As the clouds open up to nourish the green rolling hills of southern Germany I sit and wright. Reflecting back on the last two weeks I am overwhelmed by the beauty of the European coutryside and the kindness and generosity of the locals we have met along the way. To date, this trip has been everything we hoped for. After leaving Paris we navigated our way south to Macon, France to meet up with our friend Olivier. Though our conversation was labored due to a substantial language barrier, we felt more then welcome in his home for a night and very much enjoyed each others company. Upon his recommedation, we twisted and turned our way down the backroads of southern France towards Millau. Through rolling hills of patchwork vineyards, along picturesque mountain streams and through ancient villages it was like riding through a postcard, as most of this trip has been. From Millau, we set the relatively unknown country of Andorra on our r...
I was reminded yesterday as to why I enjoy travel and why I think it is impoprtant. We woke in the morning excited to drop our motorcycles off at the shipping warehouse, the next big step towards our travels in Europe. But what happened at the warehouse, the experience we had, was an eye opening one. There we were, dropping off two expensive Harley-Davidsons, leaving on what most would consider a trip of a lifetime. Spending an extravegant amount of money to, at the end of the day, take a vacation. Though I do feel there is more to it than that, ultimately, that is what it is. In this warehouse we were surrounded by luxury items such as riding lawnmowers, vintage cars and crates of Tesla motors...all of these items being shipped overseas to people with plenty of money. What we didn't expect to see was three train cars, tucked in a corner of this monster establishment, packed full of bags of...
If anybody had any doubts about whether or not heaven exists, I can tell you with complete confidence that it does. Turns out it is down here in Portugal along route N-2, north out of the coastal town of Faro. Its manicured roads dip and weave through rich corridors of wild flowers, broad leafed trees and rich soils in way that only a fine composer would lead a royal orchestra. Oh wait, or was riding over Pas de la Casa in Andorra with its 9,000 foot snow lined, alpine roads? With bluebird skys, views for miles (from what felt like the top of the world) and crisp thin air it seemed a bit otherwordly. I don't know, maybe it was riding through patchwork vineyards in southern France. You get the point. Finding an incredible stretch of road out here in the old world has certainly not been an issue. I'm probably getting ahead of myself though. Maybe I should back track a bit from where I left off in my last po...
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