 Travelling by motorbike has never been more popular than it is today.
Bike manufacturers quote the 'Ewan McGregor' factor as the reason for booming sales in the 'Adventure Touring' sector of the market; national newspapers regularly feature overseas motorbike touring and even good old Ted Simon has done it all over again at the grand old age of 76.
Alun Davies re-discovers the joys of biking and starts planning for an adventure on two wheels.
Back in 1977 a guy by the name of Ted Simon arrived home having completed a round the world trip on a motorbike. Ted then promptly settled down to write Jupiter's Travels, one of my all time favourite books, and a source of inspiration for bikers the world over, including the Luvvie Come Lateleys of Long Way Round/Down.
In the same year, a less well known figure fired up a Czechoslovakian made CZ 175 and donned a bin liner to battle against the elements on a motorbike tour around Wales. I never wrote a book about it, nor can I claim to have inspired anyone to hit the world trails on a crotch rocket, but I can tell you that should I have put pen to paper it would have been an epic from the days when bin liners were far more durable than Czech made motorbikes. Whatever happened to quality bin bags, eh?
Over the next couple of years I progressed from the lime green eastern European machine onto the cream of British two wheeled engineering, a Norton Commando 850. To this day I have fond memories of the Norton and none more so than of my titanic battles with the lay shaft bearing in the gear box which would routinely shatter and fail every 500 miles or so. I find it odd that today I have problems understanding the functions of a mobile phone and yet back then I could strip a gearbox, by torchlight, with one hand, at midnight, by the side of a European road and have the old thumper up and running within a couple of hours.
But the things was, and still is, though not in the oil covered way it was back then, touring on a motorbike is all about the journey and very little to do with arriving at a destination. In fact, back then, in my experience it was a rare occurrence to even reach the destination. A trip to Morocco ended when I was in danger of running out of replacement gear box bits somewhere just south of Paris, the tour of Wales was curtailed by too many things falling off the CZ near Aberystwyth (including a section of the exhaust and seat) though I did make it to Brighton for a (friendly) mods and rockers meet which coincided with the opening of the town's nudist beach, but that's another book.
My affair with two wheeled propulsion has continued over the years though my affection for things falling off and gear box explosions has, I admit, lessened with age. Fortunately manufacturers have also noticed this and the quality and reliability of bikes has increased to such a level that I now don't even own a set of tools, a Haynes Manual or a 10 gallon drum of Swarfega. However, after a brief spell of touring in the late 80's and early 90's aboard a Kawasaki rocket ship that went under the name of a ZX10 I'd fallen into the decrepit middle aged trap of owning a Harley.
 Harley Davidson have managed to do what no other bike manufacturer has come close to doing, turning a hunk of metal and a couple of strips of rubber into an object that transforms the rider into a hard as nails renegade sex machine. Not literally of course, but in the mind of the middle aged tub of Viagra crunching lard sat astride the throbbing V twin. The transformation is nothing short of the Alpha version of He Man.
In strict motorbike terms – which in itself is a strange concept for a Harley rider – they are not the best. Over the four years I owned the hunk of US iron I rode fewer miles than ever, and that, as they say, is the bottom line. The thought of long distance touring never entered my mind, though I would open the garage door mount up and think of myself as Thor roaming the badlands of the Cotsworlds looking for villages to pillage – because I could. However, reality has now made a welcome trip back home with the recent purchase of a 10 year old Triumph Sprint.
With only 19,000 spotless, scratchless, miles on the clock I bought a bargain. On my first run out, I quickly realised I'd been in a hard core biker's prison named Harley Davidson. I'd forgotten that a bike could be comfortable, that a bike could accelerate like no car ever could or ever will, I'd overlooked that a (reasonably) modern bike does stop when the brake lever is pulled, that a bike can be designed and built for riding round bends as if it's on rails, and that the most enjoyment you can have on a bike is actually riding it. I remembered that Ted Simon, and not the dealer with cheap Viagra, is my hero. I've been inspired and I'm on the road again with a smile.
And all this new found inspiration and passion has got me thinking about how much I used to enjoy the journey and in that context what little there is to recommend about modern air travel. So I've come to a decision, like Ted Simon, I'm going to re-visit the 70's and finish that trip down to Morocco. In fact, I'm so inspired, I'm going to head on through Morocco to Timbuktu, which was always the ultimate destination for any overland biking fanatic with a taste for adventure. Only this time, the panniers are going to be stuffed with hiking and climbing gear rather than the inner workings of a gear box.
 First things first, whilst the Triumph is spot on for road touring and would be a blast on the high twisty passes of the Pyrenees, no way would it function on the off road pistes of Morocco or the mud caked roads south of the Sahara. For such a trip I need to be looking at one of the new breed of 'adventure touring' two wheelers. When I say new, I mean the name is new. Bikes designed for both on and off road use have been around for a while, much longer than I can recall, though back in my early touring days they were called Enduros and the classic Yamaha XT500 was the bike to have.
And then there's the gear. Motorbike kit has improved some since the time when a denim jacket and a bin bag were the only protective clothing you'd need and high tech reinforced top boxes, panniers and tank bags now fix to the spots long ago vacated by Adidas kit bags. As with everything these days, the Adventure begins in the gear selection and the choice on offer are legion tough I suspect if push came to shove, I'd still probably get to the fabled Timbuktu dressed in an old woolly jumper and with a kit bag strapped to the seat.
It's a long, long time since I've been so excited about a journey, it's time to start planning the route.
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