Petition to Save Motorcycling in the UK

Dear Motorcyclist (or friend of motorcyclist who is inclined to help...)

In the press recently there has been reports that certain MPs are discussing banning motorcycling in cities and other such stupid ideas like compulsory registration of all two wheelers to help crack down of misuse of minimotos (this will kill track racing and offroad sport and is not the answer to the problem).

Having been away for 6 months I am dismayed to return to such bureaucracy and stupidity.

Here is a link to MCN

http://www.motorcyclenews.com/MCN/News/newsresults/mcn/2007/March/week-11-mar12-mar18/mar1307petitionpower/?&R=EPI-89818

which in turn links to two petitions on the Downing Street website.
One is a petition to allow motorcycles to use bus lanes nationwide.
The other is to campaign for exemption of future planned road user charges.

As a motorcyclist you will know the benefits of these two issues in combatting congestion, fuel use, greenhouse gases, traffic flow, biker safety.... etc

PLease follow the links, sign the petitions and help keep bureaucratic idiots from ruining biking.

Also, how about passing it on to other bikers, in case they have missed it.

Regards
Dan Maurice

Burma by accident - almost

After Chiang Khong I made the short trip north west to the point of the Golden Triangle, which is celebrated by a number of monuments, suggesting that people disagree where the actual point is or which monument is best to view that point through.



Then a simple ride up through some amazing hills turned into a bit of a trek which almost landed me in Burma. I basically missed a turning at an army checkpoint because I asked for directions to Fang and pointed ahead. The enthusiastic agreement suggested I was correct.

30kms up the road I still had not found the main road. Then the tarmac ran out, stopped dead, and turned into dusty gravel which led uphill to a village. I was immediately approached "You want go in?". Damn, that's not good news, go in where? Is that another country ahead?

I showed the villager the map and he seemed not to know where he was either. But he tried to read it anyway and I established after 5 seconds that I needed to turn around. 3 minutes later he was still reading the map along with 4 other helpers. But I extracted it and turned around and descended the rutted muddy road back to the tarmac.

Seconds later I am acosted by a scooter rider who has obviously continued the discussion about where I actually wanted to go so he insisted I follow him... to the turning? No, he was offering to lead me 30km to the correct road. I could not believe I was that far off the route.

Anyway, I stopped at the guard post again to ask another soldier, but the scooter rider did not stop. He did not come back. Perhaps he still thinks I am following him. Anyway the guard knew what I wanted and confirmed I was way off. But now that I knew where I was I was happy.

The road I should have been on was indeed fantastic and eventually led through to Fang. I seemed to be the only white person in town. I found a local inn which gave me the best night sleep since I arrived in Thailand and grabbed some local noodle soup.

By this point the bike's starter motor had packed up so I was jump starting it in first gear which was easy when hot. First thing in the morning was a different matter. I roped in the guesthouse manager who, watched by at least 4 others, pushed me by himself around the forecourt until I managed to pump enough fuel in and start it.

The return leg from Fang to Chiang Mai was easy and uneventful. I am in another guest house in CM until I fly on Sunday. I intend to take it easy, since 3 solid days at 12,000 rpm has taken its toll. Some reading and another massage are in order.

By Monday I'll be in Bristol. I am tired of solo travelling. Suddenly I realise I can't wait to be home.

Looking into Laos

I am currently on the border between Thailand and Laos. I rode for 9 hours today covering some of Thailands most excellent roads. I was told this would be good but I didn't really expect it to be this good.

The tarmac was like a Grand Prix race circuit in places. The curves so much more enjoyable on the little 400cc bike revving madly like an angry bumble bee, sounding like it is way over the limit but which in fact isn't doing much over 100kph. It is bizarre, zooming through corners with scenery out of Platoon but with advertising.

I passed through numerous peasant villages and quite a few towns. The noise of the bike attracts some attention, people mostly stare at what I can only imagine is as alien and unusual as their faces suggest. The noise, the bike, the leathers, the helmet, the boots... I can see them trying to take it all in in the brief seconds as I pass by. I often wave at kids, many of whom are trying so hard to compute that they don't even wave back. Kids everywhere wave back, unless they are looking in disbelief at a spaceman.

I was photographed today by some students who seemed to initially be photographing the scenery. As I passed by, the camera was suddenly set up at I was snapped. I slowed and turned round to say hello, and motioned for another pass. Just in case they needed a better angle. They gleefully agreed they did. Slightly guilty ego junky shares moment with bike fans. I zoomed past and continued on.

The hostel tonight is actually whicker huts on the bank of the Mekong river which runs along the border of Laos and Northern Thailand. The huts have bathrooms and beds and the walls are thin. The older Italian ladies next door do seem to talk loud. I don't expect they will be partying too late though.

I met a great Swiss-French couple and shared a tasty Mexican meal overlooking the hazy Mekong as the sun went red and disappeared. No cloud to refract light, just a grey haze with a perfect, dimly glowing sun which seems to stay high until the last moments, then it is suddenly dark.

Tomorrow I will follow the border towards the Golden Triangle, the point where Laos, Burma and Thailand meet. Then it is west along some more reportedly amazing roads and down to Fang and then back to Chiang Mai. The 400cc is a bit cramped, and my knee hurts and the nappy rash has not completely gone, so I might cut short the trip and take out the other hire option at Tony's Big Bikes, the CBR1000, just for a day to see some other parts of the region. That will definitely cause a stir with the peasants. The CBR 1000 is rare here, in fact this might the only one in the country. It even looks like a spaceship. I am trying to find the Thai English dictionary. How do you say "My name is Buzz Lightyer, I come in peace"?

Roads, food and nappy rash

Well, I have made it to Nan, a small provincial town in the north east of Thailand. I left Chiang Mai later than I wanted to so I ended up riding in the dark which is not normally recommended because of variable road surfaces, not to mention stray animals. However, the road was particularly good so I pushed on carefully.

The controlled burning of the fields continues and the smokey haze got worse as I headed east. As it got dark the fires seemed to rage. I passed numerous still burning by the roadside, giving better illumination to the corners than the headlight on the new bike.

The new bike is a Honda CB400 Super Four, the bike my brother used to own. It sounds fantastic, handles brilliantly, but is restricted to about 65mph. And it is a bit small, which makes for cramped knees. After over 4 hours in the saddle, I noticed that I have nappy rash from the chafing of pants in hot leathers.

I popped out for a meal which turned out to be a cross between a fondue party and a personal barbecue. I walked in and gestured that i wanted to eat, i thought, but without the slightly crass knife and fork food-shovelling motion (although that is ironically how I eat). She looked at me strangely and called over a friend to interpret. What else am likely to be asking. This is a restaurant. It IS a restaurant, isn't it?

Perhaps I had walked into someone's open plan living room. It was large enough for a cafe. Maybe it was a club for locals. The woman mumbled something else, probably along the lines of 'Folk round here aren't from round here' and now that I had the attention of the entire place, I was seated at a table and was presented with raw meat. Ah. Now this worried me a little until I was also presented with a bucket of hot flaming coals, which was covered with a special pan. The idea was to barbecue your choice of meat, squid and veg at the same time as pouring hot water into the trough of the pan to make your own soup from lettuce, green herbs and pork fat.

So much for a quiet meal where I hoped to read my book until a plate of piping hot food was brought, so I could scoff and leave for an early night. Instead I ended up having to work at what amounted to barbecueing by the mouthful. Of course it was great fun and I quickly forgot that I'd had a long day and got right into it.

Before I was half way done I was presented with ice cream, green and tangy and with a suprising (and stomach churning) garnish of miniature lychees (not bad) plus a sprinkling of kidney beans and corn off the cob (bad).

Thankfully I was too busy with the chop sticks and the squid on the bbq, but I did taste the ice cream which, when you avoided the corn etc was quite edible.

One of the young female staff had sat and started to bbq for me, showing me the ropes if you like. As long as she didn't think this was some kind of date, then I was fine with that. Dinner chat was a little strained, but the silence was worse so despite her not understanding a word, I proceeded to give a friendly commentary on how I was doing with the chop sticks, how this was different from home and that I like my meat to be well cooked (in an establishment like this at least).

After settling the bill of 100 baht (1.45 GBP) I headed back to The Amazing Guest house (that is actually its name) and slept for a couple of hours before the time-dyslexic cockrell began his morning at about 1am and continued to holler and squalk every 10 minutes til about 7am when he went quiet. I hope someone went out and showed him the cleaver. Who knows. But I had slept enough to ride well and left for day two.

Chiang Mai - Thailand

A smokey smog hangs over the city at this time of year because in addition to the pollution, the famers are burning their grass land. The rain is late as the hot season continues. I have hired a bike to see the Golden Triangle, Norther Thailand.

The guest house here in Chaing Mai is immaculately clean and run by John, a biker and ex-pat of Australia. With fan and en suite it represents a bargain at the equivalent of 5GBP per night. On Monday I will head towards the Laos border through some of Thailand's most spectacular roads. So far I taken two days to pootle around town and acclimatise.

The 33 degree heat makes leathers uncomfortabley hot but they have to be worn. Everyone rides scooters. The locals don't even wear helmets, let alone jackets or even shoes sometimes. So when I pull up at the front of the queue waiting for green at the traffic light GP, I get stared by about 15 other riders, probably for being on a bike which is 500% more powerful, or perhaps because I am wearing 500% percent more clothes. If anyone does wear a helmet it is a locally available brain-bucket which looks like a Fireman Sam item from the dressing up box and offering about the same amount of protection.

I nod to my competitors, quietly confident that I am about to take pole position. Which indeed I do. It is like being part of a motorcycle gang, hooing our way through traffic, round cars, through gaps that London couriers would balk at. That said, people do use their mirrors and indicators. And the horn is useful too. What looks like two lane roads is actually at least five lanes. If there is a gap there is a lane. And it is remarkable good fun.

More to follow, but suffice to say, it is a bit different than Auckland, but not that different.

Farewell New Zealand

I have spent the last few months trying to merge in with the local way of life. I haven't picked up even a smidgen of the accent. I thought that the British accent might have given me more mileage like in America. But no one here would ever approach you in the street and say "Hey, you're English, come over and speak British to my kids" because, let's face it, there are so many Brits here, it sometimes seems they are taking over.





Having an English accent is often met with the recognition that you are different, followed by resigned acceptance that you probably live here along with an increasing exodus of Poms who are more than partly responsible for the soaring house prices. It is more often presumed that I live here, than I am a tourist. Similarly, for me, hearing an English accent does not provoke much recognition even thought the vowels are mysteriously correctly inserted!

Anyway, for most of the last 2 weeks I have lived in the pioneer's cabing at the end of the garden, where at night I would read by parafin lantern and listen to the cacophany of ciccadas and crickets. And I have finished painting James' house. This time tomorrow I will be on a plane heading home via Thailand.

After a trying month where so many possibilities came up and ebbed away, I have organised a trip to Chiang Mai, northern Thailand. I will have 10 days to explore the Golden Triangle and experience some of SE Asia. I have never been there before, but the research I have done tells me that I will have a unique experience which could well open up whole new avenues of adventure for the future. That ride home from India might just have to start a little further east...

I am on the threshold of plunging into another foreign world. The complete unknown will engulf me so quickly and be over in a matter of days. I hope I have enough time to adjust and to process everything. Before I know it, I will be back in Bristol, to find that nothing has changed, when 6 months away says it should have.

It's strange, but the reassuringly familiar is often a disappointment. When I returned from my year in Russia, I described my response to the cultural overload as being 'blatted'. Stunned. I suppose it's because you shift from a scenario of constant adjustment & thinking in another language to one of disconcerting stillness and familiarity. Even though my life for that week post-Russia was busy, I still recall it as stillness.

This time, that period of re-entry will be short as I plan to move to Sheffield until the summer. Bekki has found me somewhere to live already. I have even applied for jobs there. So for the next few months I will be negotiating my way around Northern England. That might be as foreign an experience as being in Thailand. I will still stand out as having a funny accent, that's for sure.