had arrived. At Predjama Castle. Not Postojna Cave, which was 5 miles away.

Ugh. Back to the dirt road, this time blasting down it, and arriving at Postojna Cave parking area at 10:02am. Too late. Fortunately, for a small fee, we were able to move our tickets to the 11am tour. Which gave us a little time to relax.

At a few minutes before 11, we walked over to the sign that read “English Tour”. There were other signs for the tour in Italian, Slovenian, German, and a few other languages. We were surprised to find that not only was the English tour the largest group by far, at around a hundred people, but the two of us appeared to be the only people on the tour for whom English was the first language. There were no other Brits, Americans, or Aussies on the tour. Most people seemed to be perhaps Greek, Polish, or Croatian.

The cave itself is fifteen miles long, but only a little over three miles are open to the public. Still, the place feels massive, and although I haven’t been to Carlsbad Caverns since I was about 12 years old, this place puts it to shame as far as I’m concerned.

The tour starts with a train ride into the cave. The cave was originally discovered in 1818, and in 1872 rails were laid and a gas powered train was used to access the first two miles of the cave. After 1945, an electric train replaced the gas train. At the end of the train ride, the one hour walking tour begins.

This bridge was built during World War I by Russian prisoners of war to connect the old part of the cave, discovered in 1818, with the new part of the cave, discovered in 1891.

After our cave tour, we headed back to Predjama Castle. This 800 year old cave castle sits in the middle of a 400 foot tall cliff.

The original castle dates back to the 1200s, but it has been destroyed and rebuilt a couple of times. The current castle dates to the 1570s and has changed little since then.

Getting back on the bike in both the parking lot at Postojna Cave as well as at Predjama Castle, I noticed people walking by, then stopping and pointing out the Texas license plate to their friends, who just stared. We’re used to being approached by people who ask “did you ride that all the way here?”, but so far most people here haven’t approached us. Which is okay too; it does get old after a while. But it’s always an easy way to start a conversation.

We left Predjama on a relatively short 60 mile ride to Ljubljana, the capital of Slovenia, where we will spend the next couple of days. Tomorrow we plan to do a bit of a walking tour of sights in the city, weather permitting. Then it’s on to our next country.

May 9, 2022

Today we did a typical tourist day. We walked the streets of Ljubljana, sightseeing and eating our way around. It rained again overnight, but stopped early morning, so we had perfect weather for just walking the town.

Our small studio apartment is located in the center of Ljubljana, and easily walkable to most all of the normal tourist activities. We began with a walk to the Central Market, crossing over the Dragon Bridge.

All four corners of the Dragon Bridge have large dragons overlooking them, and even the lamp posts on the bridge have small dragons on them. One local legend says that when a virgin crosses the bridge, the dragons wag their tails. I didn’t see any tails wagging while we were there. Hmmm…
The dragons from the bridge, which opened in 1901, have become a symbol of the city.

Being a Monday, the open air market wasn’t as busy as it likely is on other mornings and probably even more so on weekends, but we enjoyed looking at all the fresh produce, and then stopped at a bakery for a pastry and coffee, before heading to the next two bridges.

The Butchers’ Bridge, as seen from the Dragon Bridge. On the left is the Central Market.

The Butchers’ Bridge (named, I believe, because the meat market is directly next to the bridge) is one of those bridges that lovers put padlocks on the cables. There are thousands of padlocks on the rails of this bridge.

The Triple Bridge, named because — wait for it — there are three bridges side-by-side that cross the Ljubljanica River into Preseren Square (which is actually circular).

Looking down the river from the Triple Bridge

From Preseren Square we walked past the University and down to Congress Square.

Congress Square

Looking over the Philharmonic Orchestra building from Congress Square, up to the Ljubljana Castle

Congress Square has been known at different points in its’ history as Revolution Square (communist period) and later Liberation Square before returning to its’ original name of Congress Square or Kongresni Trg in Slovene.

From Congress Square we walked back around past the Central Market to the funicular which took us up to Ljubljana Castle.

Looking out over the city from atop the clock tower of the castle.

At the tip of my finger is our studio apartment that we rented for two nights.

There was a large, very ritzy event happening in the courtyard of the castle while we were there. No idea who or what, but the prepared food and wine everywhere was incredible.

After a trip to the grocery store to replenish for the coming days camping, we walked to dinner at Vodnikov Hram, a traditional Slovene restaurant. With all the walking we had done today, our eyes were definitely bigger than our stomachs, and we ordered a traditional Slovene platter for two. Which turned out to be big enough for four easily. It had two different kinds of sausages (four total), two breaded chicken cutlets, sour cabbage, roasted potatoes, grilled vegetables, fries, sour cream rolls, and two large bowls of soup.

Dinner

As hard as we tried, we couldn’t finish it off, and ended up taking the sausages home. We’ll pack them along for another meal or two. After dinner, we were served Viljamovka, which coincidentally is Williams (Viljam), or Williams Pear Brandy. The Williams Pear is the most commonly grown variety of pear in countries outside of Asia. In the U.S., it’s known as the Bartlett Pear. I don’t know who Bartlett is, or why he stole my pear.

We went way over our budget playing tourist the past couple of days, but it was enjoyable and we’re sort of in the tourist mode for this part of the trip. Even so, we have to watch our budget, so it’s back to camping for the next couple of nights.

May 10, 2022

If you’ve traveled even just a little, even only in your own country, you’ve seen enough to develop reference points. Later, when you pass by a certain region, or city, or river, or countryside, you might have that flashback feeling, thinking it looks familiar.

On my ride in 2015-2016, I made it a point to mention these, as it helps me attach a certain feeling or recognition with places based on places I’ve been in the US. For example, there were areas in Colombia that reminded me of the California rolling grass hills near Monterey.

As we left Ljubljana headed south, we found ourselves climbing into the hills on a narrow two-lane road, just barely wide enough for two cars. The road twisted along, following a beautiful flowing creek. Large trees, a mixture of beech, fir, and oaks, covered rocky hills, and large farmhouses sat in grassy clearings, their vegetable gardens overflowing with produce. The area reminded me a bit of the Smoky Mountains in eastern Tennessee, though the farmhouses were larger for the most part, and with brown or red tile roofs.

Eventually we dropped out of the hills and down to the Kolpa River, the border between Slovenia and Croatia. As we approached the river, it became clear that this was a proper border crossing. Unlike passing from Germany to Austria to Slovenia, where crossing the border was only visible due to the blue sign on the side of the road announcing a new country, here was a large fence topped with concertina wire, running the distance.

We stopped for gas in Vinica before approaching the border. Per the official Croatia Government website, I had filled out the Croatia Entry Form online and then printed the resulting page, so I figured this would be an easy border crossing: just hand them the form and the passports and pass through. We stamped out of Slovenia, rode across the river, and up to the Croatian entry point. The officer asked for our passports, stamped them and handed them back. I produced the printed Entry Form and asked if he wanted to see it. He said “No, all good. Go.”

Huh. Another unnecessary formality. I tucked the form back into my jacket and we rode away into our fourth country in the past week: Croatia.

The scenery changed a bit immediately. The tall, lushly covered hills were gone, replaced by shorter, more scrubby trees. The land as well as the farmhouses seemed a bit less appealing, but it could have just been the route we took, as we tend to avoid the larger, more tourist-traveled roads. The small road became an even smaller road, no longer two cars wide, and we entered another forest. This one reminded me more of the road through the trees on Orcas Island in Washington State, climbing up to the lookout tower to look back towards the mainland.

After several miles, we emerged at the main road again near Selište Drežničko, and to our campsite for the next two nights at Camp Korana.