South Caucasus – prologue

Well, it is time for another ‚exotic‘ trip. Initially, I had planned to finally address a large bullet point on the imaginary bucket list – the trip through Southern America. Planned for the upcoming winter, I was already designing itineraries and reading travel books and a lot of stuff on the internet. I thought this finally was going to happen! 

Well, the idea kept progressing until I read the first headlines talking of an upcoming ‚Super El Niño‘ that would hit South America in a few months. Although global weather is expected to be affected, the impact on the countries in this part of the southern hemisphere could be dramatic. For example, Peru is experiencing a rain season in December, but under the influence of an ‚Super El Niño‘, this could mean massive flooding in the Andes. Other countries and regions will also be affected.

In the beginning, the probabilities of the occurrence were still low, but kept growing constantly. In the end, the only sensible thing to do was to postpone the trip (again) and look for something else.

I have a bag of ideas for smaller trips that can be done ‚in-between‘ when there’s not so much time available. One of them is a journey to the Southern Caucasus, i.e. Azerbaijan, Georgia and Armenia. Since the pandemic, Azerbaijan has closed the land border: you can exit, but you cannot enter other than by plane or boat. Some people put their motorbikes on trucks in Georgia and fly to Baku. As this tedious and expensive, I have chosen another (expensive) option: flying to Baku and starting the trip from there. It saves a lot of time and distance, approximately 4000 km and one week. However, there are not many operators for this more exotic destination, so the only possibility is to fly the bike from London Heathrow to Baku. You’ve got to do what you’ve got to do. Riding once across Turkey is enough and taking the shabby truck ferry across the Black Sea is not very much faster and a lot less appealing.

I have done my research and I’m working through my to-do list. Some things still have to be managed, but one big step had to happen today: the drop-off in Heathrow. The old XBR had been nursed sufficiently. Initially, I had planned to indulge her with a newer motor, but for this small trip I decided to use the old setup, it still should be alright. The Honda is rock-solid, so this gives peace of mind; a change of fluids and tyres and braking pads was enough. 

I set off at 8 a.m. in sunny weather, heading towards Calais. To my surprise, I encountered massive traffic in Antwerp due to an accident. As I had no appetite to filter a lot along the Ring, I took the northern detour through the harbour and was now behind my schedule. In contrast to the mighty BMW, I was going at moderate speed, enjoying the nice day. At the check-in of the Eurotunnel, I received a departure time before the booked one, so things looked great. However, despite the moderate traffic, border procedures were very slow. The British border guard asked the usual question about my destination and of course I answered it correctly. The look on his face was expressing some disbelief, but when he saw all the stickers on my panniers he understood it was all true. I could see his brain processing the information why I didn’t chose a German operator (there is none) and I my mind he felt the urge to shake his head. But he was too polite for that. 

I rode to the embarking lane and expected to roll on the train shortly. Some chats and banter with other bikers, after all my XBR draws some attention. The barrier would not open. Another lane embarked – but we didn’t. Only after one hour we would move, although an employee tried to stop me – sorry, mate, I’m moving, can’t stop now – and I passed him as the last in my queue which meant that the others had to wait for the next train! It took ages until we could enter the wagon and set off – a really shitty service today. I was glad to have booked a normal and not an expensive flexiplus ticket – you can hardly argue with a cheap ticket, but having the posh ticket would blow a fuse.

I was surround by a group (‚Mons Belgium Chapter’) of shiny Harley-Davidson bikers with their biking chicks, probably going to a meeting of like-minded people. So, in contrast to the embarkation lane, no chatting here. When two different worlds meet. When I arrived in Folkestone, I was one hour behind schedule, but I had plenty of buffer anyway. I rolled with a speed below the limit ( a rare occasion) and had to add some petrol along the way. Was it the soaring heat? I forgot to put 2-3 litres only and jammed 13 litres into the tank before I realised my mistake; the tank should only be filled up to one quarter for transport. It was very hot now, the hottest day of the year in the UK (35 degrees in south-west London) and I reflected that I never had seen the rolling green hills of England in such a state: almost no green left in the fields, brown grass everywhere, suffering trees and lots of dried, brown trees. 

Finally I arrived at the warehouse of Motofreight in Feltham where my bike was received. I could not only leave my tools and spare parts in the panniers, but also my boots, trousers and helmet. This will reduce my luggage considerably. The only downside: what will all the sweat in a closed pannier do in the next two weeks? I will find out. A large bunch of international motorbikes showed that they have quite some customers. A free taxi carried me to the airport where I was killing time at a running sushi restaurant.

The flight to Brussels was delayed, but on time at the destination, and two train rides and a let’s-pick-my-old-car-from-the-rented-garage-and-drive-home-with-it later I was back home after 15 hours. The two remaining tasks are obtaining insurances for AZ and GE and hoping that my visa application for AZ will go through. And packing my luggage, but this is for the weekend. My flight to Baku will be in nine days, looking forward to it!