I'm back!

Hi guys

A lot has changed in the past year (can't believe it's been that long since I last posted something).

I had sold my Yamaha Fz6N just before starting my new job (I'll get to that in a minute) and bought a little Hyosung Gt250r as a commuter bike. To be perfectly honest, the Hyosung handled brilliantly and still had quite a bit of poke about it for something with less than 30bhp - didn't look too bad either! However, I was constantly battling with reliability issues and breakdowns - it's electrics are clearly made of Spaghetti.

After a few months I was becoming increasingly frustrated with the bike (and the butt of all jokes with my mates) so I ended up selling it as spares or repairs before purchasing my brand new L5 Suzuki Sv650s.

It's safe to say I'm much happier being back on an SV. That 70bhp V twin lump is just the perfect blend of everything you'll ever need on the road. It's one of those rare and great 'do-it-all' bikes that exist - except this one's only a few hundred pound more than the price of a 125! I simply cannot rate them enough.



As well as this I now work at a Suzuki and Yamaha dealer called Streetbike in Halesowen. I work in the clothing and helmets section, selling top brands like Dainese, Halvarssons and RST which is just amazing. In less than a year, this job has taken me away to the Silverstone MotoGP, training days with big helmet brands such as Arai and Shoei and even on a 3 day business trip to Italy where I visited Dainese headquarters and had a look at the new 2016 collection.

It's safe to say that I'm buzzing and I'm going to have plenty of things to write about. This job has completely made me fall in love with motorbikes all over again - which is no bad thing (unless you ask my missus).

Finally, I have two trips planned for this year that I hope to be recording and writing about, so keep an eye out for those! 

It's safe to say I'm back... and for good.

The Long way round's influence

I'll admit it, I was a sucker for the Long way round.

I was a latecomer for the show, not seeing the first episode until I was eighteen, but I was hooked from the start. The entire first episode was based around the preparations of their world trip and it was instantly gripping. The planning, bike testing and the 'video diary' style was right up my street, I actually began to feel excited for them and had nervous butterflies in my stomach when they first left Shepard's bush.

The aspect of the series that made me fall in love with it so much was that I was picturing myself as them; sat on an r1150Gs in Siberia, meeting interesting local people, dicking around with my best mate at the road side - I just imagined myself in their trip.

Courtesy of www.charleyboorman.com

I had always been interested in travelling but this documentary opened up my eyes so much more than before. It shows you countries that you'd never think of visiting, such as Kazakhstan or Slovakia. It reveals so much natural beauty around the world that is often tucked away, hidden from the west. It makes us ponder on our ignorance, overlooking the poverty and beauty in these eastern countries. It brings you back to earth.

What I particularly admired was that throughout the entire trip it had a natural charm to it - these were real people on real motorbikes. They didn't get the producers to cut bits out that may have caused embarrassment (Ewan falling off frequently, Charley arguing with Russ Malkin) they kept it in and shown us, the public, the true reality of the trip. This honesty and integrity is continued throughout the book, where they reveal the odd squabble or periods of discouragement.

Sadly, this doesn't continue with their following trip 'The Long way down'. Perhaps it's just me but I felt that a lot of the aspects which made the original adventure so brilliant were lost in this trip and it became much less natural. Time keeping was the biggest issue, adding stress onto both riders and the support crew. As well as this, I became very annoyed when McGregor began to include his wife in the trip -  It took away the whole 'two bikes, two mates, one road' thing away and really agitated me. Perhaps I'm being silly but that's just my opinion anyway. Nevertheless, it was another brilliant trip, just with a stronger second half than first half.

Courtesy of www.kickasstrips.com

I'm certain that both adventures will always hold their place on my DVD shelf and in my heart.

But the most impressive thing is that not only did Ewan McGregor and Charley Boorman conquer the world on a pair of 1150 Gs' but they made BMW cool.

Now that's a pretty big accomplishment.

The best laid plans...

Stolen from the poem 'to a mouse' or the better known novel, 'of mice and men' the quote:

'The best laid schemes o' mice an' men

Gang aft a-gley, [often go awry]'

Translated, this line reveals a hard fact of life. No matter how much you can plan something or prepare yourself for it, something will always go wrong - expect the unexpected. On several occasions over the past few years, this has been so relevant to my biking life.

Since we returned from our 50cc Fairbourne road trip in August 2010, I have done nothing else but plan, research and organise future adventures. I have priced up fuel costs, estimated mileage and discovered interesting places to stay. It pains me to say it but... I haven't done half of the things that I've planned to do.

A very wet trip to Woolacombe

Something always comes up and throws a spanner in the works, for instance our 2011 Woolacombe trip was plagued with delays, people dropping out and awful weather. So it ended up being a very wet four days as opposed to the sunny week we had planned together. My France trip in 2012 was originally planned as a tour of Europe - exploring France, Italy, Germany and Belgium but due to money and people still on CBTs, this plan was scrapped and I visited family in the Charente on my own instead.

Last year we decided to drop our ambitions and plan a cheaper trip - so it would be more doable for everybody. Scotland was in our sights; legal wild camping, beautiful scenery and relatively close to us. It sounded perfect and more importantly, cheap. However, in what seemed no time at all, people were dropping out and this was yet another flop.

This is the main reason why I'm reluctant to reveal upcoming trips that I'm planning because (from past experience) they'll most likely be delayed, changed or perhaps just scrapped altogether.

However, pessimism aside, I have two trips planned within the next 3 months. If everything goes to plan I shall be leaving for Scotland on the 23rd of August, spending nine days out in the highlands. Hopefully I will be accompanied by a couple of members from S.L.A.P and other YouTube Vloggers that I have met before.

The next trip is a big 'maybe' but I'm really pushing to execute it. My 21st Birthday is two weeks into January and I thought; what better way to spend it than on an epic motorcycle adventure? So over the past few months I have been planning a 2500 mile overland trip of Morocco. We will be riding to Portsmouth and catching the ferry to Bilbao in northern Spain. After riding through Spain, we'll board the ferry to Morocco and the rest of the adventure will unfold...

The atlas mountains in Morocco

... but that's not the best part - we're doing it on 125s.

I'm determined to do them. I'm positive that there will be no more flops. I'm pushing harder than ever to make these trips happen and have came to realise that it's okay to do things on your own and not to be put off if others can't make it.

So in six months time, I may have some interesting stories to tell...

Let's hope that these laid plans unfold.

Why road trips are so important to me

The early morning fog lingers over empty roads, the resonating sound of birds chirping echoes through your ears and the icy, cold wind bites your cheeks. A mixture of wonder, fear and suspense fill your veins. You roll your heavily loaded bike out of the garage, checking your oil level, tyre pressures and chain tension. You start the bike.

You're ready.

A leg is swung over the bike, you hit first gear and you trundle off into the morning sun. Over the next few days you'll be visiting places you've never been before. You'll bond over a few beers at the end of a hard days riding. You'll have ups, downs and everything in the middle. But when you come out of it at the end; the ups will be cherished, the downs will be laughed at and everything in the middle will be remembered fondly.

That's a road trip.

One of our smaller road trips to Barmouth, but a magnificent journey never the less.

It's something I'd never even considered when I bought my 50cc. But as an anxious sixteen year old, I loaded up my little Derbi and as soon as the wheels rolled off my drive on that fateful day, I was converted.

A road trip by motorcycle is so much more involved than one by car. Motorcyclists are highly exposed to the elements. We get blown around by winds, soaked by rain and dried out by the sun, it's something that car drivers take for granted inside their little, heated box. However, I don't see this exposure as a curse. Surely, battling through the bitter weather and coming out of it in the end smiling would make you proud? To me, it's something you can fondly look back on in retrospect.


To all of those who haven't had the pleasure of embarking on a road trip, just jump on your bike and go. It doesn't matter how much you spend, how far you go or what bike you're on. Anything's possible.

Over three years ago, four sixteen year old lads with paper rounds scraped together £50 and took their little 50cc bikes to the Welsh coast. It's four days of my life that I will never forget. If we could do it, anyone can.

It wasn't a booze-up. It wasn't a holiday. It was a road trip.

Says it all

Do you need an adventure bike to have an adventure?

Courtesy of www.hdwallpapersinn.com

Looks cool doesn't it?

But is it really necessary to have a £15,000, 270 kg bike that has more whizzes and gadgets than the average spaceship? Do you really need heated seats, grips and clothing? Do you need ABS and traction control? What about electronic adjustable suspension? I mean sure, if you're into all of that stuff than fair enough, but is it really necessary? Could you live without it?

Will a 2013 Bmw R1200Gs get you to Vietnam and back? Yes. Will a 1987 Honda C90 Cub be able to cope with the same trip? Of course it would.

Obviously, the bike which you choose will adjust the difficulty of your trip. But it could also adjust the fun. For instance, you could tour the world on an R1 which will obviously not be as economical on fuel and tyres, it will be very uncomfortable and luggage space is limited. But would you have a hoot? Probably more so than some dull, lifeless, built-for-the-job workhorse. 

Then again, you could travel the world on an old 80s Dt125 and you'll be breaking down frequently and requiring rebuilds etc... You'll have a top speed of 65mph and will struggle up hills, but the delays and the hard bits are what make a trip memorable. Which brings me onto my next question;

'Is buying a bike made for touring the best thing to tour on?'

Maybe, depends on how tough you are. Can you handle having to travel at 40mph on a scooter in the bitter cold rain with no heated grips or big, wide fairing to take all the impact? Or do you find that idea a true adventure?

I'm not saying a GS or a Pan European etc... are dull, boring bikes. I'm sure there're owners out there that love them, and I don't have any particular hatred towards them. I'd just like to open the new narrow-minded view of 'I need a GS to have an adventure' a little bit further.

Because it's simply not true.

The long Journey home...

I knew that the outward journey would always be simpler than the return journey. But I just didn’t realise how much more simple it would be. On my journey to the Charente, the 450 miles from Folkestone seemed like a daunting prospect in the mind of an eighteen year old on a 33bhp bike. But little did I know, the 680 miles I had to ride on the journey home would be so much more daunting, with all of my fears rolling into this one, epic journey home.

However, my father accompanied me on his G650GS on the trip down, which made it rather straight forward – follow the Beemer’s back tyre. Predictably, it was uneventful and everything went as planned, I didn’t even ride onto the wrong side of the road. The only things I had to complain about was the resemblance of my backside looking like a baboon’s and the 38 degree heat wafting through my helmet, feeling like someone was holding a hairdryer to your face.

After a week or so in the sun, exploring the country roads and the quirky French villages, it was time to start up the SV once more and ride back up to England – alone. I had just less than 700 miles to do today so sensibly, I decided to head off early to give myself plenty of time to reach Calais, in case any dramas occurred.

For some reason I had built up this terrific fear of the French Gendarmes. I don’t know why, perhaps it’s the guns on their guns on their hips or the stories I’ve heard of them seizing bikes for speeding – most likely the guns.

I was approaching Tours on the A10 toll road, and had just finished paying the 19€ when this Gendarme stood in front of my bike and pointed at me. I remember very clearly the two words that I kept repeating to myself: “Shit, fuck, shit, fuck…”

He shouted over in English, “Eh you, over here” And then gestured to this small layby where there were four or five Gendarme vans and a group of Gendarmes staring at me pulling up. I was the only vehicle that had been pulled to the side.

I was bewildered, had I been caught speeding? Is my Remus Revolution too loud? Is it my iPod headphones poking out of my jacket? All of these concerns and worries started hitting me as I started giving myself reasons to get in trouble. I even looked up at the sky and was praying for my bike not to be taken off me, I love it too much.

The man that had instructed me to pull over walked alongside my bike and asked me for my documents which, luckily, I had remembered to pack last minute. I decided to stay sitting on the bike as I had read somewhere that getting off your bike is a sign of aggression in foreign countries, I don’t know if that really is true but just this once I didn’t want to chance anything.

An attractive female dog handler walked over to me and told me to take my helmet off and step off my bike. I did so, sneakily tucking my headphones back into my pocket and turning them off. She then told me that the dog was going to sniff my bike and myself for drugs. I’m not a druggy but I was wearing second hand leathers and using a second hand tank bag - I hope that the previous owner wasn’t.

Luckily, the dog sniffed around and found nothing, so she smiled at me and told me I could go. I collected my documents and then nervously headed back onto the road. A sigh of relief fogged up my helmet as the Gendarme vans became small dots in my mirror.

I plodded on for another 110 miles and was approaching a petrol station but my fuel light hadn’t come on yet. And as soon as my front wheel had gone past the slip road, my fuel light started blinking at me. Sod’s law.

I began to panic again, how far will the next petrol station be? Am I going to get stranded in the middle of France?

I saw a sign for an aire in 10km, so I thought I wouldn’t be very conservative with my fuel. I sped off and arrived at the aire. It was two picnic tables and a car park. Oh shit.

My clocks were now on 115 miles and I’m pretty sure the reserve light only lasts 20 miles. I carried on the motorway searching everywhere until eventually I came across a sign indicating a fuel station in 38km.

I slowed down to 55mph to save some fuel and even tucked my head behind my screen to try and conserve as much fuel as possible. It was definitely not the most comfortable, fun thing that I’ve done - I even had caravans overtaking me it was that bad.

After half an hour or so, I finally arrived at the petrol station with my bike spluttering and coughing for fuel. Relief instantly swept over me. Somehow, I had managed to scrape almost 160 miles from a tank of petrol. It’s supposed to do 140 miles to a tank, so I guess the 55mph and head-down-action really helped me out there.

After the fuel experience, I vowed to always stop for fuel when I reached around 100 miles. Despite this, I still only stopped three times for fuel, in total, which I was quite proud of.

I arrived in Calais near 5 O’clock, so I decided to see if I could be put onto an earlier ferry. I rode into the port and was a lone bike in a sea of cars. After an hour of waiting to get to the booth, I learned that there were massive delays with all P&O ferries. It was horrendous. The bloke in the ticket box gave me a ticket saying “Depart: 18:10” – I boarded the ferry at nine O’clock…

I mustn’t complain though, whilst I was waiting I met a guy on an RSV1000 who had just returned from the Nurburgring and another bloke on a 1200 bandit who had rode from only 30 miles away from where I was staying.

We all sat in the cafeteria on the ferry, exchanging stories and drinking tea. It made the journey so much better, having someone to talk to, as I had endured a whole day of no conversation. We all said goodbye and jumped back on our bikes to carry on with the journey home.

I had arranged to meet Jamie, in Maidstone. So I pulled into the service station off the M20 and met my riding buddy for a bit of a morale boost and a good old McDonald’s. I even went to the shop to buy RiDE magazine and found a picture of myself on page 17!

We endured a four hour journey home in the rain and a feeling of achievement rushed over me as our wheels rolled onto my drive. It was done.

My hands were so cold; my freezer felt warm and my arse felt as sore as a convict’s but my 700 mile nightmare was over.

But when I think back about it, it was a fantastic journey. With it’s ups and downs, the sense of the unknown and the strangest feeling of being alone in a foreign country.

Just me, my SV and the long stretch of tarmac taking me all the way back home.

Fantastic.