What a contrast to a month previous… we found ourselves in Geneva, by the banks of the Rhone, soaking up the sun in our, by this point, dirty and dusty motorbike clothes. Wearing our best t-shirts (the ones with the least holes and stains in) we felt we fitted in reasonably with the well heeled…

Riding a new bike does not prepare you for appreciating the quirks and foibles of an old bike. This BMW R800 kept floating in between N and 1st gear, switching between the two as it saw fit, usually on roundabouts or when needing to get out of a situation fast! Other than that, the steering…

Riding along Ukraine’s few highways was great fun. Often there would be an old lady by the road, selling wild berries and homemade preserves and pickles. We pulled over to buy a jar of blueberries and a punnet of wild strawberries in honour of both our childhoods. Simon remembers Polish wild blueberries by the road,…

We rode until we found a fishing pond to camp beside, the long grass making for a soft bed that night. For such a secluded and quiet spot, there were quite a few cars doing a small tour of the pond, pulling up and having a beer by the water! A storm rolled in overnight…

Armenia’s been given a bad rep recently what with its association to the vapid Kardashian publicity machine, at least only part association, but we were so pleasantly taken in by the place that we forgot all links to the American reality TV “stars” quickly. We woke up to greenery next to a brook bursting with…

After a pleasant stay in Isfahan, it was time to head towards the Armenian border to make our way to Batumi in Georgia where we were due to catch a ferry for Ukraine. The ferry crosses every week along the Black Sea and gives a unusual view of Crimea and the Black Sea coast.  We…

If you ever find yourself planning to go to Iran or wondering about how to do anything over there, then there is an invaluable resource available on Facebook – a group called “See you in Iran”. On there we found endless tips on where to stay, what to do and even how to dress modestly…

We’d just managed to limp across the Iranian border after a thirsty and tiring ride across the Pakistani Baloch desert. It was late afternoon and we deposited ourselves, dusty and wary at the mercy of the immigration officials who took our passports and disappeared into a room. No less than three soldiers stood around us…

Our sojourn in Quetta was uneventful and offered us a much needed rest. Quetta, for all its press, boasts a perfect climate and as we rode in the back of an armoured police van to the offices of tribal affairs, we were offered a glimpse of Quettan city living. The police scooter followed us with…

It was a boiling hot morning already when we left Islamabad. The road following the Great Trunk road was clear thanks to it being early but the same craziness awaited us outside Lahore. It seemed to take us an inordinate amount of time to pass the traffic and constant people of Lahore but once we passed,…