A long overdue conclusion to Adventure 2017: Part 2

Heading off from Germany was in many ways a relief. I’d been rolling the dice with the weather for some weeks and the thought of heading to southern France was a reassuring one. I still needed to get there though. At one bitterly cold fuel stop I had a German girl approach me asking was I really from Australia? She was most impressed by the bike’s presence in Europe and my braving the cold. She herself was a motorcyclist and could appreciate my journey. After a brief chat, I was on my way. It’s always nice when someone comes up and says hello. Often I’ll be in a service station and someone will walk past admiring the bike and then giving me a nod of approval. When you travel by yourself for an extended time, even little gestures from strangers are heart warming. Amazingly, as I entered France I met another motorcyclist. Stephane Etienne had lived in Perth, Australia and was now back living in Switzerland. It turns out he does adventure motorcycling documentaries called World Riderz and raises money for various charities. Needless to say an amazing guy. He kindly offered for me to visit anytime I liked.

My first stop in France was a little village called Quingey not far from the beautiful Besancon. It was really just to break up the trip so I didn’t really try to explore the area. It was already dark when I arrived so the extent of my wandering was a stroll across the bridge to get dinner. Next stop was Avignon, a very beautiful town! Avignon’s history is quite remarkable having played host to the Papacy for a couple of centuries. The walled old town was very pretty and the walls themselves had quite elaborate passages over water in order to get inside by foot. The famous Pont d’Avignon (Avignon Bridge) was particularly interesting as there was a museum in the adjoining tower explaining its construction and partial destruction. The feat of building the pylons in varying soil and gravel types under the river itself was quite remarkable and the documentary they showed about it was actually one of the highlights.

Toulon was my final French destination where I would visit the family of my colleague Alice. Whilst Alice was doing the rounds herself back in her home country seeing everyone, I was hosted by her parents who gave me the full French experience with Ricard (aperitif), Raclette (cheese) and red wine! Life doesn’t get any better. I would also stay at a great AirBnb in Toulon and  I quite liked the city. The maritime museum was a highlight. Alice and I finally caught up, so it was great to see a friend so far from home! The next time I would see her she would be due to give birth to her son (which given how outdated this blog is – did actually happen and little Tommy is doing well!)

As it turned out, Alice’s “Manou” (which is a French term for grandma) was most upset that “everyone got to see Shane” except her! (Note: I met Manou and Alice’s mum Sophie when they were last in Brisbane.) And so it was arranged that I would stay a night with Manou. Her English wasn’t the best, but that didn’t stop us having a great night. She had some friends over for dinner and between broken Italian (between Gilbert and I) and marginally better English (between Manou and I) we managed to have a fantastic dinner party!

Sophie gave me some beautiful roads to explore when I left Toulon and so it was that I wound my way around the hills of southern France before heading onto Genoa, Italy. I was taking a well earned break at a service station after fueling up and suddenly an excited Italian comes up to me and asks “Excuse me, but are you really from Australia? I just saw your bike outside!” I confirmed my identity and he was blown away by my trip. He was driving back from seeing the Spanish Moto GP and was a keen off road biker himself. We had a great chat and shared contact information. He was going back home to Como, but sadly my schedule wouldn’t permit a catch up.

Genoa would be the meeting place of Helen and Daz part 2. Fortunately, we were all in better moods and I was able to meet them on time and escort them to their accommodation. My earlier arrival was slightly stressful. Finding a safe parking spot for the bike is always a concern. As I unpacked my bike wondering if my remaining luggage would be safe (whilst I did the 15 minute round trip to my accommodation on foot) I was ecstatic to see my host greet me! This meant between the two of us, the luggage could be taken in one go. We then parked the bike in his secure garage facility and once again I could breathe easy knowing my bike wouldn’t be stolen!

Genoa is a fascinating port city. In particular it is famous for its pesto and my host was able to direct me to the local, non touristy Trattoria for a fantastic meal. I would revisit with Heli and Daz along with a number of other fine eating establishments. I should also mention this particular Trattoria won the prize for the best Pesto in the world! Or maybe Italy. But I’m figuring if it is in Genoa the home of pesto, then it can have world’s best status.

The three of us did the usual bipedal exploring and took in a pirate galleon that was used in a movie (very cool) and the aquarium (equally cool and quite a pleasant surprise). After four nights, I headed onto Milan where I would catch up with my mate Atul from the UK. The thing I love about Atul is his spontaneity. Being the jetsetter he is, it’s nothing for him to declare a rendezvous is on the cards and with that, Milan was booked. We took in the famous Duomo Cathedral (including the roof top walk which I highly recommend), a few bars and for Atul – some shopping. My Spartan existence on the bike didn’t allow for extra purchases.

I then headed north to stay in the countryside near Milan. AirBnB came through with the goods again and I stayed in a beautiful villa in Calco with a wonderful host, Sylvia. She insisted i practice my Italian and I guess there wasn’t much choice given here English capabilities. The magnificent building, gardens, pool and views could have been right out of a Bond movie. I did some exploring and came upon a cafe where I was immediately treated like royalty by the ladies working there. We caught up the next day at their friends’ cafe in the beautiful riverside village of Brivio. This proved to be a lot of fun and the young cafe owners were equally pleased to have an Aussie visitor. My Italian certainly improved and the sun shone nicely for my last days on the bike. I took in Bergamo and the surrounds and this was a real highlight. The old town is perched on a mountain and there were spectacular views, nice walks and beautiful churches. I believe it was also home to Pope John XXIII, so there was the odd statue around honouring him.

Leaving Calco and the villa was surreal. I couldn’t believe I now had less than an hour to go on the bike before it would be parked in Milan until who knew when. Thinking back to my nervous wait for the bike in Tehran, the shocking and gut wrenching loss of my passport and money on a highway to Yazd, the epic hospitality and friendship of Ali, the amazing discoveries I made in Georgia, the dangerous D915 road in Turkey, the fun nights in Bulgaria, the torturous riding weather in Europe and the sibling reunions with Heli all just seemed to hard to believe. From morphing into a “Not really knowing what I was doing” moto wannabe into I guess an experienced and hardened adventurer of sorts just didn’t quite sink in. I think that along the way there are moments where you think “I can’t believe I’m actually doing this”, but then over time it just seems to become very normal… basically because it becomes your routine. I think for all the amazement people have expressed about this trip, the reality is you must simply decide to do it. That is the hardest part. And that’s it. The rest then just unfolds before you. And whatever that happens to be, you must embrace it because that is in effect what you have asked for. By undertaking it, you are putting many things outside of your control. Not in a reckless way, but more or less an “unknowing” way. And what starts off as unknown becomes known and ever so slightly you keep pushing the boundaries of your comfort zone further and further out. This, I think, is what I am most thankful for: the opportunity to step outside the day to day and encounter the unknown. And I truly thank God for delivering me safely thus far.