summertime … and the riding is easy

Shieldaig, Torridon

What is the perfect ride?

Scottish HighlandsMay be many things: a busy rally, a desert trip, a cruise along Sunset Boulevard – there are so many bikers out there, so many different ideas what a perfect ride should be like.

Even my own idea of a pefect run differs occasionally.

But very often, this one song goes through my head as my bike takes me to the horizon: Summertime and the living is easy….

 

chopper dreams

sea and gorseA perfect ride – what does it take?

Fun, for a start. And sun, not to forget. Me and my bike and some breathtaking scenery – that is a perfect ride for me. No breakdowns, no annoying cars, not a soul in sight.

Just summer and the coconut smell of Scottish gorse, a sea breeze and a powerful engine roaring through the wilderness.

….and the riding is easy indeed.

 

With a little treat – a fruit scone, home-made jam and cream when the road takes you back into civilisation.

Perfect!

 

Scotland the brave

 

Suzuki Intruder VS 1400The Scottish Highlands can be ferocious, relentless and dangerous even on a bike. Storms are battering the West coast of this Northern beauty, heavy rainfall and flooding block roads, low temperatures make you freeze even in summer.

Scotland’s for the brave indeed.

But on a day like this it is just breathtakingly beautiful.

Castle Tioram, Highlands, Scotland

Is there a better country to ride a bike in?

Isle of Skye, ScotlandScotland asks you to be brave, you need to be prepared to fight: the roads, the climate, the tourists. Bikers are getting killed every week here in summer and still they come here like hordes seeking the enemy, from England, Germany, France, Holland and Norway, drawn by a magnet of incredible magnitude: the beauty of the wilderness and the strength you draw out of coping with its adversities.

Scotland is a county for heroes, always has been and still is, on the bike.

In a way it is like one of these adventure holidays people book to get the thrill of their live.

On a bike you don’t need to book anything, adventure follows you wherever you go.

When I come back home from a drive through this magnificent part of the world I do feel different, stronger, braver, more self-assured. And any time I am more in love with this country.

Scotland the brave indeed.

Castle Tioram. Highlands, Scotland

 

900 miles (part 1)

early startThere was no time to worry about it. After two days of travelling back from South America to Europe (a bus, two flights and a rental) I arrived home late at night, had a beer, repacked and went to bed. The jet lag would disappear somewhere along the 900 miles I had to go I hoped.

Next morning I woke up at 3, got up at 6 and started the engine at 7am sharp. The sound made my heart jump. I was on my way North; 900 miles just me and my new Suzuki Intruder. We had to go on this run north because I need a bike where my partner lives, which is unfortunately rather far from where I live.

The Harley stays at home.

I know my VS1400 is not a touring bike, far from it but all the more reason to feel great about doing it and about doing it alone. I like to have the freedom of riding alone. Yes, sometimes I miss the thrill you get out of riding in a posse. But my trip was different and personal.

I had got a lot of amazed incredulity when telling people what I was going to do – ride a chopper in two days from the South of Germany to the Scottish Highlands. Alone. Most women looked seriously shocked at the mere thought. Men mostly looked uncomfortable.

every 100 milesI wonder why? I have a credit card I can use; the bike is insured and has road coverage. My route takes me along busy European motorways, no deserts to cross anywhere, hardly an adventure, really.

So what is the problem? The only one I encountered on the first part of the trip to Rotterdam was my bum. Yeah, the seat looks great but it doesn’t feel it after two hours.

I must admit I was a bit nervous about going up the ferry with that long fork but it turned out no problem whatsoever.

There was a group of racers from the Isle of Man on the ferry with me. We gave each other a nod, no more. They must have thought it weird as well, that woman all by herself. So they rather didn’t talk.

nothwards boundHad I been a man, I am dead sure they would have been over in two seconds.

If a male biker is on a trip alone he is either cool or independent.

A woman on a bike, alone and unattached is strange and awkward to handle, it seems.

As if there was a difference.

No matter how far I travel, women still have a long way to go.