Here's mud in your eye

Sadly, I failed to take any photos that really captured the day's ride.  Mental note: slow down and smell the roses!

Surprisingly, I’m not feeling too bad in the morning, although I can tell there are a few aches and pains developing.  Just sitting on the bike for such extended periods is bound to cause problems, and the vibrations probably make it worse.  One knee is starting to creak, my shoulder joints ache, and my back is hinting that it’s not too happy either.  We're all feeling the affect of the unrelenting pace - but a few days’ rest in Istanbul should help, so I’m not overly concerned.

However, fatigue is a factor and today was another early start, with another 310 miles to ride on slow, potholed roads.  Mentally rather than physically, perhaps, I’m feeling more under siege.  Aside from riding, I’m trying to catch up with business emails, write my blog and back-up my photos or video.  I feel a bit distracted, yet I'm determined to find time to finish things off, and have been prepared to get up early / stay up late to do so.  I'm basically taking old office habits and applying them to the trip.  Hmm, I wonder whether that'll last very long - and whether it's a good / bad approach?  This isn't the way to 'relax' on holiday, and I'll have to be careful not to affect my riding.  On the other hand, I can't just ignore what's going on in the UK yet - and I've spotted a few of us having to do this dual-life interaction.

Back to the road.  With our pre-agreed ‘first away’ departure time creeping ever earlier each successive morning, I’m still the last one to hit the road.  And yes, it does take me a while longer than the others to get ready, so there’s peer pressure here.  I’m surely getting quicker, but so is everyone else.  I start to worry that this'll become an annoyance to the group and resolve to keep improving.

I'm last away this morning too, so I had to play the familiar game of catch up.  But to be honest, I quite like riding on my own as I actually focus more.  There’s no one to wait for, no one to tut-tut if I bend the rules and apply London traffic habits to make up time - queue jumping at the lights, lane switching on large roundabouts, using a ‘rabbit’ on the motorway to draw the radar gun as I follow a few hundred yards back....  In fact, I reckon I tend to think about the riding more on my own and ride more safely.  In a group its easy to inadvertently switch off and just follow the rear wheel in front.  There’s a lot to be said for ‘riding your own ride’, as they say.

Shirley and Colin

Pretty soon I’m enjoying the rolling hills of Serbia and the route notes take me towards Bulgaria.  I’ve caught up Colin and Shirley, and after a while pass them as they pull in for gas.  

I keep moving up the group, not wanting to be 'last'.  Next up is our cheerful American contingent of Tim, Bruce and Syaufu.  The change is welcome, and it’s enjoyable to experience the more interesting scenery in a group so I slow and tag along.  

Where we've reached the road is no longer a 'motorway' - it’s country B-roads in UK driving terms.  Lots of long easy stretches, broken up by quaint farming villages.  

Team USA: Syau-fu and Bruce

An array of barns, tractors and old cars litter the countryside, but there is blossom on the trees and it’s actually very pretty.  Dogs bark and chase the bikes (half heartedly), and I’m now formulating a new answer to question: ‘why did the chicken cross the road?’

The mud, of all things, looks amazingly fertile - freshly ploughed or already sprouting green wheat shoots.  The colours are rich and vibrant and even the damp weather is not inappropriate, and has washed the trees clean.  Whereas in Croatia an army of road workers were strimming the verge and central reservations, here it’s more likely to be a solitary farmer with a long handled scythe.  The smell of freshly cut grass is the same the world over though, and one I’m very fond of - it reminds me of family days long gone, when Dad has mown the garden, or of playing fields at school.

We pass more people who take an interest in our arrival, wave, and turn as we pass through their village.  Picturesque old couples slowing walking along, fat faced farmers bouncing along the road on their tractors, school kids walking home full of chatter, and groups of weather beaten men standing in contemplation.  Mechanics stand, hands on hips, as we pass their garages - their eyes fixed on the foreign hardware procession, and we usually get an appreciative nod.  It’s a lovely ride.

Too few photos, I'm afraid... especially given how lovely the landscapes were.  Sorry!

There are, ahem, working girls to be spotted too, usually standing in lay-bys for the truckers it would seem.  The affluence of the area has dropped and it’s not all old-worldly charm - clearly there are folks who need to do what’s necessary to get by.  A few in our group are slow on the uptake, and mildly shocked when they realise.  

I’m aware that we are wealthy tourists, which feels uncomfortable.  The smiles of the locals lessens the feeling though, and I suppose if I saw a procession of Ferraris drive past me in England, I’d not begrudge them their day.  And if they gave a friendly wave, I'd return it.

We ride a bit too long before taking a break and I get chilly.  It’s out with the heated inner jacket, and all is well again - the temperature control Mum helped me fit is positioned perfectly, I’m glad to report.  Folks who've not ridden for years, or ever, probably don't realise how advanced a modern motorcyclist's kit has become.  Dealing with the cold is going to be essential, and running electric gear from the bike alternator saves carrying or wearing heaps of extra layers.  Doing a 'safety check' when wrapped up like the Michelin Man is tricky - so modern technology has another plus point, too.

Motorway miles take up the rest of the day, and aside from the changing script on the signs, they’re the same experience as the M1.  

A few tolls, however, and then two border crossings in quick succession take us from Serbia into Bulgaria, and then into Greece.  The differences between these countries may be subtle or obvious to the normal visitor.  Yet from brief motorway look-see we can't really tell - once again I’m left feeling as though we’re rushing by.  In an ideal world the trip would have more riding like we enjoyed this morning; but the visa logistics of what's to come mean that's not possible.  It’s a necessary balance on reflection, and we just have to make the best of it - and perhaps come back one day. 

Typical tea stop.  JB on left.  Mark and Tiffney mid-right.

Around the large town of Sofia a few of the group decide unwittingly to keeping following the main road around the centre.  And around, and around.  As they began a second or third lap the van was on hand to point out that the scenery was repeating itself...  at which point they left the ring road and joined us at the hotel!  We wondered how long they'd have continued without the prompt.

Nice local meal out for dinner; Greek food, naturally.  I’m glad to note that the only thing I’ve lost today is an hour - due to the new time zone.  Could I be getting the hang of this pack-up-and-go lark?  Or have I already lost most of my gear?

Hmm, clocks go forward again soon, so I need to find some sleep somewhere!