He doesn't make that much contact but when he does he makes it count.
Check out the most recent one below.... (His definition of "perfect shelter"
probably wont make it into the next version of Websters dictionary)
The moment I left Budapest I was caught out in a storm. Great way
to start any trip. No rain gear and no tent...mmm. Well thought
out. Dodging rain drops I rode to Lake Balaton. On arrival I met
three French Medical Students and a Vet that let me sleep in their
broken down Volkswagon Van. Sweet. The rain stopped long enough for
a sun down swim and a quick beer run on the ol' two stroke. Everyone
was stoked. The next day I rode through the Hungarian Countryside.
Crossed the Croatian border with sketchy paperwork for the moto and
no speak Hungarian... worked a treat. Stoked!!! Then a bee flew
into my helmet and bit me on the side of the face. A lot of the
houses in the country have giant bomb sized holes in them from the
recent trouble times. I stopped to take photos and met some
children that taught me my first Croatian words. That night I
camped out on the Bank of a river in a small town called Sisak. It
looked like rain again...so I found an upturned dingy on
stilts...perfect shelter. The next morning I woke up and couldnt
open my left eye. My face had swollen up from the bee sting and I
looked like the elephant man. Time to put some miles on. That day I
rode through the mountains to the coast on amazing roads with
ridiculous views. Camped out on a beach on the isle of Krk. Tourist
day...drank coffee bought a snorkel mask, bla bla.. Caught a ferry
to Cres. Ate seafood. Met a skate boarder? Oscar. Good kid. Told me
about a hidden Paradise on the Island. Camped out on a hillside,
sunset view you get the picture...Mission, to find a beach called
Meli. Took a wrong turn. Started cutting through farms, stone walls
and wooden gates...so much fun. Found the right track which led to
Plat..from there a half an hour hike to a secluded sandy beach,
snorkeling, fish... argh... Hiked back to Plat, which was just two
houses. Met a couple of kids, learnt more Croatian. Met a women who
was taking care of these kids, who were apparently delinquents. She
let them hang out at her place, to keep them off the street. They
fixed and drove old beat up cars and scooters around, farm style.
She told me that she went to Australia once and thought that life
there was so easy that it made people stupid... she did stay in
Dandenong for two months. From her home you could see the mountains
across the Sea. She said she watched over the water the Yugoslavian
war go down from the safety of her front porch. Gnarly. Later that
day I borrowed a screw driver from a machanic and asked him where I
should go next. He told me to cross the little bridge that joined
the two Islands Cres and Losinj then turn right. So I did. It was a
rocky dirt road. I followed it half way up a mountain to a closed
gate.. it wasnt locked... beyond the gate the track got steep and
rough as hell. Best off road fun yet. At the top was a small cabin
with stairs leading to the roof with a flag flying high. Inside,
there was an old man who fed me dinner, sold me beer and let me
sleep on the roof for free. The views were absurd. The following
morning the old man gave me coffee and told me that I had to hike
even further up the Mountain where I would find a small church and
360 panoramic heaven. He wouldnt feed me breakfast until I
returned...err OK. Later that afternoon I caught a 6 and a half
hour ferry ride back to the mainland, via four other islands.
Arrived in the city of Zadar at 11pm. Rode out of town, pulled
over, asked some teenagers where I should camp. They took me to
their parents front yard. Then took off to get drunk."we love pivo!"
Mum woke me up in the morning and was happy when I told her I
was leaving. I rode inland to a National Park. Snuck in and swam
underneath waterfalls. Rain was creeping in again so left in hurry.
Forgot to flick my side stand up. Ditched the bike on the first
left hand bend doin about 80 clicks. Hit a few bolders nearly got
bucked off but some how bounced back onto the tarmac and kept
goin....stopped at the first petrol station and checked my dacks.
Pants were clean but the MZ was pissing fuel all over the ground.
Stuck float bowl, nothin major. Then a Serbian man rolled in on old
full faring BMW. He donned his rain gear and told me about a
motorcycle party, with free camping, then took off. The rain
cleared a bit and I went in search of Croatian Stergers....found
nothing. Spoke to a couple riding an old GS. Apparently my Serbian
is terrible, the 3 day party had just finished. The bloke was
wearing a leather vest with Hollister MC Patches. He invited me to
their Club House in Spilt. I woke up there this morning, alone...
with the key to the Shed in my pocket. Last memory was listening to
Maiden, drinking and being told to leave the key under the second
brick...
Yep...still a little hung over.....Mavie
