We quit our jobs, sold everything we owned, packed up my old Yamaha XT660R and left the UK to ride round-the-world indefinitely! Well, we hope... we don't actually know what we're doing - but we're doing it anyway!



Just after crossing the border into Azerbaijan May 2018

Our (very rough) route is London through Europe to the Caucasus, then onto Kazak, UZbek, Tajiki, Afghan and Kyrgy stan (plan on buying a second bike in Kyrgyzstan), through Mongolia, Russia and to Japan. Then fly the bike back to India, Pakistan, Nepal through South East Asia to Australia and New Zealand, fly it up to Alaska and ride to Argentina. Fly to South Africa and ride up to Nord Kapp and then... we don't know, maybe go round again?

We love meeting up with other travellers so if anyone's on our route we'd love to hear from you!

Thanks for reading our posts! Hope you enjoy reading them as much as we enjoy writing!

You can follow our adventures on our website, which is packed with destination and travel guides, bike kit, gear and equipment reviews, bike prep and hard-earned travel tips!
www.madornomad.com

We're on Facebook at
https://web.facebook.com/madornomads/

And Instagram at www.instagram.com/madornomad_

Thanks guys and all the best,

Andy and Alissa

Going on the trip of a lifetime is fun - riding through a storm, running out of petrol, being permanently soaked, burning your luggage and snapping your exhaust is not.


Off to a wet, cold and overloaded start

It was supposed to be special - the first day of our long awaited round-the-world adventure. But it wasn’t special - it was hell. And it got worse… fast.

Not wanting to die on the first day was the only thing we could think about as we chugged along a blacked-out empty French motorway at 30mph, in the most dangerous riding conditions we’ve ever experienced. The wind threw us from lane to lane like rag dolls. The rain was relentless, hammering into our visors and reducing visibility to an outstretched hand. When the rain rested the fog took over; a thick cold blanket which swallowed petrol stations and left us running on fumes - finding fuel with only drops to spare.

Only as we arrived at a friend’s house in Normandy at 1am (seven hours later than the planned three hour ride) did we discover the cause of the weather; Storm Eleanor. We’d just ridden through an onslaught of 80mph winds and rain, severe storm warnings plastered the French internet and the entirety of the route we’d just ridden was on red alert. The ‘violent wind’ warnings peppered along the motorway signs were probably a good clue.

We should have checked the weather before leaving but it was a mad rush, our bags were quickly strapped into an embarrassing leaning tower. The excessive weight took me by surprise as I nearly dropped the bike. My stomach churned at the realisation of the new load. But with awkward smiles we set off - setting fire to our camping bag on the way to the Channel Tunnel.


Overloaded, we already set fire to one of the bags before we got on the Channel Tunnel Train to France

The ride from Normandy to Metz was no better. The rain hammered down even harder and time dragged like a broken clock. Eleanor realised we were making a run for it and made us pay by nearly smashing us into a bridge barrier, we rode at what felt like a 45 degree angle, sweating as we tried to stay upright, the tyres sloshing and slipping beneath us.

We couldn’t outrun Eleanor, who tormented us all the way to Germany, leaving us physically exhausted, infuriated and soaking wet. Alissa’s boots filled with water and so did all our bags. Nothing was dry, not even our laptop. By the time we arrived in Nuremberg we were so cold and wet that our hosts had to help us undress as we could no longer feel our fingers.

Only as we left Vienna did the weather change, the sun shone through a pale blue sky and we thought, for a brief moment, that things were going to get better - until we ran out of petrol on the motorway thanks to a faulty fuel gauge. Luckily, we had half a litre in our petrol MSR stove bottle. We chucked it in and set off again, laughing - for a mile. This time we had no spare fuel. I hitched a lift with a Hungarian lorry driver named John as Alissa guarded the bike on an Austrian hard shoulder.


Out of fuel and stranded on an Austrian hard shoulder



John the friendly Hungarian lorry driver stopped for us and took us to the nearest petrol station

Bored and tired we kept on, playing travel games to stop our eyes from clock-watching. Night fell and we stopped for fuel, only to end up in a 15-minute argument with an automated petrol pump. The bike had enough of us and refused to start. After convincing an Austrian in a dark car park under a railway bridge that we weren’t distraction thieves he allowed us to jump the bike of his car. The battery lasted until we reached our accomodation for the night before conking out once more.

With the battery fully charged we had 180 miles to cover before reaching our friend’s house in Divin, Slovakia. We packed up, pleaded with the battery to last and made our final push. Sixty miles in and the exhaust snapped off the pipe. We bodged it back together as best we could and made the decision to carry on, much to the dismay of the XT, which screamed in agony as it limped the last 120 miles. As we arrived at our friend’s front door the XT shat itself, spluttered out a bunch of error codes, coughed its final breath and died. We pushed it the last ten metres into his garden where she sits right now, still shaking from the ordeal.

We’re wet, tired and cold. Our gear is soaked, we’ve massively over-packed, our bike is sulking, refusing to budge, not charging properly, riddled with error codes, the exhaust is broken, the fuel gauge is faulty, the hydraulic rear suspension has sprung a leak and will take weeks for a replacement part from the UK and it’s only day six. But it’s going to get better… right?


Finally made it to the little village of Divin, Slovakia - just before we realised the suspension's hydraulic fluid cable had been sliced - we had to wait three weeks for a part from the UK and the snow came down heavier every single day

You can see where we are right now on Facebook at https://web.facebook.com/madornomads/ , check out our best photography at www.instagram.com/madornomad_ and all our blogs, updates, travel tips, destination guides and reviews on our website www.madornomad.com

Welcome to reality. All that time spent in trip planning was truly invaluable wasn't it?

The farther you get down the road the more enjoyable life becomes, as you ease into a different pace. Bikes are a great way to travel but rain and storms are always a pain in the bum.

Enjoy the ride.

__________________
Garry from Oz - powered by Burgman

Cool to see your RR! We are about to finish our 6 years around the world. "Inuvik to Ushuaia to Madrid to Nord Capp to Ulaanbatar to South slope to KL to Montreal to Vancouver!" 150,000 km. We ship from Kl to Montreal this week. Good LUCK!! SARA

__________________
Sara

Those who say something is impossible should not hinder those who are achieving it!





www.worldwideride.ca

HU RR Finding Freedom...World Wide Ride

farqhuar - haha yes! the trip planning didn't exactly... 'go to plan' haha. Although, we did only spend two months planning before setting off!

saralou - Wow that's so amazing! We'll be following and checking out your site!

After a horrific start and a complete bike failure only five days into our RTW trip, we holed up in snowy Slovakia for a long wait


The snow came down harder every day, there was nothing we could do but stay trapped while we waited for parts


We spent three years in Divin, Slovakia. Or was it three weeks? Either way, it was a long time. We hobbled into the sleepy, fog covered village with a snapped exhaust and a bike that died right on our friend’s front door step. We arrived shivering, confused and - after further inspection of the bike – downhearted.

We had just realised the chain sliced the remote preload cable, leaking precious hydraulic fluid everywhere. This meant the whole rear shock had to be removed and new parts were needed from the UK. What was supposed to be a three day stop to spend time with one of Andy’s closest friends, Rusty, turned into three weeks of waiting for parts, dismantling the entire rear end and testing the charging system (which, the local garage couldn’t find anything wrong with, so it must be our heated jackets draining the battery, the only things keeping us relatively warm).


At least the views were pretty

As the days passed, fluffy white snow replaced the fog. With each passing day the white stuff deepened and the temperature plummeted to -10C. But it didn’t matter, Rusty and Janka took us in, gave us a place to stay and force fed us until our jaws ached. Our days were filled with traditional Slovakian style, we spent the mornings and evenings with their family and young children by the fire and our days in the forest, hunting, firing World War II guns, visiting more family, eating even more and exploring Divin’s 13th century Gothic castle.


Legend has it that a Baron buried a live baby in the castle's foundations on the advice of the local witch in order to make sure the castle stays upright forever...

While waiting, Rusty, a traditional blacksmith by trade, built a new side rack (to stop our bags catching fire again), cut the sidestand down to stop us falling over at petrol stations, welded extenders onto the rear rack to move the top box back - so we could actually sit comfortably on the bike and welded the exhaust back together.


Rusty-Slav the master welder fixing the exhaust, building a new pannier rack and welding a fat foot onto the side stand - different to his normal work of beautifully intrinsic hunting knives

Twenty-one days after our arrival the bike was finally ready, we packed up and started the machine. The indicators didn’t work, click for left and all four flash like hazards. Switch the hazards on and nothing. The rear brake light is on permanently and the main beam’s out. We ignored this, hoping it would just fix itself. And if it comes to it, we’ll bung a couple of head-torches on and signal with our arms and legs. We left pumped full of goulash, venison and stews, with the smell of gun powder on our fingers and extra man stubble in Andy’s beard.


Following Rusty on his hunt for deer

You can see where we are right now on Facebook at https://web.facebook.com/madornomads/ , check out our best photography at www.instagram.com/madornomad_ and all our blogs, updates, travel tips, destination guides and reviews on our website www.madornomad.com