I will continue to post here - in parallel with my blog at jordanwandersaround.com
There you can find the posts about other typically non bike related travels that I've done and the map of the route Ive completed on this trip thus far.

The first month of my trip has gone a little differently than originally planned. Crossing Europe was supposed to be the easy part. A few thousand kilometers carving up the continents autobahns as I bounced my way through all of my friends and family throughout Europe. Seeing them all was as much of a reason as any for starting in London and crossing Europe again rather than just committing to Cairo to Cape Town. Yet now a month has passed, and I've managed just 2000km.

Things went awry from the very beginning. My hopes and dreams of a straight forward opening to the trip where promptly scuppered as I walked through the 'I have something to declare', big red customs sign for the first time in my life. A rather kind Customs agent, intrigued and perhaps a little bemused by the idea of the trip promptly informed me that he could be no help. Through into the arrivals hall I plonked myself down in Costa's, pulled out my laptop and got to work tracking down the agent that had been mentioned in emails with my freighter back in Australia.

A short phone call later and I started a 4 mile walk around the airport to another bunch of amused agents. It was promptly pointed out that my FIA Carnet de Passage en Douane, an exceptionally expensive document which is effectively a passport for my bike doesn't apply in England and Europe. So I settled in for an afternoon of waiting.

Suddenly everything was on the move again. Although the Carnet wasn't applicable, a c110 temporary import was sufficient to allow me to bring my bike into Europe for up to 6 months. No ID documents were ever witnessed, I'd only provided the Master Freighting bill from the Australian end and yet shortly after I was agreeing to have it delivered to my Nans house for a price 200 pounds less than my first quote. Thank you to Elliot at Martintrux for the prompt response to a request he didn't see coming.

I sat by the window like an over enthusiastic child waiting for Christmas. Funny how the arrival of my motorbike has me more excited than actual Christmas that was just under a month away. An emailed confirmed a delivery time of being in a window of between 10 and 11am. Then the minutes ticked by. The clock crept passed 11 and 12. Despondent I turned to a dozen games of scrabble with my Nan before returning to my window seat. As the hours passed and darkness fell it was 4pm and still no bike. Returning for more games of scrabble I all but gave up on the bike arriving that day when the doorbell rang out. Nan was nodding off on the couch and woke thoroughly startled as I jumped out of my chair and sprinted to the door.

Unloaded and tucked away behind some rubbish bins I waited for light to give me the opportunity to reassemble and get to riding. While this was happening it occurred that I had not received any tracking details for the new helmet I'd ordered the week before. Confused I sent a late email to the London based helmet shop wondering what the issue was.



By midday the bike was mostly back together. Using just about every scrap of paving stone, timber and steel I managed to get the bike resting at a height where I could slot the front wheel back into place. Reassembled she got lifted by my trusty ratchet strap and the scraps removed. My noble and trusty, yet to be nicknamed steed was at last resting on her own two wheels half way around the world from where she had started.

Then came the news that the bike shop had 'misplaced' my helmet and that they'd issue a refund promptly if I wasnt happy with the other colour they had in stock. A very snappy email back had them posting the helmet the next morning as their tardiness in responding on the Tuesday had seen them miss the deadline for same day postage. So passed the remainder of the day, and Wednesday and much of Thursday until at long last as darkness fell the last necessary piece to get me on the road arrived.

Last minute plans had arranged a catch up on Friday with my cousin so I endeavored to set off Saturday morning for a 500km shakedown run to see friends in Birmingham before coming back to Nans, loading up and heading for the continent. As with all shakedowns, I quickly discovered my grip heaters weren't working. Riding along in weather just above freezing, through occasional flurries of snow in summer riding gloves wasn't the most enjoyable experience of my life. Added to that my speedometer froze and the display read like a broken alarm clock.

The next issue to arise was noticed in Birmingham, my number plates disappeared. They are now most likely a prized decoration in a pub or university dorm room. However, without legitimate plates riding on the road risked issues with police and likely would make border crossings impossible. Committed I resolved to ship the replacements to my friend in Vienna and see how I go making it there with a very legitimate looking replacement.



Onwards across the continent I proceeded without too many issues. No police questioned by plates, the DR purred down the Autobahn at 140. Taking the rapid route through Europe by following the autobahns is clearly quickest but a long way from the most entertaining. My fingers survived thanks to the grip heaters that suddenly sprung to life one cold morning. Nevertheless the Christmas present coming for myself are some winter riding gloves.



My next drama saw my little cousin almost flatten himself under my bike, luckily there were no injuries. Not to him at least, but my windscreen lay beside my bike in many pieces. With another begrudgingly ordered from the USA I set about attempting to reconstruct*it. Superglue and a dozen cable ties and the windscreen stood proud once again. For how long itll last is, however, anyones guess.

Following a brief sojourn to the slightly milder climes of Madrid, I resolved to a 750km push to Vienna. The miles ticked away, occasionally blinded by snow, fingers increasingly numb after my handwarmers once again died. I had momentary hallucinations dreaming of the warmth of riding in Vietnam just 6 months ago. Regardless the day seemed to be going successfully, and then suddenly all forward progress stopped.

vs.


A thunk, a brief lockup and a hasty grab for the clutch had me coasting to a stop on the side of the autobahn just 71km from Vienna. How cruel this world did feel. My mind started pondering what had let go. My immediate thought was what had I stuffed up when building the bike. Has my clutch let go, had the knock id felt through the whole bike destroyed my gearbox or had the neutral sensor fallen out despite my efforts to secure it and jammed in the clutch or something? Jumping off the bike something was obviously amiss. My chain hung limp, the chain cover looked melted and my sprocket sat askew. A quick closer inspection revealed a clear issue. My immediate though was a collapsed bearing or that I'd shattered the hub on my wheel.

A friend undertaking a similar adventure through Africa made an observation during his own mechanical nightmares. Such woes see you walk through the five stages of grief. As I reflected on my own dramas he continually pointed out how I went from phase to phase. Stuart does a far more amusing job of explaining mechanical issues than I do and his reflection of the stages of grief can be found
here

As it turns out my bearing failure caused a great deal of damage. Had I caught it on its way out and replaced it nothing worse would have happened. Having inspected in 2000km ago I had hoped to not need to check it until my next tire change in a few thousand more. Needless to say, this is a pointed lesson towards needing to ensure the maintenance of my dear bike.

Indeed, it was the bearing. The mission is to now find parts for a bike that was hardly sold in europe as they didn't meet the emissions requirements after the early 2000's. Never the less the volume of help and assistance offered by fellow riders here in Vienna has me humbled. Lucky to have somewhere to stay with friends in Vienna it took just hours of posting a call to help before the creation of a WhatsApp Group called Jordans breakdown help addressing what parts I'd need and where I can find them. My bike and I have been collected, housed, fed and watered just outside Vienna. Now I have even more than the one bed that I can choose from. Meeting people while traveling is one of the best parts and I cannot say thank you enough to those who have given me a warm place to sleep and helped me in whatever way I've needed.



If I was the type to believe the world tries to send a message that this trip was a bad idea, the series of unfortunate events that have befallen me might make the think that I should not proceed. Yet I am much to stubborn for that and will push on regardless. Although, I have begun to wonder if I should change the name of my blog to hurry up and wait.





Hope everyone at home is well, warm and enjoying a Merry Christmas.

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jordanwandersaround.com