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“Getting The ‘Turning Fix’ in a Suburbian Grid”
| Everything is fine here summer finally arrived, hot, humid, and rainy subtropical weather. At least we are finally getting some rain. Florida is having a bad drought.
I like the video; it makes me miss the riding we did there. The riding down here in South Florida is very boring, all grid patterned suburbia roads. The only turns are on and off the interstates (multistradas).
So in order to get the turning fix I started racing a Ducati 1000 Super Sport. It's been a blast and there are 3 racetracks within a 1/2 days drive. In the series I race, we race about once per month and on my second weekend, I won 2 races! In commemorative, the organizers put my picture on the cover of last week’s poster (#912)!
My next race is out of state in southern Georgia this weekend and I'm now in 2nd place for the season points so hopefully, I can learn from a different group of riders to make a challenge for the amateur championship.
Rachael is going to ride down to be my crew this weekend. She always impresses my competitors and friends at the mileage she will ride on her Ducati.
The house project is coming along slowly, too much travelling and racing taking up my time. But at least the ‘Tiki Bar’ is running and the garage is holding everything but the Italian motos. They will remain in my enclosed, air-conditioned patio as an art display when not being ridden! LOL!
Scott Mulvania. USN CDR (retired)
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Last Updated on Friday, 08 July 2011 07:56 |
"Rooftops For Freerunners In Rajasthan..."
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Last Updated on Wednesday, 22 June 2011 13:03 |
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A Truck Gets Stuck On Zoji La |
"Overloaded trucks on the dangerous Zoji La Pass..."
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Edging as close as I dared, poised at the edge, left foot firm, the truck passed, it’s rear wheel kissing my right side pannier, full-face black exhaust; tailgate chains slashing air.
You instinctively ride back to the middle - the inside rut, skirting mud only where firm at the outer edge. We rode down, two, three more corners, horns blaring, riding with caution. Round the next blind bend a line of jeeps, halted but heading down. The realisation was instant. What’s blocking the path?
An overloaded Tata ‘high sider’. Stacked to to the brim and more on the cab, the ‘Helper’ crouched behind the rear offside wheels. The rad’ cover propped wide open, the driver gunning the 1613 Turbo to charge his brakes, when he felt brave he 'dropped his clutch'.
The engine sagged, moaned and died and the truck lurched forward one small step. Before he could stand on his brakes, the truck had rolled back, two steps forwards, one step back. the Helper slipped in the rock, halting its downhill death-roll. Again the revs, engine roaring, recharge his brakes and creep an inch further... |
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Last Updated on Friday, 13 May 2011 04:21 |
"Huge boulders blocked our path..."
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On leaving Kargil we were stopped in our tracks before we’d even left Kargil. Just out of the market and round the curve of a violently powerful Suru river. A small side stream doubled in width having channelled a million tons of sand, rocks and mud. It dumped two huge boulders blocking the road; only explosives could split such rocks.
The water flow alone made it passable only by a JCB and a hydraulic oil soaked bulldozer. Houses had been washed away. A doll’s house view, pots and pans still sitting on shelves, half the house washed away. I stopped and filmed people standing, watching, dazed. Lives washed away.
Parked nearby a military Royal Enfield sat to attention, strong and functional in its matt green livery, red stencilled numbers, logged in some distant ledger; Military Police! Stand aside!
We were running away from a weather system that’s destroyed Pakistan, demolished Ladakhi villages, the bus stand and central hospital in Leh. Actually we narrowly avoided a serious situation; our safety relied on us taking care, paying attention and riding with skill. |
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Last Updated on Friday, 13 May 2011 04:22 |
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Snow Melt Washes Bridge Away |
"Bogged-Down Buses Blocked Our Path"
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Eroded by heavy snow melt, a weakened bridge had collapsed spreading slabs of concrete across the swirling muddy river. Riding only 85kms from Kaza, we reached a scene of calm chaos and parked trucks. The efforts of a digger-driver, watched by a growing crowd of stranded travellers, proved futile in levelling the roadway through an increasingly lively stream. Our last option, ride back and secure rooms in tiny Lossar village, in the Spiti Valley, before others made the same decision.
Saddling-up, a dull feeling of doom dawned on me, my rear tyre was punctured. I found the foot pump and quickly inflated the tyre enough to get me back to comfort and a safe haven. Tired, down-heartened but not defeated, the sun behind the mountains, the consensus was dinner, a stiff drink, bed and fix the tyre in the morning.
By morning the water had subsided, but a new obstacle lay before us. The previous evening a bus driver had tried to pull another ‘stuck bus’ out of the mud and stones, he failed and left any possible path across the river blocked by two buses... |
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Last Updated on Friday, 13 May 2011 04:22 |
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Tuesday, 08 December 2009 00:00 |
"Touring Central Nepal With Elio From Italy"
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I met Elio soon after his arrival in Nepal in the evening 18th November at his hotel in Thamel. Introductions over, we arranged to meet the following day.
Before setting off on a tour - as always, we talked about the Bullet and I gave him a walk-around explaining the quirks and controls of the Royal Enfield motorcycle that would be his for the next week or so.
So, after a hearty Tibetan breakfast we set off around 10:00am. Elio was keen to video street scenes en-route but riding solo made it a difficult task!
We were soon going downhill on the main Prithvi Highway at 70kph! And with very little traffic Elio rode ahead, enjoying the wind in his face. After a few hours riding we stopped for lunch at a peaceful riverside resort half way to Pokhara.
It was here that I introduced Elio to Nepal’s favourite, dhal bhat, he liked it so much that he had two helpings! |
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Read more about Elio Tours Central Nepal
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Saturday, 12 September 2009 18:15 |
"Permits Permissions Persistence And Persuasion"
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Tell us about the ride, Blog it, post pictures, we want more than 140 characters once a week! I’ll try, but it’s not easy.
How’s the ride? Exciting, yes, between the hard-work, really tough, bone jarring sections of half built neglected highway. Pushing hard to get to the next stop, especially when you don't quite know what will greet you - luxury or a hovel, requires a mindset that focuses on nothing but the road ahead, fuel, bike welfare and the odd sustenance break.
This ride always was going to be tough, just to get to the start point, even then I wasn't sure how special the special bits would be. And I'm still not sure I've even reached that mythical start point. But I've come a long way, endless broken highways, challenges of endurance, night stop setbacks and a million other niggles all conspiring to drag me down. Lose heart now perhaps, but turn back… it’s not an option. |
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Read more about Trials And Tribulations in Assam
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Sunday, 06 September 2009 18:15 |
"Arriving in Gorkhaland"
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Dead-straight highways for five days on end, hot dusty plains and towns too grubby for words; I looked up and there were the hills! Siliguri the first big town I reached in West Bengal marked the end of my Highway slog.
Cheered by the thought of the cool of the hills I stopped briefly at a row of small wooden shacks. I fought off hunger with samosas and chutney and a cup of sweet chai. “Hajur namaste dai…” I’d reached the fabled Gorkhaland.
Bolstered for the final 80 kilometers I kicked the hot motor back into life and together with a young student who’d paid for my snacks to secure a pillion seat home, set off for the hills to Darjeeling town.
Within minutes the road was carving the contours, criss-crossed at every bend in the road by the narrow tracks of the Darjeeling ‘toy train’; all around thick green jungle and trees tall as giants. |
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Read more about 5 Days Across The Plains
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Saturday, 05 September 2009 18:15 |
"Varanassi - Culture And Death On The Ganga"
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Sprawled along a bend on the river, Varanasi - one of the world's oldest inhabitted cities, for Hindus is the place to die. Since Lord Shiva walked down from Mt Kailash, the Ganges has been the most holy of rivers.
Mogul Kings to more recent Maharajas, all built their palaces overlooking the Ganga. Lamila, Munshi, ManMandir and Chausatti, each had its steps or ghats down to the water.
To the left and right along the river, where last rites are read, the Brahmin lights the fire and loved ones turn to ash. The burning ghats work all day and all night, living and dying a never ending cycle.
Behind the ghats lies a maze of narrow passages and lanes, lined with shops of every nature. Tailors and sweet shops, biri makers and samosa snack shops. Tiny and ancient and all crammed together.
And back to my guest house for peace and calm, overlooking the Ganga, my very own palace. |
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Friday, 04 September 2009 18:15 |
"Paan Flavoured Chai On National Highway 2"
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Day 1 was tough but I made it to Kanpur, where a keen cycle rickshaw walla showed me the best hotel in town. He cycled, I followed, he got 20rps and I got a room for the night.
NH 2 is well paved and after Agra the traffic thinned. Two fatal accidents – men splurged on the black-top, had me utterly focused on staying alive, and then came the rain.
Day 2 easier but grey monsoon clouds and Varanasi still distant, drove me to cover; waterproofs I have, but the trucks throw up a foul muddy spray.
Spotting small shelter I parked the bike, a tiny Paan sellers hut on stilts. Its uplifted front held off most of the rain. When the ditch had fill-up, we were 4 or 5 more. The Paan walla served sweet Paan tea in clay cups and the rain came to pass, I was back on the road. |
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