Tim's Balkan Bike Blast

Like so many people I know so little about the Balkans. Most of that limited knowledge is prejudiced and scarred by the war just before the turn of the century. 

It’s time to find out, in person, on a bike.

It also feels a little daring and certainly off the beaten track. 

I’ve been on two trips to India since learning to ride three years ago. Both of those trips were with Alex Pirie of Nomadic Knights, motto ‘Love Life, Live Adventure’. And adventure they both were. But I did not have enough holiday, or unexpected pension plans to cash in that would finance a return this year. The Balkans beckoned.

Two years ago the kids organised a trip to Montenegro and Albania. They were all three 14 (yes they’re triplets) and they did very well. We saw some wonderful scenery in Bosnia on a day’s drive through there, we had a few days in the Tara River canyon, in Montenegro, which was superb and a week at the seaside. So I knew enough to feel the riding would be good, easy to find petrol and wifi all over the place, what more do you need.

Talking about the trip ahead of time there were a few nerves from people, mainly concerned about whether it would be safe. The only answer was, probably. But hey, life is for living. And I had to do something, with the kids scattering across the globe. Hamish got a scholarship to spend his penultimate school year in Thailand. My daughter, Steedley, got the same for six months in Costa Rica and son George was booked in for three weeks with his mother in Frankfurt where she works.

A lot has been talked about the Transfagarasan highway across the Carpathian Mountains, in Transylvania, Romania, so that seemed a reasonable destination.

Given the vagaries of schedules at work there was no certainty how much time I could take off, or even when. Then stuff slotted into place.

My senior niece, Emily and a friend, Mandy, were happy to come out and dogsit. The dog is a huge Neapolitan mastiff, weighing in at 72 kilos. Soppy, slobbery and in need of company he didn’t deserve to be in a kennel for a couple of weeks.

With work, as usual in Italy, it seems disorganised and unplanned but there is a general idea of what is going to happen and with some flexibility it usually all gets sorted out. It did and I booked a ferry a week in advance.

In Italy most people are off in August and the 15^th is a sacrosanct national holiday for everyone except the restaurants, so holidays are based around that. The previous Wednesday I rode to Ancona and spent the day in the office with last minute mini panics to deliver proposals and reports ahead of the break.

By mid-afternoon torrential rain and thunderstorms set up the trip on a nervy note. I had packed a presumed minimum, hopefully everything would fit in one motorbike pannier, a tank bag and a hydration rucksack. I dehydrate easily, so a backpack with a three litre bag and long tube for a straw makes it easy to keep up the water and sporty mineral intake. The forecast was for temperatures between 30oC leaving Italy and 13oC in Transylvania.

The answer was layers. Riding gear and little else. A pair of bathing shorts, beach sandals, medical kit, travel towel, sleeping bag, just in case, and electronics for selfies.

I also had a small notebook from Cindy Moretti, who is a fellow teacher at ISTAO, a local business school. The notebook was really useful as it is easier than firing up an iPad to make a quick note. And if I tried to put notes on the smartphone I’d never find them again, or forget I’d made them.

Still the whole lot fit in a small rucksack and a tank bag, plus the sleeping bag. So one whole pannier was free for whatever happened on the journey.

Most excellent was the magnificent, trusty steed.
My 2010 Triumph Tiger 1050, No. M002951AN10.

The Tiger close to home, in Central Italy

Full compliments to everyone involved in building this wonderful beast. It starts when you want, stops when you want, has beautiful balance, excellent acceleration and after nine months of getting used to it, feels comfortable and friendly. I had new tyres and a new chain about a month ago, and just before setting off had the coolant completely changed and the oil checked. I even cleaned it! Filling it with petrol and the occasional clean are about the extent of by biking mechanical expertise.

The other excellent riding kit is the Nolan N44 helmet, with big open vision. Not only is that good for viewing the spectacular scenery, it also makes the life saver a little less effort. The lifesaver is a quick glance over the shoulder before moving left or right, in case you missed something in your mirrors and a bike or car is over-, or undertaking. It saves lives. It was a big point at the Advanced Riding Course I was on with my friend Michael when we went back to the UK in May for the Adventure Ashram Rally.

Slotting into special compartments in the helmet is a Nolan B5 communication system, linking with the smartphone for its GPS (which was used intermittently, but more on that later) and radio/music (which wasn’t used). It also connects with Bluetooth intercom for chatting with a pillion passenger (of which there were none) and with another B5 within 500 metres (which Michael wasn’t!).

Some Harley Davidson wrap around shades edged with foam were perfect for riding with the visor up, and no dust or insects got in. The other trick with the helmet was to lower the inbuilt sun visor halfway when the sun was low in the sky, like double shades. That helped visibility a lot.

Mandy had recommended downloading Maps.Me as a GPS app, which was good as it worked offline, which Google maps often does not. I had an on/off relationship with Maps.Me as it would not always connect with the GPS, the maps were good but not perfect and you have to download several. I ended up with four maps for the parts of Romania I went through. But you need wifi to download, which is not always available at every petrol station or café in the mountains. 

So setting off in central Italy, in the torrential rain the guys at work had given me a very good idea of where to go to check in for the overnight ferry across the Adriatic to Split. The ferry terminal was packed and although a bike can skip through a traffic jam the main problem was that there was a major police check of the incoming ferries so boarding was delayed by an hour, in the rain. At least it was a chance to meet fellow bikers.

I learnt from my mother the fun of starting conversations with complete strangers. At least bikes are a shared interest which makes it easy. The few bikers braving the rain were going for short trips down the Croatian coast. Once the kerfuffle had cleared, we set off skipping up the queue again. Of course in the rain with all the bits of paper and getting the passport and the bike documents I ended up dropping the bike at the police check. There was a kerfuffle, they were obviously on edge and I was plain embarrassed, but I’m well practiced at picking up the 250 kg bike as I’ve dropped it a few times, while parked.

Parking the wet bike on the wet steel floor of the boat I dropped it again. By this time, wet and sweaty I was ready for a shower, beers, supper and sleep.

There was no shower with my shared 4 bed couchette. So we had to do with a wash. I gambled on no one else sharing the room and wanting to steal my clothes so I took the passport and electronics to supper, which was very good and very cheap in the Jadrolinia ferry restaurant. A beer and a smoke on the afterdeck and bed was most welcome.