Motorcycle tours were always the realization of the self for me, and the bike was the physical expression of being a free man. It’s more than 45 years now that the bike is “A way of life” for me and not only a “Tool for transportation”. That is why most of the time I had at least 2 to 5 motorcycles at the same time. Some are for the road, and the others are for off-road. That is why I had more than 100 different bikes in my life. This is not about money, but about the will to fulfill my sense of destiny. My attitude was always like that: If I have for example $50k for a car and a bike, then I will buy 2 or 3 bikes for $49k and a car for $1k. I think I’ve made my point.

If I look back at my 60 years of life and try to identify the picks of happiness that I had, then I could say that the few occasions were:

A) The births of my 2 kids.
B) When I was away somewhere on the motorcycle, while the camping equipment is on.

The first time in my life, when I understood that I have this “Wandering Instinct” in me, was at the age of sweet 16, when I took my 50cc Honda CD and traveled alone for weeks. Since then and until now, I crossed like half of the world and still got another half to complete. Every time when I plan a tour, I need to take in consideration the character of the tour, the kind of the roads and the off-roads, and if I will sleep in the tent or hotels / friends / family. That is how I choose the right bike and the right equipment for that tour.

For example:

• France and central Europe: Suzuki GS 1000
• Cyprus: Honda: CB 750
• Rhodes Island: Kawasaki KX 250
• Sinai Peninsula and Egypt: Yamaha XT 600
• Greece and turkey #1: Kawasaki VN 1500 (With my partner Arik Kehat on Yamaha GTS 1000)
• Scandinavia: Yamaha XJ 900 (With my partner Arik Kehat on Yamaha GTS 1000)
• Greece and turkey #2: BMW R 1100 GS
• USA Tour #1: Kawasaki GTR 1000
• USA and Central America Tour:1 #2: Honda GL 1200
• USA Tour #3: Honda CBR 1000
• Morocco: BMW R 1200 GS
• Alps and Central Europe: BMW R 100 GS PD
• USA Tour #4: Honda GL 1500
• USA Tour #5: Kawasaki ZN 1200
• Greece and Italy: BMW R 1150 GS ADV. (With my partner Arik Kehat on BMW K 1200 LT)
• India (North): Royal Enfield 350
• USA Tour #6: BMW K 1200 LT
• And some more…..

However, the tour that had the most influence on me in the meaning of “A tour to the risky un-known” was that one to Egypt. That was actually dangerous those days because it was 1 year after the terror attack on the bus in Luxor at 1997, where 62 tourists died. The fear and the concerned for tourist’s life was in the air. At this tour, I went to look for MY PERSONAL BORDERS. I surely found them.

So, those days I had 5 bikes. I chose the Yamaha XT 600 for this tour due to the desert roads I knew I would encounter. Lots of them. On top of that, you don’t take an expensive bike to a third world country. I arranged 2 bags for 2 gallons extra gas in both sides of the tank. I didn’t know then that they will save me twice in the western desert of Egypt. I took 2 spare tires as well, tools, a jerrycan for water, a tent, sleeping bag and nunchaku (The only legal weapon you can cross borders with).

Well. One day of the tour I stopped to check the bike and the equipment on it, and then I am on my way down south to Taba. I had a visa to Egypt for me, but I didn’t have the “Carnet-de-Passages en Douanees”(CPD) document that identifies a traveler’s motor vehicle for the customs, if you want to drive a motor vehicle to Egypt and not only to Sinai. At the Egyptian border they requested $400 for a “Carnet”, In Sinai, you drive with a yellow registration number plate, and in Egypt you need a white number plate.

What ??? Do they expect me deposit $400 into the hands of a Douanees customs officer, and then hope to get it back on my way out? Am I crazy? No way. “I am going only to Sinai,” I said. So, I got a yellow Sinai plate and bye bye. I will manage somehow. I had a crazy idea that the Egyptian police / army might not know that information. I was wrong, as I have discovered later on.

The first stop in Sinai – Nueba. I tuned the switch in my mind “On” to “sand dunes and quiet-ness. I cooked my meal on the fire at the shore of the Red Sea. I love it so much. It’s like transferring in time to another era. A few days in dreamy Nueba, and I jump on XT (That’s the name I call him) and put the head light direction south to Dahab.

In daytime, it is so calm and quit. Sun, diving, The Blue Hole (seen well from the surface of the water with a diving mask), the white sand, the blue sky. Near the Blue Hole on the beach, there are many graves of divers that were diving those 70m down to the Blue Hole, but didn’t make it out of many reasons, Most of them were accidents. Anyway, why go diving that deep when there is no hospital with Autoclave in case of diving accidents?
Night time, what a noise! All the coffee bars and restaurants are located one after the other and every one of them with different music in full volume, smell of the Hookah, weed and who knows what else. Everything here in Dahab is too commercial for me. I want to go back to the silent. Good morning Sinai and I am on XT, face south to Sharm-al-Shikh, The southern point of Sinai.



At the entrance to “Sharm”, I see a “Rent a Motorcycle” business. Here I may find someone to talk to about sneaking into Egypt without the “Carne”. Yasser, the owner of the business is a “Total Psychological Disturbed”, since after he invited me to his home for launch, He said, “Let’s see the Sunset from the top of the mountain”. I left all my loaded gear off the bike at his home, and I have noticed that he is taking his XT, driving only with his sandals, t-shirt and shorts, flying like a kite on the off-road trails, while I am trying to reach him. What a waste of a talented off-road driver.

“Yasser, I need to enter Egypt and I don’t have the Carnet”, I said to him. He is smiling, picks up his mobile and calling his friend, an angler who owns a small boat, and will sail tomorrow morning to Hurghada, the closest distance between Sharm in south Sinai and Egypt.

It’s early in the morning, I am at the small port of “Sharem”, talking to Salam the fisherman – Yasser’s friend. $40 goes to him, Borders Police, passport stamped and his 3 guys are lifting by hands the XT with all the gear up to the boat.

Diesel engine’s smoke, high sea and I have learned all there is to know about vomiting. The hardest 5 hours of my life. However, every bad thing contains something good. Monica. A Chinese student girl, who studies in Germany is on the boat with me, brings me tea and water all the time, so I will not get dry out.

Monica, an angel in a woman’s body, became to be part of the tour down to Aswan dam. Patience. Nothing is simple in Egypt. You make plans and God is laughing. By the way, 6 month later, me and Arik Kehat (My partner to some of the tours) visited Monica in Germany on the way back from Nordcap in Norway.

So, at this time we are still at the “Port of Hurghada”. I look at the exit gate, police and army are there. I do have a visa for myself but not the “Carnet” for the bike. Someone with yellow teeth approaching us and offers a B & B hotel, $4 per a night for both of us. “Ok” I said to him. “We will come with you to the hotel, only if you lead me out of this port not trough the main gate”. He smiled and exposed his yellow teeth and says: “Follow me”. Monica in his car and I follow. He leads me to the end side of the port, where the fence was damaged.

I am in Egypt. All I can do now is pray to the “God of the Motorcyclists”, hoping that the police and the army of Egypt are Miss-knowledge, concerning the info about Egypt / Sinai rules of the registration numbers: Yellow for Sinai, white for Egypt as you remember.

Morning. Monica and I are looking at her “Tourist Guide Book” for a hotel in Luxor to meet there, since the bike is loaded and I got no extra helmet for her. She took the bus to Luxor and I started driving the road down south. As I leave the city, there is an Army Barrier stopping me for documents.

“Nationality?” Asked me the officer, “Australian” I said (Because an Israeli in Egypt can be risky). “Passport” he said, “Ohh, troubles” I think to myself. I give him the Passport and he see that it is an Israeli one. “Why did you say Australian”? He gets angry. I see his neck’s vein starts swelling, and I realize that if I don’t come up right now with a creative idea, I am in a big trouble. So, I took off the helmet and explained him that “In the helmet it’s difficult to talk so Israelian / Australian sounds the same. I never said Australia” talking while I shake my jaw from side to side. Somehow he forgave me, thanks to the God of the motorcyclists. The accelerator handle is open and XT is barking. Goodbye Hurghada.

A pick up with a driver, an officer and 4 soldiers in the back are stopping me, telling me they have to companion me. What ??? I don’t want any escort or company, I am traveling alone and don’t need an organized tour, so I asked the officer “Are you afraid from me”? “No”, he said, “We are guarding you, since last year there was a terror attack against a tourist’s bus in Luxor and many died”. “Ohh ok, I know that story. Listen, attacking a bus creates news, I am only one so no news”, I am trying to convince him to leave me alone. Nothing helps. I couldn’t get reed of them. “Follow us to Luxor”. I did. “Everything is for the good” I try to make sense with myself.




So, every 50-70 miles another team replaces them. After 200 miles of mostly off-roads, we arrived to Luxor. they say “Goodbye and good luck”. “Thank you good soldiers and an officer”.
Luxor, hotel, Monica. The smile is back to my face. $1.5 for B&B. I do not open the tent for that price. XT is in the lobby for the night, otherwise I don’t take the room. That was my rule in Egypt and it worked. My muscles are trapped and I need a massage. Thank you Monica.
Morning. I cross the Nile on the ferry. A half dollar for me and for XT and we are at the “Valley of Kings”. Its appearance is nothing compared to the glorious past of Egypt. The temples and the graves remained there 5,000 years for the next generations to tell them forever about the impressive history that took place there in the distant past.
At the entry of the “Valley of the kings”, there 2 huge beautiful statues. I stop to take a picture and here are 2 “Policemen” approaching me. “Passport” they say. I am looking at them and don’t feel comfortable. They wore police officers uniforms but no police car, no radio communication. I said “No, if you want my passport let’s go to the police station, only there I will give it to you”. Now they started to play the “Good / bad policeman”. They are asking, shouting, pushing, and nothing. I had a feeling they are not police officers as they wanted me to think. After like 20 minutes of their game, they gave up and I drove away. As I always say, “In those places if you give your passport away, it might be very expensive to get it back.
I drive along the amazing valley, and here is a brand new MZ motorcycle (Produced in East Germany) standing near a pottery factory. I stopped looking for the owner of the bike and it comes out that he is the owner of the factory too. Yusuf invited me for a coffee, He is telling and showing the newspaper with a picture of him with president Mubarak, who came to thank him personally for what he did. The story was that Yusuf was a police officer when the terror attack took place there in Luxor the year before, and he chased the terrorists to the mountains and killed 3 out of 7 that were participating the attack. A brave young man.
“Let’s go to my house for lunch,” he offers. “Sure”. He drives the MZ off-road as if the Devil was chasing him. His pet is a “King Cobra” snake. After the fancy meal, his wife prepared the hookah with Hashish (Shisha as he calls it). “No thanks” I said, remembering my decision at the age of 16 that “narcotics and alcohol can never be good friends”. Looks like he never heard of the word “Danger” and he is completely mixed up in the head. On the other hand, he and his wife are wonderful hosts. Good-bye nice people.
I drive on to the Hatshepsut Temple. After an interesting experience while meditating there, I leave the temple and look around me. On the hill, I see a small “Muddy Houses Village”. I climb the narrow trail, there are like 20 houses and I choose the last one to stop there in the front yard. An old man comes out smiling. I use my Arabic to speak to him, and asking to drink coffee. In the Arabic mentality, if a guest comes and asks for a coffee, that means he respects the house and the people in it. He invited me in and I see a cross and a picture of Jesus above the door. “Coptic Christians” I think to myself. There are like 10% of the population between all the other Muslims. This old man that I thought like 75 is only 45 years old. Good Lord, what the Sun does to them! “Where are you from”? He wants to know. “Australia” I say while smiling. “So how did you get your Arabic?” he suspects. “I just came after 6 month with the Bedouins in Sinai”. I tried to convince him, He buys the story. A white lie. Sorry. It is a survival issue.
It’s 2.30 PM and want to go, while out of the back room comes Badra, their daughter. 21 years in age, good English, a student in Luxor University. We are talking and talking, when all of a sudden I feel that the Sun if falling. I looked at my watch, 7.30 PM. Wow, time flies. Last ferry that is crossing the Nile to Luxor is at 8 PM. I have to run. Badra is asking me to stay as a guest. “I have nothing here with me,” I explain. Tears of an insult to their hospitality are dropping. I promise to come back after I will be back from Asuan. OK, agreed.
Thoughts of sin are crossing my mind. I told her family that I am from Australia and in the middle of a tour. She will probably expect me to take her out of the village to the wide world. Australia sound like a good place to be, and I am in a deep trouble with my conscience. Does surviving justify white lies? Well, yes and no. depends on the situation I assume. I do console myself that in this case it does.
The morning after, Monica takes the bus to Asuan, so we’ll meet there. As I am leaving Aswan, I get again a military escort in front of me. 160 miles (like 250 KM) of funny roads to Aswan.
Aswan dam, the biggest ecological disaster for the Nile’s fertile crescent. This wrong adventure changed the life of the people, and the animals of the land and the sea. The first goal of this tour been accomplished.

Monica and I are back to the city. She wants to climb back north on a Nile’s Felucca (A sailboat) up to Luxor. 3 days of sailing and nights camps at the stations on the way.
Hugs and kisses, “Will we ever meet again”? I think to myself. What I didn’t know at the time was that we definitely will. That was on the way back from the Scandinavian tour 6 month later in Germany. So, thank you for 3 wonderful days “Little China Girl”. Only when we travel, we may face those wonderful meetings with people. Ahhh……
Back to Luxor. I have a promise to keep. Badra. I buy a few presents for Badra’s wonderful family, and heading back to the Valley of Kings, climbing again the trail to their muddy house on the hill, which is near the Hatshepsut Temple. A long table full of food and people dressed nicely are having my reception. I was sure that someone has a birthday or an “Engagement Party”. “What is this happiness for”? I ask. That is for me. I am the king of the naivest as that was for my “engagement” with Badra.
They are sitting me down beside her older sister and her brother-in-law. Drams and music. Her brother-in-law advises me to put some money on the tray when she brings the coffee. “No problem” I said to him, “But why”? “Don’t you know our Traditional custom asking for the girl’s hand? If she takes the money, it’s a Yes and she will marry you. “Ohh” I am in trouble all right. Trapped all the way”. What do I do not to hurt her? “I need an earthquake to swallow me right now”. A huge big fat dilemma.
It’s 7.30 PM and I need to go. Last ferry is at 8 PM. Badra is crying. So we decided on a compromise. She has another year to finish her B.A and I need to finish my tour. So the plan was that I will call her sister’s house (who is living in Luxor) every Friday at 5 PM local time, and within a year we will meet again here. I felt suffocation. I know that it is not going to happened. Travels contains good and bad experiences. I never called.
“Badra, I hope you are happily married today,” I pray to the “God of the bikers”.

My nose is pointing north through the western desert. I feel like a drunk, but not out of Alcohol or similar. An army barrier, “What are they doing in the middle of the desert”? For God’s sake. “Nationality” says the officer. This one has an extremely bad face. “Israel” I say. I do not take a risk this time. Maybe the God of the ‘bikers’ is sleeping now.
“Israel”? I see that his face gets red. “Well, Israel / Egypt peace process is not too successful” I think to myself. The soldiers are surrounding me, and start cursing and kicking. The officer has my passport. “Here is a situation,” I say to myself. I get off the bike and approaching him. “I want my passport back,” I shout at him. “You can’t control your solders”. He sees the developing problem and gives it back, while shouting at his solders to keep away. I jump on the bike and accelerate away, thinking that they could have me killed and bury me in the sand. No one could ever find me even if they searched for a 1000 years. “I was looking for that, wasn’t I”?
Riding in the Desert off-road. Warm wind. From time to time trucks pass by, some asphalt here and there, and in every mile there is the road sign “Do not overtake”. Why ??? I only see a car or a truck once in an hour or so. Those sighs are funny. Who will overtake whom?
The hunger is annoying me. I drive through a forgotten village somewhere in the Western Desert. I drive on the main road, and see a bike with only one person on it. Usually there are at least 5. One is In the front on the gas tank, which is the youngest son, than the driver, the middle son, the mother and the bigger son is closing the list in the back. That one I see now is alone. Poor man, doesn’t he have a family? Friends? Someone to ride with?
Here is a restaurant. I stop. People are looking at me like at an alien. Falafel, eggplant salad, vegetables, broad bean, bottle of water, tea and baklawa, all comes to $0.75. I gave the waiter $2, he almost fainted. He was shaking and bowed so deep, that he almost hit the floor with his forward. Wonderful people.
The desert calls me. “Come”. I tighten and oil the drive chain, oil checkup, fill up the gas and accelerate. The bike is coughing. The gas is in a quality of goat’s urine. Hours on hours of driving on rocky roads. I am full of thoughts, Miss my kids. XT stopped. “What do you want?” I get off and shout at him. I keep away and look at him, trying to understand why he stopped.
“Why did you stop my friend”? I am looking at him like 10 minutes and do not get it. A group of eagles starts to do circles above. I am under pressure now. It’s the middle of nowhere. All of a sudden, I look at the gas tank faucet. “I am out of gas,” I say to myself. I forgot the initial movement when “No gas” position is taking place, and it’s to turn the faucet to the “Reserve position”. “God of the bikers”, I was so deep in my thoughts.
I look above at the circle of eagles and shout at them, “Not this time you’re ugly chickens”. The leader of the group gets angry, “He called us ugly chickens”, says the “Screaming eagle” and organize the group to dive on me. I am jumping on XT and draw 8 in the send. I am out of here.
Twice during this tour, I was out of the gas in the middle of “Nowhere”, and both times the extra gas tank bags on the side saved me from getting stuck.
Traveling sand dune covered the road. I get off and climb on it to see what is out there in the other side. I drive back to collect some speed and fly over the dune. Once, Alan Katz, my favorite bike globetrotter told me that in cases like that, “What you don’t see doesn’t exist”. This is the extract of “Off-road riding”.
The sun kisses the dunes. Time to open the tent and set up the fire. I check the environment for snakes or scorpions and arrange myself. The zippers of the tent must be close in all times. Soup, rice, tea, a smile and good night dreams. “The journey is the purpose of everything”. Here you need to bring yourself with all of your navigations skills, improvision ability, quick decisions making, being connected to the nature. The pleasure of the simple things that life has to offer. “The smallest amount of money buys the biggest pleasures,” I think to myself.
This is my 3rd week in Egypt, and soon I will arrive to Cairo. I want to see the “Pyramids” in Giza and the “Sphinx”, as well as the “The Egyptian Museum”.
Good morning “Western Desert”. I decide to drive a longer way today, like 400 miles (650 km) to El-Minya, direction Cairo. El-Minya is the village where the terrorists of the “Luxor tourist’s bus attack” came from. Camping fire, hot herbal tea and I am on my way. What I didn’t know at the time, was that this is going to be THE day of the tour. After all, just to remind you, I went there to look for my personal borders. Well, I did find them that day.
The day was extremely hot. I drank like crazy and the road was so negative to me. Damned desert. Will it ever end? I am alone on those roads, so have to be careful. I started to drive at 8.30 AM and it’s noon now. 200 miles are behind me, most of it was off-road. It’s squeezing me.
It’s 7PM. Darkness of the dessert is lightened by the stars. Diamonds dots. A military checkpoint is stopping me. “Passport”. They knew I have to come since the last barrier staff told them and they were expecting me. Those solders were really taking great care and felt responsible for the tourists. I don’t remember when I was so extremely tired, beside in my army service. I wanted to cross the Nile on the bridge to El-Minya to look for a hotel after this crazy day, but they didn’t let me. “Why”? I ask the officer. “This village is too dangerous for tourists,” he explains. “It makes sense” I think to myself. “You have to drive another 100 miles to Beni Suef” He says.
“What ??? It’s dark and I am tired to the bones, driving for 11 hours and doing 350 miles, the headlight of the bike is not good for desert night drive on unpaved roads. Let me sleep here in my tent and in the morning I will continue” I was trying to talk to the officer’s heart.
“Not possible” he answers. I felt broken. I went a side for a while in the darkness, away from the fire and the solders. Sitting on the sand, asking myself “What the hell am I doing here”? That was my breaking point. I started to cry like a baby. I was so low and desperate just thinking about doing another 100 miles on dark desert roads alone, no communication, and no traffic. Life can be sucks too. “I just found the border in me I was looking for “, I thought to myself.
After about 20 minutes, a solder approaching me and ask if he can do something to help me. “Please boil water on the fire,” I ask him. I pour the hot water into the “Thai soup bowl”, bringing back my lost soul. I felt like “Popeye the Sailor” after a can of spinach. I got up and thanked everyone. The officer said, “At the next barrier in Beni Suef, They are waiting for you and will lead you to a hotel”.
“Thanks”.
I left those nice solders at 8.30 PM, driving very carefully due to that place, which was like a “Lonely planet section on earth”. Close to midnight, I have arrived to “Beni Suef” and to the warm welcome of the next barrier. They were leading me to the city, a fancy hotel, $4 for B & B. Yes, after a day like that I deserve a good one.
A problem. There are 40 stairs from the parking to the Lobby level, and you know I don’t leave my bike at the street. I approach the reception and tell them that I am willing to take a room, but only if they let me bring the bike to the lobby hall. The guy is smiling and say, “If you can drive it upstairs, you are welcome”.
I bring my gear load to the room, jump on XT and drive away like 100 yards in front of the stairs. I make some noise with the engine, feeling like Evil Knievel for a moment. People are gathering both sides and create an open trail for me. XT climbs the stairs like nothing, they make noise clapping their hands. Free circus, piece of a cake.
I amusing myself with the thought about how I should work back home like 3 month per a year, and come live here with Badra for the rest of it. Oooffff…
A warm wind hitting my face. Cairo is at the horizon. I enter the city. Wow, what is that noise and very active horns after like a month mostly in deserts areas? The roadways feels like Russian roulette. What an extreme change. I feel mental pressure in my head. “This is mad-ness,” I am thinking. I hurried to Giza for the pyramids and the sphinx.
I visit the site and take some pictures. What a huge and very impressive size of this “Pharaoh Khafre Pyramid”. 150 M high (480 feet). The only survivor of the “7 Wonders of the ancient world”. I do it fast and speed away, back to the silence of the desert, riding north towards Alexandria. I intend to drive up north to the Mediterranean Sea, and then east to Rafah, the border gate with Israel.
Just a moment. Things are not as simple as I thought. I know I entered Egypt with on a fishing boat, without the “Carne de Passage”. My registration plate is good only for Sinai, so how do I come from the Egyptian side, when I am supposed to be in Sinai? Well, I have nothing much to do but to trust the “God of the motorcyclists”. I am driving through out of Alexandria, Port Said, El-Arish then Rafah to the border with Israel.
It is 5 PM and here is the Border station. A small buffet made of metal sheets, taxis, gate and a “Customs clerk” is asking for my passport, while at the same time he walks around the bike to see the registration number plat. I smell troubles. “How did you get in here”? He screams at me. I see his Carotid pumps and his face are getting red. “Where is your Carne de passage”? He shouts at me. We both know that I can’t have the yellow number of Sinai and the Carne from Egypt at the same time.
I recognize the developing problem and say to him.
– “Carne de passage? What is it? No body talked to me about that”.
– “Didn’t they tell you in Taba to pay that? You are paying now or I arrest you”.
– “Really? I didn’t pay on my way in and you expect me to pay on my way out”?
“I want to talk to the officer in charge”. I shouted at him back.
“Hmmm…” He showed some softness I think, and took me to the commander of the border station. He spoke Arabic to him, which I understand and speak fluently myself, but they didn’t know that. The customs officer talks bad about me and riled him up with his loud voice. The commander gets crazy too. I started to talk English with him, so he asked the custom’s man to leave and continue with his work out there.
We are now at his office alone. A calm conversation is going on, he told me he was working at the Embassy of Egypt in Holland, and I told him I was working at the Consulate of Israel in Marseille, France. Slowly but surely, we were getting friendly. Then he offers the only solution for that complicated situation. “You came in from Taba, you will exit out from Taba”.
“What ??? This is a circle of 1000 km (650 miles). West to Suez canal, and then east to Taba, and then north to Ashkelon which is 20 Km from here? Wow. I asked for that, didn’t I?
He calls the custom’s officer, pressuring him to give up the “Carne” issue, and to let me exit trough Taba. The bad man said, “Or he pays the “Carne” or I arrest him. He can’t cross the border with a yellow plate from Sinai instead of the white one of Egypt”. The head officer talked him again to give up, since I demanded to see the Israeli officer representative from the other side, and that could have lead to a diplomatic incident.
I asked the bad man, “I understand now that the “Carne” is for a guarantee to make sure I don’t sell the bike in Egypt and drive it out of the country than, at the border, you refund the fee money, right” ?
“Yes” he said.
“So what’s the point of giving you the money now, so you can refund it back right away? The bike is here so I can’t sell it in Egypt”.
It looked like he was going to shoot me with his gun. After a few minutes, I could see the change in his face. He understood that there is no use doing this action, what so ever. It was not easy, but it went through at the end of their argument. Thanks.
So I am out of the station to the freezing desert weather of April, open my tent after a warm tea from the metal kiosk.
5 AM, I woke up completely wet due to the strong rain. All my clothes are wet, I didn’t expect that. I collect everything and jump on XT.
5.30 AM. I swore to myself “Tonight I will sleep in my bed”. Just a small problem, I am 850 miles (1,350 KM) away from home. I want to break my USA record driving from New York to Miami. “Strange decision” I say to myself. However, “Enough is enough”. I am heading in the direction of the Suez canal. My cordora suite, the helmet and the boots are wet. I never froze like that before in my life. I shout in the helmet to the God of the motorcyclists for some sun. Only at 1 PM, my body’s temperature balanced and the clothes were dry.
The Suez canal is at the horizon. The canal water is lower than the send line so it looks like the ships are sailing on the sand. An amazing illusion. I point my face north east to Taba. 1 mile before I arrive Taba’s border cross, I stop.
It is 4.30 PM. I did 500 miles (800 KM) to get here from the morning. I repack everything on the bike just to make sure no one hid any drugs to cause me trouble. Clean. I approach the Egyptian border reception with some fears. Maybe the bad custom’s man from Rafa’s border called and told them about me being there, and they will take revenge at me for the lies I told them, “No Egypt, only Sinai”, because I didn’t want to pay the “Carne $400 fee”. Telling you the truth, I did not want to pay since I have heard stories, and didn’t believe I will get the refund back on my way out. Here they are holding me waiting for an hour, hoping will leave without taking the $40 deposit I made for the insurance fee. I knew, I saw it coming.
I am at the Israeli side. Eilat. A call to the kids and my family, telling them I am OK and back. Meal, coffee, I oil the chain and jump on XT. 6 PM, 550 KM (350 miles) ahead of me to get back home. From the Egyptian border down south, up to the Northern border with Lebanon, where I live.
It’s Friday night and I am home, still at the parking spot. 1,350 km from 5.30 AM to 1.30 AM. I broke my previous record in USA, of 1,220 KM (800 Miles) from New York to Miami FL. I was that tiered, that I could not un-pack the bike. I crawled home and fell asleep with my clothes and boots still on.
The day after, my friends the bikers came to visit, and found me on the bed with my clothes on, and woke me up at 1.30 PM. It took me like 15 minutes to come back to my senses and to realize where I am. Then I told them the story I just told you.

What a tour:
I wanted to find my personal borders, and I did.
I wanted to visit an Arabic country as an Israeli, and I did.
I wanted to break my long distance record, and I did.
I wanted to get over with my fear of being alone in the desert, and here I am.
Thanks to the :God of the Motorcyclists” who supported me on my journey.

As I always say: “If you sit at home, nothing happens”.
Next destination – Morocco, my father’s land.
Moreover, pls. remember, “The purpose of the journey – is everything”.

Uriya Shai and “Field-Marshal Royal Enfield” are traveling the “North of India”

It’s been a long time that I don’t feel “complete” with myself, concerning “covering” areas in the world with “Motorcycle Tours”, because one ingredient is messing after Africa, Europe, and both Americas, and that is the “Far East”. India may be a good start there, right after I graduate studies of B.A. in Hinduism and Buddhism.

So, I was reading and watching endless numbers of “YouTube videos” regarding “Motorcycle Tours” in the north of India. “I will climb with the motorcycle to the “Khardung La top” pick in the region of LaDakh. 18,380 feet height (5,603 M). Definitely a good point for my next challenge. The decision been made. This is a proper target.

I started to build the course and the destinations. It came out that the 3 highest motor able mountains picks, The 2ed highest town of the world (Leh, 3,500M, 11,500 Feet) is in LaDakh region. India is cheap to live and travel. “I will not take my camping equipment”. Mistake.

The destinations goals were:

• New Delhi. Renting a bike.
• Manali
• The three highest mountain passes in the world of “LaDakh region”.
• The “Pangong Tso” (lake) – the border of India and China.
• The two borders of India and Pakistan.
• The “Boats houses of Srinagar Lake”.
• The “Golden Temple” in Amritsar.
• The valleys Spiti and Kinnaur.
• Dharamsala and Dharmakot (The “Dalai Lama’s Temple” complex).
• The “Taj Mahal” in Agra.

All the rest are open to the dynamic changes on the way.

New Delhi. I have heard a lot about the first impression of people in their first visit in India. Some of them turned right away and jumped back on the first jet, due to the dirt and the poverty. It looks to me like the same “Architect of the Dirt and Poverty” had designed India, Morocco, Egypt and Jordan at the same time. Since I was ready for that, the first impact of shock had nothing to do with me.

The first Took-took ride to find a motorcycle for rent was quit surprising. They don’t leave one inch of air between the vehicles uncovered for a second, and honking at all times. Egypt is their best competition using the horn for nothing. They believe that the horn fixes everything on the road.

“Raul Motors” at the Karol-Bug Industrial Zone gave me a good deal. 6$ per a day for Royal Enfield 350. I preferred to rent a bike (including the insurance fee) here, than to buy one since I didn’t want to get stucked with selling it later on. Raul prepared the bike with high responsibility attitude. Nice guy.

When he told me, I will drive like 200KM per a day I smiled. He doesn’t know I did 1,350KM per a day (See the Sinai Egypt tour), and I didn’t know at the time that he is right. This environment was new to me.

The main roads has a lot of slow traffic, and at the mountains arias the average speed is 15 MPH. The off-roads Mountains are even slower since we are talking about Royal Enfield, which is an old British style bike, made in India, with no bond to an off-road riding what so ever. Not the tiers, not the suspensions, not the ventral margin. Nothing. But, the hero proved itself as a real tractor in this journey.

The way from New Delhi to Manali was quit boring at the first 100 KM, until I have arrived to the mountains. That was a good preparation to the coming days. I add 2 Jerrycan of gas in to the back baskets of the side carriers, a reset to the bike in a local extremely cheap garage, before the 570 KM to Leh and let’s go.

At the gas station on the out of Manali, I mate Pronnoy Machaya, a young local guy from Bangalore city in the mid-south of India, who came here for a tour on a rental Royal Enfield 500. We have decided to do the way to Leh together due to the lonely mountains roads. That was a good decision eventually. The height difference between Manali and Leh is 2,000 M for Leh.

Most of those mountains roads are dirt full of stones, rocks and mudslides. Asphalt cannot survive those heights, due to the ice that is sliding while it’s getting warmer after the winter. Half day of riding on “Field-Marshal Royal Enfield”, and my body cries aloud, “That’s enough”.

The views at those untouched mountains, valleys, Waterfalls and the lonely villages are like “Genesis landscape”. Every turn is a new postcard. God’s Testing Lab. Is this the proof for his existence, otherwise, who could built that?

The “Road’s chain of food” here is working improperly. The trucks and busses are the kings of roads, the cars are just a nuisance traffic for them, and the bikes do not exist. Bikers have to take it in their considerations, and activate all of their 100 eyes. Looks like 335 years of the “British Rule” did not leave any manners for them on the roads. However, on the other hand, if you are facing any kind of a road problem, they will run and jump on you to help. Myself, I have helped a few times bikers that were stucked on the way, due to mechanical problems.

If you intend to do India’s off-roads, you better have some experience with this kind of riding, and mechanical knowledge may help too. The Enfields are simple to repair. The small “Field marshal” been discovered as a “Phenom”, concerning difficult and impossible roads. He does not give up to any kind of obstacles. Big holes? No problem. Water channels? Let’s get wet. Any other bike would probably falling apart half way. Personally, I would prefer XT 600 for that kind of journey, but they do not exist here.

On the way, I meet an organized motorcycle tours with 4X4 escort, and the bikes are loaded free. “The good life”. Too sterilized for me.

We are climbing slowly higher and higher. It’s better that way, since we need to climb 2 km height. It took us 5 days of riding through those amazing roads between Manali and Leh, so the body have a chance to get use to the heights.

I did bring with me pills against altitude sickness, but didn’t have to use them due to the slow climbing. I asked Pronnoy if he needs some, he said, “No, you need to flow with yourself and feel your body, while knowing you can always take it. Don’t just take it because we are at 3,000 M”. Right. What a partner.

Here and there, a mudslide is blocking the way, so all the drivers are sitting for hours, drinking tea together, and waiting for the tractor shovel to come from somewhere to clear the way. That is normal. India teaches you the “Serenity”. A real bike wonderer should not give up those roads.

The roads are rocky and muddy. 100 KM per a day is a nice distance. No use to run. There are camps with “Mongolians Yurt Tents” or other kinds on the way for rent, mostly in the price of “Hilton Time Square” (Well, not really but still…). They know you do not have a choice. Anyway, that is a wonderful experience. I would not give up on that. Thanks to “God of the bikers” for them being there.

The road is going through “Pass Lachulungla”, the second highest pass in the world. Pronnoy is further ahead, since I stop many times to take pictures and to “feel the place”. Therefore, I meet him at the stops points on the way. I am alone but not alone.

5 days of very tough but extremely amazing road, the 2 stubborn riders arrive to Leh. The second highest city in the world is at 3,500 M height, after Potosi in Bolivia at 4,100 M. I decide to spend 3 days here in order to get use to the “Atmosphere”, before climbing to the top of the “Khardung La” pick at 5,603 M (18,380 Feet). I spend this time walking the small city, mixed up with the locals, which are “Exiled Tibetans”. Wonderful simple restaurants and tracking tourists from all over the world. The smoke from the trucks is insufferable, but it is unavoidable due to the height and the Thin Oxygen air.

We are looking for a motorcycle garage since the oil seals of the front shock absorbers exploded, and all the oil was out due to those roads. We located the “Motorcycle Garage of Leh”, the owner is very nice, and he resets the bikes.

How does he clean the Air filter without a compressor? He starts the bike and use the air from the exhaust to clean it. Improvisators of no choice. You can see his bike at the next picture.

After the way from Manali to Leh, I agree with myself “Bikers should do India only with a Royal Enfield, and do the rest of the world with any bike but Royal Enfield”. WOW. Right now, I don’t feel like I want to see more of those off-roads with this bike, but no other choice. I know now a lot about every bone in my body. On the other hand, this is defiantly the top of my world tours until now. The Khardung-La top is still ahead of us.

Morning. “Marshal Royal Enfield” is ready for the top. The purpose of this journey focuses on today. From Leh to the top there are 40 KM away, and it is jumpy as usual. Tibetans workers are doing maintenance and contractions due to the broken roads from the sliding icebergs. It has to be done after every winter. Otherwise, they might lose it all.

I feel the excitement. No rush. We need to climb 2,100 M height on a 6 KM road to the top. 3 days in Leh has arraigned my inner climate with the environment. At about 4,000 M height, snow is falling and extremes the experience. The bike is coughing due to the thick air, but does not give up. A real 350 CC hero with 50 years old British technology. This kind of bikes were in use at the times when the “Bikes and the bikers were made of iron”.

That is it. We are here at the top. A personal dream of mine, that created and been built long ago. Many flags tied there, as the Tibetan way to give respect to the nature, by decorating it with colors. Soldiers are guarding the military radars. Only the real “Hells Angels” can survive in a place like this. How can they possibly get use to that? I feel dizzy, as if I need to vomit. Kind of vertigo. 3 Days and slow climbing were not enough to get ready for that? I ask Pronnoy to take pictures.

We start to surf back down, since the pass to Nubra valley was close by the soldiers, due to the snow. I was exhausted, and stopped on the way back to the city a few times, while I enjoyed the magnificent view. It took me 24 hours to get back to myself. Thanks to the good “God of the bikers”.

Next destination: “Pangung Lake”. 170 KM East to Leh, there is a 150 KM narrow and long lake, which western half of it belongs to India, and the other half to China. A “Geopolitical border”.

The way there was good, nice and rich with water. We parked at the camping near the lake. What a place. Very modest, warm hosts and a good simple food. Basic nature. Untouched but by a few tents and a small house. They are working for 3 month in the summer time. I felt that there is a lot to learn from them about life, and about “How to make lemonade out of lemons”.

After a good relaxing night, we drove back to Leh. Another nice day and we are heading to Kashmir and Jammu states. Next destination: The water houses of Lake Srinagar. We have decided to visit the Pakistani border, so we drove west to Kargil. On the way, we mate 2 Bikers. The German guy is driving a Honda Africa Twin, fully equipped. He is on the roads for 2.5 years on the way to Australia. He intends to wander for another 3 years. His wife is waiting for him back home. The other guy is an English biker, riding BMW 650 GS. They mate in Afghanistan and are traveling together. Nice and good.

Kargil is the closest city to the Afghani border. Kashmir and Jammu are Muslims. The Guest House is no good even for street dogs.

Morning, we climb to the Afghani border. 5 KM of mountain pass and we are there. 3 soldiers, 2 dogs. 14 chickens, 21 barrels of oil and -40 degrees while wintertime as they told us. I asked the soldiers if there is any different between -20c and -40c ? They said “No. It’s the same hell”. The only sigh of the border is the word “STOP” on the road.

Then, on the way to Srinagar, we drove through the “Most exiting mountain pass” I have ever drove. “Zozila Pass”. Rivers, mud, dust, blocked road due to a mudslide. The road been blocked for 2 hours. All the ingredients for a good adventure road in 20 miles. That was the “Mountain pass” of all journeys.

We are in Srinagar. We called Bashir whom we got his number from the 2 bikers. BOBOBoooommmm. What a place, a boat motel with a veranda on the water. Shamis, his wife is preparing Chai Masala at the other boat next to ours. I get the same feeling as I felt at the edge of the Sahara in Morocco, and at the Rio Dulce in Guatemala. That rare relaxation that can come only in such special places. The God of the bikers gave us beautiful places all right.

The Sun is rising. Good morning world. Bashir is sleeping on the deck in our boat. Does he guard his wife from coming to the tourists, or the tourists from going to his wife at the other boat? Shamis is at the window, offers me Chai. “Sure”. I said. A man in a Shakra Boat is sailing nearby. I think I saw Shamis smiling at him. “That was not just a regular smile,” I think to myself. Today I am going to do a lazy day and to write the story.

I look at the ducks swimming. The water line is up to their waistline. I thought that the lake is deeper.

9 AM. Bashir Just woke up. Still with eyes closed, he is lightning the first cigarette that will light the entire cigarettes one after the other all day long. Bashir is thine like a quarter of a chicken, and Shamis is fat and big in all directions. Bashir told me that first time he saw her was at their wedding. That was a traditional matchmaking. “What a shame that I missed that wedding”.

Shamis is asking me what to prepare for breakfast. “Whatever your heart says,” I answer. The smile is all over her face. Everyone has a button. You just have to find it.

Bashir explains me: “Love is a sweet & slow poison,”

“Love is all you need,” I answer

The second early morning in the boat. Bashir is still sleeping. I am on the deck while I see the guy from yesterday sailing nearby. Shamis is at the window smiling at him. There are no 2 ways to interpret the meaning of it. Shamis’s eyes are shinning, the guy hides a smile.

“Shamis, hidden love”? I put myself as if I saw nothing. She “caught” me seeing that so I smiled to her, put my finger on my lips as a sigh to silence.

After 3 days in the “Boat House”, it is time to move on. I miss the “Field Marshal” and the roads. We are heading south from Kashmir to Jammu. Pronnoy’s luggage carrier is shaking and about to break a part. Where? 20 M from a welding store. What a coincidence. What else could we ask for?

Next destination: The Golden Temple in Amritsar, the Sikhs land. You can recognize them by the black tarbush on their heads. It was crowded and full of people, and still well arranged and clean, as a holly place should be. Inside there were a few of their holly saints, dressed in white.

The orchestra is playing and singing prays songs to the mic. It is all over the loudspeakers in the huge complex. That was very exciting and beautiful for me, since I have studied about them. I could feel in the air the aura of the sanctity.

The morning after, we are going to see the “Guards changing” at the border with Pakistan. 30 KM from Amritsar. Nice.

Waterfall. Time to take a shower at the freezing snow waterfalls for refreshing. I found one. Brrrr….. freezing for the first minutes.

Dharamsala, The feeling of a clean environment is getting much better. The temperature is getting colder after the aria of the warm plateau, the heat and the sweat we came through.

We climb from Dharamsala to Dharmakot, find a Guest House and locate ourselves in. The antipathetic owner is hungry for money, so I gave him a lesson in “Good Service Methods”. The guest House called “Shiv Shakti”. Only if you have no choice.

A calm day in Bhagsu and Dharmakot, I found a wonderful Humus in an “Israeli restaurant” named “Dine & Trek”. Well recommended.

Ok. Let’s hit the roads, since Pronnoy has a plane to catch from Manali. His vacation is about to end. We are heading back to Manali, and there he delivers his rental bike back. Excitement and hugs, “You were a wonderful partner Pronnoy. Hopping that was not our last tour together”.

I registered for 2 days at the guesthouse “Yes Please” in Manali. You can hear here all of the world’s languages but Hindu.

A good maintenance to the “Field Marshal”, and I climb the “Routang Pass” on my way to “Spiti” and    valleys. I know some info about those valleys. Hundreds of miles of dusty roads, rear population, many water passes to cross, desert and mountains views. The brave “Marshal” is stubborn and pull like a hero. Snow on the top of the mountains and White Water Rivers. India at its best.

 

7 Hours of mountain roads and I arrive a camping named “Battal”. Dinner, tea, and 2 Indian bikers are coming in. “Where to”? They are asking. “Spiti and “Kinnaur” I answer. “We are heading to Manali” say share with me. I look at my watch, it’s 4.30 PM. “I wouldn’t do it if I were you. I left Manali this morning at 9 AM. Within 3 hours it is going to be darkness. Sleep here, and continue tomorrow morning”. They talk to each other in Hindu and agree with me. “Thank you” they say. Here is my daily good thing. Check Mark.

I crawl in to the cabin made of stoned and wood. The mattress are made of straws, placed on wood boards. 1.5 $ per a night. I remind myself about “The beauty that is in the simple things”. I fall asleep within a second.

It is 5 AM. The rain hits the metal roof and make a lot of noise. The sun starts to rise, and I get out of the shed to drink coffee made on the bonfire with the workers, that shared the room with me. 7.30 AM still raining. I arrange myself, a small breakfast and I am on the “Marshal”, heading to the challenging road of “Kunzum Pass”, at the top of 4,550 M (14,800 Feet).

So, I surf the mountain roads in an average of 3500 M, Trough Loser and Kaza, which respects itself with a very fancy temple. This is where you have to issue a permit to cross the valleys of Spiti and Kinnaur. On the way, I meet a family of farmers that are running towards me, and feeling up my backpack with nuts and apples. “Namaste” (Means in Hindu, “I respect your inner God).

It’s 6 PM, I surf the “Nako Pass” to the village “Pooh”, finding a hotel, got a nice discount since they discovered from my passport that I am from Israel ???! Such a nice family that were asking many questions about Israel. Pleasure.

The valleys are behind me with all the amazing views, and the feeling of “Driving on the moon”. I am on my way back to “New Delhi”, monkeys are everywhere and I stop, sitting and watching them for an hour or so. I was thinking about “Charles Darwin”, best known for his contributions to the “Science of evolution”, by claiming that we were developed from the Monkeys. Well Charles, as long as you did not find the “Missing link”, between the Neanderthal to the humans, let me cast doubt your theory.

I surf down to the sea level. Hoooo…. It’s nice to remember this level and meet you again. That was an amazing month of off-roads. Mud, rocks, abyss, lonely mountain passes, “Nowhere” villages, fears from getting stuck with the bike in a “Somewhere” just before darkness, since at those heights, the temperature at night is dropping below Zero. Fears from flat tyre (I had one), days of driving in the dust and smoke. However, this is exactly what it’s all about. “No risk, no fun”. This month taught me an advanced lesson about “Positive Thinking”.

New Delhi. I drive the hero 350cc “Enfield Marshal” back to “Raul motorcycles rent”, kissing the hero goodbye and THANKS A LOT my good friend.

Time to meet the local people. I will use a Took-took or a bus.

I am at the “Main Bazar”. A well-dressed local person with a smiling face is approaching me. The red light in my head turns ON. He offers me help to get to Agra to see the Taj Mahal. “Why do you want to help me”? I asked him. “This is my job” he answers and quickly shows me a card, as if he is an official worker of the city hall (1st step of the “Tourist’s trap).

Amused and entertained, I have decided to cooperate with him, just to see where this tourist’s trap is going to take me. It was a free day so I didn’t really care about the time? He showed me a map with a mark of “Tourists information” mark on it. “I will arrange you a cab for 10 rupees”. I smile. “10 rupees is too cheap,” I say to myself (2ed step of the trap). He leads me to a took-took’s driver, which was not the first in line, but was parking a side, and tells him in English where to take me. “Why do you speak English instead of Hindu?” I think to myself (Step 3 of the trap). The red light in my head starts to flash. I want to see where it goes. I get in the Took-took, who drives in to another direction from what I saw on the map. I smile due to my inner compass directions. Who is in the trap of whom now?

The Took-took stops near a fancy office. A person dressed with a fancy suit approaching me with too big smile. “Here is my monthly salary,” he probably said to himself while looking at me. I smiled back and put the “I am stupid” face on. He leads me to his desk, equipped with a PC and many posters. Really???

I look around me on the decorations, and see the sigh tourist-info.gov. The extension of the sigh that needs to show the country code is missing at the URL. Fake address, that meant to give the wrong impression.

“Where do you want to arrive”? He asked after the “Small talk stage”. “Taj Mahal” I said. He is looking at the PC and tells me “No available sits for the next 4 days”. (Step 4 of the trap). “I can offer you a Taxi for 9,800 Rupees one way,” he said, and looked happy like he “Won the lottery” (step 5 of the trap). I smile at him, and remind myself that the price for one way is 750 Rupees, as they actually told me at the hotel.

“So that is what it’s all about,” I am thinking to myself. They are picking up tourists to this office, and “arranging” them a taxi within 5 times the price. “OK” he continues, “If you pay cash now, I will fix it for you for 7,000 Rupees”. Last step of the trap, calls: “The one time opportunity”. Well done as a “Tourists-trap”. I smiled at him. “Are those Tourists traps still working”? He left the office immediately, and the Took-took driver took me back to the train station. Nice entertainment for 2 hours.

By the way. I took the best train to Agra, and there were plenty of available sits. 1,500 Rupees for 2 ways, including food and drinks.

First time I saw a picture of the “Taj-Mahal” (Crown of the Palace), It was at the age of 15 years old. I was fascinated by the look of the perfect palace. It caught me by it’s romantic story too, about the Mughal Emperor “Shah Jahan”, that built this Mausoleum for his wife “Mumtaz Mahal” (The lady of the palace) at the 17th century, for 22 years with 20,000 workers, and materials from all over the world. After the builders and the architects finished their work, he chapped off their hands, so they cannot build another same one. That is how the Mausoleum will forever remain the only one. Wow, what a story.

On my way back to New Delhi, I have heard that the lake of Srinagar was flooded, and there are like 430 dead people. So sad. I was hoping that Bashir and Shamis are Ok and doing fine. Defiantly, some of the roads we drove trough do not exist anymore, due to the flood. Geomorphology designs the earth. The incredible India.

The Insights:

The “spiritual” experience that I have had in this journey, was in one hand the “Physical roads”, and on the other hand “The roads in to myself”. That made a “small change” in my “Thought’s printings”. It gave me time to look into my life too.

“Buddha” said: “Everything is temporary, and nothing is permanent or stable”. People suffer because they desire and craving for more and more of the temporary things. I like the way Buddha described his Methods in the “Four Noble Truths”:

1. The Noble Truth of the reality of Dukkha (Suffering), as “Part of conditioned existence”
2. The Noble Truth that “Dukkha has a causal arising”.
3. The Noble Truth of the “End of Dukkha, which is Nirvana”
4. The Noble Truth of the “Path that leads to Awakening”.

There are 8 ways to get rid of the “Dukkha” (suffer), and create a good quality of life

Right view or understanding. Vision of the nature of reality and the path of transformation.
Right thought or attitude. Liberating emotional intelligence in your life and acting from love and compassion.
Right speech. Clear, truthful, uplifting and non-harmful communication.
Right action. An ethical foundation for life based on the principle of non-exploitation of oneself and others.
Right livelihood. This is a livelihood based on correct action the ethical principal of non-exploitation.
Complete or Full Effort, Energy or Vitality.
Complete or Thorough Awareness.
Concentration, meditation, absorption or one-pointedness of mind.

It is quite easy to recognize the source of those Buddha’s ideas, “The ten commandments”. Nevertheless, how could Buddha possibly know those same ideas at about the same time of “Biblical Mount Sinai”, in the other side of the world? Is it because “We are all one human tissue”? Only the “God (of the bikers)” can tell that. Anyway, that question is still badgering me.

Another question that was badgering me: “How Can that be, that such a spiritual, unmaterialistic country, is living in such a dirt and unhygienic conditions”? When I asked Pronnoy that question, he answered: “We don’t see it”. An interesting answer that left me within deep thoughts, about what is “Dirt” all about?
The anthropology Mary Douglas, defined in her book “Purity and Danger” the word “Dirt” as “Everything that is not at its natural place”. For an example: An ice cream in its cone, is fine, but if there is one drop on your shirt, then it’s “Dirt”, since it is no longer at its natural place. Albert Einstein said, “All is relative”.
From time to time, I saw at the fields children are working, and thought to myself that: “What if they could be born and grow in USA or another “Western” country….. They could have been Doctors or lawyers, but their parents lade them to be farmers or Shepherds. Maybe because the world needs them all as they are.

Pls. remember that the “God of the bikers, created a wonderful world for us to see”. So when you sit at home, nothing happened.

Yours
Uriya Shai

Uriya and “Goldi” in Central America.

Since I still had like half of the world to cross ahead of me, I have decided to do Central America. The photos I saw really attracted me to the jungles and the rivers, the culture and the history of the Indians, the Mayas, the Aztecs and the Incas.

So, here I am in New York City, looking to find a BMW R 1100 GS that could be suitable for this job, but I could not find one. What I found was a Honda Goldwing AspenCade, 1200, 1985. Color: Golden brown.
Immediately as I saw it, the name “Goldi” jumped on my mind and got stucked there. That was “Love at first site”. Not the right bike for the roads of Central America. But, who cares? On the other hand, the long distance from N.Y. to Guatemala City (3,500 Miles, 5,000 KM), did help me to choose Goldi. Is it my age? It’s going to take me at least 2 weeks for 1 way to get there. So what?

I sit on it and feel home immediately. Goldi and I found each other. First thing is first, music. I am searching a station in the radio, and here is the song “Golden Brown” of the “Stranglers” is playing. I think it’s the most beautiful song ever.

Listen on YouTube

I need to tune my mind to 12 hours of driving, 3 gas tanks and like 400 – 500 Miles (650 – 800 KM) per a day. There is a mental work to do here, with a daily plan of destinations and goals. This going to be tour with a race against the clock. Just for the fun of it.

I tune the radio. Janis Joplin is scramming “Cry baby”. Starter, legs forward, pleasure. My kids are back home and I am worry due to the bombs up north there. I call them. Roy is a soldier and Merily is a student. They are Ok Thank God. They are my anchor to the reality. I can fly anywhere, but without them as my base, I am worthless. Thanks to the “God of the bikers”.

I am driving south through Maryland, Virginia, North and South Carolina to Myrtle Beach, to Visit my childhood friend Sam Laniado. I spend 2 Nice days together with his wonderful Family. I was envy him for having a quiet life, and he envies me for being a bike wonderer. “How come that we always want what we don’t have”? Well, after all “Life is a sequence of choices”.

I continue going down south to Miami FL. Visiting my friends Sima and Alon. I am always on maintaining my social and friends connections.

I am at the desert part of Texas, heading west to the Mexican border. The heat is terrible and it’s 107 F, feels like 100 C. It’s like I am driving into the Sun. Goldi doesn’t care about the heat. He is just fine. Those were 2 days of an extreme heat that I have been cooked to “Well done”.

I am now at the border with Mexico near Brownsville Texas. Do I need a visa? I did not check that. I drive throughout the border, and no one stops me. I am in Mexico. I did not get an exit stamp in my passport. How come not an American nor Mexican police or customs stopped me for docs? Ok. I turned back to the customs officer and asked him if I need to get a stamp and to be checked. He said “No”, but still looked in the bike’s side bags. I did not know at the time, that it was my mistake not to get a stamp at the exit. It reminded me the sneaking into Egypt, although I did not mean to.

Mexico, I am in to the “Euphoria”.

On the way, I have started to imagine movies in my head, since I don’t have the stamp in my Passport of getting in to Mexico. I am convincing myself that “Everything will be ok”, and swallow the “The relaxing pill”, while doing plans B. C and D. “Just in case”.

I drink like 3 gallons of water due to the heat, and driving along the “Golf bay”. The roads are in a very bad condition. Tampico, Tuxpan, Veracruz and then to the “border crossing” into Guatemala in Talisman. That took me 3 days while I haven’t eat a thing but biscuits.

As we all know, there is no “bad” without “good”. The view makes it up for everything. From Tampico and down south, there are forests, rivers, lakes and much of beauty. A very productive cooperation between the “Nature” and the “Goddess of aesthetics”.

From Veracruz and south, there is a heavy warm rain. Pleasure. I follow a trailer track from behind due to the poor visibility. They drive like kites in the sky with a strong wind. No wonder that day I saw 3 accidents with trailers upside down. Soon the rain went away and the sun shined.

Within minutes, I was dry again. I follow the “shore line” of the bay down to Coyoacan, and from there south to Yucatan. On the way, I cross a chain of mountains and rivers. “What an amazing view”.

I took a night in Matias – Romero, and intended to arrive Guatemala City tomorrow evening. I go to bed with some concerns about the “Guatemalan border crossing” tomorrow.

I drive the good road direction Tapachula, approaching the border in Talisman. Just a few Miles before the gate, a bunch of young guys are jumping on me, offering me a help with the “border crossing”, concerning all of the documents work For 20 $, and a promise to lead me to the other side. They had nametags on them, as they are official workers. Since I knew I might face problems there, I picked up one on the bike, after I agreed with him, that “No crossing no money”. “Done deal”.

Here we are at the “Border crossing”. Hundreds of workers and people are at the gate, looking for work. I guard the bike while the kid went to stamp my passport. After like 15 minutes, he is coming back with a lemon face, moving his head from side to side.

“Problems” he said. “For 200$ I know someone that will arrange that for you”. I took the passport and ask him to guard the bike, entered the gate office to meet the “Troubles maker officer”. There she is, “Not nice officer lady” if to say the least, looked at me with an angry face. “How did you get into Mexico without a stamp in your passport”?

“What stamp? I crossed the border and no one talked to me”, I tried to convince her. Well, half an hour of talking with no results. The windmills of my mind are turning like turbo.

Ahhhaaa… I am leaning forward and whispering, “How many kids do you want”? I asked her. A big smile on her face. She wrote her mobile number on a piece of paper, pushing my passport back to me with the paper inside. I smile and thank her. The nightmare is behind me.

I am thinking about those places I want to visit: Atitlan lake, San Pedro de Laguna, Rio Dulce, Tikal, Smoke Shampay, Pacaya volcano, El Mirador, Park Central of Quetzatenango, Yaxha, Monterico, Chichicastenango, Antigua, and more……

 

“Everybody has a button. You just have to find it”. I jumped on Goldi full of happiness. “We are in Guatemala big baby,” I laugh aloud. Goldi’s 1200 cc are barking and pulllllll us away. The radio plays Latino music, and 4 days of tension fades out. A Mental orgasm.

I spend 6 month of work and tours in this amazing, wonderful, fascinating country. Goldi liked it too. After words, I drove back to New York, and then down to Florida again, sold “Goldi Wings” and kissed him goodbye. Thank you good friend for a wonderful year together.

Moreover, pls. remember: “Nothing happened when we are sitting home”.
Uriya Shai

Uriya Shai and “The Zebra” are traveling the Central Europe Alps

Dear Bikers.

I would like to share with you the story of my tour in the Alps, with BMW R 100 GS PD, that justifiably won the name “Zebra”, Due to the “look”, and the way he “moves”.

So, I got those “Ants under my skin” feeling again. That can be “cured” only when I take a bike and the tent “Overseas” for a tour. This process of choosing the “Right bike for the job” and make it ready, the equipment I need to take and the arrangements that need to be done for that to happen. That is just because every tour has its own “Character”, with its special demands.

I booked a ferry ticket to Piraeus, Greece, as I did many times before. The crew knows me well. I tie the “Zebra” down there in the “Belly of the ship”, climbing up on the deck, open my tent and meditate. I am talking to the “God of the bikers”, asking for a good and safe journey.

The 3 days on the sea, are getting me ready for the transformation in my “State of mind”. The first morning the ship is docking in Limassol, Cyprus. 6 hours to see the city. Second morning the ship is docking in Rodeos. What an amazing Island. I tour the old city, swimming and back on the ship. The third morning – Piraeus, Greece. “Hallo again beauty” I whisper.

Documents, port’s arrangements and I am on the road to Patras. 230 km through the mountains and along the sea shores. What a country, unique and made especially for bikers. Sometimes you cannot see the asphalt due to so many bikes on the road. This is the “Gate to Europe” for me. I arrive to Patras and take the ferry to Venice. The purpose of this tour are the Alps Mountains, so I do not want to spend 3 or 4 days driving up north to Venice, in the roads I did a few times before.

Patras, I get off the ferry and here is my friend on another “GS-PD”. This woman drives so strong on her bike, that sometimes I think I hear him cries. “Hold tight your handlebar,” I tell her. We are heading up north to the “Dolomite Alps”, driving as if we are in the middle of a race. From time to time we stop to breathe, to take pictures or for coffee.

The weather is getting colder as we climb the Dolomites. The snow sits like a crown on top the top of them. Kings of the views. Some of the passes are still close in April. I choose the path through the lakes. It was freezing but refreshing to swim the lake on 1,470 M height (by the GPS). “You are crazy,” She said. I could not argue with her on that, since I did not have any proof I am not.

We enjoy the curves. It feels like in a documentary movie about the “View of the Alps”. Every curve has a new amazing “Picture”. Who could built this? I ask myself. “God”? I have heard he is almighty. I choose to drive through “Passo dello Stelvio”, (2,750 M height) to cross from Italy to Switzerland and then to Germany. This pass is the fifth height of the Alps, and it is a Meeting Point for bikers from all over Europe, during all year long.

We are in the south of Germany, stop to visit her bikers’ friends that just came back from the Sahara in Tunis. They have 2 same bikes like ours. Now there are 4 “GS-PD” in their garage. The bikes were probably talking to each other, telling stories about the mutual adventures they been through. Actually, that is the real purpose of their life, couse that is what they meant for in the first place, isn’t it?

The 3 of them are on meat and beer, which I do not know what to with. Their pictures from the Sahara were boiling my blood all night long, and developing my strong will to be there. That was the accelerator point to my old dream, to do The Sahara in Morocco, which I later on did.

For 2 days, they were drunk, while I am touring around. Time to go. I make sure she is fully conscious, and we hit the road again. We are taking the curves crazy again. The “Zebra” is heavy due to the equipment he carries, the Metzler Sahara 3 are sticking to the asphalt.

A few hours of Adrenalin and we arrived her home. A nice and quiet village. I start to plan the close Future. After all, I came here to spend 3 month in the Alps in an average height of 2,000 M. I wouldn’t want to leave alone even not one pass which I didn’t see the view from. I am very relaxed and calm after the meditation.

I chose a course on the map that will contain high passes, lakes, rivers etc…. Now I have an elementary basic plan. The zebra liked it too, because it went through the south of Germany, east of France, North of Italy, Austria and Switzerland. It’s the month of May now, and the snow melted already below 2,500 M.

2 Days of working on the bike, and it’s ready again for the long distance tour. I tie the equipment on the bike, say goodbye to the crazy biker woman, and I am on my way. I put my face to the Black Forest, that from my direction starts in Freiburg, Germany.

German bikers that are riding shining machines, mate me here and there, almost got a heart attack when they saw that I have painted the Bavarian Splendor with Zebra stripes. Yes bikers, that is my way to honor the bike, just because I like it so much. What? What? You guys are taking your bikes out of the warmed garage once a week, for showing off with friends in the bar, while I travel with it. So please. undersatnd my point.

If in a normal day, I drive like 200-400 Km, on the passes it’s a different story. Driving 50 KM a day is nice due to the roads, the pictures I stop to take, the views I stop and breathe it in to my mind and memories.

From time to time, a bunch of “Super Moto” bikers are passing over me in a pass, laying their bikes down to the blinker signals in the curves, like there is no tomorrow. One side of the road is the mountain wall, and the other side is the abyss. Is life so cheap? One-half of a mistake is more than enough over there.

During the daytime, I spend the hours on the tops, and during the nights, I surfed down to sleep, since up there the temperatures at night are going below Zero. There were nights I could not sleep due to the cold, even when I warmed myself up with the camping fire before I got in to the tent. That happened when I could not find a roof to put the tent under it. On the other hand, that redefined for me the word “Happiness”.

I am in Switzerland, The Swiss woman I mate in Eilat a like 20 years ago jumped in to my mind. I still remember her address, since those days we kept in touch via envelope’s post mails. I have decided to surprise her or myself. For 3 days, I travel in the amazing Switzerland, direction the “Lake of Geneva”.

I notice that people are looking at the loaded “Zebra” and me with all deferent kind of looks. I am used to that for so many years of traveling. Some of them look like they feel pity for me, sleeping in the tent. Some of them want to join me, and probably a few of them are thinking that this is what they want to do. This is a clear issue of “Personal priorities” I always say.

I arrived to her door. Deep breath and I knock. She opens the door. A big smile. I thank the “God of the bikers”. She lost weight and she is very suntanned. I ask her about it and she said that “Yesterday I came back from Sharm el Sheikh (the southern point of Sinai Peninsula in the Red Sea). I did a lot of diving there”. I remembered our diving together in Eilat.

4 days of tours the environment of “Lake Geneva” together and alone, tracks on the mountains, small clean villages with wonderful restaurants, Fondue and coffee places, fire is burning in the fireplace. What do they have to be worry about with this king of life? Something to learn from them.

In my imagination, I hear the sound of the bombs in the north of Israel where I lived. How can it be, that in the same world there are such huge contradictions? I lose the connection to the reality in my mind, while those thoughts were covering me.

After a few nice days, “Time to move on” I say to her. She calls my name with her cute French accent. I love this sound. The reality here is so deferent from other places I been trough. This is how things look like when you travel from country to country, from one nation to another, from one mentality to another mentality, from first to second to third world countries and so on. It lets you see it from many other angles. God created deferent types and species of humans and places. I am sure he had good reasons for that. That is how each one of us finds his personal way in life.

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As you know, “Not everything that shins is gold”. We can meet with great difficulties and loneliness during the travels. The “getting lost” feeling that covers you from time to time, are not rare and not easy to deal with. On the other hand, good and bad are coming together as you know. Many times people are inviting me to be a guest in their home, mostly bikers, and that can make our social life very rich while traveling. The happiness of knowing new people and new places is the main purpose of the tour.

Maybe this is the beauty of it. Happiness can never be a permanent situation for a long time, because if that was so, it was just a “standard situation”. We would not recognize it as “Happiness”. The happiness picks are what we are looking for, and this long time search is the “Happiness” itself (since the picks are temporary, while the search is permanent). It is just a matter of an attitude. The business philosopher Jim Rohn said: “All you need to do is to change you attitude, and then everything will be changed”. Right.

“Where to”? the Zebra is asking me. “Let’s breathe tops air again” I smile at him. We enjoy wonderful relationship together, by understanding each other’s needs. I promised to take him to see wonderful places, and he is a reliable good friend to me. A good agreement for both sides. He keeps on surprising me with his strong torque that I need in those slow curves of the passes. No need to change gears, just to accelerate. “The Ultimate Traveling Bike”.

At nights, I put up a camping fire to prepare food, while the tent’s doorway is at the direction of the fire, in order to heat up the inner tent side. I mostly eat integral rice with deferent sauce every time, not to bore my stomach. I pour the rest of the hot water in to the thermos with mint tealeaves, for the coming morning. Sometimes I park for the night in small paradises that is so hard to leave in the morning. It happened that I stay there more than 1 or 2 days.

I Surf from Switzerland to the Dolomites of North Italy, then to Austria and Germany and around, every time a different course, so I will have the chance to visit the most passes possible. The views are breath taking. This tour is much more in the “sterile way” than the Egypt tour I did 2 years before that one (for example).

Every tour has its own character, and that is better this way. The various characters of the tours are what makes it so unique for me. Personally, I prefer third world countries, mountains and deserts for my tours. The biggest idea of the tours is, “Every place I did not see yet, worth the effort”.

I spend a few days in the “Black Forest” again. What a forest. The name came due to the 50 M height trees that do not let the sun get in. Rivers and water streams, trails that leads to “nowhere”. I feel like “Alice in wonderland” and The Zebra too, since this is his “Homeland”.

The 3 month are over now. Time to go back to my kids. I drive to the “meeting point” on Sundays near the “Constants Lake”, join the German BMW Group for last tour together, and then put my face south direction Venice.

I drive through the “San Bernardino Pass” that is connecting between Switzerland and Italy. I did this pass on the way back from the “North cape” in Norway, 2 years ago with my “sometimes partner” Arik Kehat.

Is it possible not to be exited while looking at the “Snow Tops” every time repeatedly? The nature is showing off his glory. Feels like the “God of the bikers” created it for us, the bikers, to enjoy. So Tnx.

The next picture of the “San Bernardino Pass”, is from the previous tour.

Pls. remember, “When you sit at home, nothing happens”.
Yours,
Uriya Shai

Uriya Shai & Arik Kehat, bike travel to the “North Cape” – Scandinavia

Coordinates 71° 10′ 21″ N

The hot August days are at its best, and the “Ants are under my skin” again. It’s been like 4 month since our last tour to Greece and Turkey. I feel like I am sitting on fire. The “Wandering Mosquito” stung me again, so I called Arik, my sometimes partner to my tours. “Arik, do you want to join a tour that we will tell about it to our grandchildren? (When we will them, so help us God).

We had a clear division of roles, according to our last tour to Greece and Turkey. He is on the food issues, and we eat whatever he cooks. I am on the maps, and he is following me where ever I go to. Good arrangement creates no arguments what so ever. We could not start before Sep.20, due to his vacation from work. Pretty late for this kind of a plan. We have decided to drive north as far as the snow will not hit us.

I lllooovvveee this excitement of preparing the bike for a tour. The main problem now, is how to divide 30 KG of equipment on the bike, so it will not affect the handling of the bike. I look at my 4 bikes:

The VMAX has no room for luggage.

The XT 600 is not for long distance ride.

The Ducati 750 SS is too sportive.

So I chose the Yamaha XJ900 for this tour. A simple and reliable sport Turing bike, with 3 rear boxes. This one will fit to the mission. Arik drives a Yamaha GTS 1000, another wonderful Sport Touring bike.

There are like 11,000 KM (7,000 miles) of excellent roads ahead of us. The destination for this tour is the “North Cape”, the most northern point of Europe. This is the point, where hundreds of bikers are arriving on June 21 (The longest day of the year), to see the sun goes down to the sea at midnight, touches it and rise again. There is no “Sunset” on this day there. I really wanted to do that but it’s too late for this year now.

Photograph by “Visit Norway”, www.ynet.co.il

“We will drive directly up north, in order to get as close as possible to the cape, until the snowfalls will stop us” I say to Arik. It was like a race against the clock, because the “Snow time” is coming soon. However, “A thousand miles journey begins with a single step”.

We are on the ferry to Piraeus, Greece. 3 days at the “Mediterranean sea”, and I cried “Land” when I see it, Just like Amerigo Vespucci did when he first saw the “Land” of America, and for his honor. Greece Salad, Sirtaki dancing and we are heading to Patras, Greece, to take the ferry to Venice. We are against time. On the ferry, it takes 1.5 days, while driving is 4 days from Patras to Venice.

On the ferry, we meet a nice bikers couple, that are all-over tattoos, who drive 2 Yamaha XS 650, handmade Chopper style. They had another friend on R 100 GS from Hamburg with them. The couple belong to the “Bikers Brotherhood” of Munich. We have decide to ride together until Munich through the Dolomites Alps.

The riding together is a wonderful way to know each other. How much I can tell about a person’s character and way of life, just from looking at his driving in the front of me or on my mirrors. I would not recommend taking your eyes off the road, even not for a second. We are crossing the passes and serpentines of the Dolomites. On one side of the road, there is always an abyss. We stop for an Italian coffee in one of the villages on the way, a small “Chitchat” and they are asking about the Destination of our tour.
“The “North Cape in Norway,” we answer.
“At this time of the year”? They are surprised. “You must be kidding us”.
“No, we are not”. We smile.
“Good luck”.
“Tnx”. The Journey is everything for us.
Munich. Time is 22.00. “Come to sleep in our home” they are offering us.
“Why not”? We answer.

Small apartment with a big heart. “Bikers brotherhood” I think to myself. They are justifying the name. Those connections that are created between bikes travelers, are the sweet cadies of the bikers’ world.

Back home, ever since I was 16 years old with Honda 50, I always invited bike travelers to my home as guests. “What goes around comes around”.

There is a clever sentence claims: “Send your bread upon the water, because one day you will find it”.

Morning. We are on the “Auto-Ban” (The German name for Highway). There is no speed limit here, but your courage and the skills of your bike. Since we are driving against the clock, we finish 3 gas tanks with like 800-900 Km per a day. At the gas stations we meet bikers that are asking “Where to”? “North Cape in Norway” we answer.
“At this time of the year”? They are surprised. “You must be kidding us”.
“No, we are not”. We smile.
“Good luck”.
“Tnx”.

We are at the north of Denmark, Taking the ferry to Kristiansand, Norway. The tour actually starts now. We are taking the western road along the Shores line – E39 to Bergen. The small anglers’ villages, the lagoons and the fjords are so quit and amazing due to the feeling you get, when you just sit, look and give yourself to the atmosphere.

It’s the beginning of October now. “The General Winter” here is in a higher rank than in anywhere else. People we meet on the way are telling us, that it’s a big miracle, that at this time of the year it is not snowing already. I try to explain them that “The God of the bikers” is guarding us.

A few of them were smiling. “Faith brothers”. We still sleep in our tents and get showers in rented cabins of gas stations, for 2 Euros. We buy food in supermarkets, and Arik is cooking. The beautiful life called “Freedom”.

We are in Bergen. A beautiful and amazingly clean city. We climb to the “Panorama View” to see the beauty. This view reminds me of the Haifa’s Panorama.

We are heading north on E6, the only road that leads all the way to the North Cape. From time to time, the road ends and we need to cross the water on a ferry to the other side, and then road again. This road goes through “Geiringer Fjord” (Considers as the deepest and the most beautiful Fjord in the world), and many others. The huge ship down there look like a small car, from the 1 KM height cliff, where we are standing on. The water are “colored” with black due to the reflection of the black granite mountain around. Sorry for my excitement, but it is simply beautiful.

From that point of Bergen and up north, Thigs are not that simple any more. 4c are like Zero degrees while driving, fog and snow are all over, and we still have 1.500 KM in front of us to the Cape. The cold is drilling our cloth, skin and bones although we are well dressed. Even peeing became to be complicated. I have 3 layers of trousers to go through with gloves.

I urgently need to pee but I can’t find him. “Good God, where are you”? Who wants to go out in this cold? A warm drop that got away marked his right coordinate. “There you are”, I scream. It was the same feeling of happiness like winning the lottery.

We continue heading north to the edge of the European continent. Next ferry will take us to the island of “North cape”. The Island is 35 Km long on 20 Km width.

We are in “North Cape”, Oct.3, 6 PM and we are looking for a place to sleep. All of the Guest-houses, the motels and the Hotels are close, since it is already a month after the “Season”.

I tell Arik that we should climb up north in the island as possible, since tomorrow it will be snowing as they told us on the ferry, and we need to drive closer to the edge. We drive 20 Km north from the port and find a small village. It’s dark already, and I am looking for a sigh of a place to sleep. I knock on every door but they all answered that: “The season is over”.

“So what”? I think to myself.

Finally, I have arrived to a small wooden house with 4 separated rooms on the wharf, while all the 4 doors were open. I step in, a very nice & clean room with 2 beds.

It’s 8 Pm. We are sitting and waiting for someone to come for the payment. Nothing. At 10 Pm I said: “Let’s sleep, If someone comes, we will pay him for the room,”
“We’ll explain him that no one was here to collect money”, said Arik.
“This might be a tourist’s trap,” I said. “When someone will come, we will have to pay any price he will ask for, since we are already in”.
Arik: “Or probably it belongs to the fishermen, that will come back from the sea at 5 PM or so, and need the rooms to sleep”.
Good night “North Cape”.

Morning. 7 AM, The bikes are covered with snow and we are sitting and waiting for someone to come and collect money for the night.

8 AM, a young nice woman is coming with a surprised face on. “First of all let me apologize for using the room, No one was here to pay him”. I explained her with all due respect.
“Sure, the season is over”, She answered.
“Can we pay now”? I offered her.
“No problem” she said and marked a fair price. We paid.
“How come the door was open?” I asked.
“Well, the plumber had to come yesterday to empty the water pipes, so it will not crack during the winter due to the freezing water in it, but he didn’t show up to do his job and close the doors. This is why the doors were open”.
Wow, Isn’t it the “God of the biker’s finger”, that brought us here to the only sleeping option on this island?
“We need it for another night, Couse we intend to go to the edge of the island today” I asked her.
“Not possible, since the plumber has to come today, so you will have no water tonight. You can use my house there. We have a few rooms for the same price”.
“Wonderful”, I said. We followed her to the house, left the gear in the room and drove to the final destination of this tour. The edge of the “North Cape”, the northern point of Europe.
Since I couldn’t find our pictures near the Globus on the edge of the continent, I copied it from the internet with the appreciation to:

Eduardo Manchon – http://www.panoramio.com/photo/2628
By Eduardo Manchon – http://www.panoramio.com/photo/2628, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=36197841

North Cape has a crazy whether. Within 1 hour, we experienced 3 times of black sky with snow, and blue sky with sun. The coordinates here are 71° 10′ 21″ N. Behind this cliff it’s the “North ocean”. We have achieved the goal of this tour.

We drive back to the guesthouse. She told us that it’s been snowing all night, and that the northern 400 KM of Norway are covered with snow. Wow, How can anyone drive on snow? It’s like oil, Not to talk about driving 400 KM. This is a problem.
“What are the options”? I asked her.
“There is a ferry boat tomorrow morning from the port, down to Bergen,” She said. “It leaves at 5.45 AM. You have to be at the port max at 5.30”. I look at Arik and say: “We need to take the bikes to the port now. It’s 20 KM away. We will tie them near the dock, get back here with a taxi, and take a taxi in the morning to the port”. Right.

The nice woman calls and books our tickets for tomorrow morning. It took us 2.5 hours to get there, as we drove like 10 KPH with sprayed open legs forward for caution. The Temperature in January here hits the -50c, with 3 month of darkness. No wonder they are holding the world record for suicides of like 26 people per a year, due to the depression.

5.00 AM and we are at the port, driving the bikes in to the belly of the ship. Ship? The huge “Coast Steamer” is a fancy & luxury city on the water.
After 2 days and 500 KM of sailing south, we are at the port of “Mo I Rana”. I have noticed that the snow is now at the top of the mountains, and not on the roads any more.

“Arik, we are bikers not sailors, let’s go”. We leave the “floated fancy city” and driving east, flying the avenues between the trees along the 2 sides of the road. Woodsheds of leafs in strong colors of yellow, orange and red. We cross to Sweden, and then turn south to Stockholm.

700 Hundred KM brought us to a nice camping cabin. We are no longer have what it takes now to drive to the city for food. What left was 1 egg and an old bread. Arik collected all the remaining food from the boxes, and arraigned a wonderful meal. A Magician. “Good night Stockholm”.

On the way back, time is on our side. No more rush. “Copenhagen, Amsterdam, Paris”? Why not? In Paris, we put the tent near the Eiffel Tower. At least we sleep with style, on the most expensive piece of land in France.
Just one thing on the way down south…. Monica is in Germany. We mate in Egypt, I promised to visit when I will next time be in Germany. 4 crazy days with her friends, the students and we are heading south to Venice. We both need to get back to work one day soon.

We choose the way back through the Dolomites Alps. Some of the passes are already closed. Never mind, “when there is a will, there is a way”. A nice couple of German BMW bikers are inviting us to spend a few days with them. He is crazy about weapons, and she is crazy because she is crazy. Good bikers on the middle of the way.

Here we are on the Ferry from Venice to Patras. On the deck, we meet Daniel from South Africa who speaks the language of the Maya from Central America, and he is fascinating us for 24 hours with his stories.

We are driving through the North of Greece attractions like “Meteora’s hanging monasteries”, “Ioannina lake”, the “Peloponnese Peninsula” in the south of Greece, and back on the ferry from Piraeus to Haifa.
Thanks to the “God of the bikers” that brought us back safe home.

Pls. remember. “When you are sitting at home, nothing happens”.
Yours.
Uriya Shai.

Motorcycle tour – in Morocco with “Red Tulip”

It happens sometimes that life is rolling us the way THEY want to, isn’t it?
A religious friend once told me “we do plans and God is laughing”. That is how I found myself in Holland, North of Europe, listening to God’s laughing cause I said to myself, “I am going to ride to Morocco”.
Years ago I had a dream to ride to Morocco, since my family came from there and my childhood was full of stories from my grandparents about the country & and the life they had there. The land of my fathers. Mountains, desert, tagin (the traditional crockpot for cooking food), White Sea shorts, Berbers (natives who live in the mountains) tents, mud houses, children desire for a pen or a hairband. What else can I ask from a motorcycle adventure?
Well, after years of God’s laughs, I find myself in the north of Europe, Holland, motorcycle shop, red BMW R1200GS, fully equipped for my needs. Tough and tiring negotiation (not for me, for the dealer) until I feel that one more word and he will call the police. Shaking hands, full service and the Red Bimmer is mine and ready for our mutual adventure. “I am going to take you to a long adventure” I whisper. I think he was smiling when he answered, “You can’t scare a duck with water”. Right.

Weekend. I am taking my new partner to the nature for our mutual introduction. Highway, side roads, unpaved roads, off roads, low speed, high speed etc….
What a bike. I had more than 100 bikes in my life. This one is definitely one of the best if not THE best for my needs, since I am an on/off road type of rider.
I stop to rest near a field of red tulips, laying on the grass. “Look around you,” said the bike. Wow, Red bike, red tulips. “You got a name,” I whisper to the red Bimmer. I think he said “Thank you” and blushed.

Let’s see Morocco together” I offer him. “Wonderful” he said. “My fathers were tested in Morocco,” he reminds me. “Yes” I said. “My fathers came from there too, so let’s do a roots journey” I smile to him.
2 days of arrangements, I ride like 160 km (100 miles) with all the equipment to check everything, maps, GPS, tools, spare parts, tent, sleeping bag, air mattress and we are both ready.
It’s the end of April, The north edge of the Sahara is in the peak of blooming, best time to be there. Fix matched.
7PM, Holland is still cold at this time of the year and I put my face to the south and heading to Belgium, France, the Pyrenees Alps to Spain, Gibraltar. On the way, I had a few changes of the way due to small talks with locals, that told me about some “Hidden Attractions”. A tour is a tour, isn’t it?
4 Days, 2500 km (1600 miles) and I find myself in Tarifa. This is the shortest ferry way between Spain and Tangier Morocco (15 km, 9 miles, 40 minutes). I sleep at the “Tarifa beach”, waiting for the ferry of tomorrow.

Morocco is a kingdom, North West of Africa that is under a French influence in most of it, while the north part is under a Spanish influence. Morocco is geographically divided to 3 mountains belts east / west diagonally. The Middle Atlas up north, the Grand (high) Atlas in the middle and the Anti Atlas down south. The greatest desert in the world – the Sahara, starts at the southern part of west Morocco.
The ferry arrives to Tangier, “Third world border cross”. I put my head on the switch “Third world” and don’t release my passport off hands and eyes even not for a second, since in places like that it may be very expensive to get it back. Small money tip makes here miracles. The papers are stamped in a moment and we (me and Tulip) are in Tangier. A very dangerous city for naive tourists, so I open even my third eye.
Those days, there was no GPS for Morocco. So like in the good old days a compass and a map did the work. A dream of years is starting now to come true.
“The purpose of the journey is the essence. The traveling is just the tool, and together they are the way to self-fulfillment”. This is my philosophy. Tulip and I are in great relationship.

My plan was to cross the High Atlas despite the snow that I see up on tops. There are normal roads for normal people instead, but who wants asphalt when he has mountains off roads as an option? Just need to be careful since I have heard about a German tourist guy that locals drug dealers made him under a threat carrying in his car sacks of Marijuana to the other side of the mountain. He has been caught and spent 1.5 years in jail. No thanks.
Mountain roads are full of people who want to stop you from many reasons, Most of them are probably good. I never stopped to find out. Smell my exhaust, I put after-shave in the gas for you to enjoy the smell at least.

The sun is too low now. I choose a parking spot for the night, fire, rice, tea with tealeaves and good night Morocco.

Dawn starts at 5.30 am. I collect my tent, drink tea of last night from the thermos, still hot, wonderful. Total inspection of the bike and the equipment that is carefully divided due to the weight balance. Right side of the tank is the gas canister, and the left side is the water canister. Good morning Morocco. The view is breathtaking. 1 hour of meditation, me and Tulip are on the way. A long mountain off road ahead of us down south to the Sahara.

km (120 miles) of mostly mountain roads and Tulip needs fuel. The price of the gas here is 60% of the price in Europe. Pleasure. 8 France bikes are entering in to the gas station. “Are you traveling alone?” they asked. “Yes, always alone”. Lucky me I speak French too. “Would you like to join us?”, “Yes” I said, trying to convince myself that 9 is better than 1.
They are driving fast, passing marvels view sites. Where are you running too? I want to take pictures. “You been there, no pictures? You haven’t been there” like the bike’s globetrotter Allen Katz said to me once. From time to time, I stop to take pictures and then narrow the space. One of them is driving a Honda ST 1100 “Pan European”, so I suggested him to change the name of his bike to “Pan Moroccean”. He loved the idea by his laughing to the sky.
On the dinner’s table, it turns out that they are ski instructors that just finished the season and came to do a tour in Morocco. 3 women and 8 men are asking about my tours around the world, all by myself and with different motorcycles, listening intently to the stories with curiosity mixed with envy, while I am getting more and more exited. The only thing that bothered them was “Why alone”? Go figure. “Alone because I travel mainly in to myself, brothers. The changing view is only the decoration”.
Kind of funny. I am on a German bike, came from Holland, traveling with a bunch of French on Japanese and Italian bikes in Morocco. Halleluiah to the God of the bikers.
It’s kind of late now, everyone is happy with the wonderful riding day that brought this pleasant fatigue. Good night to the ingathering of the exiles in Morocco. See you at breakfast time.
Today we ride direction Fes, the born city of my mother. Long mountain roads of the High Atlas leading us there to this amazing city. I have to stay here for a day or two to find the roots of my mother’s family. I thank the group for lovely 2 days. Hugs and kisses in the French style (1,2,3 on the cheeks), all together pictures and goodbye.

Friends are a strange thing but a good idea at the same time. Some of them are coming for a lifetime, some of them to teach us something, some of them just for a short visit and then never again. All we need to do is to be open for those stations in our running train of life. 2 days together were more than enough for me. They were nice and friendly but not for this kind of journey. When you are looking for yourself, alone is a much better idea.
Childhood stories are floating, I feel like I am in a Dejavue (Seen before) process. I take many pictures to show Mom when I will be back home. She said Goodbye to this place more than 60 years ago. I bet nothing have changed here ever since. I have decided to ask someone in her age about the past here and to take his picture, maybe he went to school with her (funny thought). I stop someone looks like 60 years old and ask for his age. “38” he says. My God. Is it the sun? The food? The climate? I give up the idea.
I put my mind on a “positive” position, Tulip is happy and the throttle is open, the open spaciousness are waiting.

Next station: Midelt (calls “The village of the apples” as well), a small village where my father was born. Long roads heading south, like 100 km (65 miles) between Fes (mother) to Midelt (father). How did they meet?
I take many pictures to show my father back home. At the entry of the village, I find a welding workshop. I stop there and get friendly with the owner. He works to get the frame of the rear panniers stronger due to the weight and the off road riding. 3 hours of very responsible work ended with like 4$. I gave him 10$. He almost got faint. Too cheap so I invite him to eat in a restaurant with me. He says, “No, let’s eat at my home”. “Ok amigo”. I grew up on Moroccan food. I drive Tulip with him as a passenger while he is waving to the village people like a happy kid, heading to his home. Lucky me I speak some Moroccan too (Thank you Grandma up there near God).
After a traditional Moroccan Tajin food at his home with his family, that were laughing a lot due to my broken Moroccan language, I offer his wife the “Instant Knorr Soup” bags I always carry with me on my tours. She gets very excited and tell me that they can only see that on the TV commercials. That feels good meeting good people on the way.

Every place I went to, I felt like I’ve been thrown way back to my childhood. The language, the food, the music and the customs, brought sweet memories to the present. What a good way to experience the good old days again. I loved it. Now I need to look for my father’s house. I am curious to see it. The only information I had from my father was that it’s nearby Alliance School. So I went to the municipality building of Midelt, looking for someone local that will talk to my father on my phone, that will describe where was his home to him, so he will lead me there.
I found a secretary nice old lady that was glad to help. I called my father, thought to myself that it will take a minute, but apparently, they knew the same people, laughed and talked for like an hour or so. That call cost me like 250$, but what the hell, it was so important to me, so let it be. She jumped on the bike with 2 legs to the same side and showed me the way. Was worth it. Then of course I was invited to her house for dinner with her family. Wonderful and simple people.
Good night nature, tent, tea, million stars. Who needs only 5 stars hotel?
Morning. I sit on the map to plan the next few days. I plan and arrange the ratio between the time and the distance I want to cross every day, and learn what is waiting for me to see on the way. Uzud waterfalls, the Cathedral Mountain, etc… That is not nice to discover too late that you drove nearby an attraction and missed it. Next destination – Marzuga Dunes, the north Belt of the Sahara.
In my imagination, I can see the bike riders of Paris – Dakar enduro race, the Tuareg tributes with their blue Tarbush on the head, the golden dunes that contains a mystery of beauty and danger, mud houses that are typical to this environment. A place that have nothing, but actually have everything.

On my way out of the Midelt village, I meet two BMW GS riders from France (Same like mine), Luke & Gabriel. A few words and we decide to cross the High Atlas together due to the long distance off-road ways. For 2 days, I dragged them to different kinds of experiences.
For an example. On the way, I saw two trucks full up with happy people dressed like on holydays, singing and dancing. I could guess what the occasion is and decided to follow them. 30 minutes of driving and we arrived to a small village up on the mountain. As I thought, it turned out that the groom from the other village came to take the bride to their wedding in his village, accompanied by his friends and family.
Well, like I experienced in my childhood, I entered in to the middle of the dancing circle and danced the Maroccean wedding dance as if I was born there. That was so funny to see their surprised faces.

They invited us in to their muddy home, served Moroccan Tea with the traditional wedding cookies, we thanked them, kissed every one, the Tulip thunderous and we are back on the trails, flew like kites between the rocks and the sheeps to Ielmisil. That was a nice break. We camped by the lake for the night. I am in total exhaustion from the fatigue.

Good morning Morocco. We stopped for breakfast and mate Chris Scott with his girlfriend. This English guy is crossing the Sahara for 20 years more than 20 times with every possible vehicle. (You can find his books on the internet). Small talk, big smiley, good luck and good buy. Halleluiah to the God of the motorcyclist that connects bikers in the middle of no-where.

Well, the show must go on and we are heading to Zegura. 50 km (like 35 miles) of hard enduro through amazing views, crossing this part of the High Atlas. Rivers, mountains, creeks and one crazy canyon bring us to Zegura, the north edge of the Sahara. The locals were looking at me as an alien came from another star. I wish.
A nice family doing camping invited me to join them for lunch. I know this warm hospitality from my home. The Mom served from the best of her hand made food that was wonderful. Getting involved with locals is cool everywhere. From there, we continue to one of the most amazing hidden villages of Morocco – Todra village. It is located in the canyon between cliffs of 300 m (like 1,000 feet) high. It was Sunday so many locals came for camping by the river. This place has a very unique atmosphere.

Another day of endless plains and we are in Zegura, a Desert tourism village that is one of the gates to the Sahara. We choose a nice camping. 5 AM finds me swimming at the Camping’s pool. There are nice moments in this tour.
We are on the mountain again heading to M’hamid, 100km (like 65 miles) south to Zegura in to the Sahara. The dunes are well seen from far away, this is it. The Sahara dunes.

We are riding in to the dunes, looking to the horizon, I see a Coca Cola sigh on a small open cabin between the dunes. What ??? Isn’t that an amazing distribution system to bring Coca Cola here to the dunes? So cold Coca Cola and warm tea bring my breathing, good mood and power back. We take a 1-hour rest, but then the French guys, Luke & Gabriel want to continue now. I do not.
Time to say goodbye. Probably we will never meet again. Thanks for the 3 days we spent together. There are friends who come for a moment to our life, teaching us something and go. Like in a train station. Some jump on the train for a few stations and leave, some stay for good.
I breathe the place inside and decide to stay at the shaded cabin and start writing this story. Just after the amazing sunset on the far dunes, I open my tent. The 3 guys from M’hamid that are operating this cabin for the off-road travelers, make a nice company on the camping fire with their spicy stories about their village people and about the legends of the Sahara riders. Those guys never left their village and probably will never do. Everything they know about the world is what they see here. TV? Do not make me laugh. I thought to myself about those places in the world, that if people wouldn’t arrived there, than how will those locals know that there is a world out there? Good night golden dunes.
Morning. Tulip is smiling. I am at the southern point of my tour. Tangier is the northern point, M’hamid is the eastern point and Agadir on the Atlantic shore is the western one. This is for the first round since I intend to do two rounds of Morocco in different directions

My back is to the dunes now and my face are west to the Atlantic Ocean. Tulip is barking, the rear wheel draws 8 in the sand, I wave goodbye to those “One moment open heart friends” and leave them in their happy “personal narrow world”. I am alone again. My soul and body are well balanced and everything is open 360 angles. I feel like when I am flying with my loved paraglider or scuba diving. There is good and bad in everything. I am heading west to Warzazat, where the Hollywood studios of Morocco are located.
Tulip and I are crossing the yellow endless plateau direction the Atlantic Ocean. I stop for water and looking at Tulip. “Why are you sad my Iron Horse”? I ask him. “I want mountains,” He is wailing. I look at the map and tell him that “Within 2 days we’ll breathe mountain tops air again”. I am smiling deep inside. “What a partner”.
Peddlers on the sides of the roads are offering whatever they can find. Crystal stones on the mountains, shell necklaces near the sea, fruits and vegetables at the plateaus and ceramics at the deserts. The people here are connected to what the nature has to offer.
I visit the movie studios of Warzazat. Nice but defiantly not the “Universal Studios” of Los Angeles Hollywood. The arena in the middle of the desert where they made “Gladiator” with Russell Crowe behind the studios, was destroyed – pity.

I made a promise to Tulip to go back to the mountains. I look at the map and choose the mountain roads to Marrakech instead of the asphalt roads. I have heard about their fascinating market calls Jemaa el-Fnaa. I need to check it myself. Spices, shoes, cloth, colors, smells, King Cobras snakes are dancing to the flutes, hustles and noise, “Suke” by the local’s nickname. I’ve spent 2 days in this very special city”, tuned my mind to “The beauty of the simplicity”. That is all high above the expectations. I amuse myself, thinking I need to rent an apt. here and spend a year, learning about the beauty of the simple life. But….. it hits again and again that God created a beautiful world for us to see. It is yet not the time to settle down and grow roots, since I still got like half of the word ahead of me to see.

 

Sunrise. Tea and I am looking at the map. Enough with the mountains. I miss the blue and want to smell the ocean. I surf downhill to Agadir. The city was destroyed by an earthquake like 60 years ago and was rebuilt in European style with a shoreline like the French Riviera. Quite expensive city for the locals but still half of the prices in Europe. I choose a coffee bar on the water.
Siham and her sister are smiling to me and joined the table. Friendly locals. Tulip gets a lot of attention and proudly tells everyone that he came from Holland with some irresponsible driver. He is blushing due to the compliment he gets from the crowd of fans. Back home he doesn’t have all that since he is just one of many. After all, he is THE #1 European best seller for many years. Something to be proud of.

I put my face north to Assaouira, a small village of anglers with a rich history, a fortress and an old city. Screaming sea goals are diving on the anglers nets for launch. Peddlers with “original” Rolex diving watches offer me one. I buy it, knowing it’s good only for a few days. Then, when I went to take a shower, it showed me for days the exact time I entered that shower. Money doesn’t lie.
I look at the map. “Casablanca”, (House – casa, white – Blanca). Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman are jumping on my mind with the American unforgettable romantic drama. Time to be there.
Ohhhh. Big cities are not for me. I cross the main streets and the city squares just to feel it. Tulip is choking by the smoke of the busses and me too. “Mountains” I hear Tulip crying. I am heading east to Meknes, to see their famous old city.

There is something magical in traveling alone, although I scream sometimes in the helmet up to the sky, just because it’s so difficult to be with the thoughts in all times. This situation is a mixture of an undesirable meditation with the changing reality. Kind of an illusion mixed with a daydreaming during the physical changing situations of the off-roads. Lucky me I take many pictures since the camera remembers everything. Just like with dreams, that the moment they come true they are no longer dreams. Then you have to recreate new ones cause who can live without it? What if Tulip had a self-awareness? What would he say or feel about that? I do anthropomorphize Tulip cause sometimes I feel like he is aware of my needs. What a partner.

I place the map on the table, got 2 more weeks in Morocco a head of me before I will have to climb back north to Holland. I open the map and find a winding road heading west to the sea. The sun touches the horizon, I find a remote village and a place to camp. I sit for dinner and there is a Deaf-mute man comes and sit with me. We start a hands conversation and he tells me that at the age of 11 he stopped hearing. I ask him “How is it to be Deaf-mute”? He explains his philosophy way, says most of the people around him are talking nonsense and gossips most of the time, so he is not interested in that kind of “noise” anyway. I ask him if he remembers the music he used to hear as a child, and he answers that he is in thoughts all the time. An apathetic philosopher.

On the top of the electric pole at the other side of the street, I see a stork teaches her kids how to fly. I would like to be present in the lesson about “How to bring babies”.

The owner of this small motel is an Italian, ex-captain, that got this one as an inheritance, and he came here for his retirement. Stories in to the night until I lose my consciousness of fatigue. Good night philosopher, good night Mon Captain.

A new day is up, the coffee of the morning is hot and I ask myself “Shell I drive back south to the family in Todra that are inviting me every day on the phone to stay with them forever?” Shell I choose the living in a muddy house, goats and chickens, or shell I go on with my “irresponsible way of life”. The memory of “God created a beautiful world for us to see” re-penetrates my mind. “Patience, I still got so much to see”. Yes, we can talk about it but it’s too early for that now, so I put my face west to cross the Anti-Atlas and whisper in Tulip’s ears that we are going up to 2,000m above sea level like he loves. Roads are rough and it’s freezing. The guy who designed this bike is a technological genius. I cross the canyon and climb to the watershed line on the upper trail of the mountain. Small villages and nice people are on the way. The camera got a breath stop due to the amazing view. Kids are waiting for presents that I have in my tank-bag. Even a color hairband makes a little child smiling with a sparking light in her eyes, same like a pen or a marker pen to the boys. Lucky me I brought lots of them. The main ally of the village looks empty even when some people are walking there. Strange.

I stop at the top, stretch my body on the ground, the sun and the wind are petting my face. “Is that how you make love to the nature”? An euphoria feeling sprayed in my mind. Why is it so difficult to get this euphoria every day everywhere?
It’s meditation time now. I put my mind on “No mind situation”. Years ago, I made a decision to change my attitude to life, and then everything started to change, mostly in good ways. The beauty and the happiness of life are hiding in the simple things.

I jump on Tulip, he is barking and surging forward. I cross a village in no-where, looking at the people. Everybody has his story of life but after all, they are all the same more than less. Here nothing much is happening, they born, grow up, getting old, never leaving the place and still they are happy because they don’t know something else. They are just clueless about the “Outside world”. Bikers and off-road 4×4 travelers don’t go through very often here, so the excitement they show is well understood. Simple and good people, sending a warm smile and want to talk, to host, to know. Every guest is an issue for a year in their gathering. Give them 100K$ and it means nothing to them because they probably don’t know what to do with it. exactly like you gave 1 Million $ to someone on a lonely island alone. It’s worthless.

I surf from the mountains west to the sea level, heading north to Tarifa for the ferry to Spain. Paper work, 40 minutes on the deck of the ferry for wind and salty air. Thanks to Morocco, to the mountains, to the people, to the emotions. Thanks Tulip for being such a good friend and thank God for the chance to experience all that.

My face to north, plan the way through the Mont Blanc, the highest pick of the Alps. Therefore, I cross Spain, Andorra, France, Switzerland, Germany, Belgium, and Holland. 11,000 KM (Like 7,000 Miles) within a month of a dream in a reality that is like a dream too.

“If you are sitting at home, nothing happened”. (Uriya Shai)

Meet you on the next tour 🙂