photobiketrip - peter's gallery

Nizhny Novogord - 21st July 2006 - 22nd July 2006

2006-07-22T09:09:00.000+01:00

A view from the Kremlin in Nizhny Novgorod (considerably smaller and in many ways more attractive than Moscow's Kremlin) accross the roof of one of the many churhces the town boasts. Interestingly nearly all of the churches in Nizhny Novgorod are either fully restored or in the process of being restored and compared to thei counterparts in other places we have seen in Russia are consequently arguably more impressive because of that.

Train to St Petersburg - 18th July 2006 - 19th July 2006

2006-07-19T08:58:00.000+01:00

On the journey to St Petersburg Tom was finding trying to sort out the import documents all a bit too much so waht better way than to find an empty corridor on the train, a bottle of vodka and a shot glass and pass relieve the stresses of the past few days that way.

Moscow - 13th July 2006 - 21st July 2006

2006-07-17T08:53:00.000+01:00

Despite initial appearances this is not a statute hopnouring the Soviet Union's very own Superman, but rather a statute celebrating the Russian football team's participation in a past World Cup.

On one side of Red Square is the huge department store called GUM which is now full of Western shops, but when the Soviet Union fell was apparantly home to almost empty shops and long queues for the few things that were available.

Oulu, Finland - 28th June 2006 - 3rd July 2006

2006-07-03T11:38:00.000+01:00

We stayed in Oulu for quite a few days, certainly far more than we initially expected, because the place was relaxed, the weather was good and we wanted to give ourselves a bit of a break before we get to Russia in a few days time. The town has little in the way of obvious attractions, but has a great vibe, a young population and a nice beach a short bicycle ride from the town.

Rovaniemi, Finland - 26th June 2006 - 28th June 2006

2006-06-28T12:01:00.000+01:00

Our first proper stop in Finland was at the small town of Rovaniemi just south of the Arctic Circle. It seems that Rovaniemi's claim to fame is that it boasts a theme park dedicated to Father Christmas and, on the Arctic Circle, the Santa Claus Post Office. Being just south of the Arctic Circle meant that there was still the issue of the place never getting dark, although it was far less of a problem than at Nordkapp - by which I mean the sun did at least try to set around midnight (although it did of course fail miserably).

Tromsø - 20th June 2006 - 23rd June 2006

2006-06-23T03:06:00.000+01:00

After arriving in Tromsø and finding a place to stay (whcih in this case was on the floor of one of the classrooms in a local Catholic bible school - with their consent of course) we did what every self respecting Briton would do and headed straight to the nearest bar. The England/Sweden game was on, but after this was done with we stayed out for a few more beers and then we had had enough we headed home. It was very strange to find that in fact at two o'clock on the the morning of the 21st June 2006, as we made our way home, the light was so bright that you could be mistaken for thinking it was midday. Westood on the seafront watching the crazy seagulls as we soaked up the midnight (OK two am) sun and took in the view of the harbour. The 21 June 2006 is the Summer Solstice, but the forecast says there will be rain then and so we may not be able to enjoy this craziness then.

Road 7 from Oslo to Bergen, Norway - 13th June 2006 - 14th June 2006

2006-06-14T22:16:00.000+01:00

This is one of the lakes alongside the road from Oslo to Bergen and was up in the mountains just before we reached the highest point on the road. Although the sun was out it was incredibly cold although we may have felt the cold more as we were on motorbikes and so for the nearly to hour ride to reach this point we had been slowly freezing ourselves to the bone.

Ängelholm, Sweden - 10th June 2006 - 12th June 2006

2006-06-12T10:15:00.000+01:00

After an hour and half of being in Sweden we felt that we had made sufficient ground and so we stopped at the town of Ängelholm which we had already seen on the map as having a campsite near to the sea. I was not particularly impressed with the town and came away with the impression of it being a pretty dull place with not a huge amount to warrant a repeat visit in the future. Despite this the campsite, a few hundred yards from the beach was just what we needed. We spent two days there enjoying the fantastic weather and sitting on the beach relaxing. The sea was clear and it was a shame that it seemed to be full of jellyfish otherwise I would have gone in more. Still I stuck a toe in before I beat a hasty retreat after spotting a particularly large and vicious looking jelllyfish wafting its way to me. Perhaps I over exaggerate about the size of these things, but you get the idea! The campsite was separated from the sea by woods, which stretched, seemingly for miles in both directions, along the western Swedish coastline. As we headed further up Sweden there seemed to be a considerable amount of forest interrupted only by large, immaculately maintained, farms but very little in the way of any other settlements - certainly no more than at most the occasional small village. On the evening of the 11th we went for a wander along the beach and and woods and having got lost ended up at a railway crossing next to which was a bizzarre assortment of old railway carriages, trains and wagons. It seems that this was some sort of railway museum which and since it was not fenced off and there was no apparant security allowed one to effectively see some of the museum for free. Ever one for a bargain we took a look around before trying to find the way back to the campsite.

Stege, Denmark - 9th June 2006

2006-06-09T23:09:00.000+01:00

After we arrived in Denmark we headed north towards Copenhagen. After thirty miles or so we found this campsite near a place called Stege which is itself on one of the many islands that make up this part of Denmark. The campsite was on the edge of the island and we camped on a pitch which was on, what the campsite owner descirbed as, a pier.´This was not a pier as we understand the term to mean (like the kind of thing one finds at Blackpool or Morecambe) but was rather simply a promontary which had been grassed over and put over to use by campers.

To say that the location was stunning was an understatement. We were bordered on each side by water and the only sounds we could hear were the noise of the ducks and wild geese which habited the island's coast. On the other side we had a view of the road bridge which linked the island with the main land (or more properly with the next island, a significant part of Denmark being made up of such islands).

The picture was spoilt only by the midges which descended upon us in swarms as the sun set and which we could hardly be surprised at given our proximity to the water. This was compensated by watching the sun set over the bridge at gone ten. In fact one of things we noticed most when we arrived in Denmark was the light and the fact that the sun was still very high in the sky even given the time in the evening. This has to be a sign of things to come as we head further norht into Norway and the get closer to midsummer and the longest day!

Ghent, Belgium - 6th June 2006 - 8th June 2006

2006-06-08T22:30:00.000+01:00

Ghent was a truly amazing little university town and completely changed out views of Belgium (which up until then we had thought to be clean and rather dull). The centre of Ghent was full of beautiful old buildings around two main squares which between them contained two churches and an old municipal building of sorts which each boasted immense and imposing spires.

These three spires and ranged across the two squares and lead you down to the canal and the old town. In the summer evenings this area attracts a huge crowd of people of varying ages who sit around in groups chatting, drinking and enoying the sun and the long evenings. We had found a small hotel only a few minuites walk from the centre of town and which was actually on a boat - well more of a barge. The place was reasonably cheap, the people who ran it friendly and the town so laid back that we had no real inclination to leave and would certainly head back again. That said we were ready to leave when we eventually did and eager to get out of what we classed as being Western Europe and to get to Scandinavia.

London, Dover, Calais, De Panne - 5th June 2006

2006-06-05T21:18:00.000+01:00

We left London around ten this morning and after negotiating our way around the London traffic we took the M20 down to Dover. We were running a bit late, but after a blast down the motorway we arrived in Dover with fifteen minutes to spare before we had to board our ferry. Once we arrived in Calais we immediately headed North seeing no need to hang around for too long in either Calais or Northern France. Shortly after we crossed the border and entered Belgium I needed petrol and so toook the first available exit off the motorway which took us to a small, clinical seaside resort called De Panne. The place was nice enough, but had the air of standing by for something - much like a room reserved for a party feels before anyone has really arrived, but after the party has officially started. The day went pretty much exactly as we hoped for and we didn't push ourselves too much by any stretch of the imagination.

2006-04-15T17:34:00.000+01:00

15th April 2006

The Easter holiday saw me, with both Tom and my parent's invaluable help, moving the first load of my furniture and other things (mainly books!) from my flat in Rotherhithe. At the moment I am trying to sell the flat and have a buyer interested -who I am trying to bully along for a quick sale. I am fairly sure she wants to buy the flat, but I sometimes think that she is being a little too slow for my liking and I worry that the place will not be sold in time for the big day on the 5th June 2006. In any event I have pre-positioned a re-mortgage which is pretty much done and is waiting only for me to give the go ahead for my solicitor to finish the rest of the work he needs to do. So I hope that I've done everything I can to cover my bases so that if the sale does not go ahead I can re-mortgage. A sale is obviosuly the prefereable route because then I can have a clean break and not have to worry about the flat while I am away (renting it out and paying the mortgage is a big worry). It also works out better for Miriam because if I do sell the place she will equally not have to worry about watching the place while I'm gone (which she had offered to do) and it also means that when she qualifies she can go abroad (she wants to work in Dubai) and I would be able to join her without having to stay in London for too long to watch the flat. The 5th Une 2006 is also a big date for Miriam as she is off to Cologne for three months with work and she starts there on the 6th meaning that the 5th for her will be spent moving and settling into her flat in Cologne. Once she's back in London in September she will then be here for only six more months before, she hopes, she will be setting off for her final seat in Dubai. That would then mean that around the time I'll be getting back from my trip will be the time she is getting back from Dubai and so we are hoping we can meet back in London!

2005-08-19T09:52:00.000+01:00

19 August 2005

The morning after the night before. Around ten in the morning after a night at the campsite near Dax. This morning our neighbours were not assembled watching our ever move; our audience was still asleep and there was no sound from them. A quiet night meant that we had woken both feeling refreshed although I think Tom was still suffering from all of his drinking exploits on the Côte d'Argent two nights ago. A mere three hours after getting up, we had packed the bikes and were ready to leave (still no stirring of our neighbours by this time). Today we are headed for the northern Spanish coast just above Bilbao. The plan is for a short ride south, across the Spanish border and thence to somewhere around San Sebastian.

2005-08-18T20:21:00.000+01:00

18 August 2005

This was the day we arrived in Biarritz. The Atlantic coast's most glamorous French resort. Beloved by roayalty, pop stars and French sun seekers alike. With cunning planning on our part we had arrived in Biarritz around during mid-afternoon in the middle of August. With the true motorcyclist traveller's bravado and disregard for for any sort of forward planning we failed to consider whether we would be able to find a campsite (or indeed anywhere) close to Biarritz to stay. After failed enquiries at the L'Hôtel de Tourisme (the cruel irony being the in the name), we realised that the only chance we stood of finding a place to stay was to head inland. Out of Biarritz and well away for the longed for beach, bars, sea front, restaurants etc, etc. The obvious choice was Dax! I'm still not sure why we aimed for Dax. In any event we never made it to Dax. Oh no! We were bound for greater things. We found a campsite instead next to a roundabout, but a stones through from a large shopping arcade (Inter Marché, Brico Marché, a whole host of petrol stations - you get the picture). The campsite was full. Very full. At least I presume that is why we were given the pitch we were. Next to us was a half abandoned caravan. On the other side a reasonably modern, fairly large caravan which looked as though it had been there for a number of summers before. The grass had grown up around the wheels and wood pannelling placed around the bottom to hide the underneath. This in itself was fine. I've seen this a million times before. What was disturbing was the family of three sitting in a row in absolute silence. The mother and father were in their late forites, perhaps even in their early fitfties - it was hard to tell. The son was definatley in his mid to late twenties. They sat in stony silence watching as we, perhaps four or five feet from us, pitched our tents. After a quick swim we ate and retreated into our respective tents to hide from their searcing gaze. No wine to drink that night.

2005-08-13T20:27:00.000+01:00

13 August 2005

Tom's tent, his pannier's and the first of many bottles of wine. Having left behind us the incomparable delights of the Boulougne-sur-Mer Novotel with its lingering aroma of fetid water and astonishing resemblance to a prison we hot footed it south and Dieppe with its harbour it was then on to Normandy. Our desire to head south was so great that we averaged over 70mph on N roads and consequently arrived in Calvados towards mid afternoon in a state of utter exhaustion. When planning this trip we had originally planned to be, by the end of the first day, somewhere near St Nazaire. Needless to say, as the day wore on and we became more and more tired, the final destination changed a number of times. Initially we decided that perhaps around Angers was more realistic then, a few hours later, we decided upon Alençon and eventually gave up near Argentan. We rode aimless around the countryside for a while with the afternoon sun setting, the shadows lengthening and us maintaining the all important attitude of the relaxed motorcycle traveller; going with the flow and seeing where we ended up. A short while later as the tiredness set in, our backsides moving rapildy into a world of numbness from sitting on the saddle for so long and our stomachs slowing starting to digest ourselves we stumbled on a campsite. Our tent was pitched between two Dutch families complete with socks and sandle wearing parents and teenage children, Across from us an English family sitting drinking tea and beer alternately. We drank wine. The tents us I unpacked the gleaming new petrol stove. Tom drank more wine. I tossed the instructions for using the stove aside with a contemptuous geesture and turned on the tap to the petrol can and unleashed the lighter. Seconds later and maintaining a calm facade I grabbed the nearest water source in a desparate attempt to out out the burning grass and the towering inferno like stove. The proximity of the stove (and therefore the flames) to my tent made me wary about continuing to cook. I ate my dinner cold and instead turned to the wine.

2005-08-13T12:06:00.000+01:00

13 August 2005

Dieppe on the journey from Calais south. Having been split up after leaving the hotel in Boulogne-sur-Mer we then headed down the D925 cost road. As with all other journey's taken so far we somehow managed to push the bikes as hard possible and try to average the most consistently fast speed we could. We would soon learn that this did nothing but make us constatntly tired and defeat the purpose of a journey of this nature. It is worth noting that this also marked the site of our first beer in France of this holiday. Dieppe was a lovely little town (at least arond the harbour) and is a town I would certainly return to to spend a little more time there. As it was, we stayed in Dieppe for long enough to have some food, a beer and a sit down. Checking the map we decided to try for St Naszaire, or at the very least somewhere heading towards St Nazaire. Or maybe Rennes. Or perhaps Caen.We were amazed by how little distance we had travelled in a morning and were already starting to think that perhaps we were being over optimistic in thinking we would be able to get to Spain in two or three days.

2005-08-13T07:00:00.000+01:00

13 August 2005

A misty early morning outside the car park at the hotel near Bolougne-sur-Mer which was the location of our first stay. Located in the middle of an industrial estate close to the A16 motorway running from Calais to Amiens, this hotel boasts almost no amenities other than a bed and television in each room. The working commual shower is available to all guests on a first come first served basis and we undersand that it is hoped that at some point in the New Year the cleaning supplies and towels will be taken out of the communal toilet and that it will be available once again to all guests. Leaving the hotel early in the morning we promptly got split up and separated trying to ge back to the motorway (the industrial estate was a tricky place to get out of). Reunited some two hours later, Tom had spent his time trapped on a motorway heading away from me while I was engaged in searching a section of motorway looking for the oil cap of my bike which had somehow come off and wiping the oil off my trousers, jacket and motorbike. Once united we headed south for St Nazaire.

2005-08-12T21:15:00.000+01:00

12 August 2005

Waiting for the ferry in Dover after a hurried race from London down the M20 to get to Dover in time for the ferry. I was late leaving work and so arrived back at my flat just as Tom was pulling in on his motorbike, ready for the off. Being an organised and, some may say, fairly anal type of chap I had tried to get myself as ready as possible the previous night. The panniers were ready and waiting in my hallway together with my riding clothes and the few other things I needed. This did in no way stop me racing around like a man possessed while Tom ambled around the car park setting up his video camera to shoot some film of us leaving. It would be wrong to say that I'm unfit, but I'm a larger than average sort of bloke and with my flat being on the first floor and the temperature being fairly warm, I was working up a nice sweat by the time I had eventually finished. Oddly enough the twenty-five minutes I had been running between my flat and my bike (note to self: those short distance sprints between the bike and flat could be the basis of superb personal training regime) did still not seem to be enough time for Tom to take the camera out of its bag, erect a tripod and mount the camera on the tripod. In what could be a scene from a silent movie of the early twenties a casual observer would have been presented with the sight of me, bathed in sweat and with an increasingly wild and dishevelled appearance, dashing intermittently into the foreground of their landscape and carrying a range of objects of varying sizes and shapes while in a slow and methodically manner in the centre of the panorama a puzzled Tom assembles a tripod and camera.

We leave and I take the time to relax as we battle to get free of London. Getting to the M20 it was a straight and simple ride to Dover and the ferry. Time was starting to get a little tight, but we were making good progress and and traffic was good. Tom was about a half mile ahead of me when I glanced at the petrol gauge and remembered what it was I had been meaning to do before leaving London., Depite being the main road to Dover the M20 has remarkable few service stations and it was as I was looking at the petrol gauge that I passed a service station. When Tom disappeared from sight and the orange "low on fuel light" appeared I did start to fret a touch. The sign for the next fuel station came into sight and I impatiently hugged the hard shoulder trying to get the last ounce of fuel out of the tank, while vainly trying to not think of pushing the bike up the exit slip road t the garage. I made it to the station, but was I pulled up to the tank the bike cut out. Maintaining an air of utter calm I re-set the trip gauge, filled the bike with fuel and sauntered up to pay. Upon my arrival at Dover it was disconcerting to see a seemingly unconcerned Tom standing next to his bike at the front of the aisle reserved for motorbikes.