Slouching about in Munchen.

The morning begun with buns and tomatoes left over from yesterday together with some kerosene stove Espresso. We also had the opportunity to fully appreciate the Schaslik sauce up close and even learn to spell it correctly before we 'forgot' to bring it with us from the game-and-relax-room next to the 'Supermarkt'. Then it was packing time. Lars-Inge thought he had heard squeaking from under his tent and seemed to have put it up over some nondescript rodent of sorts. The scratch marks and tunneling efforts made by this poor mammal was astonishing, as it tried to get out, but since we did not find any victim, or even trace of one, it seemed to have gotten away. Fine hunter-gatherers WE are...
We paid for the camping and left for the station. It took us about 10 minutes or so. Maybe 15. Tops. That was today's distance. We were at the station some 13 hours early, but they let us check in the bikes anyhow, and also promised to keep an eye on them. So, we got a beer, slouched about in Munich close to Ostbahnhof, doing nothing except getting me a new towel (my own got lost in the camp in the mountains near Verona), some shampoo and soap. I had gotten perilously low on that.. Miles bough two books (one was the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, by Douglas Adams, that the poor guy never had read) and some bread and cheese, in case the train's restaurant was closed. Then we had another beer, slouched back to the station to wait for the train. And that, my dear readers, was it. If you want a description of loading the bikes to the train again, you are out of luck. There do not seem to be any difference to the procedure what so ever compared to the earlier procedure. So, I am not going to cover it.
Currently, I sit under a corrugated steel roof on Nimmer, lap top hooked up to the somewhat less than trusty power pack and write this days transmission. The power pack, clever as it might be conceptually, leave something more to desire when it comes to reliability. My solder work was, perhaps, not that great (was in a hurry, recycled material, all these excuses for poor workmanship), but when it works, it is a great piece of kit to have. I have charged the lap top, the camera battery and my mobile on it and the Nimbus dynamo seems to cope with recharging the internal accumulators in it. We have used it to trouble shoot Nimbelle's ignition problem and, although not necessary (yet?), we could get out of a bad dynamo dilemma by having, not less than, TWO charged 6 volts 12 Ah batteries handy, something that can take you a long way. I think I will, eventually, redo it properly and publish a more thorough description on the web (http://www.allitnil.df.lth.se/nimbus).
Miles and Lars-Inge has ventured to some restaurant where Lars-Inge is going to have yet ANOTHER beer while Miles is going to read more of a newspaper he bought. I am on guard by the bikes, trying to do some useful work. That's it. Oh... Did I mention that it is raining? Or really, just did.. Now the sun has come out again and there is a pretty double rainbow over Munchen. Double rainbows means good luck. We are going to need that! Tomorrow is the big push from Berlin to Sassnitz. A hefty ride more than double we have ridden so far. We are all a bit apprehensive about that, but the bikes seems to go fine and if we just can get out of Berlin okay, we should be fine. The double rainbow seems to indicate success.

'Manure occurs', or 'Nuthin bedder ta-dew'.

We all slept incredibly well that night. Even I, that do not sleep well in foreign buildings (I am a tent person). I woke relatively early though, and tip-toed down to the garage to do some finishing touches to Nimmer, clean up the garage a bit, and breathe the early morning breeze. Miles was snoring and Lars-Inge looked like he had been clubbed, when I got out the door, so the tip-toeing was probably an unnecessary act of caution on my part, but hey – I am just a really swell kinda guy!


It is good to soft-tinker in the morning. The discrete clinks of the spanners, the morning light shyly padding in on the floor and morning sounds all around. People going to work. The morning train. All that. Good stuff. Eventually Bernie and Susan came by and asked if I wanted breakfast. I was in solidarity with my pals that brought me this Greek (well...) salad (hmmm..) and said that I should have that for breakfast. Bernie pshah-ed and told me the truth: THAT? That is not breakfast! And, you know, he was right.


Lars-Inge and Miles went to the welder with the baggage rack and the rear fender. Lars-Inge on a fender-less Nimrod and Miles on Nimbelle (that really has behaved very well since that incident with the coil that resulted in confinement in a slaughterhouse for her AND her Nimbus pals. She never really got over that. We might have been a tad harsh to her, creating a trauma that goes deep. When ever you mention 'slaughterhouse', Nimbelle seems to seep oil.. What ever have we done..?).

Anyhow: They were off and Bernie took me on a little tour to see parts of the castle and the castle chapel. The chapel was fresh and beautiful with frescos, wrought iron decorations and an altar with the skeleton of a person in a box with a glass front. The person in the box was S:t Severus. He was one of the early Christians in Rome and was brought to the castle from the catacombs of Rome at a later stage. Bernie said that the longer story is on the web and I have to look it up at the next convenience. At the right of the chapel was a chamber that looked like an underwater cave with shells imbedded in the walls, and also with a crypt, of sorts, below. The crypt has a curse attached to it, in that nobody that pulls open the ring equipped stone slabs and ventures down into the depth of the crypt, will live to see a full year go by. Bernie had never went down himself but confirmed that the curse is very much active since there were two workers who went down when the chapel was last renovated, and both died within the year. An other interesting feature with the crypt was the pyramid with the eye in the ceiling. Aha! A masonic symbol! - I hear you say. Well, yes and no. It is also the symbol for the supreme being. But be my guest. Build your own conspiracy theory. The little chapel sure was old enough and had enough unique features for you to do that.
When Bernie heard that I was an amateur watch maker, we went to his study to have a look at his grandfathers pocket watch. It was a pretty little Swiss silver watch with a cylinder movement. Beautiful multicolored face and in working condition. Swiss made and of bridge construction (the so called Wolfs Tooth Movement). I recommended Bernie to have it professionally serviced and enjoy the satisfaction of having a ticking time piece in his pocket to wind every evening. He would, if he could find a watch maker.

Miles and Lars-Inge returned and we had breakfast. Now THAT was a breakfast! The greek salad was smuggled away and I enjoyed a big cup of coffee with milk, rolls with ham and cheese and a fresh apricot. It does not get much better than that. The guys went off again and fetched the fender the welder had worked on. There were also newly made support struts that Miles designed (MAN - he is good!) and the baggage rack was also repaired (one of the supports had given in earlier during the trip), and now Nimrod surely could take the huge load without any stress on the rear fender. So, we packed, hugged Bernie and Susan good bye and thank you, and set off. Early. Frightfully early, to be us. We strolled down the landscape with revived motorcycles and it just felt so good. We eventually tried to stop at restaurants to have lunch, but they were closed. So we went on. And, as Miles put it: "That's fine. We got nothing better to do, anyway."

We inched towards Munich, avoiding the Autobahn at all costs. The sun was shining, the bikes ran great and we just cruised along, having nothing better to do. We figured that we should possibly fill up on oil, and did so at a (closed) restaurant. Cruised on a bit and then concluded that we might want to fill up on gas, and did that. 'Just a-strollin' down da road, havin' nuthin bedder ta-dew...'. Perfect for a tune. Somebody came up with the good idea of setting up camp really really early, so we asked for directions at a (closed) restaurant and car repair shop. The crew from the car repair shop came streaming out and admired the bikes. The senior in the bunch was born in 1934, the year of creation of Nimmer, and that was as amazing as this lazy day had become, so far. The lady who was to open the restaurant several hours later, was lounging in the sun and told us that there was a GREAT camping near Grunwald. So we decided to go there. She said that the best way to go there was on 'das Autobahn', but we decided to inch our way forward on the small roads, having nothing better to do. The day was long, the sun was shining, things were great. We were a little hungry, perhaps, but aside from that, well, what can I say.

So we missed the exit to Grunwald. Well, you know, manure occurs. What can I say? You loose a few, no big deal. We went off the road and asked for directions. We found out that we actually had to go back. Quite a while. And we did. Turned to Grunwald and found out that the sun did not shine that great anymore. But the bikes ran fine. Not a problem. In Grunwald they were all like living question marks. Camping? Here? Never heard of it. A young lady claimed that she had lived there for 14 years and never heard anything about a camping. But perhaps in the neighbor village? You just had to turn back for a couple of kilometers or so... We did that and both the weather and the team had a less and less sunny disposition. The lady in the bakery where we bought two huge cookies and a bun, said that we should go back to Grunwald, and turn right at the center and then asks for more detailed directions. So we did, after having consumed the purchase. Miles claimed afterwards that he felt as if he had consumed instant mashed potatoes powder and drank a lot of water on top of that, and it was a pretty accurate description. But the beautiful camp by the river, loomed in our imagination and we did a 180 back to Grunwald again, turned right and asked for directions. We were to go to the Zoo, turn left and go on a bit. Weather and spirits were getting tense. But we did EVENTUALLY, we did find the camping. It was not that much of a paradise, but it WAS a camp site.

Lars-Inge bought three beers in the cramped camp store with the ambitious name: 'SUPERMARKT'. It contained snacks, meat products alcoholic beverages, crisps, canned everything and the odd tooth brush plus the evil shop lady from hell... She looked, talked and behaved as if she had live babies for lunch and coughed and snored in a highly revolting manner. Friendly as a road accident with the female appeal of a bag of hardened concrete, patience of a hyper weasel and service minded as a meter maid.

Miles proposed that he would cook anything we bought in that store, but he had not been in there himself, so he could not have the competence to judge was he was saying. Anyway, Lars-Inge and I went forth and bought two packages of wieners, two bacon packets, some alien looking tomatoes, a bottle of 'Schatzlik' sauce that looked interesting, some brie cheese, rye bread, a bottle of wine to me and Miles and a few beers to Lars-Inge. Oh, and two packs of bier wurst that Miles alternatively called 'Camel intestines' and 'Raw Liver Product'. The whole purchase was highly representative of the stock that 'SUPERMARKT' carried. It is amazing that German campers can stay alive at all! NOTHING we had could have been beneficial for your organism! Miles did a heroic effort with all his powers and skills but the result, although vaguely edible, was not the astounding success he (and we) had hoped for. You got to have, at least SOME, working ingredients in order to cook. Don't feel bad about it Miles, you did a heroic effort and nobody could have done better during those circumstances.
The wind picked up quite a bit and Lars-Inge's outer tent blew off. We had to button down the hatches for the night and brought out the heavy artillery in the form of tent pegs, securing our dwellings to the ground. Firmly. Having nothing better to do, we hit the hay. And, since manure occurs, a heavy rain storm broke a little later. I woke up in the night by the call of nature, and went out in the rain to water a shrub (rather futile compared to what nature could do). I pulled out our pots and pans from beneath Nimmers side car in order to let said nature do the dishes too. I wondered how bad it would be tomorrow, and fell in an uneasy slumber.

Fender Cracko-Caster

We set out from Brixen at beautiful weather BUT with some clouds lingering.
We were now at the very verge of the Brenner pass itself and had three options. Well, four if you counted the motorway, but we already disregarded from that. Thus! There was a curly way going stright up, a semi curly one going to the left and a fairly uncurly going to the right. We decided to go easy on the bikes and took the right one, which probably was a lucky choice. The incline was fairly substantial for us but not for anybody else so we constantly had a happy queue behind us. Then the wind begun to pick up and speed diminished even more. We climbed and climbed and it got colder and colder and we had to stop to to put on more and more clothes, much to the delight of our tail, that could overtake us when we did so.

Eventually we got up to what appeared to be the highest point and posed for photos and started downhill again. It is funny how much faster the bikes went... I mean, the incline was just as steep going down... Well, hnnn, yes... Strange... Anyhow, close to Insbruck, we pulled over by a tourist info and spoke to the very nice, pretty and competent Maria. She gave us directions through the city itself and onwards toward Munchen over Rosenheim. We went through the city, out into the countryside and suddenly Lars-Inge pulled up and claimed that the bike was waving from side to side like crazy. Closer inspection showed that the fender had begun to split in a severe kind of way, just behind the hinge. The stability of the bike was impaired and we had to move all the STUFF that Lars-Inge packed and split it up between me and Miles. The bikes looked ridiculously overloaded and had the road worthyness of a bowl of jelly. We continued gingerly. VERY VERY gingerly. To make things even LESS appetizing, Nimmer had begun to develop a leakage in the exhaust vales in third and fourth cylinders and was loosing power FAST. The load on the side car was also to much for the little bike so things did not look good, on the whole..

First gas station, we pulled over and talked to the locals to try and find a similarly local welder, but the message was: There IS a welder around here, but since it is Sunday, you are out of luck. Try further down the road. This became rather repetitive, eventually. Then came the sign from the powers above. Going through a village with our hearts in our boots, I saw the local church. It had the following words on the tower:

O Maria!
Bring comfort to those in despair!
Pray for them.

This turned out to be an omen since shortly after that, we pulled up by a cafee and ice cream stand that was open, and met Bernie. Bernie, turned out to be a gentleman in a Rolls Royce from the fifties that had starting problems. He immediately acknowledged OUR problems and offered us shelter and access to a garage. We GLADLY accepted.

Bernie, and his charming wife Susan, appeared to live in a beautiful and LARGE house from the 18:th century. It later turned out to be a whole castle, (Schloss Urfahren), complete with a castle chapel, monastery and court yard. The garage was VERY spacey and Miles and I started on Nimmer at once.
Lars-Inge took off the partially severed fender and things got deeper and deeper into the wonders of vehicular mechanics. Miles and I soon got the cylinder head off and third and fourth head area looked like a disaster. Miles started to excavate the head from carbon deposits. After a while the boys started to move towards dinner but I was so inside the intricacies of valve lapping that I vaguely heard them. Our hosts had went out visiting (friends? Relatives? What do I know? I was ENGULFED). So the hours passed. Valves were getting done. Susan and Bernie came home and Susan insisted in making me sandwiches. I am sorry for being less than present, Susan and Bernie, but a mechanic has to do what a mechanic has to do. Eventually, Nimmer was back together and I emerged from the garage with Nimmers back end, firing it up. It started and sounded just GREAT. On the porch, Bernie, Susan with FRIENDS (where did they come from?) applauded. I washed my hands and must have looked like the crazed scientist in any a Warner Brothers cartoon. I was invited to sit down, have my sandwiches (MAN, were they good), a glass of excellent wine and did my best to converse. I wonder how coherent I was at that point, but the bike was fine. We have a chance to make the ferry to the Bornholm meet still.

THEN, Lars-Inge and Miles showed up. They brought a nondescript greek salad that stunk like onion and was full of oil (Miles' description). Well, it was nice of them but... The sandwiches WERE nicer (sorry guys, and thanks anyhow). After a few toasts with our gentle locals, we withdrew to the premises made available by our hosts and fell asleep. At once.

Riding the roads

We got up early to get ready for this really rough ride up through the alps and leaving the boy scout slob German bikers who brought their bikes on trailers, cremated chicken over to much coal and was creating one sturdy piece of racket all night with beer drinking and laughing out loud in highly annoying ways, behind us. So we got up at around 7, packed efficiently, had breakfast, repacked a bit since we forgot stuff, saw the boy scout slob German bikers leave, searched for things we mislaid, paid the bill and left as early as 10:30 even. We went down to the local village to look after an Internet point but we did not find any. The lady in the hardware store said that the banks were all closed since it was Saturday, which was disturbing since we did not ask for banks, but, we set out for Bolzano Bozan instead. Surely they must have an internet point there. Much larger town, so..

Bolzano WAS much larger. So large that we went to the city center for ages. We parked, peeked at the local church that was pretty but closed, did not stay at the Hotel Grief or shop at the Despa(i)r shop and found our target to make a transmission.

We then had a something to drink, set our valves and left to RIDE up the ALPS. There had been some discussion about what route to take (there are basically three) to Brenner. Lars-Inge wanted to take the more scenic route but that would mean some real struggling. So we took the chicken route instead, not to put our machines at risk, and took off. Riding was challenging, especially with a side car. There were unexpected bends everywhere and I had to lean over in the curves to keep the pace up at a reasonable rate, but non the less, we had traffic pushing us constantly from the back.
The ride was scenic and pretty intense, but not very long. We stopped for the night at Bressanoe Brixen for a pizza, a beer or two and a camping. And that was basically it. Tomorrow is Insbruck.

Going down, smoking.

Reluctantly we broke camp, packed all the stuff we took out for the day before, had showers, filled water bottles, unpacked all the stuff again in pursuit of some thingamajigger that perhaps was packed, or perhaps not. We really did not want to go.. But we had to. Miles and I went around to look at the caravan in the very end of the site. The owner had carved the wood of the extra roof going over it. We took a 'from above' picture of where we camped, got the last stuff in, paid 20 Euros for two days and went off never to return again, ever ever ever. The place will forever linger in our hearts though.

Breakfast at the same restaurant plaza as yesterdays dinner (coffee and buns) and then off to find an access road to SS12, which we will follow for quite a while. The access road was a curly affair though, going down one mountain side and snaking up another. We went up, down, up again, down again and the brakes were getting warmer and warmer. I set out ahead of the others to get some incline pictures that might look cool and I had to brake very hard to get to a stop. It kinda smelled funny and no wonder. My rear brake was on fire. It bellowed smoke all over the landscape. I quickly whipped the bike up on the central stand, put it in fourth gear and let the wheel spin to let the air cool it down. The brake did not function that well after that point... I got the photos but they were not that good.. So, I might have sacrificed a perfectly good rear brake for three lousy pictures. I did not felt that good about myself after that point either.

I found Lars-Inge and Miles at the end of the hill and we took off my rear wheel to inspect the damage. The linings had been glazed not burned as bad as I thought. So, I could get the glazed and carbonized surface off and reshape the liners with a file. Things went back on and the brake functioned again. MAN – I'm good... SS12 was easy to find and we went on towards Trento, we found a museum dedicated to the Italian Caproni aircraft. The museum was relatively small but held extremely interesting aircraft history collection, beautifully put together. We gawked and awed and gazed at everything. The pictures will probably say more than words.
Back to the last leg of today's journey (that has been some pretty tough150 kilometers) took us close to Bolzano Bozan, were we got a place at the second camp. I have been doing pictures, blogs and what not while Miles and Lars-Inge went into town to get supplies. Miles chef-ed and cooked us a great spagetti with mushrooms and chicken. MAN he is good. =)

Juliet's right breast.

We got more and more enchanted by the glorious camping in the mountains so we asked politely if we could stay one more day. That was not a problem. The place is awesome and people have their built in caravans that never are going to move again. The clientele is, without exception, elderly people, mostly couples, who spend the time up in the mountain. The spot is supposedly teaming with mushrooms of different colors and shapes and it is apparently very popular to get out in the woods with a basket and relate to what nature has to give. People are very friendly and greets us, stop for a chat and even lent us chairs to sit on. It is lovely here.
Lars-Inge and I was determined to go to Verona and see the sights. Miles decided to stay at the camp and nurse his leg, that has shown a great deal of improvement lately. So, we set off, leaving Miles behind. We had planned to go down a closer route to Verona than the one we came up by, but slipped back into the same route we went up by. Going down you could clearly see how incredibly steep and tortuous it really was. Poor rides that went up with all that gear yesterday.

We went down, however, letting the engines do the breaking for us. Down in the valley we went out on the Autostrada trying to find the airport, in the vain hope that they would have WiFi internet there, since I needed to get in contact with Adobe to fix a license problem. But! We could not find it either so we gave up and went to the city center of Verona. Even THAT was pretty hard to find, as a matter of fact...

Well there, we parked in an underground, and guarded, garage, found an Internet point so that we could do the transmission for what happened the day before, and went to the old parts of Verona. We strolled around, soaking up the atmosphere and went to the alleged residence of Juliet from Shakespeare's famous drama. Lars-Inge went high tech and managed to program in his little portable GPS and strutted away like a shaman in search of an underground spring. Sure enough, he found it. The map in the book about Verona I bought was thoroughly useless so it WAS good to have it. The house of Juliet is conceptually interesting as it is dedicated to love. The portal that leads in to the premises is covered with declarations of love, stuck to the walls and even the ceiling, several meters up. The method of adhesion is usually chewing gum, which is practical but not THAT romantic. We found the statue of Juliet and there is a tradition going that if you touch her right breast, it will bring luck in love. She stood there, head shyly bent and I felt like the terrible rapist, stepping up and grabbing a firm hold. It WAS an opportunity not to miss though, so I just had to, silly at is is. Lars-Inge followed suit and we left for a market area close by where I did some shopping and we had lunch. We took a little detour throughout the old city before getting back to the garage to get our bikes.

We decided to try to negotiate the central parts of Verona with the help of my old Magellan navigator. It is a trusty device, bullet proof and all but it does not have any city maps or other thrills. It can only point out the direction to something, about like a compass. So, we set it on the camp site and went away through Verona, and something amazing happened. All of a sudden we were on strait roads that coincided totally with the direction the Magellan pointed out and it COULD be that we were on old roads that went to the mountains long ago and that had remained as city streets. Eventually some city planner had decided to put a housing complex with a cul-de-sac, so the illusion was shattered. We turned a little hither and twisted a little dither and soon found ourself going up a small mountain when my bike stopped. We had forgot to fill up on gas. Now things begun to get interesting. Narrow narrow curvy roads, low on fuel and no gas station in sight. Eventually the road begun to go down again and we ended up in a suburb to Verona not that far from the road to camp. We filled up and went home.
In the mean time, Miles had eaten ALL the biscuits we did not want to have the day before, drank a lot of water and kept his foot high. He was in a cheerful spirit so we went out to eat at the neighbor village where there was a little plaza all surrounded by restaurants. The bikes got their traditional tribute of interest by the locals and we sat down for a great Italian meal.
We had different Gnocci with smoked cheese, a bottle of Preseco, Lars-Inge had a giant beer (Miles and Lars opinion) or was it fairly small one? (Lars-Inge thinks so..). Then Miles and I had Polenta with melted cheese and various mushrooms while Lars-Inge had Polenta with beef. Lars-Inge and I had dessert consisting of chocolate and various pastries and fruit. We bought a bottle of wine and went home to sit around the side car and tell stories at the camp. Pretty good day.

Going up, burning.

Lars-Inge and I woke up at the agricultural centre, had breakfast (they used cereal bowls as coffee cups! Humongous!), spoke a little with a couple that was fluent in English and who talked about the old opera in Verona with its amazing acoustics, waved bye bye to the very nice people who operated the place and set off to pick up Miles who was at his friends place with the motorcycles.

After some checking of our machines, repacking and off reasonably early today and went back to Mantova, bought a memory stick for a measly 17 Euro (What happened to the prices of these things? They have fallen stright through the floor!). We transferred our daily transmission to the memory stick directly at the parking lot and went into town. I went to the internet point and transmitted while Miles and Lars-Inge went to find band aid that Lars-Inge uses as nose protection from the sun, and to sort out why Miles Mastercard isn't always working. The memory stick method worked like a charm and I could do the fastest transmit hitherto. I did some tidying up of the blog and had time to read my mail. Then the guys turned up and Miles mailed Pat and did some other things while we still had the Internet computer, and then we went back to the bikes, having a sandwich on the way.

We were ready to set off on today's leg at noon. Again. When it is at its hottest. I guess we never learn. The distance we were to ride today was not THAT long but some roads take more time than others so it took time. We rode and rode and rode, stopping only for sustenance at a trattoria that seemed to have seafood as their speciality. The risotto... Man IT was good. What was NOT good was that we had been lost without knowing it. So, we got directions and turned back where we came from and turned where we SHOULD have turned, but didn't, and in short time we were at the foot of a PRETTY dang long and grueling incline.

Lars-Inge had the lead and he was trying to be kind to his bike by going easy at around 40, which his bike could manage pretty well since, although his bike looks the most overloaded, the cargo it carries is mostly bulky and not heavy. Miles and I haul the rattling stuff that weighs a lot and we both are heavier than Lars-Inge. 40 is a terrible speed to go up hills if you have a side car transmission or the four speed gearbox that I have had the honor to participate to develop. We all rode bikes with four speed gearboxes but were not using them right in this speed. Eventually Miles and I had to pull over since the oil had begun to push out of the engine on both of our machines. We let them cool down and fed them more oil and talked sternly to poor Lars-Inge and set out separately up a particularly grueling section. The sections here were not steeper than some we had negotiated earlier but they were definitely MUCH longer. The best way to take these inclines is to let the power of the engine do the work and NOT the torque of it. You go in 30-35 kmph in second gear and when you use the third, you go at around 45-55. Listen to the engine and put your hand at the manifold heat shield from time to time. A perfectly adjusted engine in good working order and with tight exhaust valves, emits surprisingly little heat and you can hold your hand on the heat shield without getting burned. If the heat shield is so hot that you can not even touch it, the engine is overheating. When going down hill, on the other hand, you should go briskly on a high gear (if safety admits it) or even pull the clutch and let the engine idle when going down hill at a fast pace (remember to have the correct gear selected or there is going to be trouble when you let go of the clutch). The air flow cools the engine down and the less energy you develop in the engine, the faster it will cool.

We went up hill, down hill, twisted to the right, curled to the left but did not find the camping. Eventually we found A camping but it did not look like the campings we had spent nights in before. It was more like a trailer park with permanent trailers that people had built hut like annexes to. That camping was full though but the guy directed us three hundred meters back and there was another trailer park. Here we were allowed to set up tent at a HIGHLY reasonable 10 Euros for all three. We were reluctant at first at the shanty town like appearance but the camp facilities was very clean and Miles was extatic by the shower (FREE hot water) and the water itself that was very very good. We have to fill all our canteens and containers with this water. Wonderful spring water.

I replaced a bolt that fell off Nimbelle and decided to shape it and heat blue it with the propane soldering iron from the spares box, so that it resembled the other bolts on Miles black ride. It did and I was highly satisfied at this and let EVERYBODY know it (Lars: MAN – I'm good! Lars-Inge and Miles: *GROAN!*). Lars-Inge went to town and bought cheese, bread, red wine and beer and we had a nice and relaxed evening. I look forward to a good nights sleep. I LOVE to sleep in tents. I sleep like a baby and wake so refreshed. The last two nights had been at different in doors facilities and I always need to adjust to one to be able to sleep well.

The plan for tomorrow WAS to do Verona and then spend another night at the camping but I am worried that the guys might have other plans. The camp owner also gave us ONE night only, although this could perhaps be negotiated. We'll see. I really would like to spend a whole day not riding with all the gear and be able to see things, do some shopping and relax a bit. But, this just might not happen. I hope it will though...

We also might have a problem with images in the future, dear audience. The license of one of the programs I use to transfer images to and from the camera has expired, which is NOT good. I might be able to sort it out or you have to live without images.

Slaughter house and long hauls

We woke up relatively early at the hotel and I took some time in getting photos organized and to write yesterdays blog entry. Breakfast was fine and then we felt ready to tackle Nimbelles engine problem.

Both Miles and I had been pondering the problem and concluded that it was bound to be in or around the ignition coil. Nimbelle has, or really HAD, a separate ignition coil, a conversion that no doubt was made in the US. Ordinary Nimbii have an ignition coil integrated into the distributor itself, so some rewiring had obviously been done. By Miles, it turned out.... In the spares box I brought from Harlosa, I had a new standard ignition coil/distributor assembly so we decided to make a reconfiguration back to the original ignition coil system. This was done in a slaughter house where the hotel restaurant apparently use to butcher wild boar and the motorcycles had had a scary night there among all the hooks, lines and knives. Nimbelle was pretty tame after a night in such terrifying surroundings so she did not do any further tricks at that time. The operation went well and both the patient and the doctors (I and Miles) survived. Nimbelle had gotten her strength back and we could pay the rather stiff bill (posh hotels got posh bills) and ride off into the mountains. Today was going to be a long ride since we had to make up for the Nimbelle mishap yesterday too. But traveling cultivates both your mind AND your gluetus maximus.

The mountain roads were EXTREMLY curly at this stage and one could not help but wonder wether, or not, the planning department had any rulers at all. The bikes went well though and we climbed up and down like mountain goats. Most of the time the view was obscured by trees but, now and then the trees cleared up and you had a wonderful mountain view. The landscape gradually turned into plains and we had a road side lunch in a road side restaurant that seemed to be operating on a franchising basis. Nothing wrong with the food though, and replenished, we started on the last leg of the day trip to Mantova. Nimbelle had begun to act up again, however, and Miles were riding as if his seat was covered in tacks. It turned out to be a loose ignition plug cable though, and once resettled, Nimbelle, once again ran smooth as a Nimbus should. I have begun to plague Miles and Lars-Inge with the phrase: 'MAN – I am good!' whenever I have fixed a problem and I think I am getting on these guys nerves somewhat. Good. That will keep them alert! The fixing of the cable was done with a cheerful repetition of my mechanical mantra. The guys groaned. Rather unpolished of them, I think!

Montova proved to be a rather charming medieval city with an ancient city center. We parked and Miles phoned his friend Claudio, whom we were going to meet, and then we set out on the pursuit of an Internet Point that could take lap tops. Eventually we also found one! The could not take lap tops as such, but they lent us a USB memory stick where we could put our material we wanted to upload and then stick that memory stick into one of their computers. So, I could do three days of images and an additional blog day, which was excellent. Our fans at home had started to grumbled about 'no pictures' and 'Where are the new entries?'. Believe me, dear audience, it is not that easy to get the material to the net! The memory stick was a good trick though and I will definitely get myself one of those! Jolly delighful, I'd say! Jolly delightful in deed! Hmmm.... Yes.....

The team spent the evening at Miles friend Claudios house and we were treated with hospitality. We had a very good dinner and a great evening, despite certain linguistic challenges. Miles stayed at his friends house and Lars-Inge and I spent the night in an agricultural centre outside Montova where they also took guests. We had a tiny (but clean) room with a weeny bathroom and an itsy bitsy miniature shower. Tomorrow we are going to set out on foot back to Claudios house where the bikes are and try to rise Miles so that we can get going.

Wise from several days of transmits, I have prepared this days transmission into a memory stick friendly format and I will twist the arms of my fellow riders in order to get back to the internet point and try to get it uploaded. All for you, dear audience.

..And then the engine died...

The camp was genuine with a warm atmosphere and even supplied us with Espresso powder so that we could brew our own on the small Primus kerosene stove, using Mile's espresso maker. We broke camp, had a nice breakfast, gave the crew a link to this page and left. If you are in Levanto, the camping outside town is highly recommended.

We rode in towards town and pulled up at a church where some of the local men were sitting in the shade. Miles got direction for the city center and we were recommended to set of by foot. Lars-Inge volunteered to guard the bikes and Miles and I set off in the pursuit of an internet point to download three days of blog, check mail and try to find a bank. Italy has several internet points or ditto cafes but WiFi access is rare. We walked the streets of Levanto up and down and was turned down by several hotels who either did not have Internet access or claimed that it would be illegal for them to allow us to use the access for the guests. Go figure! However! If you are in Levanto, the team highly recommends PUNTO EXE. This is a new service and it is established in two places down town. One in the form of a bar, that do not have WiFi though, and one in the form of a regular Internet point that DOES have WiFi. The people at PUNTO EXE are highly helpful and friendly and determined to help you out. You find the Internet point at Via D. V iviani 2 in Levanto.

In no time we had uploaded the three days of text but the condition of my lap top battery prevented me from uploading the images. I did not bring the external power supply so we had to leave. The PUNTO EXE guy gave us directions back that were dead simple and we were on our way back to Lars-Inge and the bikes after a rather short time. MAN did we feel efficient. However! We strayed off track and got lost in the countryside. I can not exactly tell what happened but we deviated. We walked, and walked and walked. Asked for directions, got rerouted and suddenly found ourselves on top of a hill. Miles talked with the two men who worked in the garden and they said that they had seen us come and pretty soon realized that we were lost. They gave us water and new directions and we went back all the way we had trudged, in the heat. THAT did hurt. But, at least we got water.. When getting where the men had told us to go, we realized that we had deviated from course less than a hundred meters from the destination. That hurt even more..

But we took off towards La Spezia to fill up. We did not go the same way back as we went out but took the slightly bigger SS1 route that we used before when going up the coast. SS1 is also very curly but it had less traffic than the coast road. When leaving La Spezia, Nimbelle begun to buck more and more. We tried different remedies but nothing worked. Things went worse and worse so we decided to stop for lunch and let the bikes cool a bit. The little restaurant was outstanding. We had pizzas that were baked in a wood fired oven. The little lady was all smiles and sunshine and after lunch, things did not feel as if they were that bad. The restaurants name was> Ristorante Pizzeria *L'INCANTO* and the address (should you ever pass by this excellent watering hole): Via Aurelia SUD 62 in San Benedetto Ricco del Golfo.

So the riding resumed and so did problems. Eventually Nimbelle barely could cough up the hills and then the engine died with a sickening electrical 'pop'. There we were. At the side of the road in the mountains with a dead engine. We tried all the trouble shooting tricks and methods like Occams Razor, Sherlock Holmes method of elimination and successive replacements and all of a sudden, Nimbelle woke back to life, just as three cars came up the access road where we huddled. The men in the cars had a relaxed attitude though and helped us to find our bearing. Off we went and Nimbelle started out well but it soon grew worse. The day was late and we had not made the progress we wanted, but non the less, were were forced to give up and check in on a rather posh hotel where we could have the bikes under lock in a garage. I could finally recharge everything that needed recharging, download the pictures from the camera and get started on the blog of todays ordeals. We had an excellent dinner in the restaurant and went to our room. The others soon fell asleep but I tossed and turned over the problems with Nimbelle. We got to get that machine running tomorrow or have a really REALLY big spanner thrown into the clockwork. Miles and I are convinced that the problem is located in or around the ignition coil or the feed lines to and from the same. Luckily we have a LOT of wire, a spare coil and new points and condensor.

I was stupid enough to leave my multimeter at home. It would have been handy to have that now... Oh well... Comes tomorrow, comes advice..

Roughening it by the coast

The Euronimbus team slept in today and Miles got to see a doctor for his leg (finally). Earlier I noted that the incredible black and HUGE bruise on his calf resembled the map of Portugal (Miles insisted to have this remark on the blog, so here you go buddy!) but it has grown worse than that. He did not have any pain though but it did not look pretty so off he went to the the ASL clinic recommended by the campground, and rode and found a young pharmopsychiatrist doctor from Boston, I think it was. He was fine though and was told to keep his leg high when he could and not overdo things. We are yelling at him when he takes Nimbelle on and off the stand but he claims that he is fine, do not over work himself and that things 'are okay – Really'.
In due time we assembled our gear and rode off into the midday sun en route to Pisa, as a starter.

Here Miles and I wasted valuable riding time trying to find a WiFi hot spot in order to download blog material. Miles found an Internet point and was able to do some mail but they did not allow me to put my laptop onto their net so I have currently no idea if all this is going to remain on my laptop or what. It is kinda frustrating but not much to do about it. We'll hope for the best, I guess...
We rode around a bit in Pisa that has gone overboard when it comes to traffic planning, trying to find the leaning tower. Eventually we succeeded though and parked illegally by a restaurant in the vicinity. We had our shares of photos and I had hoped that we would take one with me propping up the tower. My dad had taken one of those and it would be kinda fun to have his son doing the same silly trick half a century, or so, later. To my amazement I found out that this was the oldest trick in the world. There were people EVERYWHERE trying to prop up the tower in different styles and fashion and it looked like some exotic Chinese health exercise was going on close to the tower. The thing you do is that you locate yourself at some distance from the tower, assume a leaning and propping up posture and then take a photo with the tower in the background. The effect on the two dimensional image will be that you are a giant and you either try to prop up the tower or topple it, in accordance with your personal taste.

Eventually we rode off, trying to find the road SS1 to La Spezia. Lars-Inges GPS system had had a heat stroke and lost its marbles so eventually we used my old Magellan job to find the entry to SS1. Lars-HInges GPS came back to its senses when it realized that it had competition but all of a sudden it succumbed to heat again and lead us down to the beach. Miles insisted on using a “roadmap” and we could agasin locate ourselves. We managed to get back to SS1, to La Spezia, gassed up, and went up the mountains behind it, on curly roads to Cinque-Terre. . The view was breathtaking and our Nimbii climbed like goats. It is amazing how much beating these small Danish machines can take. I realize that I am not the first one to say this, during history, but it IS amazing how much beating these small Danish machines can take. And we marvelled at this until Miles had a flat rear tyre near an overcrowded parking that was JUST out of reach at the entrance Volastra, of a little mountain village by a restaurant at full swing. Talk about bad timing! So, we had to cram the other Nimbii in between cars and three wheeled trucks and what not and unload and disassemble poor Nimbelle at the side of the road with a technology interested audience of all ages. All went well and Miles was soon on the road again. Our most faithful onlooker had been with us the whole time, first with his pop-eyed infant baby and then by himself, swore that there was a camping further down the road.

The time of day was beginning to be quite advanced though and the other boys wanted to check in at a local hotel. I was not keen to do so since my precious motorcycle will then be out of reach and I told the guys this. They took the notion of a soft hotel bed flapping of to the horizon very bravely and forth we went through MORE serpentine roads only to find that the camping had been terminated once we made it back down through 15% gradients to the sea at Monterrosa del Mare. So, off we went again, this time to what became our final destination for the day, Levento, and checked in on a camping here with a fantastic female camp hostesses. Some team members were taken by her natural charm, grace, beauty and decisiveness and we watched her very move with huge moist puppy eyes. Maybe, just maybe, we have been camping to much already.

In any event, we did have beer (a moretti!) and what Wonderlady called 'Sandwiches-e' and the day ended well except that the toilet is of the 'hole in the ground' jobs. We are all three new to these so it will be interesting...
Today a really really tough long haul is ahead and we will do our best to get on the road asap.

Italy at last

The small compartment was reasonably comfortable and we could take some time to check our travel plans. The original plans had demanded a rather stressful riding effort from all of us (200 km per day, every day and no possibility of stopping or taking a day off) so we did a rather drastic replan using maps, mapping computers, enthusiasm and the restaurant car. The current plan will take us more or less directly north through Italy, through Austria towards Munchen and it will give us a more relaxed riding experience plus give us to chance to take in the local scenery more.
We had a rather plain dinner at a sky high price and when we went back to the compartment, we got help to transform it to a sleeping facility, not unlike a capsule hotel with bunks stacked on top of each other. I volunteered for the top bunk and found out that it had a much shorter mattress than the others. Sleeping was rough but we awoke reasonably refreshed non the less to a continental breakfast, German style.
All of a sudden we were at the station and before you could even say 'spark plugs and cam shaft', we were off the train and on to the streets of Livorno. Riding was rough on uneven streets and various of scooters swarmed all around us. We eventually found a camp and I did some, slightly over due, service on the bikes while Miles and Lars-Inge went out shopping. Miles outdid himself again with Italian smoked ham, melon, olives, Gorgonzola, an assortment of mixed seafood and Gnocci,. To this, some red Italian wine. Are you drooling yet, dear reader? After dinner we went down to the beach and had a nice dip in the Meditarrenian sea.
The camp is basically a family affair. Quiet, clean and nice. But when we came it was Saturday night and they had LOUD entertainment going on all night so sleeping was not THAT easy.
Tomorrow we will go up towards La Spezia and see where the road takes us.

Train ride to the sun

Miles and I woke up a little earlier and it was – you guessed it...- raining.
The advantage of waking up early on a camping in the rain is that it is void of people on the collective bathroom. A luxury you are not always spoiled with.

Lars-Inge woke up just a while later and we soon had all our stuff packed and left to find the station VERY well ahead of time. Breakfast was a sandwich of bread and cheese left over from the day before and we figured we would get to find some good and inexpensive place to do a brunch thing. But we didn't. We DID find the station though (several hours ahead, which is also an example of bad planning) AND managed to get access to a WiFi hot spot for five Euros per hour, which was a bit on the pricy side but Miles could do some mails to Pat and I could download two days of web logs together with pictures that I prepared in the tent at the camping. There was no electricity there but my mystical 6 volt / 12 volt power pack we built earlier, once again did its trick. Downloading was a breeze and we even got images in there.

The images is a thing for itself, by the way. The camera insists in talking to some rather stupid software that is intended to make your own digital photo albums. You have to select images, transfer them, store them and then select them one by one to extract them so that they are possible to publish. The whole process needs to be run through THREE different programs, which is a pain in the hind quarters. Having done the blog, some mail and no food, we found out that it was a) possible to check in the bikes for the car train and b) the loading area was not where we THOUGHT it would be. That kept us busy for a while though, shifting the bikes from the car loading area to the separate bike loading area, but then it all calmed down again. We hung out at the station by the bikes for a few hours, talking to passers by and other people who travelled with motorcycles and had a rather good time of it. Still no food though.

Loading the bikes on the train was pretty scary. You had to ride on board at the aft of the train, wearing your helmet since it was that low. The crew strapped the machines down and you got off to the side and walked the length of the train to the VERY small cabin. It consists of a wash basin the size of a teacup in its own cabinet, three seats on the lowest bunk and then two more bunks ahead. The middle of which is folded flat against the wall right now. It will be interesting to see how procedures goes when it comes to making the beds. It is cramped, minatyrized but clean and tidy.

Miles and Lars-Inge are out scouting the train so I am taking the opportunity to be a good boy and do some work. Tomorrow is Italy. That's really something!

The team goes to Germany

Next day, the rain gave some false hopes of stopping, but it really didn't want to. We went to the highly efficient Rodby-Rostock ferry and were aboard in no time at all, had breakfast of sausages and fish cakes in one of the restaurants and before long, we had arrived in Germany. Not much happened during our rather long haul to the camping inside Hamburg except for rain. Lars-Inge tested the GPS he is going to use in Italy but it had this inclination for Autobahn instead of the small roads we had hoped for.
The camping is cramped, graveled and OUTRAGEOUSLY expensive. How about 52 Euros for a small slot of gravel between two camper trucks?

However! Our cook Miles (hitherto referred to as 'Cookie') stepped up to his call and after a shopping raid, he whipped up the most scrumptious omelettes you ever saw on the military kerosene stove mounted at the back of Nimbelle, using the top of the side car as a side board. The kerosene stove (or 'squad kit', as it is called by the team) has become Miles' pride and joy and he do not have enough good words for it. It also fits perfectly on Nimbelles baggage rack. Just as if was made for it. Good stuff. Miles was promptly promoted to chef for his fine work.
Tomorrow we will be on the train towards the sun. I just can't wait.

Departure and misshaps

After last minute packings, we finally got going. Many hugs to the ones we left behind and then we were off. We had to get some Danish currency so I took the team to Malmoe through the back roads in the neighbourhood. The ride to Malmoe went fine, except that we were pulled over by the police who did a routine alcohol check on everybody that passed. We were sober enough so we could go on.





In Malmoe, Nimbelle died. It turned out to be a loose connector. Then Nimrod died. We could not determine what it was. So, we parked down the harbour and I snuck away to get cash from the FOREX exchange office in the central station. When I got back, Nimbelle had fallen over Miles who got his legs stuck below. MAN! Miles was a bit sore but nothing serious, it seemed, so we set off through Malmoe, via the Turning Torso building to the Oresund bridge.










We went through Copenhagen to JC Nimbus to say good bye to our friends, get some last moment advice from John and grab a quick lunch that I had been mashing in my saddle bag. We took the motorway around Copenhagen but Miles calf went from bad to worse, and so did the weather. And the traffic. The team was at a certain low at this stage especially since Miles new kick stand just folded up when he was to park his bike.





We decided to ride on a bit and see how things developed when it suddenly dawned on me that we were actually in Ishoj, south of Copenhagen. I got a good friend there (Jan Hauge) and we fired a shot into the dark and called him up. Lo and behold, the man was at home! His wife Kirsten was sleeping when we tip-toed in to have a closer look at Miles. Bad bad swelling but no broken bones. We ice packed Miles' calf and wrapped it in an elastic bandage. Miles had a few pain killers and was much better again, so we could continue through the rain. Jan gave us directions for how to get on an alternative road and we managed to cover ALMOST the entire planned distance, regardless of all the misfortune we had had. We parked at a nice (but wet) camping in Maribo and set up our tents. We did not have the strength to go shopping so we bought a beer or two from the reception, a bag of crisps, a small bottle of red wine and then we cooked Tortelini on the big kerosene cooker that Miles has on the back of his bike. We all slept soundly that night and next morning, we were soon off to new (wet) adventures.

Final preparations

Today is the last day in Sweden. Tomorrow we are off on the mystery tour.

Remember that little game with numbers in a frame? You move them around, trying to get them in sequence from 1-15. That is what we are doing to all the STUFF we are bringing along.

We agreed to shift to 40 weight oil on all the bikes and we are easining up the burdon of the side car machine by putting heavy things on the solos and bulky things in the side car, so that might eaven out the odds a bit. Poor Nimmer was running REALLY hot yesterday and pushed out oil everywhere. Hopefully this fixed the problem. And to make things even more sure, we REDEX-ed the engine. You probably do not know what that is, but no wonder. It is engine VODOO. You get a can of a mysterious fluid called REDEX. Really a fuel additive. Then you go somewhere where nobody will bother you and unscrew the carburettor and squirt raw REDEX stright into the venturi. To my great dissapointment, they have 'improved' the formula so the spectacular white billowing cloud of smoke failed to materialize from the exhaust, but the REDEX seemed to work anyhow. The general idea is to loosen up carbon buildup from the inside of the engine and toss it out from the exhaust. You then gun the bike when you ride back from your secluded spot, partly to blow out any loose stuff and partly to escape the law. Things are beginning to shape up and we are ready.

We do not know when we can publish the next posting. It really depends on Internet access, but in the mean time - Enjoy this bottle of delicious, cherry red, plastic contained, REDEX engine treatment.