tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37178060039077462682024-03-19T12:06:43.070+00:00A Long Lay DownVespa or C90. Which will break down first?Bollottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00266790362954412722noreply@blogger.comBlogger30125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3717806003907746268.post-85947227789107169592010-04-28T13:32:00.010+01:002010-04-28T21:53:33.567+01:00GreetingsTo enjoy reading this blog from the beginning, <br />
<div style="text-align: center;">please select the following from the column on the right;</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;">'2009' </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">then select</div><div style="text-align: center;">'September'</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">then select...</div><div style="text-align: center;">'First we need some transport'</div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">************************</div><br />
<br />
<br />
Hello again,<br />
Bonjour, Bon Dias, Assalam Allahkum, Guten tag, Namaste, Ola and other greetings.<br />
<br />
I've finally had a long lay down and only now can I write some more.<br />
<br />
The good news is that there is now a book to accompany the blog of,<br />
"A long lay down. Vespa or C90. Which will breakdown first"? <br />
Here is a sneaky peaky...<br />
<br />
<div id="badge" style="background-color: white; border-bottom: #ff9933 1px solid; border-left: #ff9933 1px solid; border-right: #ff9933 1px solid; border-top: #ff9933 1px solid; height: 240px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 10px; padding-left: 10px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 10px; position: relative; width: 120px;"><div style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; height: 100px; left: 10px; line-height: 118px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: absolute; text-align: center; top: 10px; width: 118px;"><a href="http://www.blurb.com/bookstore/detail/1314254/?utm_source=badge&utm_medium=banner&utm_content=140x240" style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" target="_blank"><img alt="A long lay down" src="http://www.blurb.com//images/uploads/catalog/59/1640159/1318270-54eb0f915a5e3901977adb4f51627627.jpg" style="border-bottom: #a7a7a7 1px solid; border-left: #a7a7a7 1px solid; border-right: #a7a7a7 1px solid; border-top: #a7a7a7 1px solid; height: 118px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: middle;" /> </a></div><div style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; left: 10px; margin: 0px; overflow: hidden; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: absolute; text-align: left; top: 140px;"><div style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; overflow: hidden; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; width: 105px;"><a href="http://www.blurb.com/bookstore/detail/1314254?utm_source=badge&utm_medium=banner&utm_content=140x240" style="color: #fd7820; font: bold 12px Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-decoration: none;">A long lay down</a> </div><div style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; color: #545454; font: bold 10px/15px Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">England to Morocco ... </div><div style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; color: #545454; font: 10px/15px Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">By Scott Kindleyside... </div></div><div style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: absolute; right: 10px; top: 197px;"><a href="http://www.blurb.com/?utm_source=badge&utm_medium=banner&utm_content=140x240" style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><img alt="Photo book" src="http://www.blurb.com/images/badge/photo-book.png" style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" /> </a></div><div style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; bottom: 8px; color: #fd7820; font: 10px/15px Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; left: 10px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: absolute;"><a force="true" href="http://www.blurb.com/books/1314254" only_path="false" style="color: #fd7820; text-decoration: none;" title="Book Preview">Book Preview</a> </div><div style="border-bottom: black 0px solid; border-left: black 0px solid; border-right: black 0px solid; border-top: black 0px solid; clear: both;"></div></div><br />
or you can order the book from here:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.blurb.com/books/1314254">http://www.blurb.com/books/1314254</a><br />
<br />
Includes over 100 pictures including 25 full page prints all on high quality paper, with exclusive Q & A.<br />
Available in hardback deluxe, hardback and paperback, for a small fortune.<br />
With never before seen material and exclusives this book is a must for any fan of the blog.<br />
<br />
What critics are calling, <br />
"Probably the most amazing book ever printed" - The Daily Reader<br />
"Amazing photos and funny stories" - The Book Critic<br />
"Not bad. But can you make it disappear off the shelves"? - D. Blaine<br />
"If this was a film it would cost a lot of money to make" - S. Speilberg<br />
"If you only ever read one book in your lifetime, make sure it has lots of pictures like these, as you probably don't read much" - D. Bailey<br />
<br />
There has been talk of another trip, this time to Slovenia in the summer 2010. If it rains like it did on this trip then I will begin to believe than I am jinxed. <br />
<br />
The vespa is still going strong, being used frequently, with no modifications and Munchy 2 is almost ready for adventure.<br />
<br />
In the meantime, please have a look at the book.Bollottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00266790362954412722noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3717806003907746268.post-71288506232317697982010-02-22T02:17:00.007+00:002010-04-28T21:51:46.014+01:00Photo 7<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><strong><em></em></strong></div><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA-_gV-aG0fPVV3m8E0e6b2GT_I2ibqiok0SC5EN67HU8zPRlbjz0ppPFKyy2YrZcZnw0ibrR8kRs5q7Yb4CUoPH_vhnZ2-obK5jHRBGlqWtChv1Vk9D2XRT55vokR5V1h4RSB2mwbXgoG/s1600-h/tn_RIMG1498.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA-_gV-aG0fPVV3m8E0e6b2GT_I2ibqiok0SC5EN67HU8zPRlbjz0ppPFKyy2YrZcZnw0ibrR8kRs5q7Yb4CUoPH_vhnZ2-obK5jHRBGlqWtChv1Vk9D2XRT55vokR5V1h4RSB2mwbXgoG/s320/tn_RIMG1498.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Gas</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY1q9B3MKcoW_HUtaHyO5jHk5tLT2WEgVGaNwsVwexwrNhBbKGTLyeqOFOgnlvi8xKD-ideK2NCjDPO9n5B_wtNyaiGkF-_jzeQnDMyfQvgbxIXqqZhTI2mEbY1FrfxbjAqdaaMAtLuRoj/s1600-h/tn_RIMG1520.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY1q9B3MKcoW_HUtaHyO5jHk5tLT2WEgVGaNwsVwexwrNhBbKGTLyeqOFOgnlvi8xKD-ideK2NCjDPO9n5B_wtNyaiGkF-_jzeQnDMyfQvgbxIXqqZhTI2mEbY1FrfxbjAqdaaMAtLuRoj/s320/tn_RIMG1520.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Tiles</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT-Lacu0up2NxSzFhFVC2DQwA-i7nXZoqLRUOE1a6aztGIXqbSLudeQMDNxSMNf0pDd0jmxVJ4tppfEzv3pbojhSM8RmPfg_9XaRBm33em-gjXnl3OwdjXZCSKbL4n7onzqhpzK1eP9-y1/s1600-h/tn_RIMG1534.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT-Lacu0up2NxSzFhFVC2DQwA-i7nXZoqLRUOE1a6aztGIXqbSLudeQMDNxSMNf0pDd0jmxVJ4tppfEzv3pbojhSM8RmPfg_9XaRBm33em-gjXnl3OwdjXZCSKbL4n7onzqhpzK1eP9-y1/s320/tn_RIMG1534.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Eyeing up the opposition</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht4Q5MAOPncVB2ri9tHWjmpw5-0j-1W6vet73lVC0mjNwPRJcpQ0t9pYbY4jIPIm5iiKtsTR1P6bNyrtkrL7x3cwNLa_Q5QOZX1EwmVVn_a_iQuSLAtjxFtuj1EL-pvBPjVFJEWjCNltd3/s1600-h/tn_RIMG1631.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht4Q5MAOPncVB2ri9tHWjmpw5-0j-1W6vet73lVC0mjNwPRJcpQ0t9pYbY4jIPIm5iiKtsTR1P6bNyrtkrL7x3cwNLa_Q5QOZX1EwmVVn_a_iQuSLAtjxFtuj1EL-pvBPjVFJEWjCNltd3/s320/tn_RIMG1631.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Oranges</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_jqI2ZKXU2asHTY5Rx69PgJo4V8U1QE2F1R2wvPXUjsEanEfhDsTZMsK9xFhHRB6Jbx9M1GYRG2lN3Oh1uzshpfZlHXt5PAyQLWYQVW-PaiXGebSYDjHnJp1LapaSBwX1q9FF9qYFegWw/s1600-h/tn_RIMG1644.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_jqI2ZKXU2asHTY5Rx69PgJo4V8U1QE2F1R2wvPXUjsEanEfhDsTZMsK9xFhHRB6Jbx9M1GYRG2lN3Oh1uzshpfZlHXt5PAyQLWYQVW-PaiXGebSYDjHnJp1LapaSBwX1q9FF9qYFegWw/s320/tn_RIMG1644.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Barking Mad</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2ecv70oKsiTZ5y5VLddXPj1U_t44KhybIKcQLaH2kruwFqmYg-NZJVcg5yJUUjYJgY2vYm57Q6jtr-qWH73-eaTj5hiMGUYq0ookJyaUr3_hjp_3xwNgRUfx1ds0HgkPInn9R1ooZQN6z/s1600-h/tn_RIMG1740.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2ecv70oKsiTZ5y5VLddXPj1U_t44KhybIKcQLaH2kruwFqmYg-NZJVcg5yJUUjYJgY2vYm57Q6jtr-qWH73-eaTj5hiMGUYq0ookJyaUr3_hjp_3xwNgRUfx1ds0HgkPInn9R1ooZQN6z/s320/tn_RIMG1740.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Piping hot</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilnhDQoMqFH4l3Acf5sewW2UOvi1beuj6jyXZuoR0QTp5ZK1_FQ-vbeRltMqDqlir3bdS7c0kHiAMaGXOsSYhjybGJo1zfYsrfGolD_FoxPhLYLW_Oue3gwsr_nkCstwb25MhOyIW_JAZZ/s1600-h/tn_what+is+the+hurry.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="126" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilnhDQoMqFH4l3Acf5sewW2UOvi1beuj6jyXZuoR0QTp5ZK1_FQ-vbeRltMqDqlir3bdS7c0kHiAMaGXOsSYhjybGJo1zfYsrfGolD_FoxPhLYLW_Oue3gwsr_nkCstwb25MhOyIW_JAZZ/s200/tn_what+is+the+hurry.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-small;">From a previous life</span></div>Bollottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00266790362954412722noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3717806003907746268.post-7310578941699791762010-02-22T01:56:00.003+00:002010-02-23T02:45:56.644+00:00Photo 6 - The Vespa<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilyoASYlL36BJwsS6BGeHI6gBTgDsbHcfOYGmB4waAOhTIyHp3TQSvzJJvu7QjWUDomXs9gQqFUyk2bNWiiL6EK9YfeusCjjiIZnOxUAlwcRfGeqNfUkFNeZAymxOeEJal53epYBHE5iny/s1600-h/tn_RIMG1175.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilyoASYlL36BJwsS6BGeHI6gBTgDsbHcfOYGmB4waAOhTIyHp3TQSvzJJvu7QjWUDomXs9gQqFUyk2bNWiiL6EK9YfeusCjjiIZnOxUAlwcRfGeqNfUkFNeZAymxOeEJal53epYBHE5iny/s320/tn_RIMG1175.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">210km</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnwzgRJODxdSXEeYk7-hO924DStEaEvG1b4YoCxKuUTlZ9dbipivF9-3hWPU6djw2hLV1o2qkRpFUTAxIZcSpGsPkV9XQB_I0-6U7JpFkFJuv1U6Lor3x-MptZGMR7zVpEYDBD_fHC19Hd/s1600-h/tn_RIMG1178+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnwzgRJODxdSXEeYk7-hO924DStEaEvG1b4YoCxKuUTlZ9dbipivF9-3hWPU6djw2hLV1o2qkRpFUTAxIZcSpGsPkV9XQB_I0-6U7JpFkFJuv1U6Lor3x-MptZGMR7zVpEYDBD_fHC19Hd/s320/tn_RIMG1178+-+Copy.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The big boys are here</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrW1K_er850_KdvbsDMdeUR1Iri0sailJVrL14-hpW7njc7X9F1jFSduSO8dQojYxIpBo4Rm9KoI6vsIRFl9lBAhoUxlP0KlFJYsPCbmxwzWfI7DibhyeLL9cH-yk84AfrRszEJmMjkRmI/s1600-h/tn_RIMG1179.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrW1K_er850_KdvbsDMdeUR1Iri0sailJVrL14-hpW7njc7X9F1jFSduSO8dQojYxIpBo4Rm9KoI6vsIRFl9lBAhoUxlP0KlFJYsPCbmxwzWfI7DibhyeLL9cH-yk84AfrRszEJmMjkRmI/s320/tn_RIMG1179.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">100</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeqqMifJJJUmpsKJZOeXaJGxJREJyEHpSOanuECtjEyx-QCxrAPszn0gXYa9_qzunmd8mGTD30ksWMXqMjRqf62S9jZe2H_Q1FTqGJuHn3fvk6FHFuOiUbPsYo8gYEUQGFTyhXzKFrrj3B/s1600-h/tn_RIMG1181.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeqqMifJJJUmpsKJZOeXaJGxJREJyEHpSOanuECtjEyx-QCxrAPszn0gXYa9_qzunmd8mGTD30ksWMXqMjRqf62S9jZe2H_Q1FTqGJuHn3fvk6FHFuOiUbPsYo8gYEUQGFTyhXzKFrrj3B/s320/tn_RIMG1181.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Slender</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguNk6VyaPhP7DqaeV-pTvbauzycPgwSM_em1tiCJxbPM4lCF4raORrihxHApa2gyG_xzU53IjHLi4EGJT0-azS75NuAEeG6lBFYWrBuxyqKrIoxSjzEFzbb_fi7z9BOjDzfvymYCFIKr__/s1600-h/tn_RIMG1197.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguNk6VyaPhP7DqaeV-pTvbauzycPgwSM_em1tiCJxbPM4lCF4raORrihxHApa2gyG_xzU53IjHLi4EGJT0-azS75NuAEeG6lBFYWrBuxyqKrIoxSjzEFzbb_fi7z9BOjDzfvymYCFIKr__/s320/tn_RIMG1197.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Footpath</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik59IMgs6t3XgsPyYo2eclOJ3HykP5-gMSixENxjoU5Cv_Z8VGb3SDPKcK8wcY4BEuI7aF0Pe9MTw1JLmJM2IEgzeLI5Ld35qYLA9pwuSW0Ei9fU7UiboIYdt8KiG1KINStWuj9lP2vmJr/s1600-h/tn_RIMG1206.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik59IMgs6t3XgsPyYo2eclOJ3HykP5-gMSixENxjoU5Cv_Z8VGb3SDPKcK8wcY4BEuI7aF0Pe9MTw1JLmJM2IEgzeLI5Ld35qYLA9pwuSW0Ei9fU7UiboIYdt8KiG1KINStWuj9lP2vmJr/s320/tn_RIMG1206.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Posing</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSFvw_017r8TDYtKrBTDrvXv1f1xJ9QQxQNUEc9jRe5XpO2HJ9oI0gCQmSkWqpEIdIBsOygw_r0fJ86S3oHZc4DX6rVYyFOhKAjPfpNUL4NT2bAxaAiaV9Yxc6xWXEfGuvoNZdYNkEE34s/s1600-h/tn_RIMG1228.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSFvw_017r8TDYtKrBTDrvXv1f1xJ9QQxQNUEc9jRe5XpO2HJ9oI0gCQmSkWqpEIdIBsOygw_r0fJ86S3oHZc4DX6rVYyFOhKAjPfpNUL4NT2bAxaAiaV9Yxc6xWXEfGuvoNZdYNkEE34s/s320/tn_RIMG1228.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Watching</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfW3B1-VLsUcp6u11ng8mf3lPYIW0Wms-1ktq1M1Pn6blsX1y65obj7KIJ-0fm0pBwZwtetJEZdH376DLGFv1SR6AdVdJiksoYPAKsurRER0BpjgWZV9_u4bTofQsPyVeAMXis3PjY66MB/s1600-h/tn_RIMG1234.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfW3B1-VLsUcp6u11ng8mf3lPYIW0Wms-1ktq1M1Pn6blsX1y65obj7KIJ-0fm0pBwZwtetJEZdH376DLGFv1SR6AdVdJiksoYPAKsurRER0BpjgWZV9_u4bTofQsPyVeAMXis3PjY66MB/s320/tn_RIMG1234.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Waiting</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYtRO7zc4L7m-bag3tIwRQBQR-uvsFsEJwZF32X5N0LD8vX3AlimizKdG1QEMO8mR3lPERXmX-XBha73LslT8FT14Ii4EDvQeI-KJdUojnHRb8aY6C6wcw3QysE-NRCzSIZsZ0aWysQUyw/s1600-h/tn_RIMG1268+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYtRO7zc4L7m-bag3tIwRQBQR-uvsFsEJwZF32X5N0LD8vX3AlimizKdG1QEMO8mR3lPERXmX-XBha73LslT8FT14Ii4EDvQeI-KJdUojnHRb8aY6C6wcw3QysE-NRCzSIZsZ0aWysQUyw/s320/tn_RIMG1268+-+Copy.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">How Far</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiclJUt4U83_wzLvAdya5JjYidhTypDeuWHWLztdh5Cpf-oG4BTHOFw9wWrm7qnuFbaih9cn13vEOk9MMnRTiiT6a6xxICxHzn5qg8GZsHBhmRmkqxt0_WuDkXK5QkdGCExSCo1yXqXkKlb/s1600-h/tn_RIMG1291+-+Copy+(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiclJUt4U83_wzLvAdya5JjYidhTypDeuWHWLztdh5Cpf-oG4BTHOFw9wWrm7qnuFbaih9cn13vEOk9MMnRTiiT6a6xxICxHzn5qg8GZsHBhmRmkqxt0_WuDkXK5QkdGCExSCo1yXqXkKlb/s320/tn_RIMG1291+-+Copy+(2).JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Shopping</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwAFNFsBbCKEs65UXnH3bKUWiUiI0tDEDe33LVqSHmJqF8rWyN3VoBoV94Gct-AwxnveQBMWCZBa9DQblnvVuRKRzqHemo3u1_wgZm17hux-loeQQ8xiswkqxn2njkDZokNcZG2JMWNllW/s1600-h/tn_RIMG1288+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwAFNFsBbCKEs65UXnH3bKUWiUiI0tDEDe33LVqSHmJqF8rWyN3VoBoV94Gct-AwxnveQBMWCZBa9DQblnvVuRKRzqHemo3u1_wgZm17hux-loeQQ8xiswkqxn2njkDZokNcZG2JMWNllW/s320/tn_RIMG1288+-+Copy.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">I liked it so much</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEiQ8y41fgQFW1y815lowGB-LFW9Nxd4zUMbXml2gokC6NNOWN5A4mO69hKAzMz0e-MljZPPUz87yonaZ4UT7VHsipYlE143bYgv5AqbgF1KbwF0xYQOuddBMuvMewHC8JFaE26-dlZnl2/s1600-h/tn_RIMG1312.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEiQ8y41fgQFW1y815lowGB-LFW9Nxd4zUMbXml2gokC6NNOWN5A4mO69hKAzMz0e-MljZPPUz87yonaZ4UT7VHsipYlE143bYgv5AqbgF1KbwF0xYQOuddBMuvMewHC8JFaE26-dlZnl2/s320/tn_RIMG1312.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Movers and Shakers</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJHi5fI_iFnPZTPbmiHjPM9R89HpOCMlor0W7XIXE_vQQRnM8zpEm8R8RdeYqvEifEZe2uiYhSCneLmzghS00b9pSnjq_4_A8a9p7Cz9EBfsZNsfhie3UhYKb9AA2bZsnGs0IsdYnt8gcv/s1600-h/tn_RIMG1328.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJHi5fI_iFnPZTPbmiHjPM9R89HpOCMlor0W7XIXE_vQQRnM8zpEm8R8RdeYqvEifEZe2uiYhSCneLmzghS00b9pSnjq_4_A8a9p7Cz9EBfsZNsfhie3UhYKb9AA2bZsnGs0IsdYnt8gcv/s320/tn_RIMG1328.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Tree</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvvCswXm80AlwjnDWmUEUuCv81V8kzD_T2EFs28nEA_evaL5U6O9vQ2oPCVSELjywukUtnvr1Vr3_EF6fbMNrY6BkU4NiHVNJwNo_qLZxUwbedep4Y7CSnAQgQ1y9cvyAm8L46xbccOhwc/s1600-h/tn_RIMG1428+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvvCswXm80AlwjnDWmUEUuCv81V8kzD_T2EFs28nEA_evaL5U6O9vQ2oPCVSELjywukUtnvr1Vr3_EF6fbMNrY6BkU4NiHVNJwNo_qLZxUwbedep4Y7CSnAQgQ1y9cvyAm8L46xbccOhwc/s320/tn_RIMG1428+-+Copy.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Bricking it</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHh5_YwmTgDwpiu2vQkm2oOxAigdoiBQQBBdBAWKpLBjOr4IOnNcjZYpWODPAV1brulXRPc8961VD5EdQafmYCVISFJD7IpFrPhImyiZuBN8fPIkh0-YEGUdWZQAe0N39f9vclHCvM1IC6/s1600-h/tn_RIMG1413+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHh5_YwmTgDwpiu2vQkm2oOxAigdoiBQQBBdBAWKpLBjOr4IOnNcjZYpWODPAV1brulXRPc8961VD5EdQafmYCVISFJD7IpFrPhImyiZuBN8fPIkh0-YEGUdWZQAe0N39f9vclHCvM1IC6/s320/tn_RIMG1413+-+Copy.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">M'diq</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Bollottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00266790362954412722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3717806003907746268.post-20724994419488174562010-02-22T00:38:00.000+00:002010-02-22T00:38:26.089+00:00Photos 5 - Marrakesh to Kenitra<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN0b6PlOMilU_V9Sl15w-us2-5rmI8SIf1nQKtUNUjmlNSozuJjae9tYvvsur-dR63OkMfWiQfnPUw9qA12Le4uyLk_M4_lBzlRQP4__A357Q-JkwB06D1sBLbjUgzQnZ51h5ZRx3HDil1/s1600-h/tn_defence.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN0b6PlOMilU_V9Sl15w-us2-5rmI8SIf1nQKtUNUjmlNSozuJjae9tYvvsur-dR63OkMfWiQfnPUw9qA12Le4uyLk_M4_lBzlRQP4__A357Q-JkwB06D1sBLbjUgzQnZ51h5ZRx3HDil1/s320/tn_defence.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Si Defencey</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXn6YJU6ZVOkBy78ohqSBYfN06CopNpq9I2fVxhPDcWAkGnOu4rchA7ckHaNCRfWZFRu9QpKQ7qrMn37sYBFK_VC9J18-aeWnZCf-uRj_VeAU4cTkz2_A7Y0kqM3nstU4wO_T8mrpyJZD7/s1600-h/tn_RIMG1106.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXn6YJU6ZVOkBy78ohqSBYfN06CopNpq9I2fVxhPDcWAkGnOu4rchA7ckHaNCRfWZFRu9QpKQ7qrMn37sYBFK_VC9J18-aeWnZCf-uRj_VeAU4cTkz2_A7Y0kqM3nstU4wO_T8mrpyJZD7/s320/tn_RIMG1106.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Sooty and Sweepy</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgURCXeNJUnFjSbU9vYMkw38L6MhFNgpSfd4OqkZ3DbbDeo-wG0h33UoIA6QBrKKMqtGQnf783PEBPGviyM48gYJ6XMPOFDsX_CPZcf5QBTWkcosgFYPQm_gmmDtWsVwryyFns1nIX-OFEh/s1600-h/tn_RIMG1107.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgURCXeNJUnFjSbU9vYMkw38L6MhFNgpSfd4OqkZ3DbbDeo-wG0h33UoIA6QBrKKMqtGQnf783PEBPGviyM48gYJ6XMPOFDsX_CPZcf5QBTWkcosgFYPQm_gmmDtWsVwryyFns1nIX-OFEh/s320/tn_RIMG1107.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Sneaky Peaky</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNhsvIcv72CihnXma_HnEJw67nE6xQYT9ju8UIdLMu0zL-hzZ98VzwGKDAy1hqKIomrdaQNYic-RLbcqKImEvmGJivgZ7gJnjGRa8-mknzvr4BRapdixT0yVDM8Q0Nrj2yE8TYNCojK_d2/s1600-h/tn_RIMG1148.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNhsvIcv72CihnXma_HnEJw67nE6xQYT9ju8UIdLMu0zL-hzZ98VzwGKDAy1hqKIomrdaQNYic-RLbcqKImEvmGJivgZ7gJnjGRa8-mknzvr4BRapdixT0yVDM8Q0Nrj2yE8TYNCojK_d2/s320/tn_RIMG1148.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Ropey Dopey</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbfe-XIpXuuP5_-jkdAGB1mvcKtXCx_RC734iX-C-P-Sr2j4YBw9t0TQkxloFpSEqjevnOsZejrDRIg4jN6JIIgrsBKa8a_210UFxBDlZ7Yxh2uHcOXHjt08giVtNcD1h3DoFvptYh9V77/s1600-h/tn_RIMG1140.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbfe-XIpXuuP5_-jkdAGB1mvcKtXCx_RC734iX-C-P-Sr2j4YBw9t0TQkxloFpSEqjevnOsZejrDRIg4jN6JIIgrsBKa8a_210UFxBDlZ7Yxh2uHcOXHjt08giVtNcD1h3DoFvptYh9V77/s320/tn_RIMG1140.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Rusty Chainy</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBddFjQuGip-Smb20A7LKfnvFnCshOyR724uM2IjCNwo9XJSuLjpDDFcGvD_BzZmO9fzD62HAyzqS02GDDWsI7WGZVfjGkudFlrAZH6XUqTD7kU3HgcXu9likTP3gtGUh2v5u0cw8ODzKy/s1600-h/tn_RIMG1000.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBddFjQuGip-Smb20A7LKfnvFnCshOyR724uM2IjCNwo9XJSuLjpDDFcGvD_BzZmO9fzD62HAyzqS02GDDWsI7WGZVfjGkudFlrAZH6XUqTD7kU3HgcXu9likTP3gtGUh2v5u0cw8ODzKy/s320/tn_RIMG1000.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Whiny Signy</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3199FT4cX6KxVrRmA7IC6YYa6U4zABh3GPLn80heHu7WuNklM2VqnqVlDpr2uI9N9SGiBMzxKfC0eRsTcU4DM_PvEsegxniqtZ3Zb8CQ7l2zSBu2KwZXbiJnMAjtmUSvx2BtDUUklLbFj/s1600-h/tn_RIMG1161.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3199FT4cX6KxVrRmA7IC6YYa6U4zABh3GPLn80heHu7WuNklM2VqnqVlDpr2uI9N9SGiBMzxKfC0eRsTcU4DM_PvEsegxniqtZ3Zb8CQ7l2zSBu2KwZXbiJnMAjtmUSvx2BtDUUklLbFj/s320/tn_RIMG1161.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Poxy Boxy</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUUxV67dYeY-W5U24qYefPbMXe1ouRm1ne88bQ21KfreI1nODNYRiYNKKhs8uo2LPAMi4qqVuexXjcTLZAUxybN-4DlJVkmWnKbVHfoeH2TMAUgnnXirAPQ6Ld_2bhPID35jcplOnrUnf0/s1600-h/tn_RIMG1169.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUUxV67dYeY-W5U24qYefPbMXe1ouRm1ne88bQ21KfreI1nODNYRiYNKKhs8uo2LPAMi4qqVuexXjcTLZAUxybN-4DlJVkmWnKbVHfoeH2TMAUgnnXirAPQ6Ld_2bhPID35jcplOnrUnf0/s320/tn_RIMG1169.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Whirly Birdy</span></div>Bollottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00266790362954412722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3717806003907746268.post-3483551521942944992010-02-20T04:56:00.005+00:002010-02-23T02:29:22.078+00:00Homeward Bound<div style="text-align: left;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">Happy</span></strong></div><div style="text-align: left;">Hello friends. </div><div style="text-align: left;">I'm happy (and sad) to say that I'm writing this post from home. </div><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">I'm also happy because I survived the trip and the Vepsa made it.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaM_BaoQglfUxt0wvgF0pw4zK4Htz0nkHJQpiSVuK7FeMDAGH-euv1PQnAWg_9lg2KwcwOiuV665pXDyh8ysYFle5inQRN-Wj2Tu6sH_ZAwG4wa7l8lrNJWsCXXEGDPE1yGEZenJgRE-XP/s1600-h/cheryl-cole-s-birthday-pic-rex-384106481%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaM_BaoQglfUxt0wvgF0pw4zK4Htz0nkHJQpiSVuK7FeMDAGH-euv1PQnAWg_9lg2KwcwOiuV665pXDyh8ysYFle5inQRN-Wj2Tu6sH_ZAwG4wa7l8lrNJWsCXXEGDPE1yGEZenJgRE-XP/s200/cheryl-cole-s-birthday-pic-rex-384106481%5B1%5D.jpg" width="176" /></a></div><br />
and<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><strong>SAD</strong></span> </div><div style="text-align: left;">because</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT6He8Lk8XTatfzXaSb0dcuysOhifInJ9Rx2u2g8PXoNktyxMY1mJKehwCj3tz0lvJRkOPtFkhyxg5qvjDfdwf6z4JbsAFMZqztVg4-cxq8IKe3fTwPkvzMRu0N5X2ZCSh9Ymi4JdugYtm/s1600-h/Cheryl+Cole.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT6He8Lk8XTatfzXaSb0dcuysOhifInJ9Rx2u2g8PXoNktyxMY1mJKehwCj3tz0lvJRkOPtFkhyxg5qvjDfdwf6z4JbsAFMZqztVg4-cxq8IKe3fTwPkvzMRu0N5X2ZCSh9Ymi4JdugYtm/s320/Cheryl+Cole.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> it's over.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Light Box</strong></span><br />
But I made it! <br />
And the Vespa made it!<br />
I left the hotel in Plymouth at 9am (Wow! I didn't realise quite how far Plymouth is until I looked at a map on the ferry)! <br />
(And Wow! 08:00 in the morning. What a time to get up)!<br />
The long lay down was getting shorter.<br />
The day started off in traditional style with traditional english breakfast followed by traditional rainclouds-a-looming. It wasn't long after I'd set off that I started to loom along with the clouds and consequently got very wet indeed.<br />
Oh! How I missed the english weather. <br />
The sunny weather that is. <br />
Right now it's raining and I don't miss it at all.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>My Dirty Box</strong></span><br />
Going through Somerset I noticed a familiar place name and went in search of a company I have been dealing with last year. My search took a little longer than planned but the tea and company were worth the stop. Being able to dry my gloves out was also a <em>who-uge</em> bonus. Thanks guys and gals. <br />
I set off again, this time from Martock, Somerset at 13:45. I thought I may have reached the M3 by this stage and it was getting late already. I needed to get a move on or I wouldn't be home until the next morning!<br />
The sun made a special guest appearance and later came out for an encore so it wasn't all bad.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Dot com</strong></span><br />
Due to road blocks I had to take a long detour and one particular road looked vaguely familiar. I realised I was in Pilton, the home of the Glastonbury Festival.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUydrZHb5NTh9CM_Hd-p7-9LRfNuKcTKjZYhrdI3jp8geYUvn08Hp0C-f0h6TR1o65NWwmLbLhxukB_JwTpMG0FMXVzAJ_79jL1fRu3XxdoloJXf-2U0_J3V956if3DBIKW4otpuaA-K24/s1600-h/banksy_glastonbury%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUydrZHb5NTh9CM_Hd-p7-9LRfNuKcTKjZYhrdI3jp8geYUvn08Hp0C-f0h6TR1o65NWwmLbLhxukB_JwTpMG0FMXVzAJ_79jL1fRu3XxdoloJXf-2U0_J3V956if3DBIKW4otpuaA-K24/s320/banksy_glastonbury%5B1%5D.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Further on I passed Stonehenge. Well it wasn't moving anywhere and it wasn't going to pass me by so quickly, so I stopped briefly to take a quick picture of Japanese tourists taking Japanese photos of me and the Vespa.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><strong>We buy any car</strong></span></div>The rain had stopped and the blue skies were trying their best to show themselves. Now that there were no head winds the throttle was once again able to be held wide open. <br />
Road signs with more familar place names began to pass and I was approaching the M25.<br />
But no, not again. <br />
The Vespa started to spit and splutter. It sounded like the same problem I'd had the other day near Santander. I pulled off the motorway and decided that I was not going to ride like this for the 200km or so I had remaining. It would have felt like Norman Wisdom giving Norman Collier a piggy-back down a cobbled street, wearing stiletto shoes.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxQFJbBpWik3tn5ixJTuLS6s5ocM6OzZ-n4jMfaJVzDAt0h0JttFVLbFpteR3VGyscFcuITJqYTkJvKscc6veHwq5WI-w-c8LqAE6rHUfSx6bvkZzTeHsI1mlX3EWVZXuTAlc1mrkoCQ0J/s1600-h/Norman%2520Collier%252010%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="151" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxQFJbBpWik3tn5ixJTuLS6s5ocM6OzZ-n4jMfaJVzDAt0h0JttFVLbFpteR3VGyscFcuITJqYTkJvKscc6veHwq5WI-w-c8LqAE6rHUfSx6bvkZzTeHsI1mlX3EWVZXuTAlc1mrkoCQ0J/s200/Norman%2520Collier%252010%5B1%5D.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Norman and Norman yesterday</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">Dot com</span></strong></div>This time I would quickly change the spark plug and set off again regardless. I took out the hot spark plug and noticed there was a small deposit of <em>carbon?</em> which was shorting out the sparkplug, so I simply removed this vagrant piece of <em><strong>?</strong></em> and set off again, trouble free, all the way home. <br />
The only problem I had was that my little piggys were getting cold. I was told once again that it was -2 degrees. That probably had something to do with it. Having wet gloves and wet socks didn't exactly help either but home was in sight.<br />
<br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">From 50 quid to a 100 grand</span></strong><br />
I arrived back home, near Diss at 21:45, feeling rather cold but the warm welcome was enough to put the smile back on my face after the 7000km trip I had just finished. <br />
I laid the Vespa to rest for the night, thanked it for the ride and had a nice cuppa tea.<br />
<br />
Now, it's back to bed, back to reality.<br />
<br />
Ciao<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">More photos and a summary will be added in the next few days.</span>Bollottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00266790362954412722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3717806003907746268.post-29206803343756562122010-02-14T21:16:00.008+00:002010-02-23T02:25:07.889+00:00Si Si Espana<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>El Torro (the bull)</strong></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibAB2jK1k8BoEg3Cgg5VlcnkR6MQflKYp3MTHfbaOZMf5Sx84ME9siqahtqFZDZYVh3L0o9z1k3d6PSYLtHkws2wVlccKdTqsf-_TvFQPDEkXR77uOMWSw-sscDo5WEiBvWe7njyfVmiTo/s1600-h/1465[1].jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibAB2jK1k8BoEg3Cgg5VlcnkR6MQflKYp3MTHfbaOZMf5Sx84ME9siqahtqFZDZYVh3L0o9z1k3d6PSYLtHkws2wVlccKdTqsf-_TvFQPDEkXR77uOMWSw-sscDo5WEiBvWe7njyfVmiTo/s200/1465%5B1%5D.jpg" width="153" /></a></div>I left Portugal in search of Spain, land of El Torro. My dreams and wishes for a back wind, just for once, were not coming true. I would say 90% of this trip has been into head winds. If I ever got lost along the way I just headed into the wind as that was the way I would be going. <br />
Using the sun as a compass was no use either. I must be turning into a vampire as I haven´t seen my shadow since leaving Morocco. I dare not look in the mirror either as my time scale has been ruined because I have not shaved when I needed to. For all I know it could be easter already. <br />
Wait a minute. <br />
Was that an easter egg I just saw in the supermarket window? <br />
What day is it? <br />
Where on earth am I? <br />
What´s happened to the weather? <br />
Where has my cloud landed?<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>El Burro (the donkey)</strong></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeIWdTtip9ThNCec-2hIWoztexTv4mKJKk8sVcNiFzB23HDU8rvSa_78KGiqLArBWdo5H7SKILR4klAUSqbW7j9IzILjcTIk6F2XQKIuxvxgVihQpcC7G8nYfsC7qixGmuZnfS_AiGpyiq/s1600-h/donkey-gas[1].jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeIWdTtip9ThNCec-2hIWoztexTv4mKJKk8sVcNiFzB23HDU8rvSa_78KGiqLArBWdo5H7SKILR4klAUSqbW7j9IzILjcTIk6F2XQKIuxvxgVihQpcC7G8nYfsC7qixGmuZnfS_AiGpyiq/s320/donkey-gas%5B1%5D.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Ok. I found out where I am. In a town called Friganal de Real, about 200km from where I left Portugal. And yes, it`s raining.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Long straight roads, battling with head winds that slowed me down to 3rd gear. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">That`s about all there is to say for that part of the trip.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">Reins</span></strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Next stop, Caceres. I looked at the weather report before I left and guess what. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It planned to rain. When I awoke the next morning, guess what. It was raining. All I could do was to put as many layers of clothes on as possible, just enough so that I could still move and take a deep breathe and get on with it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It wasn´t as bad as the journey me and Kevin had from Fez in Morocco. I´m not sure that journey will never be forgotten but at least now we can laugh about it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So looking on the brightside of things, I set off again for the next town. This time I was going to stop in a town that had more than 2 hotels and 3 bars. I actually felt quite young while I was drinking in this town as most of the regulars were either over 80 years old or the beer I was drinking was having strange effects with my vision.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh8QWN_jaWnuWJWTqQn4IkJRqsJNho8yxuuuIuByvdQNhhlOxyf8u2amxPauCW6JXo5OQA-MmSNT3HqwBqFrUq9XPDI3KtYLVifzzdxR_YqezYcA0PElJjz7Ut3wU6dz5bXDXqzLypnkJj/s1600-h/CAQAFU8G.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh8QWN_jaWnuWJWTqQn4IkJRqsJNho8yxuuuIuByvdQNhhlOxyf8u2amxPauCW6JXo5OQA-MmSNT3HqwBqFrUq9XPDI3KtYLVifzzdxR_YqezYcA0PElJjz7Ut3wU6dz5bXDXqzLypnkJj/s320/CAQAFU8G.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">Reign</span></strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The rain in Spain falls mainly on the Vespa. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Poor the Vespa.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Caceres. I arrived in town. I found an alarmingly expensive 1* hotel and dried my things. And I mean I dried <em>all</em> my bits and bobs. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">When the rain finally stopped that afternoon, just as I entered my hotel room, I took a quick stroll through town in search of food. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">No food. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Being Spain and being around 4pm in the afternoon, it was almost impossible to find somewhere to have a hot meal. I forgot, the Spanish love to fall asleep in the afternoons, wake up at around 9pm and go out for food. What people do in this siesta period if they want a hot meal I don`t know. So I had to survive on tapas and beer until any of the numerous restaurants opened. Walking down one street I picked up a familiar smell. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Wait a minute I thought, is that lovely aroma coming from that bar?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I checked it out.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Inside I could no longer sense any sensimilia so I ordered a beer, as you do. The few people inside were getting drunk and they were all under the age of 40. That was a good enough bar for me as in the other bars there´s only so much `Spanish farmer idle chat´ I can put up with. Whilst <em>this</em> bar had loud music and drunken laughter. The barman, I found out, loved rock music. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Oh well not everybody is perfect. But he also loved Morocco and Moroccan things. He gave me some Moroccan souveniers for my journey so I was most happy and forgot about the fact that the spanish play darts using funny plastic darts and funny plastic boards. I guess this game stems from ´Pin the tail on the burro´ and it made no sense to me what so ever. Who cares what the rules are, they loved it and got drunk whilst playing it. Sounds fair. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I found out that the aroma I caught was probably coming from the shop across the road which sold numerous things for growing exotic plants. Then a little later someone sparked up a lovely smelling pipe in the bar which I happened to comment upon, hoping to have a taste. Nice one geezers. I was most happy.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5c5j1OWREnIsfVQYQtt_zeDh-sDpnmzVgMlQv4GwmUgKdgIc-gXRf4HpK787Hyj_Bh-9WgfD4-EkByq4i-dVbG-UzEiNJVW16E9ihfyw_XMPRGZd7JV8fXGbI5PkIcnQvxMCywkQ1Edzp/s1600-h/CASKCBRC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5c5j1OWREnIsfVQYQtt_zeDh-sDpnmzVgMlQv4GwmUgKdgIc-gXRf4HpK787Hyj_Bh-9WgfD4-EkByq4i-dVbG-UzEiNJVW16E9ihfyw_XMPRGZd7JV8fXGbI5PkIcnQvxMCywkQ1Edzp/s320/CASKCBRC.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">King</span></strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The next morning, having been elightened into the ways of spanish darts, I decided to stay another day here in Caceres. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Nothing to do with me having a hangover. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Oh no. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Never. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Of course not. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">What me? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Nah!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Actually I was glad I stayed a little longer as this gave me the chance to explore this lovely town. What´s more I was exploring in glorious sunshine. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Yes. I said Sun-she-ine. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It does exist after all. I was beginning to enjoy being outside again.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">Burger</span></strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">What were you expecting? A picture of Elvis Presley? Ok. Here´s one.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8uuM0CPZxa6_KTegcF9JJPjIRBeQRSyCKV7H07kK3IqNUVPpB7EjqNV-l924w3waOBuY68Qc37xomWDVRJEnV-aFV7VxpIhHlRQwAYdtS9EJbRZrWmrhJO-SFKQjgG5GdmhFN3i2pX7vw/s1600-h/CAS1AB4X.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8uuM0CPZxa6_KTegcF9JJPjIRBeQRSyCKV7H07kK3IqNUVPpB7EjqNV-l924w3waOBuY68Qc37xomWDVRJEnV-aFV7VxpIhHlRQwAYdtS9EJbRZrWmrhJO-SFKQjgG5GdmhFN3i2pX7vw/s320/CAS1AB4X.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">Whopper</span></strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Moving on swiftly now (the internet cafe I´m in at the moment is about to close). I left Caceres, this time no rain. YIPPEE! The sun was trying it´s hardest to come out to play but to no avail. The snow was stopping it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Yes that´s right. Snow. The first I´ve seen falling all year. The first I´ve seen falling for years actually come to think about it. I guess you lot in Blighty have seen enough of it already. Well, now its my turn. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I was heading north again towards Santander, where I planned to catch the ferry back to Blighty. Trouble is I only managed to book a ferry that sails to Plymouth in Devon. So close but yet so far from home.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The next town I stopped at was Salamanca. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">No, it isn´t the place where James Bond villians reside but another interesting town where there are no cafes/restuarants open until around 9pm. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">What do these people do in the late afternoon when they get hungry? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Well I had to do something quite unexpected of me. The only place I could find in the whole town that sold anything warm (execpt small tapas) was McDonalds. I still never went in that horid place. Another walk around the block in search of something more appealing and I ended up heading for a Burger King I spotted in the distance. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Not much better than McD admittedly. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">That was just about enough to put me off eating until 9pm, when nice food was available everywhere once more. I feasted on a fake chinese and more beer.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Who-uge</strong> </span><span style="font-size: x-small;">(a norfolk term for large)</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">On the way out of Salamanca I was looking for the bar, from the hit film, "From dusk till dawn", which Kevin had told me about before.</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeZUiKdnDBNfwxkQFCZfqlcgkvMx8dJmhnzKzKAYVP69i_VbuWNO0sLqh7nrfht2dcbO5aMpqMHYmKbF_bl-DQo-eUf_cdxs9B6rcUgiH00WZRJN9zdaHzdBtBBJ_CgnuHsGmhAUyf4ww4/s1600-h/dd7%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="128" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeZUiKdnDBNfwxkQFCZfqlcgkvMx8dJmhnzKzKAYVP69i_VbuWNO0sLqh7nrfht2dcbO5aMpqMHYmKbF_bl-DQo-eUf_cdxs9B6rcUgiH00WZRJN9zdaHzdBtBBJ_CgnuHsGmhAUyf4ww4/s200/dd7%5B1%5D.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">Unfortunatly the snow, yes more snow, and the head on winds, yes more head on winds (and no, I´m not making this up or exaggerating, the weather has really been that bad) meant that I didn´t often look up, as snow and wind would whistle down my neck if I turned my head too much. <br />
So head down, holding on for dear life and gripping my handlebars like they were my wallet, I headed north into more bad weather. I thought one more stop off town before I reach Santander, my final spanish destination, would be ok as I had 2 days to travel 300km. Under normal conditions I have been allowing an easy 1 day = 250 - 300km, which is not hard to do at all. <br />
Unless that is, you decide to try and do it in gale force winds, rain and snow, getting chased off the roads by snow ploughs and generally not being able to feel the ends of your fingers or toes.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">Arl roight boi?</span></strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I didn´t even reach my planned stopover town of Aguerilla. I fell about 50km short and about 2 hours past my normal stopping time. This meant that it took me about 6 hours to travel about 180km. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Ok, so I did have to stop at every petrol station to warm my fingers under the hot air hand dryers in the toilets and drink copious amounts of steaming hot coffee. Also, the reason it took me so long was because I had to travel most of the way in 3rd gear. Whether it be uphill or downhill, 3rd gear was all the Vespa could manage. It was like being in the mountains of Chefchouan again, all those moons ago. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I reached a place called Osorno, which had a choice of two hotels. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">One was as cold as the reception I got when I walked in. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The other was a lot friendlier and the staff were, urm, well, very, er, hmmmm pleasant. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So there I stayed. I asked nicely if the Vespa could be parked inside in the warm somewhere, which it was. I ended up drinking a bottle of the house red to go with the dinner and the beers I had that night. Once again, I had to wait until 9pm for the chef to wake up but it was worth it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">When I awoke the next morning (this morning, at the time of writing) I ventured back down to the bar area and I thought I was still drunk. There in front of me were around 10 local guys and gals all in fancy dress. None of them spoke english so I hadn´t got a clue where they had been. I knew they had been out all night, as oppossed to going out that morning because the smell of alcohol was very prominent. There were a couple of boxers, a man in drag, Napolean Bonerhard and others dressed in such a way I couldn´t really make out what/who they were suppossed to be. Whilst I was having my breakfast, an old local farmer came in and was immediately chatted up by the guy in drag. The old guy was having none of it and promptly left, muttering something about, <em>that in his day men were men and</em>..... I followed him whilst I could escape the madness. I had to leave soon, otherwise I would have been snowed in. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Snowed in with the cast from a badly drawn cartoon was not my idea of fun.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Looking outside I saw cars half covered in snow. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">More snow.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I asked the guy at the garage if he had any skiis that I could borrow, to help me get to Santander.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">He told me, (I can't do the accent) "In a car, it would take about 2 hours".</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"On the Vespa", he said laughingly, "at least 4 hours".</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"In this weather...". I never heard how long he expected me to take on the Vespa as he was too busy trying to clear something from his throat I think. Either that or he was laughing too hard.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Once again, I shrugged my shoulders, found some skis for the Vespa and set off into the unknown.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">'I maybe gone for some time', I thought to myself.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLoNDkyo5vdqpYkW3b2z8VZ__jCONU6d1SHRoIhahIThmuYkfI8PZX4yL-UVSxhBoGywWRnNz_Hwucxwe6xJnjFclxIl7qjOVxseLRAkk2RE9qumQ1oHj7znB0Pjm6zP51-dLZb4jmmnL7/s1600-h/snow_feb_2007_01_431x470[1].jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLoNDkyo5vdqpYkW3b2z8VZ__jCONU6d1SHRoIhahIThmuYkfI8PZX4yL-UVSxhBoGywWRnNz_Hwucxwe6xJnjFclxIl7qjOVxseLRAkk2RE9qumQ1oHj7znB0Pjm6zP51-dLZb4jmmnL7/s200/snow_feb_2007_01_431x470%5B1%5D.jpg" width="183" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Party goers in Osorno this morning</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">Coo-ta-heck</span></strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Sometime it took too. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I passed a whole fleet of snow ploughs, ploughing majestically through the drifts of Extremadura. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Along one particularly bad stretch of road, I stopped to take a few pictures of the Vespa in the snow. A passing 4x4 stopped passing, reversed and asked if I was ok etc. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I was just trying to take a photo but my camera seems to be frozen. Or my fingers were frozen. Then the kind gentlemen, in his nice warm 4 x 4 got out, with <em>his</em> camera, took a picture for me and said he would send it to me via telegram, sorry I mean email. What a nice chapo. He also told me that it was -2 degrees. I´m guessing that with the wind chill factor it was a lot colder for me. If you're reading this amigo, 'muchos gracias'.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A little further down the road, I stopped again to try and take a photo and yet another 4x4 stopped with the driver asking if I was ok. Again, I said I was just stopping to take a photo, as no one would believe me that the roads were this bad. He got out of <em>his</em> nice warm 4x4 and took the photo for me. What kind people they are in this neck of the desserted, snow drifted, out ot town area they are.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><strong><span style="font-size: large;">On na rood agin</span></strong><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">On my 2x1, Santander was now in sight. The Vespa was going strong now that there were no head winds and I was on the motorway doing over 113kmph downhill. (114kmph)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So that´s what it felt like to have no head on winds. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I was so used to hearing the noise of wind rushing through my open faced crash helmet that I thought I´d gone deaf when I could no longer hear that cold, freezing wind that was numbing my ears.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Then, going through a 2.6km long tunnel, the Vespa started coughing and almost stopped altogether. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">No. Not now. I´m almost in Santander. Please at least let me make it to the ferry, I´m so, so close. The Vespa spluttered and wheezed its way off the motorway and slowed down. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It didn´t stop.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It daren´t. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The Vespa may decide not to start again if I stopped so I just carried on at a slower pace. I had plenty of time to spare on my way to Santander. I slowed down to around 80kmph. Now I know how Kevin must have felt cruising at such a speed, watching everything on the road overtake me.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I´m guessing it was a fuel blockage. Or the spark plug needed changing. Or it may have been the Vespa was so cold that it just wanted to stop and have a nice warm curry in a nice warm hotel.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Enough of this I thought and with around 5km to Santander I opened up the throttle once more to see if the problem had dissappeared. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">No. The problem was still there. I still fancied a nice warm curry in a nice warm hotel. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But the Vespa seemed to have recovered. It was ok. A little noisy perhaps. Or maybe it sounded noisier because it's the first time I've heard the engine running at high speeds instead of hearing the head-on winds.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I´ll be happy to make it to Plymouth I thought. Even if I have to push it off the ferry to the hotel that I booked in Plymouth. There was no way that I was planning to ride off towards Diss from Plymouth at 6pm in the cold wintery evening.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Now, here I am, in Santander, writing to you all. Tomorrow I catch the ferry to Plymouth where I still have another +550km to go back to sunny Diss. This journey will be the longest I will have made on this trip in one day, so far. Or it may have been the 1 day trip from Morocco to Portugal.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I´ll let you know if I make it on the Vespa or with the help of the AA. I´m still not sure the Vespa has recovered as yet but there is only one way to find out and that´s to ride full throttle all the way home.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">See you all soon?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Adios amigos</div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Bollottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00266790362954412722noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3717806003907746268.post-69748573464710948752010-02-11T17:56:00.000+00:002010-02-11T17:56:31.495+00:00UPDATEJust to let you all know there are now a few more pictures included in the previous chapters.Bollottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00266790362954412722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3717806003907746268.post-21078984574994352872010-02-11T16:48:00.004+00:002010-04-08T01:05:00.155+01:00To Tangiers<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Reach</strong></span><br />
I reached Tetouan. This means I´m going to be leaving Morocco. Should I stay here instead? I hear the weather in Blighty has been awful. I suppose I better meet up with Kevin soon though. We were on this trip together after all but you´d never guess. We finished as we started really, I was somewhere else other than with Kevin. <br />
I remember leaving Portugal, with Kevin on his C90 and on the first day we got `split up´. Whilst riding through Spain, a journey I thought would only take us a couple of days, we arrived in town at different times. I think it was pure luck that we actually arrived in the same town let alone staying in the same hotel. <br />
But now I´m on my own. There is no more stopping on the roadside wondering where David Blaine has dissapeared to. I miss the familiar sight of Kevins toolkit making an appearance along the way. <br />
I miss wondering which mechanic is working on poor Munchy. Although I´m sure Kevin doesn´t miss this!<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Hurl</strong></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9pWQ8wSEbkXZrdLwcM3VWrukvM2Ugit0BESW0HjY1aOEicEP60sTYsbC8owY-I3E7RwlYFjhlgO9eaQYmXX6fqTTAtnKY5i2ZGRm1JqBd6L19nOneSYXLo4LTUj5ypU7LSgCAlzg0JrTk/s1600-h/bedazzled_liz-hurley-2-73955%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9pWQ8wSEbkXZrdLwcM3VWrukvM2Ugit0BESW0HjY1aOEicEP60sTYsbC8owY-I3E7RwlYFjhlgO9eaQYmXX6fqTTAtnKY5i2ZGRm1JqBd6L19nOneSYXLo4LTUj5ypU7LSgCAlzg0JrTk/s200/bedazzled_liz-hurley-2-73955%5B1%5D.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>I thought it fitting that I should stay in the same hotel as we stayed in on our first day in Morocco, when we met Abdul ´Terry Salvalez´.<br />
I still laugh to myself when I think back to the time we finally went through customs and actually got into Morocco, due to the fact that Munchy the crunchy was still running and made it this far. <br />
I also laugh at the fact that although we spoke to the half blind hotel manager in Tetouan for a while when we first stayed, he took a whole 24hours to regonize me. He recognized me in the same manner as he recognizes which football team it is he watches on the TV, by quickly lifting up his glasses, which were thicker than the air in Marrakech medina, and poking his beady eyes to within an inch of my face. <br />
A kindly offer of mint tea was then quickly forced upon me. I didn´t really want the half drunk glass of tea he had been drinking, which he handed me, but being British I thought it rude to say no. <br />
A few of the other people did regocnize me straight away when I booked into the hotel again and offered food and more tea and made me feel very welcome. They asked where the other guy (Kevin) was, with the C90. How they laughed when they found out he had to sell Munchy just to get home. <br />
Ha ha! Ha ha!<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Chuck</strong></span><br />
This time the hotel felt different. I think it was because it was full of young women. Full of the type of women who go out dancing in nightclubs at midnight, get some lonely sucker to buy them drinks all night, then return home at about 5am and sleep all day. Its the.<br />
The only way. <br />
No! It wasn´t me. I´m too ´carefull´ with my money, remember?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioWhO9FCFRCDyej2XOtjZ7MUAbyi_8F5mmfj78ItpLFibcrIY8PMcNdoD5s6462QgSgAUj-GyJ7_sa5lNN6yDF0JwGuT56CuTRK4mrdpUs04J9V27XD8MLNP2yiG4bptehFr7VfyLWXdqP/s1600-h/chuck_norris%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioWhO9FCFRCDyej2XOtjZ7MUAbyi_8F5mmfj78ItpLFibcrIY8PMcNdoD5s6462QgSgAUj-GyJ7_sa5lNN6yDF0JwGuT56CuTRK4mrdpUs04J9V27XD8MLNP2yiG4bptehFr7VfyLWXdqP/s320/chuck_norris%5B1%5D.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Chuck Norris</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>I stayed for as long as I dared (the food and the tea weren´t that great but the hospitality made up for it) but still not wanting to catch the ferry I decided to roar down to the coast, along the Moroccan side of the Mediterranian Sea. <br />
The road hugging the rocky coast line meant I only rode south into the sun for a couple of hours. I stopped for tea in a lovely little coastal village, stocked up on local supplies and headed back for the hotel in Tetouan, where I was keen to taste what I´d just bought. This meant, in my mind, that I would need to stay a couple more days to finish off what I´d just bought, thus prolonging my holiday experience. This is another time scale measuring device I had. I didn´t seem to go far when fresh supplies were abundant.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Charlie</strong></span><br />
Kevin sent me a telegraph to let me know he was heading back to Blighty soon, so I thought, right, I <em>will</em> catch the ferry back to Spain and I´ll do it <em>soon</em>. Ish. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXzIxLAHwBr-wdoQCWq94tUK1QFTbaoipPJXxasc65sOs_T8nxqOcAHwjuoy7-WWcScFbykYd8XlwUgzCVJHkahJOeYHLuNQci5ieBG9BW4PALLkGdLBTplC9oBbphCnQs4dGO_CIwyhLz/s1600-h/prod_7478%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXzIxLAHwBr-wdoQCWq94tUK1QFTbaoipPJXxasc65sOs_T8nxqOcAHwjuoy7-WWcScFbykYd8XlwUgzCVJHkahJOeYHLuNQci5ieBG9BW4PALLkGdLBTplC9oBbphCnQs4dGO_CIwyhLz/s320/prod_7478%5B1%5D.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Kevins telegram arriving</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Again at a leisurely pace, stopping to take loads of photos, mainly of the Vespa, I left Tetouan at 11:00am, caught the 12:30 ferry from Ceuta across the Straits of Gibraltar and was riding out of Algerciras port in Spain at around 13:30. <br />
Trying to get out of the actual port gates I was shouted at by a Spanish official for doing another U turn on a dual carriageway. <br />
Welcome to Europe I thought. Again I just smiled in the best ignorant way that I could and rode off.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Brown</strong></span><br />
I hammered it all the way to Sevilla "a carrera tendida" (at full speed). <br />
This time there was no fuzz. <br />
No one could stop me now. <br />
My ´get me home repair´ was still getting me home and I kept the throttle wide open most of the way, stopping only for fuel for the Vespa and fuel for me (strong fresh coffee).<br />
Sevilla flew past. <br />
Huelva was in sight. <br />
Then I was in Portugal. <br />
The sun was beginning to set. I wanted to reach the villa in Portugal before it was dark.<br />
It took me about 5hours. I worked out my average speed was about 85kmph, including stops for petrol etc. <br />
If I look at it in such a way that it took me just 7 hours, including the ferry, customs, petrol stops, photos etc, it worked out that I managed to leave Morocco and arrive in Portugal in half the time it took Kevin, who flew in a jumbo jet! (Of course, to make it sound really fast I did not include the fact that Kevin left from Marrakech, approx 640km from the border and I was leaving from Tetouan, just 40km or so from the border). <br />
Who said vespas were slow? (Actually, uphill, the Vespa is quite slow if I do not take a ´run up´)!<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Sugar</strong></span><br />
I still never got to name the Vespa on this trip.<br />
´Taj´, (as in the Taj Mahal, India) was a contender due to the fact that it was a little like ´tangerine´, the colour of the Vespa and ´tagine´, a Moroccan dish that was hard to avoid. Also, I noticed in the many photos I was taking that the Vespa had many different shades and hues of orange, bleeding into yellow, depending on what time of day it was, just like the Taj Mahal. Also, I suspect that most of the parts I had to replace when rebuilding it were made in India. Also, the Vespa and the Taj Mahal both probably cost the same to build. <br />
Trouble is, when I opened my mouth and called the Vespa, "Taj", it sounded a little gay so I promptly dropped it. <br />
Kevins input was, "Catnap". I´m sticking to the Vespa until further notice.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Mick and Kiff</strong></span><br />
So here we both are in sunny Portugal. Kevin has been working on "Munchy 2" and I´ve been working on my sun tan. <br />
I keep putting off the thought that I still have at least another 1500km to ride to get back to Blighty.<br />
I could not get a ferry until the 15th feb which means Kevin had to leave ahead of me, in his van, back through Spain and France to snowy Blighty, where I understand, he is currently residing and dreaming of "Munchy 2". <br />
There are big plans afoot. <br />
The next trip (<em>the next trip</em>?!) will I´ve been promised, will not be so slow. <br />
A new bigger better engine for Kevins crunchy. <br />
I also have the technology to rebuild the Vespa. Gone are the days when I would pay someone else to do a ´proper job´. As no one has yet done a proper job.<br />
I have learnt to do it myself. I believe Kevin is also thinking along those lines. Those Moroccan mechanics had their fun. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo47RHZoRU2lmSeBiKc1faR43AjTQJORMxOJNOooMQlcz3rm66VhQE7Gv_rhtP9h-wr_dy1OWWdeUQWufYJ91iBSwrTd7PPfWGSCdOWnrDC6_HXQuaYUDj8MEFC4uLJ7JxRqkDgZ5u3XGD/s1600-h/stones1968_04%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo47RHZoRU2lmSeBiKc1faR43AjTQJORMxOJNOooMQlcz3rm66VhQE7Gv_rhtP9h-wr_dy1OWWdeUQWufYJ91iBSwrTd7PPfWGSCdOWnrDC6_HXQuaYUDj8MEFC4uLJ7JxRqkDgZ5u3XGD/s320/stones1968_04%5B1%5D.jpg" /></a></div>Now its our turn.Bollottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00266790362954412722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3717806003907746268.post-76061091131936710992010-02-08T14:37:00.006+00:002010-04-08T00:55:38.856+01:00Meanwhile...<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Flight</strong></span><br />
Although Kevin is no longer with me for the return journey he still gives me plenty to write about. Even without <em>Munchy</em> he still gives me plenty to write about!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>After betraying his beloved Munchy, selling her to a hareem, Kevin arrived at Sevilla airport, Spain. Once there he had to wait 12 hours for a bus to take him to Portugal. During that 12 hours, with very little money, he walked around a bit, taking in the sights of this lovely city. As a result of this his feet began to blister. So he found a nice quiet spot to sit a chill whilst he waited for the bus. He was approached by two of the fuzz. "Passport(o)", they demanded.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6-xLkmO3nEX8efppEu4QItvMh4zhNML6KN27r8VzIv0i34Wu_B0sLwAC-QEYFa0cTV_GEo58CXIUEjMdIpT65ta7v8rDLvVmFo7ZvJiYk4B2ahzSTXfbklhovH_TBs5DMa0W7E-C3ur24/s1600-h/BoltonAthletico2Fan_468x512%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6-xLkmO3nEX8efppEu4QItvMh4zhNML6KN27r8VzIv0i34Wu_B0sLwAC-QEYFa0cTV_GEo58CXIUEjMdIpT65ta7v8rDLvVmFo7ZvJiYk4B2ahzSTXfbklhovH_TBs5DMa0W7E-C3ur24/s200/BoltonAthletico2Fan_468x512%5B1%5D.jpg" width="183" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Spanish Police yesterday</span></div><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Birds</strong></span><br />
Kevin obliged and they seemed happy enough that he wasn´t the kind of suspected criminal they thought he might be. Later two more people, claiming to be the fuzz approached Kevin with the same demand. He nervously handed one of them his passport, only after he had seen their badge\I.D. and noticed the gun that this guy was discreetly showing him, hidden under his jacket. The passport was passed onto his companion who started to walk off with it. Kevins alarm bells were ringing loudly by this stage and in the same manner that he demanded beer wherever he went, he demanded that they returned his passport. <br />
Which they did. <br />
Rather promptly.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Chicks</strong></span><br />
During that day, more fuzz asked Kevin for his I.D. It must have been the nice jumper he bought in Chefchouan that made him look like a ´homeless´ that made him stand out from the crowd.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi659CBxdHyeByqj2mg9y4C5LIDDRv3oPgkXwreqraqiZ4EsjIpijJf1Hl2L2MAoEP2IT0ORgyOXeIwRKEpQCnqhcfWx_Z8KCOnkasn3vIM86elUuBM2Z95BSrb6_nG2_cMhepOMi2600DE/s1600-h/homeless%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="156" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi659CBxdHyeByqj2mg9y4C5LIDDRv3oPgkXwreqraqiZ4EsjIpijJf1Hl2L2MAoEP2IT0ORgyOXeIwRKEpQCnqhcfWx_Z8KCOnkasn3vIM86elUuBM2Z95BSrb6_nG2_cMhepOMi2600DE/s200/homeless%5B1%5D.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">How Kevin could have looked yesterday</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>He finally caught his bus and ended up in Tavira, close enough to his final destination. There were no taxis around at this time of the night (not that he had enough money for a taxi anyway) so he had to walk the remaining 4km or 5km with blistered feet.<br />
He picked uip his bag, gritted his teeth and set off again. <br />
He arrived at the villa he was staying, in total darkness. The gate had to be dismantled to get in. He had to find his key. He found that there was lots of mud around. Or at least he hoped it was just mud. He couldn´t quite see. All he could hear was the squelching of his mud filled boots and the chorus of frogs in the background. <br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Hatch</strong></span><br />
His dodgy stomach never quite made it all the way home without mishap either. I´ll let you all ask Kevin about that one if/when you see him next.<br />
But he did eventually make it back to the villa in one piece and in a tired slumber, he finally went to bed.<br />
The next few days, whilst waiting for me to stop messing around in Morocco, he started work on "Munchy 2".<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Snatch</strong></span><br />
I have since seen Munchy 2 and all I can say is, "Good luck". <br />
Morocco? Phaah! No worries. Mongolia more like. <br />
This is going to be a beast. I may even have to upgrade the Vespa to keep up with it. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI7TlOEkdSTzi46UNdtKz59L8z2KExHmVPNXYV_d61KQTyPbHmUxTsabzb5J75XWoR_XJPYzDwALjc3hfGh77IU1o0XaNxY44VpynfY2LzKQlsB0pIbh2Rg2IGscMXcHyTtzyACVkQwpMZ/s1600-h/38oct17-snatch-shot[1].jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI7TlOEkdSTzi46UNdtKz59L8z2KExHmVPNXYV_d61KQTyPbHmUxTsabzb5J75XWoR_XJPYzDwALjc3hfGh77IU1o0XaNxY44VpynfY2LzKQlsB0pIbh2Rg2IGscMXcHyTtzyACVkQwpMZ/s200/38oct17-snatch-shot%5B1%5D.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Watch this space.Bollottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00266790362954412722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3717806003907746268.post-6558911072024977522010-02-08T14:04:00.004+00:002010-02-23T01:53:19.048+00:00On the road again<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkH76-EBtGF2O1CX5ZJT2UkoGrB7eLHZ_3Q5STyart1BqJUsemNVYHorom3GFbMMMZ12hXC6F6BKrIRxr2oWA2lnQzjb-aw9xy3pqVbhjZhOeynxLItGv45-jJRqkwLwtQn4wfgDgb3x5m/s1600-h/woodstock%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkH76-EBtGF2O1CX5ZJT2UkoGrB7eLHZ_3Q5STyart1BqJUsemNVYHorom3GFbMMMZ12hXC6F6BKrIRxr2oWA2lnQzjb-aw9xy3pqVbhjZhOeynxLItGv45-jJRqkwLwtQn4wfgDgb3x5m/s320/woodstock%5B1%5D.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Canned Heat</strong></span><br />
I took the old road towards Casablanca, avoiding the toll road. <br />
Well I say avoid. To avoid it I had to turn round on the desserted dual carriageway that led directly to the toll booths, going the wrong way down the dual carriageway and found the old road. <br />
Aside from the fact that I´m "carefull" with my money (I´m sure Kevin will agree), the main reason for not taking the fast toll road was the lack of petrol stations along the way. I really didnt´t fancy running out of petrol on a toll road. <br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Ravi Shankar</strong></span><br />
On the old road I was frantically flagged down by a couple of guys on their makeshift, Chinese 3 wheeler tractor. I thought the Vespa was on fire or something. It turned out that <em>they</em> had run out of petrol. I gave one of the guys a lift to the nearest petrol station further up the road.<br />
I was heading for the town of Kenitra, some 350km from Marrakech. I missed the turning I needed to avoid going into Casablanca. <br />
So into Casablanca I went. Choking on the fumes as I got closer to the city centre. <br />
Stopping for petrol I ended up adding a small bottle of oil into my petrol tank, as normal. Only this time I spilt some on my fingers and panicked when I realised it was not oil I had just poured into my petrol but an engine additive to stop leaks in engines, that was disguised as a small bottle of 2 stroke oil. <br />
"D#*m" and "Bl#st" were two words I did not use but for the sake of our younger viewers they will suffice. <br />
It took me over an hour to drain the full 8 litre tank. I refilled. I made sure I added 2 stroke oil this time and set off again towards the capital, Rabat. <br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Santana</strong></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>The old road to Rabat was blocked off and the fuzz told me to take the toll road, which I did. I was passed by the usual people who seemed to like the vespa, honking and waving and giving me the thumbs up (thumbers).<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZD8edJU8N_sbxe-i1iQ5XqBB9F0GUdaUdjCyBZYmGLH8qia2QsqYf0AfoJ6zndo3ixPPDQ2n8zw1iZW4KQfTzyuon8gKLYaeBVRyPLlBQnUtEjWF08rNcG1P-QEbDTnAiSFNyc35rAjzl/s1600-h/van-station-wagon-vastly-overloaded-breaking-in-half-and-dragging-on-road-with-people-in-the-back-waving-ANON-300x158%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZD8edJU8N_sbxe-i1iQ5XqBB9F0GUdaUdjCyBZYmGLH8qia2QsqYf0AfoJ6zndo3ixPPDQ2n8zw1iZW4KQfTzyuon8gKLYaeBVRyPLlBQnUtEjWF08rNcG1P-QEbDTnAiSFNyc35rAjzl/s320/van-station-wagon-vastly-overloaded-breaking-in-half-and-dragging-on-road-with-people-in-the-back-waving-ANON-300x158%5B1%5D.jpg" /></a></div> I don´t know if it is because they liked vespas or were suprised to see one screaming at 100kmph on a toll road.<br />
At the end of the road I paid the toll at the booth where the guy asked me," Didn´t you get stopped by the fuzz"?<br />
"No", was my puzzled reply. "Why do you ask"?<br />
"Thats a moped that is and thats not allowed on big boys roads".<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Cheeky. My little vespa was a 200cc scooter not a C90! Moped. Phaah! Kinnigits!<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Black magic woman</strong></span><br />
I finally reached Kenitra at about 6pm and it was dark. The first thing I noticed was the amount of Bars and discotheques around town. That probably explains all the drunks I had to avoid who were wandering in and around the paths and roads with less abandonment that a freely wandering Indian cow.<br />
I checked into the first hotel I found, which turned out to be a quite expensive 3 star hotel with its own bar and discotheque. <br />
Excellent. Maybe now I can teach everybody how to do the ´Peanut Duck´.<br />
At the crowded bar, Katrina, decided she wanted to take me home with her. Guessing her circumstances I declined the offer. I paid a lot of money to stay in that hotel and by golly I was going to sleep there! Along with the fact that, although she was a nice enough lady, she just wasn´t my type, what with her being old enough to have built the medina and trying her best to get me to buy her drinks. After she went off in a huff because I refused to buy her drinks I ended up talking to a couple of locals who liked to get drunk. One of them suprisingly, drinks pints.<br />
All I can say to these guys is, "Oued Sabou daze naid". To which Mohamids´ reply will be,<br />
"Touts naid floord".<br />
Don´t ask me what it means. I was too busy rolling on the floor holding my stomach, laughing hard. He told me he was talking english. I didn´t believe a word of it.<br />
What I did believe however was that these Moroccan guys hated the French even more than we do.<br />
"Yeh....How much"?<br />
After a short thoughtful pause came their reply," ...A lot".<br />
I had to decline the offer of staying at Mounirs bachelor pad the next day as I needed to get back to Blighty sooner rather than later. Thanks Mounir. We´ll eat at Mohamids restuarant next time. Get the beers in.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Rusty Lee</strong></span><br />
The next day, feeling a little hazy, I headed out of town towards a large nature reserve which just may have flocks of Flamingoes and migrating birds who stop at this massive lake along with herds of Wilderbeast roaming majestically through the plains and migratiry european swallows gripping coconuts by the husk. But alas no. There wasn´t that much to see. <br />
A few ducks was about all.<br />
At this point I remembered Diss.<br />
Again I stopped off at plenty of places to take some pictures, mainly of the Vespa, who was now starting to get used to the camera and posing without a care in the world. <br />
I was by the fishing port of Kenitra when I suddenly realised that I was missing my phone. It had gone. I think it had fallen on the road somewhere near the traffic calming hump in the road that I didn´t notice until it was too late. <br />
I also did not realise that the Vespa knew how to fly. Just how high was that last speed bump?<br />
So, I believe that some lucky fisherman had a great catch that day and is now the proud owner of a nice Nokia. D#*m and blast again!<br />
Whilst posing for the camera the Vespa lost it´s footing in the sand and fell over a couple of times. She may have been drunk I´m not sure. Maybe it was the engine additive I added the day before by mistake.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDYAt_GJsXHcw96ZFbowL_WqftL5p45OhbKljE7aPA-oGvu-HMF4wLAuZ9bW0sk380YbLX3BrKAA0QAj4IeDb_wq3CJBzMDlLLQSQ_tDF2alrowLx5fsPYEKgmTXxgFwwUu88ipa-uuw0a/s1600-h/_40999712_bubbles1_416bbc%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDYAt_GJsXHcw96ZFbowL_WqftL5p45OhbKljE7aPA-oGvu-HMF4wLAuZ9bW0sk380YbLX3BrKAA0QAj4IeDb_wq3CJBzMDlLLQSQ_tDF2alrowLx5fsPYEKgmTXxgFwwUu88ipa-uuw0a/s320/_40999712_bubbles1_416bbc%5B1%5D.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Fanny Craddock</strong></span><br />
Leaving my phone behind I headed north once more. This time I was heading towards Tetouan, the first town that me and Kevin stopped at when we first arrived in Morocco. This also meant that I was nearing the end of the Moroccan adventure, something I was not loomking forward to doing. So I decided to stop off at a town called Larache where I ended up staying for a couple of nights, trying to prolong the inevitable.<br />
This time I found a cheap hotel room (with TV. - bonus!) for 70Dh. <br />
The only trouble was I had to watch the same TV channel as the receptionist was watching. <br />
After fighting a loosing battle I decided that, actually, Miss Marples in Arabic with french subtitles wasn´t all <em>that</em> bad. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHULuZ_lzQpvkfxfIApms0PYeF-Oh6YxWU5ttDAV0YCJx_8LUdiVAHhg63DvJ_N_GexC2uyTkUrFiKr_c3jGSjzjAWeVKZc9Iqwve-rrIg6KSFjlU_AjPkfVRGJtCRdohjFyU5_SzsVK4x/s1600-h/revolver-tv-remote-1%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHULuZ_lzQpvkfxfIApms0PYeF-Oh6YxWU5ttDAV0YCJx_8LUdiVAHhg63DvJ_N_GexC2uyTkUrFiKr_c3jGSjzjAWeVKZc9Iqwve-rrIg6KSFjlU_AjPkfVRGJtCRdohjFyU5_SzsVK4x/s320/revolver-tv-remote-1%5B1%5D.jpg" /></a></div>Then at the critcal moment in this gripping story, the channel promptly changed to an important debate between Arabic dignitaries. 10 minutes later I discovered how to change channels. Unfortunatly Miss Marples <em>was</em> the best the TV could offer. Then it changed channels again. This time sticking to Portuguese football. <br />
Moroccans love football. <br />
Everynight, in all the bars, in all the towns, in all the world football is being watched.<br />
The coffee bars are always full of spectators, spectating football.<br />
During all the small conversations I´ve had with locals, all about football, I ´ve had to fake an interest in football. <br />
I told them that Chelsea was my team. <br />
They babbled back with a mixture of consonants and syllables, all names of players I believe. <br />
I did recognize a few names but I could not repeat them. I was out of my depth. I vaguely remember the super blues, Ipswich Town, winning the F.A. Cup way back in 1978(?) and Diss Town winning the F.A. Vase in 1992(?) but I could not tell you who Chelsea have just signed. <br />
In these coffee bars you had to drink the tea like whisky and smoke like a 35 year old 2 stroke engine. Oh yeh. And watch football.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>TV Dinner</strong></span><br />
So here I am at 10pm, still in my Larache hotel room, watching Portuguese footballers falling over. In the room above I can hear the occupant rising from his bed, ready to start his night shift of moving furniture.<br />
Moving furniture around his room. <br />
In the room below is an extremely rowdy game of chequers. <br />
In the room next door is carpenter, practising for his masters degree in hammering nails into hard wood. <br />
The noise outside my door, which sounded like a large lady beating the living daylights out of a heavy rug with a large cast iron spade was in fact a large lady beating the living daylights out of a heavy rug with a large cast iron <em>shovel</em>. <br />
The following morning I decided that enough was enough and I´d better start the 100km journey back to Tetouan as w*rk was calling and I had to start thinking about going back home. <br />
Boo-hoo! <br />
Back to bed, back to reality.<br />
See you in Tetouan.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguBxVfxnwCvyNBO8Zfsi0u42I9ejUXSm7VXHswuIoivMMXRpn0sUYS5ZxsFvARz9-8wH7UAfE1MmGacjrEq3ytzjToQyNh_rRCodB2Yo0RCbr5i_M8WzW4YfGMqhUWm9L3RmK7Gyk7E6Ik/s1600-h/1952_tv_dinner%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguBxVfxnwCvyNBO8Zfsi0u42I9ejUXSm7VXHswuIoivMMXRpn0sUYS5ZxsFvARz9-8wH7UAfE1MmGacjrEq3ytzjToQyNh_rRCodB2Yo0RCbr5i_M8WzW4YfGMqhUWm9L3RmK7Gyk7E6Ik/s320/1952_tv_dinner%5B1%5D.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">A family enjoying a TV dinner yesterday</span></div>Bollottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00266790362954412722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3717806003907746268.post-44597984482154646852010-01-30T16:31:00.000+00:002010-01-30T16:31:15.837+00:00Photos 4<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtLQ_RQto0-PsQU8lXVw16tph5FyDXkM3NEwwbrSOwCJmN1ITlJoBggbgNJiw9sEhmNXzCfbfZ58olxcxS_jj2rkoYwvW35mdCLRmiC9W2PaZcRdjKu9ZxF1_O-pBJf2NDBw7O8RP7nxu-/s1600-h/RIMG0398.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtLQ_RQto0-PsQU8lXVw16tph5FyDXkM3NEwwbrSOwCJmN1ITlJoBggbgNJiw9sEhmNXzCfbfZ58olxcxS_jj2rkoYwvW35mdCLRmiC9W2PaZcRdjKu9ZxF1_O-pBJf2NDBw7O8RP7nxu-/s320/RIMG0398.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Heres Kev paying for the mechanics sons school fees and a family holiday</div><div class="" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm9WbaXrKw8X6nXfZM4Gz8ilBtK4-uZ_1l5LjnFblYZni-wtiaNmuTgtdjzwlHgvT4zkejp8_AqZp6YHRa7v9TyCYSuzSKgoQrr4-D5W4-XKYklK9gk_ynZn0Cng5-YmLeoG9Nlerqqan0/s1600-h/RIMG0455.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm9WbaXrKw8X6nXfZM4Gz8ilBtK4-uZ_1l5LjnFblYZni-wtiaNmuTgtdjzwlHgvT4zkejp8_AqZp6YHRa7v9TyCYSuzSKgoQrr4-D5W4-XKYklK9gk_ynZn0Cng5-YmLeoG9Nlerqqan0/s320/RIMG0455.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">Ooh!</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpQ4Uzo8ee7N2X_nWebkcasB2KAU753aOauf6G-DTwQyJGADL8c0uOGtqavdafzW4XUWg2QGjLTxKnjClnC0jThTZLMNMamBdddGFZjeknJ3So47f_FipAq-WTuecb5gWLA0D8imus_tLt/s1600/RIMG0471.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpQ4Uzo8ee7N2X_nWebkcasB2KAU753aOauf6G-DTwQyJGADL8c0uOGtqavdafzW4XUWg2QGjLTxKnjClnC0jThTZLMNMamBdddGFZjeknJ3So47f_FipAq-WTuecb5gWLA0D8imus_tLt/s320/RIMG0471.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">Take the next left after the sand dune...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZUAlbx0SbUOPYgPOGnH4qQFaNMZ4rfYlDqbdpgXfnx12MldUrGhkQKHLsqnfMMnbOszriLwdOpT4GZdvpQJ_fi9ObExlG2ngS6j4ZheVl8k8YGn_hfon3Ks6ZdawRDIaDtm89yXtQwXXe/s1600-h/RIMG0494.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZUAlbx0SbUOPYgPOGnH4qQFaNMZ4rfYlDqbdpgXfnx12MldUrGhkQKHLsqnfMMnbOszriLwdOpT4GZdvpQJ_fi9ObExlG2ngS6j4ZheVl8k8YGn_hfon3Ks6ZdawRDIaDtm89yXtQwXXe/s320/RIMG0494.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Red tent over yonder</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji6U5RIVUFflYv5hr1SkFOVBFNAjnfqj6iOqowSBASboSPxDEo8Q5b3tuE6s5k4DJMNe3pSmy3ooWhcAo1C3pPgaG5xJ-EbQY-fJYmANQ9NZSfzuJ_6Gb1kXehimkei8WKwJxKQtGqeZp6/s1600-h/RIMG0545.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji6U5RIVUFflYv5hr1SkFOVBFNAjnfqj6iOqowSBASboSPxDEo8Q5b3tuE6s5k4DJMNe3pSmy3ooWhcAo1C3pPgaG5xJ-EbQY-fJYmANQ9NZSfzuJ_6Gb1kXehimkei8WKwJxKQtGqeZp6/s320/RIMG0545.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Thoughtful</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJM48A-SpS6koQqAZi9GZUMePgbhmcRiQEeMwvl28uhk5zHlOLVMW3VcxAMA0RWYTAGyskwk5pBuQrgMj5N0k-UEixivYy1npx05Dng4PcIZNE0Lyli6PTEhIPuqwVe961wlGfE1b5Y3wu/s1600-h/RIMG0575.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJM48A-SpS6koQqAZi9GZUMePgbhmcRiQEeMwvl28uhk5zHlOLVMW3VcxAMA0RWYTAGyskwk5pBuQrgMj5N0k-UEixivYy1npx05Dng4PcIZNE0Lyli6PTEhIPuqwVe961wlGfE1b5Y3wu/s320/RIMG0575.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Dunes</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMLO1ox_svSihsn8BG0B0k_2Zjuc5jpuIMs3izJ5F1hRJtRor8NCRNcx7cIy9nGfq98fsbyX1cE7rHQGEiMLXaUPB2gxZnC2bPJ8dXtr6DKRlVGSHOuXWdXUGxLids5BpQrQ-dLG6LGfLd/s1600-h/RIMG0772.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMLO1ox_svSihsn8BG0B0k_2Zjuc5jpuIMs3izJ5F1hRJtRor8NCRNcx7cIy9nGfq98fsbyX1cE7rHQGEiMLXaUPB2gxZnC2bPJ8dXtr6DKRlVGSHOuXWdXUGxLids5BpQrQ-dLG6LGfLd/s320/RIMG0772.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Pots</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCBg6Gle95JIvwzHMVVy7HszmxlUbYxpOuarlVd2oKHcahStF1La9VkQzq9DMv3zzbrP08AYYou2uCVlk5SfpfopyjO-lVMy4m6r9_FAlfTr71enAgse1hIROG10eUrntM4n6tfgNM5FGM/s1600-h/RIMG0817.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCBg6Gle95JIvwzHMVVy7HszmxlUbYxpOuarlVd2oKHcahStF1La9VkQzq9DMv3zzbrP08AYYou2uCVlk5SfpfopyjO-lVMy4m6r9_FAlfTr71enAgse1hIROG10eUrntM4n6tfgNM5FGM/s320/RIMG0817.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Snails escaping fast</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd4Jbx23FpIoeI1DdBSaUsyo-452AKUUngjsPSw02l3LtrB4cMt5wh6x3ILFn2yRhTf1Q7hXl5ZRXWzGoBceWA5not74Fd-W6N_ow8uztatcOigtLpM3ipVSnvQ9AMPpEjXnjMqRXnn04D/s1600-h/RIMG0887.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd4Jbx23FpIoeI1DdBSaUsyo-452AKUUngjsPSw02l3LtrB4cMt5wh6x3ILFn2yRhTf1Q7hXl5ZRXWzGoBceWA5not74Fd-W6N_ow8uztatcOigtLpM3ipVSnvQ9AMPpEjXnjMqRXnn04D/s320/RIMG0887.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Marrakech</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-P8AExo1qmsTD4_evQJJr-CjZS_Qr-hSceRby1hWhm6LxOynGk32tgncwD5eWQ7J61ba6gRNSceQpcNHd7eVjdSvU7XTS7M-E7dLBydCyaubt8w9NVYtx-s1yH-Y1sdxxGysdcCmVylZM/s1600-h/RIMG0917.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-P8AExo1qmsTD4_evQJJr-CjZS_Qr-hSceRby1hWhm6LxOynGk32tgncwD5eWQ7J61ba6gRNSceQpcNHd7eVjdSvU7XTS7M-E7dLBydCyaubt8w9NVYtx-s1yH-Y1sdxxGysdcCmVylZM/s320/RIMG0917.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My favourite colour</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguFkvvunN5YfxUjIVHIXKd5UESpo_ul9ezeAteL1m-xFSJ96DLpV-QmH0-e5rVY5PFZQgQMwD3Fm6N8auYC-PKhG4dRJnFfi9cFPErnnRfohpPNlUP-gfHg30l3Xd-dMW8rAhBuU2Bzz_W/s1600/RIMG0432.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguFkvvunN5YfxUjIVHIXKd5UESpo_ul9ezeAteL1m-xFSJ96DLpV-QmH0-e5rVY5PFZQgQMwD3Fm6N8auYC-PKhG4dRJnFfi9cFPErnnRfohpPNlUP-gfHg30l3Xd-dMW8rAhBuU2Bzz_W/s320/RIMG0432.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">Waiting for the post</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieBsnKVLxVGvSQYWCsdrKrMAvZP8RfRt2R1idIn3DKnS7IknFtDGT0Hvl6ut3EOCJujSzOEv1KY8AsTl7rGZ9Vfw5gFV9zACv7yDXgS3CxzZQVLygHGDICjsnS82pmGFpAMtZ-H918xpEt/s1600-h/RIMG0406.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieBsnKVLxVGvSQYWCsdrKrMAvZP8RfRt2R1idIn3DKnS7IknFtDGT0Hvl6ut3EOCJujSzOEv1KY8AsTl7rGZ9Vfw5gFV9zACv7yDXgS3CxzZQVLygHGDICjsnS82pmGFpAMtZ-H918xpEt/s320/RIMG0406.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">The road from the desert of Zagora</div>Bollottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00266790362954412722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3717806003907746268.post-19425248695177199922010-01-28T16:50:00.003+00:002010-02-23T22:34:59.639+00:00What really happened...<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Disappear</strong></span><br />
Yeh? Hang on a minute!<br />
What did really happen? <br />
I can´t remember a great deal. I´ve started growing a beard and my system of measuring time (1 x shave = 3 or 4 days) has grown out of the window.<br />
Well, Kev has been practising his magic ready for his <em>finale</em>. (My french is still improving). His final disappearing trick was to leave Marrakech and Morocco and reappear in a totally different continent altogether.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw7CKx54i0JjbX7Bhp9-O0F2ZJpoLWUeQa2ZllYq1lfq1-oIa5gu2a8R9Y9xZz1QUDZthjyKh-exUh8A-zqQn2a8G4-sXGjAcLo1UDooQpfiKVYr3eyLAGJE4q9rFPCeGk054hBMUnUiY6/s1600-h/david_blaine_times_square%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw7CKx54i0JjbX7Bhp9-O0F2ZJpoLWUeQa2ZllYq1lfq1-oIa5gu2a8R9Y9xZz1QUDZthjyKh-exUh8A-zqQn2a8G4-sXGjAcLo1UDooQpfiKVYr3eyLAGJE4q9rFPCeGk054hBMUnUiY6/s320/david_blaine_times_square%5B1%5D.jpg" /></a></div>I still belive Kev sold Munchy to a hareem. She always did turn a few heads when she was coming down the street. People began to walk into lamposts they didn´t know were there as they watched Munchy roar past. <br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">or, for our friends in Norwich,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Despair</strong></span><br />
Actually, the crux of the matter is, that Munchy munched her way through Kevs wallet faster than anticipated and Kev had to file for a divorce from Munchy. She was a high maintenance, low speed kind of crunchy and Kev just could not keep up with Munchys demands any longer. <br />
And alas, it is so, that, there came a day, when, lo, Kev had to leave poor Munchy laying lonely in a hotel basement. <br />
For tax reasons, he never actually <em>sold</em> Munchy but instead, pawned her. (I think he ´porned´ her myself)<br />
We are all hoping that Munchy will be there when we will one day return to Marrakech. Flying there is definatly the cheapest option to do this, as oppsosed to riding a moped there via Portugal.<br />
A very helpful guy in the Ali offered to help Kev out and made him a deal he could refuse. <br />
But Kev did <em>not</em> refuse the deal and went ahead and booked a flight to Sevilla, Spain, where he would then somehow get to Portugal, where his van was.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Diss</strong></span><br />
So it came to be that Munchy the crunchy was left behind in Marrakech. Kev had to sell her to pay for a flight back to Portugal. Unfortunatly he could only get an expensive flight to nearby Sevilla, Spain. So when he reached Spain he would then have to sell his shoes to pay for the bus ticket he needed to get to Portugal.<br />
Once in Portugal, he would then need to sell his boat to get the money to take his van to Marrakech, where he would have to sell his van to get the money for riding Munchy back to Portugal. When he reached Portugal he would then have to sell Munchy again to pay for a flight to UK so he could get a job to pay for the return trip to Portugal to buy poor Munchy back. Then go back to Moroc......<br />
You get the idea by now.......<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-iQ9zLPdMCwk1bNwowX0vbhbI2_cwAm2V2BgRKa2pNtfCkljwoSY5svEh6NrdS1J6FC0BEzRQbdxwBtgQhK25aiB3_SzDpgwpGr7epIXNMx-HjsGCG9WbsWsHnWRTQolRl3mHVV6lNh5e/s1600-h/1220765535Otc90C%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-iQ9zLPdMCwk1bNwowX0vbhbI2_cwAm2V2BgRKa2pNtfCkljwoSY5svEh6NrdS1J6FC0BEzRQbdxwBtgQhK25aiB3_SzDpgwpGr7epIXNMx-HjsGCG9WbsWsHnWRTQolRl3mHVV6lNh5e/s320/1220765535Otc90C%5B1%5D.jpg" /></a></div><br />
But hey. <br />
It´s all irrelevant. <br />
There is good news. <br />
Munchy has given birth to Munchy 2.<br />
And Munchy 2 will soon be old enough to join Munchy in Morocco very soon. <br />
Probably this summer.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Pair</strong></span><br />
So this leaves me and the Vespa in Marrakech, wondering what to do next. I still have to ride it home after all which means I´m only a little more than half way through the trip. And I am after all still under the "get you home repair" which I very much hope gets me home ok.<br />
Do I wait for those illusive spares to turn up or do I head for Spain where I would be able to replace the bearings?<br />
Do I head south as originally planned?<br />
Who knows? (Actually, I do, as this all happened 2 or 3 shaves ago)<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd3mtApvIu9kRt_1CRFdc7uKEiGXkLDaaAbLyLHbBw4NW_GPkHCInQ6rj-7xYYe7OgcBZVwy8fkbgSEgdUlg8SFcEb-Y1T5J3PJW9jPNe9qagEjzB8Xd7MmyJwa74PAJ_Heskj7O2hj3cy/s1600-h/pd151109%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd3mtApvIu9kRt_1CRFdc7uKEiGXkLDaaAbLyLHbBw4NW_GPkHCInQ6rj-7xYYe7OgcBZVwy8fkbgSEgdUlg8SFcEb-Y1T5J3PJW9jPNe9qagEjzB8Xd7MmyJwa74PAJ_Heskj7O2hj3cy/s320/pd151109%5B1%5D.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Coconuts</strong></span><br />
The continuing saga of the Vespa is still very much happening. More photos will added soon enough but my to do list is getting more than 1 thing a day on it. This means I´m busy, doing nothing!<br />
Ciao amigosBollottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00266790362954412722noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3717806003907746268.post-65407766747368487172010-01-28T16:07:00.002+00:002010-02-23T01:36:15.493+00:00Schroody dooby do<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Where are you?</strong></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>In the early hours of the morning, a psychedelic green campervan pulled up outside the Hotel Alibaba in Marrakech. Inside were Freid and his sister Schiffer, both from Germany. Along with Vic, a stoner from Poland and Fatima who belongs to Belgium. And of course lets not forget their large, hungry pet cat, "Schroody", for without Schroody there would be no adventure.<br />
They had all noticed whilst they were checking in to the hotel that there was a sad, lonely and unhappy man who was checking out of the hotel and was about to leave Marrakech. <br />
There was also a very happy looking hotel manager rubbing his hands with glee as this man, Trigger, handed over the keys of his C90 to the manager, as he was about to leave Morocco. <br />
You could almost hear the cash registers ringing in his ears of the manager and you could almost see the giant novelty cheques appearing before him.<br />
The gang in the campervan later discovered that Trigger, was having difficulty retrieving his Honda C90, named Munchy, from the basement of the old hotel, as he said the basement was haunted.<br />
So to help poor Trigger get his Munchy back, they decided to investigate.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>We got some w*rk to do now</strong></span><br />
They sent Schroody down into the haunted basement to investigate but at first he refused to go. <br />
Not even for a Schroody snack. <br />
He wouldn´t even go down into the dingy basement for 2 Schroody snacks but he gave in when they offered him 4 tagines, 4 pizzas, 4 chicken and chips, and an all you can eat buffet, all layered between a tower of khoobz (bread).<br />
He left the cous cous. <br />
Vic was also peckish and feasted heavily on this food too.<br />
Schroody then led the way into the scary basement, closely followed by Vic.<br />
"Yoinks"! Schroody had slipped and fallen onto a large, black plastic sheet and began to slide downwards into the basement, taking Vic with him.<br />
Then the lights went out.<br />
"Arrrgggghhhhhhh"! they both cried.<br />
Then they felt something moving. Someone else was on the ´bag´ sleigh with them.<br />
It was the ghost.<br />
"Yikes. Like, let´s get out of here", said Vic to Schroody.<br />
They were all now sliding along on a large black plastic sheet, further down into the depths of the basement, which was so far down that the floor was now a sheet of snow and ice.<br />
They bumped into some more people, who it turned out was Freid, his sister Schiffer and Fatima the hitch hiker.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Surf</strong></span><br />
So there they all were. All 6 of them. Surfing down a snowy icy slope, sitting on a large black plastic bag. <br />
Whilst sliding down hill on his bottom, Triggers' mind turned to the camels he had recently ridden in the desert. He had the same uncomfortable feeling returning to his rosy cheeks and it wasn´t pleasant.<br />
Luckily they came crashing to the bottom of the hill and the ghost who had been haunting the basement was about to be un-masked by Freid and and his cute sister Schiffer.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Persil</strong></span><br />
"Why its Scooter. The caretaker at the Hotel California. But why did you need to haunt the basement"?<br />
"Well, Trigger had just had Munchy fixed and I saw it doing wheelies down the street and became concerned that his C90 was going to be faster than the Vespa. So I thought if I made the place where he stores his Munchy haunted, then he would never be able to overtake me as he would never be able to retrieve Munchy from a haunted basement".<br />
"So it wasn´t the hotel manager then"? they all thought aloud.<br />
"No. He´s a friendly chap who tried to help", added Fatima.<br />
"I would never have guessed", came Vics response.<br />
"And I would have gotten away with it, if it wasn´t for you meddling kids".<br />
"Not now you won´t. You´ll be doing 5 - 10 in the state pen", said the chief of Police who had been called earlier.<br />
"Book him boys....", were the last words Scooter heard that day and he was banged up abroad.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Shake and Vac</strong></span><br />
"Schroody dooby dooooo".<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDspICIurSLpmGVZI3LbEz7A1wh0f_C3mxtH9o_FJkem2lCRoAzjVYINdP0qeMWTbMyaEK-TdOfr6PCoB6QTtmSHtMd6PsNjRHlGt68vlMdZB7mvb64J0I1MGzs5dgfPevmpuo0HARvMW2/s1600-h/scooby-doo-magnet-c11747661%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDspICIurSLpmGVZI3LbEz7A1wh0f_C3mxtH9o_FJkem2lCRoAzjVYINdP0qeMWTbMyaEK-TdOfr6PCoB6QTtmSHtMd6PsNjRHlGt68vlMdZB7mvb64J0I1MGzs5dgfPevmpuo0HARvMW2/s320/scooby-doo-magnet-c11747661%5B1%5D.jpg" /></a></div>Bollottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00266790362954412722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3717806003907746268.post-90825212753339149422010-01-20T18:58:00.003+00:002010-03-26T01:36:12.303+00:00Marrakech<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Hitch Hike</strong></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU7PemxQXKQRKJsFgS02X5DATAK_2-5q_T2N6RGr_8hUxlqsmRPsa3G_D-UHJiCR2MlnTlKyqK03YrN-NV8onabyuYeCUpI04vVaAlsRZGzHdSZl3i0NQpRXFF9QBsvVDFSJ-GTiV5vSR5/s1600-h/imagesCAONL9OT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU7PemxQXKQRKJsFgS02X5DATAK_2-5q_T2N6RGr_8hUxlqsmRPsa3G_D-UHJiCR2MlnTlKyqK03YrN-NV8onabyuYeCUpI04vVaAlsRZGzHdSZl3i0NQpRXFF9QBsvVDFSJ-GTiV5vSR5/s320/imagesCAONL9OT.jpg" /></a></div>In the bar we met someone else who told us we mad. Thanks Ian! In the past he had owned vespas and C90s and been to Marrakech about 30 years ago. (He also put a little info somewhere on the c90 website <a href="http://www.c90club.co.uk/">http://www.c90club.co.uk/</a> ) . He was one of many people we met in Marrakech. Most people we met were in the bar of the Grand Hotel or on the rooftop terrace of the Hotel Ali, which I can highly recommend if you need somewhere cheap to stay in Marrakech.<br />
I spent a lot of time haggling with the manager of the 'Ali' for the Vespa. Of course I would never sell her. Not even for the 200 Euros he was offering. <br />
If you want to know anything about 'all you can eat' buffets at the Ali then our friend Martin is the man. He could not get enough of them buffets. (Thats <em>buf fettes</em> to all that know him) Although he betrayed the buffettes after a couple of weeks and turned to Pizzas for company. <br />
Then there was Oliver. We met Oliver, from Belgium, who hitch hiked all the way here. I would do the same if I lived in Belgium. (Only kidding Oliver!) Oliver did not have the same time scale as me and Kevin and he ended up going to meet his folks at the airport two days in advance. <em>We</em> use the traditional way of telling which day it is, or how long ago something happened, by how many moons had passed. Or for a longer time scale, how many shaves we had. Or for an even longer period of time, how many haircuts we had had. We could also define the date by working out how many mechanics we had used. This brings us neatly to the continuing saga of<br />
'Munchy'.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Monkey</strong></span><br />
After leaving Tetouan all those shaves and a haircut ago, Munchy was still feeling poorly. She was still knocking and banging all the way to Marrakech. In Marrakech we found a suitable mechanic to carry out more open heart surgery on Munchy. <br />
Now, most of the mechanics workshops we have witnessed, although small, appeared to be well equiped. Although I suspect that all the spanners, sockets, pliers etc hanging neatly on the wall were there just to keep the nails that were supporting them, from falling out. So they were left well alone. The tools that <em>were</em> used were as follows;<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">1 x screwdriver</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">1 x small hammer</span><br />
<br />
Now if these two tools could not do the job then a larger hammer was called for. The young lad ran in and out of the workshop, trying various size hammers to hit the end of the screwdriver with. These hammers were far too big to be hung up and were readily available on the floor, where all the work was carried out. Being close at hand, the hammers were in frequent use.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSCqMLWWPFNpI934YPjl2Uq616LdsQTlvGtc6uG0uRMA3mpmmVvRzOQNKrgNjiTCF-nT8vb7Qech_asgp5tCJ8HxhxDhDlr25SKvw6KiU59c5lmn-EHodcD4pxm0x14M7dt1eHBTS8_gRg/s1600-h/6810_motorcycle_cartoon%5B1%5D.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSCqMLWWPFNpI934YPjl2Uq616LdsQTlvGtc6uG0uRMA3mpmmVvRzOQNKrgNjiTCF-nT8vb7Qech_asgp5tCJ8HxhxDhDlr25SKvw6KiU59c5lmn-EHodcD4pxm0x14M7dt1eHBTS8_gRg/s320/6810_motorcycle_cartoon%5B1%5D.gif" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Bananas</strong></span><br />
To be fair, the chief mechanic, who worked on Munchy was pretty thorough and sneakily used a few specialist tools such as spanners and sockets but only when he thought no one was looking. <br />
As Kev has turned into his alter ego, David Blaine and dissappeared again I cannot be too sure exactly what work was carried out on the engine, as I was too busy waiting for my parts to arrive.<br />
I believe that a new crank, with new bearings were fitted. Along with new valves. I also believe that the parts used were probably made for the similar kind of bikes that are found all over Morocco, namely the Yamaha Mate or the chinese equivalent, the Docker C90. They look the same at least! We worked out that the previous mechanic must have changed the original Honda crank for a knackered chinese one, which turned out to be just as bad, probably worse.<br />
I was at the mechanics workshop to witness the all new Munchy being tested out by the mechanic after he had finished working on it. He was popping wheelies up and down the street like a true pro. It seems Munchy felt like a new woman! Which almost leads us neatly to the continuing saga of <br />
'What I did on my winter vacation'. <br />
<br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">Nuts</span></strong><br />
It was new years eve my friends. The bar of the Grand Hotel was pretty full. Sat next to us were a couple of girls from Texas and Oz. We got chatting and decided to try and find another bar in the more up market part of town. After a long walk we found a few potential bars. After we asked the admission price to these upmarket joints, we decided that the Grand Hotel was actually not a bad place to bring in the year after all. For the price of admission alone was enough to fly us both to a full moon party in Thailand. We left the girls (from Lezbos) in the new town, who carried on searching for a cheap bar whilst we headed back to the bar we had just left, just in time to witness the anti climax that is New Years day. <br />
Hootanany! <br />
The drunken Spanish and Argentinians we were trying to make sense of were in high spirits. The 'Toilet clerk' was also in very high spirits. He was the guy who insisted that everyone should leave a tip for him on a plate placed just outside the toilets. (Don't eat yellow snow springs to mind) If you didn't leave a tip, he cursed you to die in Hell whilst he pissed on the floor, swallowing another lung full of the glue he was sniffing. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXqwwK8j3vDFGtfQBHL3UMPNL_Ctmz4vON3htZDbFlV4GZpJyzQmrwsbIeuhxx9CC2XdP1HTOUMCHeugUvPdyngX4gfU98kRcj3VSlm85X8Arb04RTKLQu8ng5jU1bBf1iaS2QVXy4CrkK/s1600-h/happy_new_year%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXqwwK8j3vDFGtfQBHL3UMPNL_Ctmz4vON3htZDbFlV4GZpJyzQmrwsbIeuhxx9CC2XdP1HTOUMCHeugUvPdyngX4gfU98kRcj3VSlm85X8Arb04RTKLQu8ng5jU1bBf1iaS2QVXy4CrkK/s320/happy_new_year%5B1%5D.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Superglue</strong></span><br />
We have a new compardre.<br />
For a few days at least. <br />
A shave later, when all the new years sparklers had fizzled out we went to meet Sue at Marrakech airport. Unfortunatly the weather was foggy and the plane had been diverted to Agadir, a four hour bus journey south west of Marrakech. So in the afternoon we again went to the airport, this time we found her ready and waiting for us. <br />
Our 'one thing a day' routine would now involve at least two things a day. How would we cope with this busy schedule? Actually we coped pretty easily. Sue was great company and was a welcome change for Kev and me, what with having to put up with each other for so long. After we arrived back in town we booked her a room in the Ali. We then showed her the way to the nearest bar and we never saw her again. <br />
Only kidding.<br />
We ended up booking a tour, by mini bus, to the desert of Zagora. Apologies go to the Vespa and Munchy for not taking them there. They were tired and needed a rest. It would have been a long and arduous journey for both machines straight through the Atlas mountains. Especially as they were feeling so poorly at the time.<br />
For us to book the tour to the desert we had to sell Sue to the tour operator. He did after all offer the princely sum of 2,000 camels. On condition that Sue joined the Jedi clan and bought a black Jedi outfit. An offer we could not refuse. Whilst booking the trip, drinking tea and selling your mate for 2,000 camels, we noticed that the weather was getting a little fierce. Would the rain that followed us all the way here follow us all the way to the desert as well? Kev is adamant that I'm cursed by prevailing bad weather. We shall find out the next day. We had an early start the next morning, and I mean really early. So early in fact that I still don't know what time we left. <br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Prit Stick</strong></span><br />
On the bus were couples from France, Spain and Brazil. (Hi to Patricia and Miguel from Brazil). I confess to finding all that out on the return journey as I was in the Twilight zone on the way there. The scenery was spectacular. I wished the Vespa had seen these mountain roads. The all inclusive 2 day tour to the desert, everything included except drinking water and lunch. Well almost everything was included. Except for the breakfast on the first morning. Lunch at an over priced restuarant. The evening meal was a tagine shared between six people but that <em>was</em> included. The breakfast in the morning barely broke my fast (included) and again the not included lunch at an overly priced restaurant, followed by the not included teas and coffees <em>en route</em> (more french) and the not included evening meal on the second day. Also the long turban head scarves that the tout said we needed, to protect us from the sand and the wind and the desert sun... we're not included. God forbid, I almost had to get my wallet out. <br />
Thankfully Superglue had bought 2 scarves with her, one of which I borrowed. As for Kev, he had his crash helmet with him so he was fully protected!<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Camel Toe</strong></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyrOuiqGJt5kltrhkqLgBcnpsUc_tz8KeRF6AZsFxcMtQKN4RENn3f2qtYo3N1z4iLK7P_Jv3fxWv7a7_t_a1WoHEHcKmt0RX3f-6d9bKZBl6CNnL2VZQWi5F3-E6Dekj9A_W_UrOY1VeX/s1600-h/271097%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyrOuiqGJt5kltrhkqLgBcnpsUc_tz8KeRF6AZsFxcMtQKN4RENn3f2qtYo3N1z4iLK7P_Jv3fxWv7a7_t_a1WoHEHcKmt0RX3f-6d9bKZBl6CNnL2VZQWi5F3-E6Dekj9A_W_UrOY1VeX/s320/271097%5B1%5D.jpg" /></a></div>I want to point out a fact. And let's face it, there have not been too many facts on this blog. You can google Morocco and find out all this for yourself. The fact for the blog, as far as I know but I could be wrong, is..... there are no Camels in Morocco. <br />
The Berbers ate them all.<br />
Now there are only Dromedaries. And we were driven to Zagora to find out why. Why were Dromedaries so uncomfortable? I'd like to pass you over to Kev who has a better insite than me, as to why these creatures are so disagreeable but he has disappeared once more. Ask him about it when you see him next. I too had difficulty resting my bags comfortably whilst on the dromedary and ended up riding side saddle to the Berber tents, where we were to sleep the night, just visible in the distant sand dunes. After we arrived at camp we listened to exotic tales of Berber life around a camp fire. Ancient, mystical stories of a nomadic tribe who had to survive on their instincts and navigate by the stars were told with great admiration, only to be cut short by a Britney Spears ringtone coming from the pocket of the chief story teller. "...Oh yeh, can you record Eastenders for me", I think I may have heard him say.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Choccy starfish</strong></span><br />
But the stars....!Oh the stars in the evening desert! What a beautiful site. Truely. Amazing. In a clear sky with no pollution there appeared to be a great many more stars than I had ever witnessed anywhere in the world. I left Kev to count how many new stars he could see, whilst I gave Superglue an obligatory introduction to the stars.<br />
"That's the Milky Way that is", was about as far as I got before Superglue passed Kev 5 Dirhams to pay for the bet they had arranged earlier. (ie. How long would it take before someone pointed out the bleedin' obvious). <br />
Of course we all know how the stars were created.......<br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: #f6b26b; font-size: x-large;">Intermission</span></strong><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">A Demon in the world of the Gods above decided that he would steal a prized deer from off the earth and from the heavenly gods, so that he could have it all to himself. He would be the envy of all his fellow demons. When the heavenly gods noticed that the dear deer was not to be found on this earth anymore he was furious and gave chase after the demon. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">The skies darkened as they was no longer any radient light shining from the earth which was now devoid of its radient prized deer. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">The good god, lets call him 'George', picked up his bow and arrow and gave chase after the bad demon, let's call him 'Barry'.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Barry, clutching onto the deer and using all his skill, darted out of the way, narrowly avoiding the constant stream of arrows. The arrows then went on to pierce the blackened sky leaving small 'pin pricks' in the dark sheet that had envoloped the whole world. The 'stars' you see today are actually rays of light escaping through the tiny holes, trying to reach earth.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">I never did find out what happened to the deer or the demon. Or to George come to . But I do know that that's the truth, 'cause my mum said so.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Through the eye of a needle</strong></span><br />
So after a very memorable experience in the desert we headed back towards Marrakech to claim our 2,000 camels we were promised.<br />
<br />
More fact finding tales of woe are to be had later on when I can find the time to write them all. Tagines and cous cous are calling me closer to the cafes.<br />
<br />
The tale is by no means finished. Much has happened recently. Things that could potentially make it the end of the trip.<br />
<br />
It's all very dramatic.<br />
<br />
So dramatic I need to have a long lay down and think about it.<br />
<br />
CiaoBollottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00266790362954412722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3717806003907746268.post-12679949540621203222010-01-08T21:43:00.002+00:002010-01-30T16:36:41.675+00:00Photos 3<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmxTywjygJ4hwwWr0ithMk7SBX-0CSR1Yt_XbCNuCVL2SlKuN4YUG_Umi5wDfx6RzrxVW7RD17sdtQ8kzSVYdt_XCdXM6t7_EltU7xDi4oHld6wEh_NnVqiCnrq6kzAWQhOFBXiMi7uaU4/s1600-h/RIMG0337.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmxTywjygJ4hwwWr0ithMk7SBX-0CSR1Yt_XbCNuCVL2SlKuN4YUG_Umi5wDfx6RzrxVW7RD17sdtQ8kzSVYdt_XCdXM6t7_EltU7xDi4oHld6wEh_NnVqiCnrq6kzAWQhOFBXiMi7uaU4/s320/RIMG0337.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">En route to Marrakech</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlzWcEWZqfFRk2JfPqF4Hti35xYVlMLsaqeP4e_RIfBvgaWaES0wMjqhjL1Byajrr-9Lula6RTMQr7p3vX9_bD_m3hBarCqVRFGZcjnE0c9wDs0LdMQsYqpGXAFl9JU0gZnz9uQ7cU9Co9/s320/Nouvelle+image.JPG" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Actually, Marrakech is 208km away</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid2STFCHJLkK_aw784Peyzurr-KFQz0L-h_fffJUclkrnQ_iHivS5rnT9k4zSGVvSEcEKdKxCxgBomchW5qL8ptgwJmVDxQ1MpsHIKF6EDKcDk6oNJIG6ya2JYfWTHY4tKf-mUySpQZX22/s1600-h/RIMG0338.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid2STFCHJLkK_aw784Peyzurr-KFQz0L-h_fffJUclkrnQ_iHivS5rnT9k4zSGVvSEcEKdKxCxgBomchW5qL8ptgwJmVDxQ1MpsHIKF6EDKcDk6oNJIG6ya2JYfWTHY4tKf-mUySpQZX22/s320/RIMG0338.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">As it says on the tin</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuF0Vbp6t984EnypcXgIWxiVktpqYzYOF2VYIGMjXWUdelsPiiE1U65ufHWetM7_LO1ihSCFear3hduIjzMRbwfyU2VwX-2Mr6TEE0ndV5ULWKm_XTuIGPOPDE-2i21rQ2eJhLFCJwDURp/s1600-h/RIMG0360.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuF0Vbp6t984EnypcXgIWxiVktpqYzYOF2VYIGMjXWUdelsPiiE1U65ufHWetM7_LO1ihSCFear3hduIjzMRbwfyU2VwX-2Mr6TEE0ndV5ULWKm_XTuIGPOPDE-2i21rQ2eJhLFCJwDURp/s320/RIMG0360.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">98km</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpgrOl_BEceX5A7mM8Lp5r3VL79E0HJ2zzeaOk8SG9bkth-2Rww6WrigWoczvHOiUgPS-eoNx0wS8kzfdu6K4bFwwoGRRdhKjdr06hjXWxlAn0JS_5bu6e8wY0nb-wHFnq_-w1SMQvsAWf/s1600-h/RIMG0366.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpgrOl_BEceX5A7mM8Lp5r3VL79E0HJ2zzeaOk8SG9bkth-2Rww6WrigWoczvHOiUgPS-eoNx0wS8kzfdu6K4bFwwoGRRdhKjdr06hjXWxlAn0JS_5bu6e8wY0nb-wHFnq_-w1SMQvsAWf/s320/RIMG0366.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">not far now</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixP2hrUg7Uqhd0qx60SMwkRdJx1KHeDvHwB8AP-5fN1165jXfas4f47X91YGY8Ka-hLVmVaapRX38laPmgIXu0hGta_MGOKvC1tjQS5SO5kiZD_mL3kKPlCosqBNPBtOF0M3R0wDqEkWc7/s1600-h/RIMG0816.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixP2hrUg7Uqhd0qx60SMwkRdJx1KHeDvHwB8AP-5fN1165jXfas4f47X91YGY8Ka-hLVmVaapRX38laPmgIXu0hGta_MGOKvC1tjQS5SO5kiZD_mL3kKPlCosqBNPBtOF0M3R0wDqEkWc7/s320/RIMG0816.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Crafty snails</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxmXKTTvUG3_egPOKTqMMi6hcQHvhvdcU5If4xLlWxEALVfEFzVyyda6TzOUbCsRIoug85uEpzJY5xhsNL8qB2e3S1hCSc96SS6CVrP9Yj3fRq3yHTpvwS0KMkSZu0nqP4uflhKgWoa5n8/s1600-h/RIMG0394.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxmXKTTvUG3_egPOKTqMMi6hcQHvhvdcU5If4xLlWxEALVfEFzVyyda6TzOUbCsRIoug85uEpzJY5xhsNL8qB2e3S1hCSc96SS6CVrP9Yj3fRq3yHTpvwS0KMkSZu0nqP4uflhKgWoa5n8/s320/RIMG0394.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Above is Kevs plans for the Vespa</div>Bollottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00266790362954412722noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3717806003907746268.post-82471864998490311762010-01-07T22:50:00.002+00:002010-01-11T17:45:55.725+00:00Xmas<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Swiss</b></span><br />
In the morning, after a great nights sleep for me in a large double bed and for Kev, on the bathroom floor, we were ready for another day. Thankfully when we awoke in the morning inside the nice warm Swiss style hotel, in a Swiss style town that has pointy red roofs and lots of snow, we found that the weather was sunny at last. We also found out that this hotel was over 1650metres above sea level and has fine skiing in the area. That probably explains the reason why our bikes were struggling so much. We did not really notice how steep the roads were as our heads were down, trying to hang on for dear life in the torrential rain we were riding through.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Tony</b></span><br />
Xmas day. Khenifra, just 100km away was our next destination. <br />
Long gone are the days when we used to say, " Come on, lets go 250km to the next town". <br />
It's been slow going. I stopped a couple of times to adjust my timing as the Vespa was slow. Very slow.<br />
Passing through the villages and towns we noticed that half the houses were being propped up with scaffold etc due to the extremely, ferociously bad weather that we had suffered the previous day. Sandbags and boats were issued to all concerned. It was that bad. Noah would have loved it here.<br />
We arrived in town and had some food. <br />
Food. <br />
Now there's a subject me and Kev spend endless hours talking about and applauding. Applauding the fine spices that Morocco has but does not like to use in their cooking. I could devote a whole section about the menus we encounter and I will one day. When I'm really bored. Actually there wouldn't be much to write about and I would repeat myself quite often.<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Family Robinson</span></b><br />
The town was home to a university which meant lots of nice young people. Even when they are out with their mothers the girls could not help but admire the English talent. Unfortunately, we never made it to the local Disco where were planned to show them all how to do the 'Peanut Duck'. Kev got so excited that he snapped his kickstart, which he later got welded back together.<br />
It was here in Khenifra that we found out Kev could get a brand new engine for Munchy. 110cc or 125cc. What a choice. The choice actually was, what does he want....? Chinese or Japanese? I don't think this was the first time he's had this choice either but that's another story.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The Waltons</b></span><br />
After a couple of days in town we got back on our bikes, which were by now beginning to squeak and knock more than ever. My bearings need changing once more and Munchy needed some serious attention. The Vespa was drinking about 3 x more than usual so frequent stops were needed. At one petrol station we stopped for a coffee. After a leisurely drink I went to pay, using my finest local dialect.<br />
"Kawha, bisshal?", I coughed. ('How much for the coffee'?)<br />
"9 Dirham" was the snappy reply.<br />
"Bezzaf"! was my astonished answer. ('That's a lot'!)<br />
The waiter leaned forward onto his toes and staring straight into my face asked, "Problem"? in a rather menacingly way. <br />
"No problem". ('Crumbs'!)<br />
I whispered to Kev along with a signal that suggested we get the f out of there sharpish but he was too busy watching the local retard directing the traffic, which consisted of 2 cars, a tractor and 5 cats.<br />
"Kev. Psssst"!<br />
"Huh? What"? <br />
"Lets get the f out of here, its going to kick off".<br />
Two things I found out in life that day. <br />
1) Vespas and C90s are not really made for fast getaways in sticky situations.<br />
2) Kev still wasn't really sure what had just happened.<br />
Our escape was like watching 2 snails trying to get out of the soup bowl they found themselves in.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>What am I now, What am I now?</b></span><br />
We set our rendevous point to Beni Mellal which is about 260km from Marrakech. In true spirit, we arrived seperately. Without realising I had passed Kev whilst he was filling up with petrol, I carried on through Beni Mellal towards Marrakech as we could almost smell it, it was close. Kev in the meantime headed into town. I was heading out of town. The force sent me back into town, whilst Kevs force sent him back out of town. So we were forced in and out of town. Our paths never crossed and it was here in Beni Mellal I laid my crash helmet down for the night, wondering where David Blaine had gone this time.<br />
Kev in the meantime, pleased with a good days riding, on a nice sunny day, decided to carry on towards Marrakech. He made great progress and went for a further 100km. In his haste and as his C90 was going faster than the speed of light, he accidently run over an old lady. Just a flesh wound. Kev did not see her as the lights on Munchy were a little dim to say least. Also, riding into the dazzling, setting sun did not help matters either. The old lady span round on her heels, clutching her washing basket and wondered what the hell had just happened to her. Kev did not hang around to find out. He ended up in a nice hotel, no, not a Moroccan jail cell but a proper nice hotel with swimming pool, jacuzzi and a massage was only 5Dirham. Apparently.<br />
My hotel on the other hand was occupied by the international under 21s all girls mattress testers who were very thorough. Alledgedly.<br />
This meant we both had a good nights sleep and dreamt all night.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Little house on the prairie</b></span><br />
I awoke early the next morning to catch Kev waiting for me 100km away in the first garage out of the town he was in. <br />
Marrakech was now in our sights. We were heading in the direction of the Atlas mountains that we have been following for the past few days. Since arriving in Morocco it's taken us about 23 days to get this far. A few more hours and we really believed we were going to be in Marrakech, in time for tea, fairy cakes and a nice slice of waterhog flan. <br />
For the second time this trip, we arrived in town, at the same time, on the same road. Amazing!<br />
We headed for a cheap hotel that, although it was full, we were able to 'book a bed' on the roof terrace. We had some more food (another Tagine) and had a quick shower.<br />
I noticed Kev was shaking and foaming at the mouth.<br />
"What's wrong"? I asked.<br />
He turned south and silently pointed with a big smile. <br />
"Alcohol"!<br />
After 7 weeks with no booze, Kev, who now took on the stance of a bloodhound chasing an escaped criminal, eagerly set off towards the Grand Hotel Tazi, with me chasing after him as fast as I could.<br />
" I must have some booze. I demand to have some booze", Kev shouted.<br />
We had to work fast.<br />
"A pair of quadruple whiskies and another pair of pints please landlord"............ Bollottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00266790362954412722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3717806003907746268.post-26497121714710948062010-01-04T21:27:00.004+00:002010-03-26T01:19:29.091+00:00Just like that<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>North and South</strong></span><br />
So here we are back again and on the road heading south from the Rif mountains in northern Morocco.<br />
It has been a long lay down which means we have become very lazy indeed and have not updated this blog as often as perhaps we should have.Our excuse is the weather. Whether or not we were going to get out of Chefchaouen. Its a nice enough place but after constant rain for what seemed like 40 days and 40 nights we decided enough was enough. Come rain or shine we will leave the next day. We waited for a small pocket of sunshine, put on all our wet weather gear (or should that read 'wet wet weather gear') then headed south.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Apples and Pears</strong></span><br />
We made an early start for the road to Fez (approx 200km) and I found out that 8<em>am</em> exists on my watch. I thought I only had 8<em>pm</em>. It would take us most of the day to reach Fez.<br />
The weather wasn't ideal but it was ok. We started with all of our wet, wet weather gear on, found the pocket of sunshine and got out of town. <br />
I would like to say it was all downhill but alas, no. The bikes were making progress though. The surgery I performed on the Vespa, on the rooftop, seems to have paid off. It sounded totally different but I was not so sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. It <em>sounded</em> like it would go faster, so I decided it could only be a good thing. <br />
Munchy the crunchy (its a girl by the way) was running kind of ok too. Not great but not exceptionally bad.<br />
We have plenty of time for that to happen. <br />
We also found out on the way;<br />
Dogs like to try and eat my side panels but only when I'm riding at 100kmph past the gate/driveway they are guarding. <br />
Munchy the crunchy makes donkeys re-enact the mad MB game 'Buckaroo'. <br />
Riding the same speed as Kev makes me want to go to sleep but I think it must be part of the David Blaine act he performs.<br />
But more importantly we found out that the mechanic in Tetouean was a better magician than Kev and performed various cunning stunts on his engine such as the, "Now you hear the banging, now you dont, now you hear the banging again but its louder" routine. Amazing.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Mines a pony, raise you a monkey</strong></span><br />
On the way to Fez, whilst stopping to adjust some loose nuts, we were passed by a couple of old Peugeot 205s and a couple of old Land Rovers with english plates, all dressed with rally stickers, roof racks and spot lights. <br />
Thats we needed on our machines! Big stickers with large numbers on, maybe that would make us more reliable and maybe even help us go quicker. They were all 'J' reg and from UK.<br />
We quickly put our screwdrivers away and chased after them. After a few km we caught up with them and we were menacingly close. <br />
Kev took the lead and, wait for it ladies and gentklemen, he overtook a car. <br />
Ok so it was only an old 205 but something more amazing happened. <br />
He overtook the Land Rover too. I was watching from the rear of the convoy of 2 cars and 2 Land Rovers with glee. <br />
"Look at Muchy go", I cried.<br />
The look on the faces of these guys and girls driving their old bangers through Morocco must have been of total amazement.<br />
They were being overtaken by little old Muchy the crunchy. A Honda C90.<br />
The road was getting straighter so Kev went for the "Right. I'm going to have the lot of you" manoeuvre and proceeded to overtake the remaining 2 rally vehicles in one go. What class!<br />
Munchy was happy munching away the km and those rally drivers were left flabbergasted. <br />
They had just been overtaken by a C90.<br />
I was still watching from behind and laughed out loud at this moment in sheer admiration of Kev and Munchy.<br />
I waited for the rally drivers to recompose themselves and then suprised them by whizzing passed them all (or should that be wheezed passed them)? <br />
One or two of the drivers/passengers waved back but most seemed to want ignore the fact that they had just been overtaken again but this time by a Vespa. <br />
We watched them go past us again when we stopped for coffee but they did not see us as we sheltered from the downpour of rain in a cafe, so I'm guessing they thought we were still in front of them. Ha ha.<br />
<br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">Eastenders</span></strong><br />
It was a nice scenic route which took us straight to Fez before 6pm. Once again whilst riding around the outside of the old medina walls looking for the right entrance, I took a stupid route and this time it took us through the fruit and veg market. <br />
But there was one major difference. <br />
Kev was <em>directly</em> behind me and he followed me in. <br />
There was no vanishing act, no waiting or wondering where Kev was. We made it to the same town at the same time. I believe it was the force of Tommy Cooper.<br />
After quickly haggling down the price of a hotel room and parking we were in another hotel in another town.<br />
Our first impressions of Fez were not good. The hotel we ended up staying in was not too good. Kev had an ensuite sunken bath in his room. A drunk made us feel welcome by deliberately barging into us when we carrying our bags to the hotel. Well, he more or less bounced off Kev and took revenge on me by attempting to kick me. I was not in the mood for a fight and ignored him.<br />
It was still raining, the food was more expensive than we were used to, the hotel was rubbish and the welcoming commitee was rather rude to say the least.<br />
"I'm leaving at 7 o'clock in the morning and getting the f out of here", were Kevs comments.<br />
I remained quiet as the weather did not look like it was going to get any better.<br />
<br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">Dot Cotton</span></strong><br />
At early o'clock the next morning a bang on the door from Kev woke me up.<br />
"Come on then, lets go", he said.<br />
My reply was a little less friendly. I was ready to change hotels but did not want to be riding in what looked like another storm that was approaching.<br />
I tried to talk him out of it but he was having none of it. He was going. Whatever. So I thought I'd better keep with him and reluctantly tagged along.<br />
BIG mistake.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiCG30rCqWAgVNnq3FZW79-gMm6FWiGVT7Cn6AK4bu5O14b-jQ6mQDG9o4XPktYLX5LCNuHGe-0pqF2G_khyphenhyphen1AlXQhKrEjHSiDsHJG3eZMnLFF8CWwdZnpGa558Z8AK6gE52rHXTTHeSIy/s1600-h/KNOTS_rain_rock%5B1%5D.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiCG30rCqWAgVNnq3FZW79-gMm6FWiGVT7Cn6AK4bu5O14b-jQ6mQDG9o4XPktYLX5LCNuHGe-0pqF2G_khyphenhyphen1AlXQhKrEjHSiDsHJG3eZMnLFF8CWwdZnpGa558Z8AK6gE52rHXTTHeSIy/s320/KNOTS_rain_rock%5B1%5D.gif" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>We rode in what was probably the worst weather I've ridden in during the whole trip so far and I was riding in it against my better judgement which did not put me in a good mood.<br />
After 2 hours of battling with the rain and the wind I almost stopped in one of the few houses I saw dotted along the highway to ask for a bed for the night. I'd had enough. In all my years of riding I've never ever felt this way before no matter how bad the weather.<br />
I was asking myself, "What the f am I riding in this crappy weather for"? I knew the answer which wound me up even more. The answer lay behind me somewhere on a C90. He too was beginning to ask himself the same question.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5SrJPIFWFLdRO8nDmIXQIvmeIh72SM-gbH7BIxHZaloFCig78xxX7uc-_Ey0mlvsP0_cAlKbt678pkvvSAYwcZZuZzqQTDOtKRxE4ZQ6P1OXqUl-iRTRIWeyot5kuxiG755GL-hDzsBrv/s1600-h/riverCalder_1525613c%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5SrJPIFWFLdRO8nDmIXQIvmeIh72SM-gbH7BIxHZaloFCig78xxX7uc-_Ey0mlvsP0_cAlKbt678pkvvSAYwcZZuZzqQTDOtKRxE4ZQ6P1OXqUl-iRTRIWeyot5kuxiG755GL-hDzsBrv/s320/riverCalder_1525613c%5B1%5D.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The road to Marrakech</span></div><br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">Sexy Deidre</span></strong><br />
I stopped at the first hotel I saw. Asked the price of a room. Scooped my jaw from the floor and once again got ready to be beaten up by the weather. I didnt realise hotels could be quite so expensive. <br />
The directions out of town were not that clear and I ended up heading in the wrong direction. After 15 minutes <em>the force</em> turned me back the way I came, back into the town of Ifrane and it was here that I bumped into Kev who had the same problem as I had when trying to decide which road we needed. It was only about another 15km to the next town which had cheaper hotels but we did not even make it that far. After 2 or 3km we stopped at a motel and asked the price there. This was more reasonable, about £30 a night (we were used to paying around £5 a night). Kev, to his credit, offered to pay due to;<br />
a) it was xmas ...and <br />
b) for being such a dick for making us ride in the worst weather we've had so far. (Sorry Kev)<br />
<br />
Kevs genourousity and having the chance to dry our clothes in a nice warm hotel (even the stairs in the corridor were heated - luxury!) made us more cheerful and we left the next day feeling a little more refreshed.<br />
<br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">Well'ard</span></strong><br />
It is here that I will have to leave you all again as food is required. We are off into the Sahara tomorrow for a couple of days after which I promise to update this again.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaFIkhZ1l_5BnHI1VrhryFf-vdV9p501CweBR_5aAVQAUJSCzQPQUIKDw19qTYw1Fc2NUpi9YjS2BxNwzk7CiZNuX4nxfyCkHjnBNcv1ZZwjVXgDRLdxdbMIwvzW5afOvRaBN38uJ9XXjf/s1600-h/article-0-0009791600000258-678_468x442%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaFIkhZ1l_5BnHI1VrhryFf-vdV9p501CweBR_5aAVQAUJSCzQPQUIKDw19qTYw1Fc2NUpi9YjS2BxNwzk7CiZNuX4nxfyCkHjnBNcv1ZZwjVXgDRLdxdbMIwvzW5afOvRaBN38uJ9XXjf/s200/article-0-0009791600000258-678_468x442%5B1%5D.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Bollottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00266790362954412722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3717806003907746268.post-41367387830846933802009-12-18T14:33:00.001+00:002010-01-30T16:37:17.327+00:00Photos 2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrU6VldcifCvE85XpY8lRhz0-9iOjVN1bcE_m0dEtCljUtE3XqwRq9rG7ywIammQO2ub-2sWvWIQ2p4M-GqMZn55Im2IqgFLfZHno4hVFOJB5X2h4dnN3vOedShcoV5PHLdt9hQzrYPFgJ/s1600-h/es+salam.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrU6VldcifCvE85XpY8lRhz0-9iOjVN1bcE_m0dEtCljUtE3XqwRq9rG7ywIammQO2ub-2sWvWIQ2p4M-GqMZn55Im2IqgFLfZHno4hVFOJB5X2h4dnN3vOedShcoV5PHLdt9hQzrYPFgJ/s320/es+salam.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Tetouan</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVLYlBcJxXXmB9EOZ3qAfM-QoevAM6YMhd_HTOE347eK1fAQ37h6qvDmmPnjGQ6qqyhYsbGt7JCiFAsdGoojBoNJXX2zTlqAGJW8oPyufBHSYFpwBt8nmWZw9EPG5RSCYMq2kn39KjM6LX/s1600-h/chefchaouen.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVLYlBcJxXXmB9EOZ3qAfM-QoevAM6YMhd_HTOE347eK1fAQ37h6qvDmmPnjGQ6qqyhYsbGt7JCiFAsdGoojBoNJXX2zTlqAGJW8oPyufBHSYFpwBt8nmWZw9EPG5RSCYMq2kn39KjM6LX/s320/chefchaouen.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Reaching Chefchaouen</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHqM1QkSQXGJ6CchQzUXDWG9UNdJHuQXzRkKj1IrGxsRQCfXAWIY8icYb7d4wlrkSlspidAJwctQWygudDvc_4Bb3ieCGwVWStqvJs-X9JhBP2B1PaYDIZN94pckps8y1WdGVriGXzBmGE/s1600-h/chaouen+town.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHqM1QkSQXGJ6CchQzUXDWG9UNdJHuQXzRkKj1IrGxsRQCfXAWIY8icYb7d4wlrkSlspidAJwctQWygudDvc_4Bb3ieCGwVWStqvJs-X9JhBP2B1PaYDIZN94pckps8y1WdGVriGXzBmGE/s320/chaouen+town.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Town</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-7Mn_8LcvuU2287TIrQlrFWxZUft9rMuGuTI9yg0_Ai5By00COrkR7jxucZENT0A0RIzE0tbKwTYgng3Y9Wg2Ec2Z5XQALJ5OHMyz8G1X3hihD2pQpOI9bY6Z9GRI6CR729upBIlX732G/s1600-h/al+kasaba.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-7Mn_8LcvuU2287TIrQlrFWxZUft9rMuGuTI9yg0_Ai5By00COrkR7jxucZENT0A0RIzE0tbKwTYgng3Y9Wg2Ec2Z5XQALJ5OHMyz8G1X3hihD2pQpOI9bY6Z9GRI6CR729upBIlX732G/s320/al+kasaba.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Kasbah</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4oFEYuhUGQRHP9CopeYNJreVCNKbzKmGoPC1ht2TXdz6c37uMv58asRgAST2OoWIRsE8QBXFfjO7xJf89LscUuLv3eExR4gTxvVLadufSybCyx9I8NYHfUMRpM2amgDXIvkA_Mw4a29rR/s1600-h/outside+hotel.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4oFEYuhUGQRHP9CopeYNJreVCNKbzKmGoPC1ht2TXdz6c37uMv58asRgAST2OoWIRsE8QBXFfjO7xJf89LscUuLv3eExR4gTxvVLadufSybCyx9I8NYHfUMRpM2amgDXIvkA_Mw4a29rR/s320/outside+hotel.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">No engine</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhceXxIwYauv-Fm9vifWofHxmrke4agjoLUQyASJZQ40cgiAc_8NLPgnN0ytraoRScM4rvQk4JdgHwSRpSdpk11IsUw7uI_jlppIZaWDIEnD9NflIkoAMpMkQqKOeJbcNnTckb68gdOksBU/s1600-h/c90.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhceXxIwYauv-Fm9vifWofHxmrke4agjoLUQyASJZQ40cgiAc_8NLPgnN0ytraoRScM4rvQk4JdgHwSRpSdpk11IsUw7uI_jlppIZaWDIEnD9NflIkoAMpMkQqKOeJbcNnTckb68gdOksBU/s320/c90.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Munchy the crunchy</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvRQqCIaE24ODlWhZle0nmaHekABJtRAaRY3zsrkaTzcZz9i3ivPAlO68sKdEOFFeC9ngrcAigVu7I4c9p9Dxivr6IrvYztg6IjoHU4nD2wYCE3p9eJV7rJZgRvNBLD9l7OkKApzfT5fqv/s1600-h/fixing.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvRQqCIaE24ODlWhZle0nmaHekABJtRAaRY3zsrkaTzcZz9i3ivPAlO68sKdEOFFeC9ngrcAigVu7I4c9p9Dxivr6IrvYztg6IjoHU4nD2wYCE3p9eJV7rJZgRvNBLD9l7OkKApzfT5fqv/s320/fixing.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Rooftop mechanic</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Bollottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00266790362954412722noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3717806003907746268.post-86546046394516143742009-12-14T15:59:00.008+00:002010-03-26T01:21:49.358+00:00Morocco<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Lovely Jubbly</strong></span><br />
So here I am again, sitting in an internet cafe wondering what to write. <br />
We both finally made it through the border and legged it for Chefchouean, in the Rif mountains of northern Morocco, which was about 100km from the border. We figured it would take 2 hours to reach this little town in the hills.<br />
After about 40km we reached the town of Tetouan, where we decided to stay for the night. Actually Kevs C90, now named "Munchy the Crunchy", dictated that we stop at the nearest town that looked hospitable as Munchy was not feeling too well.<br />
On the outskirts of Tetouen, whilst looking blindly for the gate into the old medina (old town) a big bald local guy, Abdul, a.k.a.Terry Savalas, pulled up besides us on his big Honda motorbike and confessed to feeling, "Lovely Jubbly". <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx1NEFV7DQe1bSmxMuQ1t4fhA_limOpHXKwo9oqmDi4d1PBYvZQ93I82iTUPiNQ2gs0j76r94amRjqslVkFxv6yz5_kGI1zUrDZBxORZVxDnqvIVBl5LPGBfKPPE46v5GkSOkihCR8JsHa/s1600-h/terry_200x150[1].jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx1NEFV7DQe1bSmxMuQ1t4fhA_limOpHXKwo9oqmDi4d1PBYvZQ93I82iTUPiNQ2gs0j76r94amRjqslVkFxv6yz5_kGI1zUrDZBxORZVxDnqvIVBl5LPGBfKPPE46v5GkSOkihCR8JsHa/s200/terry_200x150%5B1%5D.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Kojak</span></div>We exchanged more hellos, listened to more catchphrases from bygone TV shows, a little more cockney rhyming slang and then I asked if he knew of a cheap hotel in the old medina, all whilst trying to ride slow enough for Kev, on his newly named Munchy, to keep up with us.<br />
"Follow me please. No worries mate".<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Hubbly Bubbly</strong></span><br />
Even although we both knew he would make a bit of commission from us anyway he could, we followed Abdul straight to a cheap hotel (approx £6 per night for a room each) on the edge of the main square in the old medina. That was good enough. There was a lock up garage opposite the hotel that was safe enough for us to leave our bikes in overnight (approx £1 per night) The rooms we basic but so was our transport so it suited us fine. We have to have seperate rooms, which although more expensive, means that I can get a good nights sleep away from the excessively loud snoring jaws of Kev.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnEg8DbeSpHkf3Tl0A6js9zKVO1i9AnvwiKzhvx7zg7v88TnUHgS68w4WhM6PrL5iJ2_Z5aeJV68ZzgApXiLTUowRzKeSePy2lorJNFPy-xCc2T7K6IsuqBz_1QgqxzMc9T_yV5vJIMwgY/s1600-h/Grandpa-snoring[1].jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnEg8DbeSpHkf3Tl0A6js9zKVO1i9AnvwiKzhvx7zg7v88TnUHgS68w4WhM6PrL5iJ2_Z5aeJV68ZzgApXiLTUowRzKeSePy2lorJNFPy-xCc2T7K6IsuqBz_1QgqxzMc9T_yV5vJIMwgY/s200/Grandpa-snoring%5B1%5D.jpg" width="146" /></a></div><br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">Curly Wurly</span></strong><br />
Tetouan is a pleasant town. It has a european feeling to it so was an easy town to get to know and an easy introduction to Morocco. It wasn't on our original destination but as mentioned earlier, Munchy was not in good shape so we stopped earlier than planned. This is not to say my vespa was in good shape either. I too had problems with my ride although they did not seem as bad as Kevs. Unfortunatly Kev is not with me at the time of writing to elaborate or defend himself on this subject because at the moment, he seems to be attached via a large rubber band to the hotel toilet. No sooner has he stepped out of the hotel, than he quickly springs back inside again, doing his David Blaine vanishing act. (which he also taught me but that comes a little later in the saga).<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Mr. Whippy</strong></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFuUr-KtNtnjAmnL8-NETg8TUWuCuO39-VyYGPhkcLqYkqMGGKfJSvKU9mtw_Zy7FoxkFUooJOLBSRxS3HVAzBttCatfyleenmgRFB5FHiOjcfXOBZsxlkZED-R0QYuuKXlMVswp3rfsBk/s1600-h/images[69].jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFuUr-KtNtnjAmnL8-NETg8TUWuCuO39-VyYGPhkcLqYkqMGGKfJSvKU9mtw_Zy7FoxkFUooJOLBSRxS3HVAzBttCatfyleenmgRFB5FHiOjcfXOBZsxlkZED-R0QYuuKXlMVswp3rfsBk/s320/images%5B69%5D.jpg" /></a></div>After a good nights sleep and unpacking our bags for the first time, it was decided the next morning that Munchy needed an operation. After one night in the first hotel we fell into, I decided to look for a cheaper hotel as we were going nowhere for a few days. Hotel Essalam, around the corner, was a cheaper and cleaner place and close enough to the garage where our bikes were stored so we could check every now and then that they were ok. Dris, the guy at the hotel reception was extrememy helpful and friendly. Our Arabic was slowly getting better thanks to his patience and humour. Most nights were spent outside, smoking and talking in a mix of French, Spanish, English and Arabic. The days were spent searching for a surgeon/butcher for Munchy and, for me at least, eating far too many french patisseries and drinking copious amounts of fresh coffee. I'm in heaven!<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Chocolate sprinkles</strong></span><br />
We eventually found the mechanic we were told was the best and biggest. We had been searching all over town for this garage, walking for what seemed like miles, asking strangers if they knew the whereabouts of the big, one and only, motorcycle mechanic. After searching for two days we found him, almost at the bottom of the street where we were staying, just three or four minutes walk away from the hotel. All the maps that were drawn for us (a series of straight lines and a picture of a bus), all the directions we were given (this way for 3 or 4kms), were all pretty useless. We found it more by chance than by being pointed in the right direction.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Pebble dash</strong></span><br />
Again, as Kev is not here to tell the story, heres what <em><strong>I</strong></em> believed happened at the mechanics...<br />
Kev took his Munchy to the garage. The mechanic listened to the running engine. He then laughed. The mechanic then shouted to his colleagues to come and have a laugh, sorry I mean, look, at this weird bike. They laughed. More people came, shook there heads, murmurred the arabic equivalent of "Oh dear. No chance" and laughed some more. <br />
In local arabic, the mechanic told Kev that, "If it was a camel he would shoot it, sell the carcass to the local tannery and with the profit, buy himself a small glass of coffee".<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOwKDgJOVGcc2mLBhSs5L_RKop3xlAc_Dcgcs4A-9NiBcq6AOkIlYLXeAkVs9Kvooi0FVC0C9RwcrfTAjcbUy8SRVbzq_HAdwYnoEnvKciRS9JEg4uJWIO_4-X4rrZ8oisDtnwykukQhOx/s1600-h/16832355_125x125[1].jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOwKDgJOVGcc2mLBhSs5L_RKop3xlAc_Dcgcs4A-9NiBcq6AOkIlYLXeAkVs9Kvooi0FVC0C9RwcrfTAjcbUy8SRVbzq_HAdwYnoEnvKciRS9JEg4uJWIO_4-X4rrZ8oisDtnwykukQhOx/s320/16832355_125x125%5B1%5D.jpg" /></a></div>What actually happened was that Kev left the bike with the mechanic. After a couple of days we returned to witness the engine in pieces on the workbench. The crankshaft had been removed. The problem lays here. The big end bearings on the crankshaft had decided to call it a day and retire from the spinning world of bearings and decided to knock instead of spin. Hence the loud engine noises Munchy was making.<br />
We believe that new bearings were fitted but its anybodies guess as the language barrier became as high as the price to fix it. That said, the mechanic worked extremely fast, putting aside the other mototbikes in his garage, to help Kev get back on the road asap.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Plastered</strong></span><br />
So, Munchy had been fixed. Or at least operated on to make him feel better. (Actually I'm not entirely sure if Munchy is a boy or a girl. I'll let you know) This meant we could continue on our journey to Chefchaouen, in the Rif mountains, a further 60km from Tetouan. This should only take about 1 hour maximum but took a little longer than that as Munchy was still recovering from his operation. As for my Vespa...(as yet - no name, but the carrot cruncher was a close contender).<br />
This particular wasp was getting vertigo. It started in Spain really and very slowly got worse as we hit the Algarve. I was keeping quiet about it hoping it would miraculously get better or go away. Well it didn't. It was getting worse. Along fast straights and motorways it was fine. Ticking over it was fine. It didn't like shopping around town or enjoy going uphill. Any names to suit this kind of character would be greatly appreciated. Answers on a postcard please...<br />
As we left for yet another very short journey to the next town it was getting bad. Kev on his Munchy would/could not exceed 70kmph. Me, on my Vespa with vertigo, could not go slower than 70kmph, otherwise it would just want to splutter to a snails pace. So when a hill showed itself I had to almost literally take a good fast run up to it to make it to the top. While Kev slowly but surely crawled his way to the top. This was getting to be a problem as we were after all going into the mountains. <br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Hammered</strong></span><br />
We arrived in Chefchaouen after about two hours. I arrived first, done the customary, "Wait for Kev routine", followed by the "Got bored waiting for Kev routine", then finished with a, "I' ll have to meet him at the hotel we agreed to meet at, should we get split up routine". The reason I only waited for 5 minutes instead of 10 minutes was because the local big boys kept asking how much my scooter was worth. Not, "Do you want to buy some hash"? Or, "You want hotel"? or even, "Come to my shop and see some blankets", but " How much is this worth"? This was a little worrying since I have no insurance against theft. So naturally I legged it, or should I say, limped it, uphill in search of the hotel we planned to stay in.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgEjOq-4tEhod0FtS-brQaBXsOSrYmau6OFKSbn13Fs2Gls7yImztE5906E63HeMsBP75zwqX6ds-PNeVa4caEhZNmchtWw2GYffTM0i1F0ilUqlwlo5usGeCTR7JN7QXa35jXpmEiuSdj/s1600-h/touristinfo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgEjOq-4tEhod0FtS-brQaBXsOSrYmau6OFKSbn13Fs2Gls7yImztE5906E63HeMsBP75zwqX6ds-PNeVa4caEhZNmchtWw2GYffTM0i1F0ilUqlwlo5usGeCTR7JN7QXa35jXpmEiuSdj/s200/touristinfo.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Unfortunatly for me, I done the kind of thing I told myself countless times not to do. I asked a policeman for directions. He of course gave me directions but not necessarily the easiest or clearest of directions, sending me up another very steep hill towards a small entrance to the old medina. The Bab (gate/entrance) to the centre of the old medina was barely big enough for my Vespa and I wasn't entirely sure I was allowed inside with my bike as it looked like a small narrow winding path with locals who were shopping and staring at me, wondering what I was about to try and do. A helpful guy lent me his son to show me the way to the hotel, which I would never have found coming in from this direction.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Spannered</strong></span><br />
What I was about to try and do was take the stupidest path into the heart of the old medina I could imagine. Some paths were quite steep and all were very narrow, with some high steps that the scooter could not clear without being lifted slightly. For my Vespa that suffers from vertigo, it was all too much and it decided to stop going up any more hills. Luckily, as the young kid sitting on the back of my Vespa had lots of friends shouting his name as he rode past on the passenger seat, they all helped me push the scooter uphill. <br />
I say helped. <br />
They pushed the scooter, not necassarily in the right direction but they were all happy enough to try and help.<br />
I finally hit a downhill path were I 'bumped' the vespa back into action and made it to the centre of town. I found the hotel we agreed to meet at. Haggled my best but it was still too expensive. By this time Kev came strolling towards me, thanked me for waiting for him, then we both looked for another hotel with easier access for motorbikes. We found a most agreeable hotel for a most agreeable price and here we are now, living da vida loca.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>You get the jist</strong></span><br />
The last few days have been spent searching for some <em><strong>decent</strong></em> local produce, which proved to be harder than I imagined. There are plenty of guys offering the best of the best but it is the worst of the worst. Its ok now though. I am most happy.<br />
The rest of the last few days have consisted of me, on the hotel roof terrace, with my Vespa engine in pieces, replacing bearings and oil seals. I said I had a problem. Oil was leaking from the crankshaft onto my stator plate. I knew I didn't do a very good job of changing the bearings and seals a few days before I left UK so I packed some spares with me and have just finished putting everything back together. The engine is back in the chassis. It started second kick, ticked over pretty well for 30 seconds, I turned it off and thats how I left it as it was getting dark.<br />
<br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">Yawn!</span></strong><br />
So tomorrow we will go for a test drive as Kev is also uncertain that his Munchy will make it to Fes, our next planned destination.<br />
So far we have not broken down but have just had a few "teething problems", I would say. Actually, "Routine maintenace" is a better description. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRY3TqeC_-OyLyXJoOQoiOfSTdFKkzf8zTjDRbCNZZ3i4Zq94dYsvUnmnu0BLzbvxo1wYbC9lqS4lhVHOKC8TKJ03_iOjm0N7I5D3eEeFtaupiHFaHYnmbH9wq-XdoluXXpFgCVEe78sUw/s1600-h/shanemcgowan%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="166" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRY3TqeC_-OyLyXJoOQoiOfSTdFKkzf8zTjDRbCNZZ3i4Zq94dYsvUnmnu0BLzbvxo1wYbC9lqS4lhVHOKC8TKJ03_iOjm0N7I5D3eEeFtaupiHFaHYnmbH9wq-XdoluXXpFgCVEe78sUw/s200/shanemcgowan%5B1%5D.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Teething problems</span></div>Nothing can stop us now. <br />
<strong>Or can it.........?</strong>Bollottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00266790362954412722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3717806003907746268.post-134170942789293042009-12-09T11:59:00.004+00:002010-03-05T23:39:24.938+00:00Photos<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Here is a few pictures of our journey so far....</div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh3HE25jak6160b7Chq394qCWWImILlq1ubeuIjTMXTBo-AvEHgxubwo9A4e0-mF-wJtqM4p7iapCHU5mpYjZEQ8GzKjzjoXOorqvQa6zROOQUNv_OqE5mtjjc4TWYYtsJ5UvLzb8HaN8G/s1600-h/Ami+Vinocasa.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="cssfloat: left; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh3HE25jak6160b7Chq394qCWWImILlq1ubeuIjTMXTBo-AvEHgxubwo9A4e0-mF-wJtqM4p7iapCHU5mpYjZEQ8GzKjzjoXOorqvQa6zROOQUNv_OqE5mtjjc4TWYYtsJ5UvLzb8HaN8G/s320/Ami+Vinocasa.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Ami Vinocasa</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"></span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqkjuf8IY3_yvCTZ2vmo3Yg_0hS4iQ57ddaGeGjVY2hlwu8ofEQbBVwuC61HG2IKOz8zn28EG8APZv_4Fj5JH01vjpnhOz2jzynhnbSCT0M5H2KXC2SM_KHPI8H3OePMVdresKrBHGrCzi/s1600-h/Faro+160.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqkjuf8IY3_yvCTZ2vmo3Yg_0hS4iQ57ddaGeGjVY2hlwu8ofEQbBVwuC61HG2IKOz8zn28EG8APZv_4Fj5JH01vjpnhOz2jzynhnbSCT0M5H2KXC2SM_KHPI8H3OePMVdresKrBHGrCzi/s320/Faro+160.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"> <span style="font-size: x-small;">El Burro</span></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHP9do0OOfwvitAEKP2BJlfyx_I3padrokpeT9D2jNLXLAfBkGHiLpOmPV1et-DqI3CJ1VEeoZKg5kwdYy_0H1qLtDkhNvNU9xzCqFE-dJnntgO3Mjk8lwJZaOwgBgCAM4y3t2NqEJ8Woj/s320/Tavira.JPG" width="320" /></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Together</span></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"></span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIIvFWXTIDbU0KSVVk4F_dY1igewqHw9rsjP5wEZ_uuGns44Ys31o4oFbGHJeGcfYM1r-_YPVuCVgBB7FLDdvUkKP_wzlgV_YLhWrzhoNdfe3RAaKbmcqR5HGo8tJc4mv7HEpuoo2Nopd6/s1600-h/Leaving+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="cssfloat: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIIvFWXTIDbU0KSVVk4F_dY1igewqHw9rsjP5wEZ_uuGns44Ys31o4oFbGHJeGcfYM1r-_YPVuCVgBB7FLDdvUkKP_wzlgV_YLhWrzhoNdfe3RAaKbmcqR5HGo8tJc4mv7HEpuoo2Nopd6/s320/Leaving+1.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Put me clobber on...</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCK_Z8AHKvkSze49V0a4qfdGBP33yiJnV6EanaBA2bGSiQWOlx1O77cpgrDeBR5YqoiH03m5vr_B84T1JMlw3Q30JZDvTBqpoooE372smB8lMte2X3jYDeXgpn7oo0Y0FewtzC2xEGStW_/s1600-h/Leaving+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCK_Z8AHKvkSze49V0a4qfdGBP33yiJnV6EanaBA2bGSiQWOlx1O77cpgrDeBR5YqoiH03m5vr_B84T1JMlw3Q30JZDvTBqpoooE372smB8lMte2X3jYDeXgpn7oo0Y0FewtzC2xEGStW_/s320/Leaving+2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">And I think about leaving</span></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW2cKfEbOLCj85AQFG1Nj27fB14tRQDnLb_VFIOpVVpE2pDtXR7tSkMqWZXpg-K_OFtuFF_fXayhgoaME5-O1AD5UsNq1O3Lp01w6IPFNGhmvQFh_DfZOZi6T4ZGKILrwjK3qWAT2y5zXF/s1600-h/70km+into+the+trip.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW2cKfEbOLCj85AQFG1Nj27fB14tRQDnLb_VFIOpVVpE2pDtXR7tSkMqWZXpg-K_OFtuFF_fXayhgoaME5-O1AD5UsNq1O3Lp01w6IPFNGhmvQFh_DfZOZi6T4ZGKILrwjK3qWAT2y5zXF/s320/70km+into+the+trip.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Pitstop</span></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">The tools are out after just 70km but at least we can say we made it to Spain from Portugal , even if it is only 35km away from our starting point!</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The computer keeps crashing so photos will be limited to just a few.</span></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Bollottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00266790362954412722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3717806003907746268.post-13426176451764403572009-12-08T19:52:00.005+00:002010-03-06T00:38:40.367+00:00Honda C90...Bulletproof? My arse<span style="font-size: x-small;">...please excuse punctuation...another dodgy foreign keyboard...pictures coming soon...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Bullet</strong></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">For the first time in the history of this blog...the voice of <strong><span style="font-size: small;">Kev</span></strong>...</span><br />
<br />
"I was going slow uphill so Scott could keep up and too fast downhill so Scott could not keep up ...NOT...<br />
but then I realized that the petrol gauge was going down quicker than I was moving. I looked down and noticed petrol leaking down my leg and over the spark plug:. <br />
I pulled over; had a fag; tightened up the screws on the carb and realised I left the locktite with the guide book. <br />
Damn. <br />
Carried on for another 10km. Scott went ahead without me and as he had no mirrors he did not notice me on the side of the motorway. <br />
Again. <br />
I took a detour to a national park as I was bored with the motorway* and waited for Scott. Ended up in the town of Palace y Villafranca at the same hotel where Scott had been waiting for me. Stroke of luck. <br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">From the hand of Scott again...</span><br />
<br />
Now I will have to finish the story.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUjZb0tlz91oBhUryJOelmPs1cXySYX-Tm-Qs56b5jjd6pH8MVqk3-UIBtZwP7K6gT2rMWVD9_KwtcwscotsWr5ER8nOv9Dzysiu4ZvFe_DShv2YqfB3wuhDe7o0D_Z17fbVIsN4AK0X6W/s1600-h/excellent%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUjZb0tlz91oBhUryJOelmPs1cXySYX-Tm-Qs56b5jjd6pH8MVqk3-UIBtZwP7K6gT2rMWVD9_KwtcwscotsWr5ER8nOv9Dzysiu4ZvFe_DShv2YqfB3wuhDe7o0D_Z17fbVIsN4AK0X6W/s200/excellent%5B1%5D.jpg" width="156" /></a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Excellent</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">*Scott: What Kev means is; he got lost. I can tell you this now, as he has had to shoot off rather quickly to the hotel toilet. <br />
If only he went that fast on his C90.</div><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">Trigger</span></strong></div>Whilst waiting for Kev; riding slowly; I had been pulled over by the fuzz. Heres what happened to me;<br />
<br />
They pulled me over and wanted to fine me countless Euros as I did not have the 2 mandatory mirrors on my scooter that they said was required by law. That was their excuse anyway. They refused to talk or understand english. <br />
I think they were jealous that everyone was looking at my scooter and not looking at them on their "manly" motorbikes. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxd1DMuWJE3kUn2kYyb5EsRUQ3BMa6971uRE6e4NOmYaxXyp17jYT6mMWA3sHKCYYhQXhW3ArUXkVKYrS4T4IeSSUwRu9rC0RaLtUXzXbBjGjNbu_B7Ef1U8Ho72F884bRBqy0gnzv0g6A/s1600-h/Baker+and+Poncharello+-+Copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxd1DMuWJE3kUn2kYyb5EsRUQ3BMa6971uRE6e4NOmYaxXyp17jYT6mMWA3sHKCYYhQXhW3ArUXkVKYrS4T4IeSSUwRu9rC0RaLtUXzXbBjGjNbu_B7Ef1U8Ho72F884bRBqy0gnzv0g6A/s200/Baker+and+Poncharello+-+Copy.jpg" width="162" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">C.H.i.P.s</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>The 2 cops were giggling in Spanish to each other as they thought of what to write on their "On-the-spot-fine notepad".<br />
I managed to explain in my best Spanglish that my vespa had no mirrors when it was made some 35 years ago. <br />
"Manufacturer no fabricado", I shouted in a spanish accent, whilst pointing to the vespa.<br />
They carefully felt their way around the legshields looking for some kind of bracket but found nothing. I prayed that they did not look under the handlebars where a bracket <em>could</em> be fitted.<br />
I told them that I had ridden the vespa all the way from the UK through Portugal and Spain on my way to Algerciras, without mirrors. <br />
This made them laugh even more and they had to let me go. <br />
Phew!<br />
I made a hasty get away and went to the nearest town to wait for Kevin. I arrived in Palace A something or other.....? <br />
A crazy bus driver kept overtaking me and pointing; grinning like a spanish motorbike cop on laughing gas.<br />
I found out he was another vespa freak and he led me to a cheap hotel where I later met up with Kevin again. He had re-appeared!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjuoJE9ByY7EughyNG_4qThTu6up06tqZf-lyDx-YbfXZwH479wTRP_Oq3cnQPScMgildXsEvBpfR20T03bnBwvf5l7Ia9QEWFMWzZ0aG0CgkwEzGNO1NxU4BfVU_Cs9KWbfimYHWPXRI1/s1600-h/emerging.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjuoJE9ByY7EughyNG_4qThTu6up06tqZf-lyDx-YbfXZwH479wTRP_Oq3cnQPScMgildXsEvBpfR20T03bnBwvf5l7Ia9QEWFMWzZ0aG0CgkwEzGNO1NxU4BfVU_Cs9KWbfimYHWPXRI1/s320/emerging.jpg" width="264" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Re-emerging</span></div><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Happy</strong></span><br />
After we had some food; I pulled out a 20 euro note to pay; expecting lots of change; the owner took the lot; then he must have felt guilty he had ripped us off and gave us a "free" glass of ? fairy liquid? So nice...<br />
...NOT...<br />
I awoke to find (eventually) Kevin fixing his carb; again. With loctite this time. <br />
We continued towards Algerciras to catch the ferry to Morocco. Kev was listening to drum n bass on his MP3 player then realised it was not drum n bass at all but his engine banging and knocking.<br />
We got split up again in Jerez de la Frontera. <br />
Kev done his David Blaine vanishing act again; literally about 50 metres away, at the bottom of a hill, on a ring road we were on. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMLKMngbM4rqncIniWOke2G99-AKtqpf4R3KZ9-gPqydWkry0gkx_RBA4O9ZrYN7E3OqqHHxhH4AIk7F_EDcK4SxfikjwRHr5IEs-jj1uvoZm9p1VW38sVb0WYIHaWCwxvlV9NRQJNQuRm/s1600-h/the+great+suprendo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMLKMngbM4rqncIniWOke2G99-AKtqpf4R3KZ9-gPqydWkry0gkx_RBA4O9ZrYN7E3OqqHHxhH4AIk7F_EDcK4SxfikjwRHr5IEs-jj1uvoZm9p1VW38sVb0WYIHaWCwxvlV9NRQJNQuRm/s200/the+great+suprendo.jpg" width="163" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Audience member: "Can you pull a rabbit out of your hat"?</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Magician: "No but I can pull a hair out of my bum".</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><strong><span style="font-size: large;">TV</span></strong><br />
Again I waited...and waited...this time I could easliy turn back to find him, which I did but his trick was so good he had completely vanished; even though 2 seconds ago he was right behind me. His close up work was amazing. <br />
After trying the toy walkie talkies for a while and searching high and low I could not find him. <br />
So what did I do? he he he!<br />
I headed off. <br />
Towards the road we agreed to travel on beforehand.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Candid Camera</strong></span><br />
I went on the main road which we found out Kev was not allowed on as his bike was considered a toy and not fit for fast roads such as these. <br />
I waited at a cafe; where after 1 hour or 2 Kev pulled up with his C90 banging away like a panel beater on amphetamines. He had to take the back roads reserved for gypsies riding donkeys where he says; and I dont believe a word of it; that he saw <em>'lots of people fixing vespas on the roadside'</em>.<br />
The original plan when we left the hotel that morning was to head straight for Algerciras. As we could not travel on normal roads we had a choice at the crossroads -<br />
Follow the old peasants road towards Algerciras or ...<br />
take a different road that had a couple of towns on it where we could hopefully find a hotel if needed. <br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Russ Abbott</strong></span><br />
In true proffessional explorer style we tossed a coin to decide which road to take. We ended up heading towards a great little town by the name of Alcala de los Gazules and decided to stay there the night. It had taken us 2 days to travel about 100km. We asked an extremely helpful local by the name of Juanma )many thanks Juanma for your expert knowledge; your guided tour and friendship) for a cheap hotel.<br />
It would have been nice to stay a little longer here as it was such a nice town but we wanted to catch that elusive ferry. <br />
I pursuaded Kev that he should at least limp the final 60km to Algerciras so we could get on the ferry and actually make it to Morocco to prove everyone wrong.<br />
Well; thats what we did. It took a couple of hours to travel those last few kilometres but we made it onto the ferry and arrived in Ceuta at around 2pm. <br />
Ceuta is actually a tax free Spanish province, )ah ha ive found the commar key) so it was another 3 or 4 km to the actual Moroccan border and a further 100km to our planned destination of Chefchouean in the Rif mountains.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Funnyfanny</strong></span><br />
At the actual border we could tell straight away that we were no longer in europe and in a different continent. It had the similar hustle and bustle of some of the asian countries we have both visited before in previous lives. <br />
Mayhem. Languages we did not understand. Not having enough time to read the guide book we managed to buy earler we did not really know what the crack was to get through the border without getting ripped off, which was not so good.<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Empty forms to fill in were shoved in our faces. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">"Park the bikes here",</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">"No, move them here",</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">"No move them there". </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijJPGxrCxYOHuPaVz7vYCEA4tMJjXE8sMUCl5tzxBI5B31w2J_bQkp_WASCwfWWAK8He7HNeZ5sdEQ17mpUS60OSvt6LMI0KXbdGUjpuZPTFi-0yv8350fmqJCxn2oImlj6AImYcy1jWzK/s1600-h/CAIRO%2520GAZA%2520PROTEST%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="138" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijJPGxrCxYOHuPaVz7vYCEA4tMJjXE8sMUCl5tzxBI5B31w2J_bQkp_WASCwfWWAK8He7HNeZ5sdEQ17mpUS60OSvt6LMI0KXbdGUjpuZPTFi-0yv8350fmqJCxn2oImlj6AImYcy1jWzK/s200/CAIRO%2520GAZA%2520PROTEST%5B1%5D.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Helpful hustlers</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Guys clutching documents, telling us we needed to fill them in, then insisting that they fill them in for us. Of course they were going to ask for a small fee to 'help' us. So me being me, I wanted to do this myself. </div>Meanwhile Kev had a few guys helping him fill in his details. After getting a laser to the head from the medic )checking for flu we think) I handed in all the nessacary documents to the official. I had no insurance for Morocco )no green card) and the official threw the papers back at me, <br />
" No Insurance". <br />
Damn. What to do? I was told by my insurers that I would have to buy insurance on the border. After asking a few people at the border I was told that this was no longer possible. <br />
What to do?<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Itchy brown eye</strong></span><br />
Kev in the meantime was at another kiosk doing the same thing )he also had no green card/insurance but the official didnt seem to notice and he had his papers stamped and went straight through. <br />
Of course I then rapidly went to the same kiosk, got my papers stamped and also went straight through. Unfortunatly the guy who helped Kev did not like me (as I filled out the forms myself and did not give him any money). <br />
He called me a, "Bad man". <br />
This little <em>"hustler"</em> also knew I did not have any insurance and threatened to tell the border officials this before I managed to enter Morocco. <br />
"Ok.You win. How much do you want"? I said.<br />
"10 Euros", was the reply.<br />
I retalliated, "10 for that, you must be mad".<br />
We agreed on 5 Euros. I only had a 20 euro note but he politely gave me 15 euros change and I promptly got on my scooter and was about to ride off quick. The alternative was to leave the scooter at the border with Kev, jump in a taxi with this little hustler )I use the word 'hustler' lightly) and drive 35km to get insurance. No chance.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZjKy1zOEvwFnAC4AiquHEXk7zT50ZNVeC5t-dOCCWXyIN9__coIvejTafUjMbsIR4ERAFsUdb1A6Am-Re2L6uI5Xjz5Lc83RkdAh-OsetEmgTVUQ9jKytlzCbbNtiHKDZEZbNuw4NjBU2/s1600-h/no+chance.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZjKy1zOEvwFnAC4AiquHEXk7zT50ZNVeC5t-dOCCWXyIN9__coIvejTafUjMbsIR4ERAFsUdb1A6Am-Re2L6uI5Xjz5Lc83RkdAh-OsetEmgTVUQ9jKytlzCbbNtiHKDZEZbNuw4NjBU2/s200/no+chance.jpg" width="161" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">No chance</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Then next, the border official who was checking that the papers were stamped correctly etc noticed something was wrong with my documents. <br />
Uh-oh!<br />
All the time Kev had been patiently waiting just 10 metres away in Morocco proper, on his C90 ready to go.<br />
"Where did you get these papers stamped"? asked the border official.<br />
I had to lead him to the booth where I got the papers stamped, fearing the worst. <br />
Would I actually be allowed into Morocco after riding 2500km to get this far? <br />
Would I have to go to the nearest town in a taxi to Tetouan, to get insurance at an extortionate rate?<br />
Will we make it to the town of Chefchouean in time for supper?<br />
Will Kevs C90 go any further?<br />
Will I ever find out where the "open bracket" - )) is on this keyboard?<br />
Tune in next week to find out this and more in the next episode of A Long Lay Down.Bollottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00266790362954412722noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3717806003907746268.post-87280496901977452782009-12-07T14:32:00.001+00:002010-03-05T01:54:39.779+00:00Let the games commence<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Fun</strong></span><br />
Now the fun and games commence as we left for Morocco on 3rd Dec 2009. Me, still on my trusty Vespa and Kev, finally joining me on his Honda C90. So far on this journey nothing of interest has happened to me, Kev, his van or the scooter.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdPNp1qv3Tvc8PRZztxQ_d4naHjUgvS5QeuN_8WuqFkW6qEnbNA1HVyPzAXljibXz_259TAlvlhJQMKXJjXo_zxE8KZky75ODYr0aNZomToJYbOhnGd_vKE6KiGheCEGVmMPWApCZYQ1dF/s1600-h/Cow_Boring%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdPNp1qv3Tvc8PRZztxQ_d4naHjUgvS5QeuN_8WuqFkW6qEnbNA1HVyPzAXljibXz_259TAlvlhJQMKXJjXo_zxE8KZky75ODYr0aNZomToJYbOhnGd_vKE6KiGheCEGVmMPWApCZYQ1dF/s200/Cow_Boring%5B1%5D.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Boring</span></div><br />
On the Vespa, I ve travelled just over 2000km, averaging around 333km a day, riding for about 4 or 5 hours a day, likewise with Kev in his nice warm van, listening to his stereo, smoking tabs and that.<br />
But now, with Kev ditching his van in Luz and finally getting on his C90, things start to get a little more interesting.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Games</strong></span><br />
In Luz, at Johns villa where we stayed for a week or so....many thanks to John by the way for letting us use his place...Kev transformed the place into a mini Mike Bavins ( a local motorbike workshop) and had his C90 up on a makeshift platform to prepare his bike. <br />
Modifications included changing the oil 3 times, <br />
stripping the carb a few times, <br />
fitting a grill on the headlight which he later decided to take off in the end. <br />
He also had another C90 there which was used for spares which I believe once belonged to Tom who is off on yet another C90 from John O Groats to Lands End sometime next year. Catch up with him here <a href="http://www.jogle.co.uk/">http://www.jogle.co.uk/</a> <br />
<br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">Olympic</span></strong><br />
I also decided to get my scooter up on the platform to change the oil and prepare the vespa. I changed the oil as planned, checked the nuts and bolts were all tight etc which they were. <br />
I did not really know what else to do to it as it was running fine. <br />
I wiped off the bugs that were splattered across the front. <br />
What I did end up doing was bending the front mudguard getting it off the platform. <br />
Nevermind. Probably the first of many knocks and scrapes to come.<br />
A few days later, as I was sure there must be <em>something </em>I could do to the scooter to make it a little better, I decided to clean the cylinder head and piston which I found out was built up with coke. <br />
Whoopee!<br />
That was that.<br />
<br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">Marathon</span></strong><br />
So we set off for Morocco. Spain is only about 30km from where we were staying in Portugal so our aim was to get at least to the other side of Seville and if the going was good and if we had time, head straight for the ferry at Algerciras which was an ambitious +500km ish away<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8dA6hl0mLdlPEIEnjMSY7gjWqdtB5h_FYZyevWArDKaaOqaIpmaOaPrfxBYkrbwgUFEXCEXJviK0pwr0iI9lXP1QM4z7wP8cVmwc1N14DPTThLG2FIOFcjtomu4yg55e0qyKNJkhOQjs-/s1600-h/eddie+the+eagle+edwards.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8dA6hl0mLdlPEIEnjMSY7gjWqdtB5h_FYZyevWArDKaaOqaIpmaOaPrfxBYkrbwgUFEXCEXJviK0pwr0iI9lXP1QM4z7wP8cVmwc1N14DPTThLG2FIOFcjtomu4yg55e0qyKNJkhOQjs-/s200/eddie+the+eagle+edwards.jpg" width="156" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Ambitious</span></div><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Snickers</strong></span><br />
We left Luz de Tavira in Portugal at 12pm on 3rd Dec. <br />
After 50km, in Spain, about 1 hour into what I would class as the start of the trip, I pulled over on the side of the road to see Kev with his toolkit out, holding a screwdriver and shaking his head. <br />
Oh dear. So soon already? <br />
His carb was coming loose and was leaking petrol if he went over 70kmph. <br />
We soon got going again and making our way to Seville. My scooter did not enjoy going so slow, especially uphill so I overtook him uphill and let him overtake me downhill. <br />
A few kilometres before Seville he did not overtake me.<br />
So I waited....and I waited...and I waited...<br />
Hmmmm? He could not have been that far behind but I could not see him. <br />
I think his carb must still be playing up. I had to keep moving as we were on a motorway and those Spanish motorcycle cops I kept seeing needed some money to buy their kids Xmas presents. So I carried on at a very slow speed towards the road we agreed to meet on should something like this happen. <br />
<br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">Knackers</span></strong><br />
I will leave you all in suspense now as I need some food and a coffee. Tomorrow, if Kev has had time to write anything for me to type into this blog, I will tell the rest of the story. It is getting more interesting believe me.<br />
<br />
Au revoir<br />
mange tout, mange toutBollottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00266790362954412722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3717806003907746268.post-49344373410081807392009-11-27T12:31:00.006+00:002010-03-26T01:20:49.996+00:00Bon Dias<strong><span style="font-size: large;">Morning campers</span></strong><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqaFZNArzIPg7MEPUhbCovIviRod0vQVhUGi7-DFQTmN1JeN_oh1OxfaHhvOFqZmsh1D3q1Wwovb9GbnFZitRynpK9k4ZMa1UCndYW-4MRJvI_XVTnI_AV0GcnoNyzZHhopuS_HvHiwcwO/s1600-h/morning+cammpers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqaFZNArzIPg7MEPUhbCovIviRod0vQVhUGi7-DFQTmN1JeN_oh1OxfaHhvOFqZmsh1D3q1Wwovb9GbnFZitRynpK9k4ZMa1UCndYW-4MRJvI_XVTnI_AV0GcnoNyzZHhopuS_HvHiwcwO/s320/morning+cammpers.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Let sleeping bags lie</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><strong><span style="font-size: large;">Destination</span></strong><br />
We have reached our first destination of Luz de Tavira near Faro on the south coast of Portugal.<br />
There was a head wind all the way down to the Algarve with the exception of 1 day. <br />
Rain, gale force winds etc seem to have followed us all the way here. <br />
When we arrived in Luz locals told us its the first rain they´ve had since July. At least its warmer here. T shirt weather during the days. <br />
<br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">Moo Moo land</span></strong><br />
We took a leisurely 4 days to get here leaving at around 10am each day and setting up camp at around 4 - 5 pm. Nothing too strenuous. We are having a long lay down after all. <br />
We´ve completed almost 2000km so far. (sounds more impressive than miles)<br />
<br />
So any problems on the way down?<br />
<br />
I had a bird hit me in the face. (Feathered kind) I was going so fast on my vespa it couldn´t get out of the way quick enough.<br />
<br />
Lets start with my <strong>vespa</strong> - I had to change the rear light bulb which I found out from Kev that it had blown in UK. <br />
Thats it. <br />
I gave it a clean yesterday and changed the engine oil ready for Morocco.<br />
<br />
<strong>Kevs van</strong> is also going well. Nothing to report except a dodgy wire in the 'break' light.<br />
<br />
<strong>Kevs C90</strong> - which he has hardly rode as yet - the broken indicator is now fixed with cellotape due to a few bad cornerings.<br />
<br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">Justified</span></strong><br />
Visited the second highest town in Spain. Had octopus for breakfast which was a first for us both. <br />
So nothing really exciting to report. <br />
We both struggled on the second day in Spain going up and down mountains in heavy rain and strong wind but we lived to tell the tale.<br />
We´re just chillin´ in Luz at the moment. Kev has been busy adding bits to his C90.<br />
Look forward to seeing some of you in Morocco around xmas.<br />
Oh yeh...Kev forgot to bring my guide books of europe and Morocco that I lent him so we have no idea of where we are going or staying and I cannot learn the basic phrases I was hoping to learn whilst here. Handy! He also forgot his duvet!<br />
All in all we are in good spirit.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk7wixvIBxWxWycx_buz9fwcRr7R23D8iznhtPb1dzlc9M54mOdkhQa9OtSf80KzzF76SAP-2qShxI6J0AuRalFvVqiFWNHxi3QjyVfYOgmq1ds2kn9R6_RxIPsjuuIYgZJcjDT8uBEZx1/s1600-h/cher.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk7wixvIBxWxWycx_buz9fwcRr7R23D8iznhtPb1dzlc9M54mOdkhQa9OtSf80KzzF76SAP-2qShxI6J0AuRalFvVqiFWNHxi3QjyVfYOgmq1ds2kn9R6_RxIPsjuuIYgZJcjDT8uBEZx1/s200/cher.jpg" width="157" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Ancient</span></div>Bollottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00266790362954412722noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3717806003907746268.post-68422444355731518342009-11-18T09:20:00.007+00:002010-03-05T01:15:00.489+00:00And we're off<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Due to Health and Safety reasons the picture has had to be removed.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A quick one while I'm still here. Here's me checking everything straps on to the scoot. I may be doing a few wheelies but should be ok.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We're off today. Sorry no pictures of Kevs C90 but they will be uploaded asap. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Quick up date. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We arrived at Portsmouth 3.45pm. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Kev smoked about 100 fags watching me getting blown around.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Head winds meant I had top speeds of between 40mph and 65mph in the slip stream of passing lorries. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Got pulled over by customs getting onto the boat but they let us through ok. Phew! Its going to be one hell of a journey. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Robbie Villiams is letting himself entertain us on the ferry. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Gale force winds etc. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It could potentially be the end of the trip. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Time to get spannered. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">See you all when we get back</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Very windy but no rain and its quite mild for the time of year. Can't have everything!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Bhoom Shiva!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Bollottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00266790362954412722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3717806003907746268.post-22818387777919590192009-11-15T20:37:00.002+00:002010-03-05T01:11:45.303+00:003 days to go<div class="" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Ready </strong></span></div><div class="" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;">We're almost ready. </span></div><div class="" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;">These are the machines ready for adventure. </span></div><div class="" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;">Kevs C90 has a new light weight front mudguard which effortlessly paints a perfect straight line of road water on to his face. The legshields have been removed, bulletproof rear carriers added, new indicators and a new paint job. A superb all terrain vehicle.</span></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYL_uVD6IorOpanpBpcInakqfYIzjK4FO8uMNgIhXpWVPfCwwQRfYq_QtfkDXdhAU-iJcpaEdNPJ5VqR7QhxE9pd0pUGa15eDMLHPjOPBSWp-1bB8jP3zBGh2TapjrMDYklKK9h6PUqCxy/s1600-h/steady.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="height: 211px; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; width: 283px;"><img border="0" height="240" sr="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYL_uVD6IorOpanpBpcInakqfYIzjK4FO8uMNgIhXpWVPfCwwQRfYq_QtfkDXdhAU-iJcpaEdNPJ5VqR7QhxE9pd0pUGa15eDMLHPjOPBSWp-1bB8jP3zBGh2TapjrMDYklKK9h6PUqCxy/s320/steady.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">Steady</span></strong></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">Here's the Vespa ready to go. </div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">In the last 2 months it has had 2 engines, </div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">4 engine rebuilds, </div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">1 puncture and </div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">1 seizure. (Most of these set backs were because I didn't know what I was doing during the 'restoration'). It also has a rear carrier fitted. Optional extras include a 12volt battery which runs 2 x horns and a cigarette lighter socket. I've also added Goop to my tyres as I am prone to the odd puncture.</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaqCfqkGZfC5e1jdLgAzpXoVk3sS2w7a-duLXYka0mww2z_sLqCtQld4vneVhRUIG-cjv6ber6o_oGg2lDivfbyMuCuP197L0YKHwlYuI8o8DcG8S_otQLcWrZiT1rU20qAUix5-p_09oS/s1600-h/ready.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" sr="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaqCfqkGZfC5e1jdLgAzpXoVk3sS2w7a-duLXYka0mww2z_sLqCtQld4vneVhRUIG-cjv6ber6o_oGg2lDivfbyMuCuP197L0YKHwlYuI8o8DcG8S_otQLcWrZiT1rU20qAUix5-p_09oS/s320/ready.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">Go!</span></strong></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">Its going to be interesting to see what and how much we can load onto these machines. </div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">In previous lives I've managed to transport 3 people, 50kg vegetables + passenger, car batteries, gas bottles, chickens and goats on a Vespa (not all at once)! but that was a little bit more than the law will allow.</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">I've not had much experience on a C90 so I do not know what they are capable of but I believe anything is possible. </div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">Both of these machines are capable of going anywhere, it all depends on the riders skill, judgement and sheer stupidity as to how far and where they can actually go.</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Cheggers Plays Pop</strong></span></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguFXLe0475HqmTIfcBUUZpkEFxpxsOCwEWyPJsDVSpHZ1SYI6Efiq5ssp0AgxNj5l887CgH_KSI09-ydqZ10wbExwzcD7nA7j7bvcNs0egb7PRHxfyLzxLynuC2Z0LJSYuCJxknP1-inud/s1600-h/cheggers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" sr="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguFXLe0475HqmTIfcBUUZpkEFxpxsOCwEWyPJsDVSpHZ1SYI6Efiq5ssp0AgxNj5l887CgH_KSI09-ydqZ10wbExwzcD7nA7j7bvcNs0egb7PRHxfyLzxLynuC2Z0LJSYuCJxknP1-inud/s200/cheggers.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">"Ta-ra!"</div>Bollottyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00266790362954412722noreply@blogger.com0