As the world continues to react to this pandemic in ever-changing ways, we reflect on the past year of our travels, and acknowledge that we have only so much control over our destiny and destinations. Like everyone, we had other plans for 2020 and 2021, but we’re thankful for the travels we were able to enjoy in the past year, and the people we met along the way. We hope to continue the journey in ’22, wherever it may lead us. And we encourage others to dream, plan, commit to your dreams and enjoy every fork in the road, regardless of how many topes you may encounter.
Jen returned home to Luna and Neville, and we headed the short 40 miles to Liverpool for the night. The next morning we hopped on the Magical Mystery Tour bus for a two hour tour of historical sites related to The Beatles. Our tour guide Neil was humorous and very informative. We saw Ringo’s birthplace and childhood homes, George’s childhood home, John’s childhood home, Paul’s childhood home, Penny Lane, Strawberry Fields, the Cavern Club, and more.
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George Harrison’s childhood home at 12 Arnold Grove. This house was bought a couple of years ago by a US fan who has turned it into a B&B rental.
One end of Penny Lane, at Greenbank Road. At the other end the road changes names, and that’s where the bus shelter and barber shop from the song are located. Even though it isn’t technically on Penny Lane, it sounds better than “On Smithdown Place there is a barber showing photographs”.
This Penny Lane sign is about a hundred yards up from the Greenbank Road end. It’s almost gone now, but just below the Peace symbol is where Paul McCartney autographed the sign during an episode of James Corden’s Carpool Karaoke.
Not a great photo, as it’s taken through the screen from inside the bus, but this bus shelter is where The Boys would meet as it was sort of a central location for them to catch the bus into downtown Liverpool. The bus shelter has been rebuilt since, but it is quite literally “in the middle of the roundabout”. We looked behind it, but couldn’t find a nurse selling poppies.
This is the barber shop from Penny Lane. Although the name has changed, the interior still has photos of the boys getting haircuts. Note it even says Penny Lane on the window, although it’s actually a block north of where Penny Lane changes to Smithdown Place.
Strawberry Fields was a Children’s Home when John Lennon wrote the song. It still belongs to the Salvation Army. The iconic gates have been replaced with painstakingly accurate detailed replicas.>
This is Paul’s childhood home at 20 Forthlin Road. Paul wrote over 100 songs in this house by the time he had turned 19, and the band rehearsed in the living room. Paul’s mother died when he was 14 years old, and he later had a dream in which his mother appeared and calmed his fears by telling him “Let it be”. Suddenly I understood the lyrics to the song much better.
The Cavern Club. Made ultra-famous by The Beatles, but many, many other bands have played here also.
After the tour was over, we loaded up again and headed north, another sixty five miles to Morecambe, which is on the coast just a few miles north of Heysham, where our ferry to the Isle of Man will leave from. We checked into our two bedroom apartment on the third floor of a typical British row house, and waited for two of our Polish friends, brothers Marcin and Lukasz, to arrive. They had left Poland just three days earlier, riding long days across Europe to meet up with us.
Marcin, Pat, & Diana across from our place for the night in Morecambe, just north of the Heysham Ferry Terminal.
They pulled up about 8pm, and we helped them unload and relax for a few minutes before heading out to a Wetherspoons, which Lukasz described as “McDonalds for Alcoholics”.
Wetherspoons has a ton of locations all over England, with a large food menu, and reasonable prices on food and drinks. Lukasz calls it “McDonalds for Alcoholics”. We drank to that. And no, this is not our table, but the one next to us. We ran out of room on our table…LOL.
It’s been a couple of weeks since the last post. We’re back in England, and have been housesitting two amazing dogs, and living in a really cool converted 1886 schoolhouse. But more on that in the next post.
This post is about what we’re carrying, and how we manage to pack it all — and two people — on a 700cc motorcycle.
A number of people have reached out and asked if we could explain our camp setup in a video. It seemed like a great topic, and we finally had time to do it, so yesterday was the day.
First, let me reiterate, even though it’s obvious, that we aren’t “on vacation”. We didn’t pack for a week or two away at some tourist destination hotel. This is our lifestyle, and the bike is our house. Essentially we have everything we would ever need on the bike. We didn’t pack “for summer weather”, or with the idea that we can run home and pick up a different pair of shoes or another coat when we feel like it. On the other hand, we also didn’t pack like we were going to the moon; there’s no reason to carry a six month supply of toothpaste, or a spare set of tires, when there are stores everywhere, and motorcycle shops within a day or three ride everywhere.
We consider our motorcycle our two-wheeled house. After several months of living on the bike, you get to know exactly where everything fits, and what won’t fit. You also get to a point where when someone asks, “Where do you live?”, you point to the bike. We haven’t really arrived at that point yet on this trip, because we’ve been in civilization almost the entire time (and it’s fun to see the reaction when we say “Texas”). But we will later on; I speak from experience.
For the video, we didn’t go into deep details about what we carry in each of the boxes on the bike. We decided to just do a basic review. Most people seemed more interested in how we managed to get a complete living setup (bedroom, living room, kitchen, dining room) in that yellow bag on the back of the bike, so we spent the most time showing that. On the road, we’re often asked why we have side boxes (panniers) but no top box on the rear rack behind Diana. Many of the other riders we meet have all three, and they’re curious why we opted to skip the top box.
The top box is a great option if you’re out for a weekend or even a weeklong ride. It allows you to lock your helmet and jacket up out of sight, or it might serve as a “junk drawer”, collecting all the stuff that doesn’t otherwise have an assigned spot.
Some solo riders even have a large duffel bag like our 49 liter yellow Ortlieb bag strapped onto the rear seat and a top box behind that. I think these may be the people who ask about how we get everything for both of us on one motorcycle.
Without further comment, here’s the video (oh, and I apologize in advance for the background noise; I had no idea there would be a bulldozer backing up next door, and a small plane flying around every time we began shooting!):
And to fill in a little more detail:
In real time, it typically takes us about 30 minutes or so to set up camp. It takes us about 45 minutes to take it all down, pack it up, and strap it to the bike. It takes us about an hour in the morning, at a leisurely pace, from the time we start tearing down to the time we have our riding gear on and are rolling away.
Diana mentioned that we carry a couple of grocery bags that fit the panniers. Here’s what she was talking about:
These large foldable reusable bags are the same width and height as the panniers, and fit perfectly, allowing us to fit one bag, the milk and the 1.75 liter Coke into one pannier. We take the bags shopping with us and fill them as we go. When they’re full, we’re out of room. When not in use, they are folded up and reside in the bottom of Diana’s pannier.
Here’s the bag, milk, and Coke bottle in Diana’s pannier.
If you saw any of our nine day trip to Mexico last Christmas on the Honda CRF250L, then you realize that we travel pretty minimally for “short” trips like that. At that time, we fit everything for two of us in a very small tank bag and a small tail pack. No panniers, no duffel bags. We could easily have done that for this trip as well, but there was no reason to. We have a pack mule…might as well take the house, within reason.
As we’ve both mentioned before, this is our version of how we travel. Everyone has a different comfort level and a different method of doing it. I did a lot of research before my 2015 trip, and continue to learn today from others. We love to see how others pack and what they carry — especially bicyclists and riders of small motorcycles — as there’s always something to learn.
We hope this video answered some of the questions people had, and we’re always available to answer other questions.
Now back to your irregularly scheduled blog posts…
For the past two weeks, we’ve been living in a renovated 1886 schoolhouse outside of Aylesbury, Buckinghamshire, England. For free.
This was originally the village schoolhouse. Built in 1886, the last classes held here were in 1965. Now it’s a beautiful home and gardens.
View from the back garden. It’s quiet here. Very quiet. And relaxing.
Another view from the back yard.
It doesn’t look like much, but this pond behind the house is called The Hossil, or Horse Hole. This was the only natural spring in the area in the 1500s and 1600s, and thus the only source of fresh water for farmers and ranchers in the area. It’s said that Oliver Cromwell watered his horses at this pond after sacking nearby Bolbec Castle in Whitchurch, the next town over, during the English Civil War (1642-1651).
Win-Win
This is a win-win situation for both us and the homeowners. For us, we get to slow down, relax, sleep in a real bed, see the local sights, cook meals in a kitchen, do laundry, catch up on our favorite Netflix shows (and this blog, hopefully!), and enjoy some time with some great animals. For the homeowners, they get to take an extended vacation without having the expense and worry of caring for the pets, in this case two dogs, a rabbit, three tree frogs and a tank of fish. The pets get to stay home, in their own environment, without having the stress of dealing with a kennel (and where is the tree frog and rabbit kennel anyway?). They also get to relax, knowing that their home is being cared for and lived in, which is of course a deterrent to break-ins.
Kenzo and Groovy. Amazing dogs make house-sitting easy.
While it may sound like a lot of work caring for such a menagerie, it really isn’t. Everyone gets fed in the morning and at night, and the dogs get walked for about 20 to 30 minutes each day. I spend a little time with the rabbit (who has its’ own room). Total daily time invested: maybe two hours. The rest of the day is ours to do as we please.
On our end, while we aren’t zooming across a country or two, we’re still visiting local sights, like Bletchley Park (next post), and exploring the local culture. This means we’re not only saving on nightly lodging but also on gas purchases, and by the way, it’s down to only $6.89 per gallon here! Woo-hoo!
Here’s a closer look from a budget standpoint: for the first 19 days of August, including spending five nights with friends for free, we averaged $62 a night for lodging. This includes AirBnB’s in major cities so we can sight-see, and a random hotel to sit out the rain. Now factor in the last 12 days of August house sitting, and the monthly average drops to $31 a night. Which means we saved around $600 last month in lodging.
We also cooked real meals most nights while we were in Aylesbury. Going to the grocery store versus the pub (even though the pub was a two minute walk) reduced our monthly food expenses. And we’ve only put one tank of fuel in the bike in the past two weeks, whereas we normally average about $21 a day on gas purchases.
We walked over to the Black Boy Pub for dinner a couple of times. This pub was built in 1524, and much of the original building and bar remain. The name, “The Black Boy”, is a common pub name across England, and there are more than 25 pubs with this name. The origins are unclear, but the most common belief is that it is a reference to King Charles II (1660-1685).
Celebrating all the money we’re saving by house-sitting with drinks and dinner at The Black Boy.
How It Works
We use a website called Trusted Housesitters. We pay an annual subscription fee, which is about equal to the price of one night in a hotel. Right now there are about 4,600 homes listed on the site all over the world. You can filter by date, location, type of home, length of stay, and type of pets. Occasionally there are homes listed that don’t even have pets; they simply need someone to look after the plants or the house. Once you find a location you’d like to apply to sit, you send your application to the homeowner, and they can check over your application, including your references, your background, and any prior reviews. They may also do a video-conference call to interview you. So it isn’t like they are letting total strangers into their home. There is also insurance included with the subscription price, both for the sitter and the homeowner. For the homeowner, it covers damage to the home. For the sitter, it can cover your expenses if a confirmed sit falls through at the last minute.
The “Other Side” of House Sitting: From a Homeowner’s Perspective
We use the same site to find house sitters to take care of our home while we’re traveling. We’ve been extremely fortunate to have the same house sitter for the past two years. Our sitter is a “digital nomad”, and has lived this lifestyle for about eight years now. Everything she owns is in her car, and she works from home — just not her own home. She has spent as much time in our house in the last two years as we have, and I hate to say it, but I think she takes even better care of it — and our cats — than we do.
We’ve been house-sitting for a couple of years now, and it’s been a great experience. We love the ability to settle in and see things more from a local perspective. And the money we’ve saved has helped extend our travels.
During our few weeks at home re-supplying for our world travels, Diana saw a Facebook post from a couple who had just entered the US from Canada. When the border immigration people asked where they were headed, they said “Mexico”, to which the border agent — who likely has never spent any time in Mexico but instead relies on State Department information — replied, “I wouldn’t go there right now. It’s not safe.” Which of course got them wondering. So they decided to ask around, with the usual mixed results…most people — correctly, in my opinion — said “You can’t paint an entire country with a brush based on one area”, or something along those lines. As I’ve always said, lots of people are shot in south Chicago every weekend, but yet you never see a State Department notice that says “Avoid the Entire United States” because of it.
Diana reached out and offered a little advice on border crossings and invited the couple to stop by on their way south, since they mentioned they were planning to enter Mexico via Texas anyway. Within four or five days, Danny (from Australia, thus “Ozzie”) and Debbie (from Canada, thus…well, duh) pulled into our drive on their Harley Davidson. They had crossed the US from north to south very quickly, as there wasn’t much they hadn’t seen before and their real intent was to get out of the States and have some new experiences in another country.
Danny has spent most of his life traveling, mostly either with a backpack or on a sailboat. The only new part for him was having to import a vehicle through these countries. We quickly found that we shared a common outlook on traveling. We both prefer to avoid cities, opting to spend more time with the locals in the more rural areas in order to gain appreciation for the culture. And we all love experiencing new foods, especially local street food.
We spent a bit of time poring over a map of Mexico and Central America with highlighters, marking off places to go as well as places to avoid, sharing experiences about surf beaches, caves, tunnels, wildlife, food, and all types of water from seas to rivers, lakes and pools. We helped them with their Mexico immigration forms and bike insurance, walked them through the Temporary Vehicle Import process, and made sure they had all their paperwork in order for the border crossing. We talked about the wonderful (not!) world of topes in Mexico, local driving customs, and introduced them to breakfast tacos. Our goal was to make the process of entering Mexico as smooth as possible, while at the same time picking their brains for suggestions on where to go in Australia when we finally get there.
Sharing travel stories with Deb and Danny.
After a couple of days sharing stories, routes, and plans (okay, we shared our plans…Danny and Deb prefer to totally wing it. Very impressive), Ozzie and Canada loaded up and headed south. We’ll keep in touch via Facebook, etc. and hopefully cross paths again somewhere down the road.
Ozzie and Canada ready to head south this morning.
The more we travel, and the more countries we travel through, the more we try to learn, both about the culture and the languages. We feel lucky that we grew up in an English-speaking country, since our native language tends to be a second or third language in most other countries. This helps considerably, but doesn’t always save us.
We often get the question from people who approach us about “how do you deal with all of the different languages?” These days, there are definitely shortcuts. The obvious “easy way out” is to just say “We only speak English”, and force the other person to switch to whatever level of English they may know (our local guide on a Douro River tour the other day uttered a line to this effect. He said “Bad English is what keeps Europe together”.) Sometimes this works, and sometimes it doesn’t, either because the person actually doesn’t know any English, or because (and rightly so), you’re in their country, dammit, speak their language! Which is always the best approach as far as I’m concerned.
We try to learn the very basics in each country: “Hello”, “Good afternoon” (or evening), “Thank you”, “Where is…”, “toilet”, etc. By the way, of all the words, across all the countries, “toilet” has been the most universal. “Bathroom” or “restroom” is not a term used in most countries; “toilet” either is used, or translates well, or simply has been adopted to address the tourists. In fact, “WC” is also used universally on signage to indicate toilets, even though if you asked for the “water closet”, they often wouldn’t understand.
Recently, going from Morocco, to Spain, to Portugal, in a matter of a week or so, we had the chance to switch between languages quickly. I found myself spitting out words in the wrong language often, but the longer we’re in Portugal, the easier it gets. While many Spanish words sound somewhat similar in Portuguese, the spelling can be completely different. For example “playa” (beach) in Spanish is “praia” in Portugese. Likewise, “buenos dias” (commonly spoken as “buen dia”) becomes “bom dia”. Other words are completely different; “gracias” (which comes out of my mouth faster than any other language), is “obrigado” in Portugal.
Just a few minutes ago, as I was typing this post, there was a knock at the door. I answered it, and there stood two ladies from the quinta’s cleaning crew (fyi, “quinta” means estate; we are staying on a vineyard at the moment in northern Portugal). One of the ladies quickly asked something in Portuguese, to which I responded, “Sorry, I only speak English.”
So the other lady asked in French if we needed the room cleaned (I understand enough French to understand this).
“Non. C’est bon”, I replied.
“Merci”, she said.
“Gracias”, I told her. As I said, I may know “thank you” in several languages, but “gracias” always comes out first.
Which leads me to another “shortcut”.
Several years ago, our daughter Kayla would use the Spanish word “vámonos” (“let’s go”) when telling her young kids to get in the car to go somewhere. At some point, “vámonos” sounded like “Bubba Knows”, and the kids started saying “Bubba Knows” instead.
When I worked with a lot of Japanese nationals, they taught me similar interpretations of some Japanese words, like “see my sand” as a way of learning “sumimasen” (“excuse me”) or “matinee” to remember “mata ne” (“see you later”). Similarly, saying the word for “sky” in Japanese (“ten kyu”) is an easy way for a Japanese speaker to remember “thank you” in English.
For Diana, “obrigado” here in Portugal sounded like “avocado”, and if you say it fast enough, nobody notices the difference.
And then there’s Google Translate. We used it a lot in Vietnam to have complete conversations at the dinner table with locals who knew as much English as we knew Vietnamese, which is to say, zero. I also used it here in Portugal at one point to have a conversation with a woman who spoke fluent Portuguese and French, but no English. It worked very well. Until she told me she also spoke Spanish. Problem solved, put the phone away.
We’ve also used the camera function on Google Translate to read menus and historical signs on buildings and in museums. In most cases, it works very well, with a few exceptions. For example, in Malaga, Spain, Google Translate offered up that one of the desserts on a tapas menu came with a “side of lawyers”.
Here in Portugal, we ate at a small café located above the Mercado de Livramento, a large indoor produce, meat, and seafood market in Setubal. The waitress brought us menus, apologized that they were only in Portuguese, and offered to translate the items to English. Feeling a bit cocky, I told her that wouldn’t be necessary, and I whipped out my phone and opened Google Translate. Which promptly displayed these tasty items:
This is when the photo menu comes in handy.
At which point I swallowed my tiny pride and asked her to tell us what was on the menu. Which she did. And, after reading the menu to us in English, and observing that we were Americans, she took the next logical step in dealing with Americans: she told us that the fish plate was the quickest thing on the menu to prepare, and that we should order that (a lifetime of dealing with typical American tourists that don’t understand the pace of meals in Europe).
Diana just pointed to the fish plate on the menu, and said “Two, please. Avocado.”
Often we get asked “Where are you from?” Sometimes we just answer “Texas”, as if Texas is a country. To Americans, and especially Texans, it sort of is. It’s bigger than many countries. Texas even used a slogan for a while that called it “A whole other country.”
Cover of the 2013 official Texas Travel Guide. Yep, “It’s Like a Whole Other Country”.
Texas is well known around the world, mostly for cowboys and, still today, J. R. Ewing and the television show Dallas.
But occasionally people laugh when we say we’re “from Texas” as if it’s ridiculous to expect people to know Texas is part of the United States, or as if we are disrespecting our country. After experiencing this multiple times we switched to answering that we are from “America…Texas”, because, in the end we are still proud Texans.
It is humbling to meet people who aren’t sure where Texas is. It’s not that they are any less educated than us; it’s just not important in their world. I’m willing to bet that most people in the US couldn’t quickly point to Bulgaria on a map or name the countries it borders. It happened in Africa when, after answering that I was from Texas, the gentleman responded, “That’s in Canada, right?”
In hindsight, I think he confused “Texas” with “Toronto”, thinking that I was telling him the city I was from.
It happened again this morning as I caught a ride from the Sofia airport back to Idilevo to pick up the bike. The driver knew Texas was part of America, and knew that it was generally in the middle of the US, but that’s about it. Which is about as good as most Americans could do to describe Bulgaria in relation to Europe.
It’s a nice reminder of why we travel. I love meeting people that share an interest in the world, and enjoy learning about others as much as I do.
If you Google “Best Motorcycle Roads in the world”, you’ll get a number of pages featuring a lot of different opinions on the subject. Depending on whose list it is, it may focus on highway-only riding on a touring bike, or slant more towards the offroad enthusiast. Everyone has their own personal criteria that determines what is the “best” motorcycle road for them. For some, it is smooth pavement and fast twisting curves. For others it may be steep mountain climbs with sharp switchbacks. For many, regardless of the elevation change or surface, a stunning scenic view is as important as the road.
For us, it’s often necessary to add that it must be in, or lead to, a place that is quiet, peaceful, and uncrowded. This criteria can be difficult, as many of the “Top 10 Motorcycle Roads” lists are mostly limited to places that are so popular that it’s almost impossible to not ride in traffic or be stuck in a crowd at the scenic vistas.
Last July, as I was riding the Transalpina Road in Romania, I began to think about these rides and all of the places we’ve seen across the last eight years of riding around the world. And again the following morning, as I rode the Transfagarasan Road, I kept thinking about the various internet articles I had read that called it one of “The Best” motorcycle roads in the world, and what criteria made it qualify.
We have certainly not covered even a decent percentage of roads in the world, but we have ridden through 63 countries now, and we’ve come to have some favorite roads. So here are our “Top 15 Favorite Motorcycle Roads In The World So Far” and a bit about the good and bad of each, in our opinion, of course.
15. Stelvio Pass, Italy Stelvio Pass is a motorcyclist favorite; for us not so much, because while the climb and the view of the road from the top is pretty awesome, the switchbacks are very tight and you have to compete with tour buses and RVs, which can make it physically and mentally exhausting. The top is a tourist mecca; in other words it is crowded and anything but peaceful. Many riders and locals will tell you that Stelvio is the tourist trap…there are many other passes that are less crowded, just as scenic, and more fun.
Much of the Alpine roads in Austria, Switzerland, and northern Italy just can’t be missed. I could spend a couple of months just riding this area (in July and August perhaps, due to the elevations and snow other times of year). Spend time talking to the locals, and you’ll inevitably hear “There are better passes than Stelvio”. We agree.
14. Old McKenzie Highway, Oregon
Officially Highway 242, the portion of this road from the McKenzie River up to the Dee Wright Observatory is one of those roads that can feel like you’re in another world. It’s fairly narrow, lush with trees and dense foliage, and has very little traffic. The climb up to the observatory has plenty of tight twists and turns. It’s not a fast road, so you’re in it more for the scenery and technicality. The observatory at the top was built in 1935 by the Civilian Conservation Corps out of black lava, and sits in a 65 square mile field of black lava at an elevation of 5,187 feet. As you approach the top from the west and head down toward Sisters, Oregon, the scenery is vastly different than on the western side.
This ride would be much higher up our list, but it’s fairly short; the western climb from the McKenzie River to the Observatory is about 23 miles, and it’s another 15 miles to Sisters.
13. Road 7A, Romania
From Brezoi on the east end to Obarsia Lotrilui on the west.
The 7A road, west from E81 to the “T” intersection at the Transalpina (67C) marked by the stickered-up sign (above), is a beautiful road of about 65km or 40 miles, and as far as I’m concerned is comparable to a 40 mile long version of the Tail of the Dragon in the US (which is 318 curves in 11 miles). Similar to the Dragon, 7A is flowing curves in mostly forest as it passes by Lake Vidra. It doesn’t have a place to stop and take a photo looking down into a valley of spaghetti-shaped roads, but it is some of the nicest riding I experienced in Romania.
12. Carretera Austral, Chile
This one is for the scenery, as there isn’t a lot of elevation change or twisties. Much of the road is still dirt, though portions are paved. It reminded me of a Southern Hemisphere version of Alaska. The only downside is that in the summer (the only time the road is fully clear and passable), portions of it can be swarmed with tourists, backpackers, and campers. Still, it’s worth the ride if you’re in Chile or headed to Ushuaia and have the time. If you are heading further south from here, there is a great dirt road (X-83) just north of Cochrane that will take you across the border from Chile to Argentina and onto Ruta 40. It’s about 100 miles across, and there is a border control checkpoint on the dirt road and the two border guards there were extremely friendly and welcoming when I crossed (they also probably hadn’t seen anyone for hours or days).
11. Transfagarasan and Transalpina, Romania
I combined these two because you can make a loop out of them.
The Transfagarasan (DN7C) is a nice, scenic road, and the pass on the north side of the tunnel at the top is another photo-worthy stop, similar to the Stelvio Pass. However, while the Transfagarasan can be busy with both cars and bikes in the summer, the curves and switchbacks aren’t as tight and flow better than the Stelvio, which means you won’t find yourself having to stop in an awkward spot to wait for a tourbus to do a three-point turn to get around a switchback, and there’s less chance (though still somewhat likely) of someone running all the way into your lane around the curves. The crowd at the top can be as bad or worse than Stelvio, and there are two pay-to-park lots at the summit (though there is also room to park bikes without having to enter these lots).
The Transalpina is less famous, but what it might lack in Instagramability, it makes up for with a “Mulholland Drive Rock Store” vibe, where there is a restaurant and lots of food and souvenir vendors set up, making for a place to stop and check out the other bikes (and cars) that have come for the curves.
If you are in or near Romania, these are definitely a “must-ride”. I highly recommend spending a night or two at the cabins at Camping Arges; it’s the perfect staging point for a couple of days riding the Transalpina and Transfagarasan, and the owners are great people and riders as well.
10. Mae Hong Son Loop, Thailand
This is a long (600km) loop starting and ending in Chiang Mai. Portions of it are better than others, of course, but overall the scenery, the twisty roads, and the stops along the way make this a loop worth doing. Many (if not most) tourists are backpackers doing it on rented 150cc scooters, but you will run across locals on Harleys and big BMWs also. We rented a Honda 500 since we were 2-up, but the 500 is unnecessarily large for this part of the world.
Referred to by some as “the most dangerous road in Morocco” (a catchy phrase used a lot by people who don’t normally venture far from their living room or office). A combination of dirt and paved road, there was some construction when we were there which made for some muddy spots, but overall it’s a fairly easy climb and very much worth it for the cliff-hanging distant views as you climb up.
A portion of US Highway 212 between Red Lodge and the north entrance to Yellowstone National Park, Charles Kuralt once called this “the most beautiful road in America”. Those same people mentioned above in #9 have sometimes called this “The most dangerous road in America”, which is kind of why Diana wanted to go there. Like anywhere else, it’s a road. It’s only as dangerous as your approach to it. We met a 90-something year old couple at the top of Beartooth Pass in their Ford F350 pickup that didn’t seem to have any problem driving it. Great climbs and beautiful vistas.
No “Most scenic roads” list would be complete without PCH. The tourist traffic can be frustrating (the long lines of RVs especially), and finding a place to camp anywhere around Big Sur can also be difficult (best to plan six months in advance if possible), but the gentle curves, ocean views and great temperatures year-round make this one well worth it.
Colombia and Peru have a lot of beautiful dirt roads in the Andes mountains and it’s hard to pick just one or two. In Colombia I fell in love with Route 60 from Villa de Leyva to Puerto Boyaca. Of all of South America, this is still one of my favorite rides, mostly because of the remoteness and the scenery.
5. Stewart, BC and Hyder, Alaska
If you’re headed north to Alaska, or from Alaska south, a stop in Stewart or Hyder should be a requirement. Especially if you’re headed north, because you’ve probably already been in the Rockies. The mountains here are like that, but on steroids. Bigger, steeper, more dramatic.
R704 From Agoudal to Boumaine Dades, Morocco: this is the western half of a loop that runs up from Todra Gorge on Road N12 to Agoudal, then turns to dirt for several miles between Agoudal and Tilmi. The dirt portion is a bit rocky but is easily done 2-up on the Tenere and has great distant views. It’s a good reward for a day of riding to get to the Hotel La Gazelle du Dades just south of the Dades Gorge.
The Dalton Highway is one of those “bucket list” or “check the square” rides that many riders feel obligated to do at some point, and most riders that have done it have no desire to do it again. It’s a long gravel road up to the Arctic Sea, and just as long back. On a good four days, it’s dusty gravel and some 18-wheelers who literally own the road and don’t have patience for tourists. On one good day and three rainy, snowy days, like we had, it’s a muddy, slippery, sketchy 800 miles round trip. The only truly impressive scenery, in my opinion, is Atigun Pass and the first glimpses of the tundra to the north of the Pass.
AN-107 from Carhuaz up to the world’s highest vehiclular tunnel (15,535 feet or 4735 meters) at Punta Olimpica, and then AN-106 back down to Yungas. A mixture of dirt and pavement, a peak of around 16,000 feet elevation (over 4800 meters) if you take the “old road” up and over the Punta Olimpica tunnel, and absolutely stunning. I will be doing this ride again in the next year or so, I hope. Note: when I went over the tunnel in 2016, the old road had been intentionally blocked with large boulders on the north side. Bikes can squeeze through, but nothing wider will fit. A fully loaded GS with wide panniers might push the limit.
Lots of people talk about Trollstigen, and while it is truly amazing for the waterfalls and scenery, for us the more spectacular part of the road (63) is south of Geiranger, between Geiranger and Hwy 15. In any case, we are constantly asked what our “favorite place” is out of everywhere we’ve been. It’s nearly impossible to narrow it down to one place, because there are so many influences: natural beauty, local people, local foods, history, etc. So we always have to answer with those caveats. But without a doubt, the top place we’ve been so far in terms of jaw-dropping scenery is Norway.
You might say “Where is the Going to the Sun Road?” or “What about the Blue Ridge Parkway?” Those are without a doubt great rides, and definitely belong on someone’s list. They reside a bit further down our list. I’m sure they will move up when I get old and go back to riding a large street-only touring land yacht and can enjoy being in the long line of RVs and Harleys. For now, at 63 years old, that’s not my style.
And as popular as Route 66 is for the European crowd, I will not include it in this list, yet, as we simply haven’t been motivated enough to do it.
Also, the Bolivian “Death Road” didn’t make this list because at the end of the day it is way over-hyped. However, if you are already near LaPaz and want to check the box, there’s about a mile or so of it that is pretty scenic and where all those edge-of-the-cliff photos are taken. The rest is just a generic dirt road.
There’s still a lot of world we haven’t explored, so obviously our list isn’t complete. We’re still looking forward to the ‘stans, India, Nepal, Mongolia, China, South Vietnam, New Zealand, Australia, and more on upcoming travels, and when we get there, we’ll be sure to update this post.
It’s hard to believe it’s been more than a year since we returned from our second season in Europe. We had planned to continue east, through Turkey, Georgia, and beyond, but some bad news had us changing plans and delaying our travels for a bit.
In June of last year, we came home for a surprise 90th birthday party for Diana’s mom. In a funny twist, the surprise was on us: Diana’s parents had taken a trip of their own, and weren’t going to be home on her birthday!
While we were back in Texas, Diana scheduled some regular doctor visits, and that’s when we found out she had Stage Zero breast cancer. At that point we decided to put a hold on our travels while we scheduled surgery and treatment. I flew back to Bulgaria in July, rode the bike back through Romania, Hungary, and Austria to Germany, made arrangements to ship the bike home, and flew back to be with Diana.
Fast forward to today: Diana just celebrated her one year anniversary of being cancer free. She’s doing great, and while we are still home and relaxing here (and hosting other travelers as they pass through), we haven’t stopped discussing our future travels. Even though I was feeling a bit “worn out” by years of travel across 66 countries, Diana didn’t get to go along with me on my first trip through South America and Africa, so even after all she’s been through in the last year — or perhaps because of it — she’s still itching to go. I’m getting there…a year home has helped rejuvenate my wanderlust, so perhaps we will hit the road again before long. There’s still a lot of world we haven’t seen.
Meanwhile, I realized that I had never posted our Morocco video to the blog. So, to clear that up…here it is:
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