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Southbound and Down

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Early March in Colorado is not typically considered a great time to embark on a multi day motorcycle adventure.  In fact, it’s a risky time for most parts of the country which is the main reason why I’ve never bothered with the Daytona Rally in Florida...or should I call it the Greater Daytona Area Motorcycle Get Together? I’ll get back to that later.   The likelihood of bitter cold temperatures, spring rains and even snow are well beyond possible, its almost guaranteed, and this trip would prove that multiple times over.  My departure from home was about as expected, better even, with temperatures in the mid 40’s and a gale force westerly wind I was thankful that the thermometer had clipped north of 32 and the roads were dry, but this would all change on me soon enough.   East bound on I-70. I chose to blaze across Kansas as quickly as humanely possible, I’ve learned from previous experience that back-roading Kansas doesn’t gain a person much but added hours of wheat
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Paris to Portugal to Italy to Germany

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        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 radar.  From what I can tell, the area where
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Where in the world are we?

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           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 post here.            After exiting the ship and spending
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Land Ho!

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              A feeling of both excitement and nervousness washed over us as we climbed aboard the Independant Voyager, a German built containor ship that would take us from Wilmignton, NC to Antwerp, Belgium.  As a new experiance for both of us, we truly had no idea what we were getting into.  What we did know was that the ship was unstabalized, manned with what we thought was going to be a German crew (turned out to be primarily Polish, Romanian and Russian) and was a true working ship.  Because of this we didn't anticipate much in the way of comforts, and not much is what we got.              Aboard the vessel was an 18 man crew and a total of 5 passengers.  The passengers consisted of Kayla and myself, a couple from Canada and a lone traveler from England.  All of whom were friendly, well travelled and consistently brought interesting and entertaining conversations to the table.  This was good because we spent a fair amount of our time around the table.  With a regular feeding
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