I am currently in the process of researching and developing a larger rally style fairing for the DRZ. My goal is to adventurise the 400SM and I realise that the fixings between the S & E are different for each so part of my research is making something that will fit them all or at the very least create one fairing and brackets that will adapt to each variant.

Right now I am working around the existing headlight. I am also investigating how the design could accommodate better lighting should someone want to upgrade in the future. I will either create a separate “deluxe” full spec fairing or make a version that can accommodate a lighting upgrade. I just have to see how everything fits.

I mocked this up in Adobe Fireworks. I am in the process of making the plug for this.

Good lighting always comes at a premium and I would not be getting into that side of things. I just want to make a decent fairing that does not cost the Earth and is easy to install without a complicated framework behind.

I would be interested to know if there is a market for this sort of thing. I would be happy to adapt the design to accommodate other makes of bike provided there are sufficient numbers… lets say over 10.

This is just a straw poll to see if it is worth my while. Either reply here, PM me or email [email]motoeverywhere@gmail.com[/email]

Cheers

Jon

Late last year I took some time out to write a full review on the F800GS for Visor Down magazine. Thanks to Mark Godsland in the UK he made me aware that the article had been published along with all the feedback from my many friends and fellow 800 riders in the UK and beyond. He sent a copy out to me which I’ve been informed will cost me a cup of tea and a pastry.

I have ridden the F800GS over 32,000 miles and it is better than ever. I am full of praise for the 800. It is my desire to keep this bike as long as possible.

It always puts a smile on my face whether it is raining, snowing or beating down with blazing sunshine. It is a commuter, a continent buster and a trail warrior all rolled into one.

After a few minor niggles were ironed out at the beginning which is to be expected of any new machine I can say I have had no problems with the bike at all.

With regular care and servicing this bike will look after you in heaps.

But remember the black and yellow ones will always be faster

I spent a very pleasant few days in Linz seeing friends and making new ones. Linz is the 2009 capital of culture and has made noticeable strides since I was last there in April and August of 2008. It has an energy and vibrancy which is tempered by the fact it is also a provincial city. So unlike the brashness of a capital city the people are still warm and friendly.

The weather was of course fantastic and the cold temperatures and rain of the UK were now a distant memory.

The city have erected walkways, a Ferris wheel and numerous installations on the roof of one of the city’s main buildings. It is a fantastic idea whereby you literally get a birds eye of view everything.

This is my kind of thinking!

Linz is of often unheard of in the English speaking world due to it being an industrial city. It is in the shadow of Vienna and Salzburg not to mention all the famous Austrian ski resorts. The pace of life is welcome after the dog eat dog attitudes found in the UK. Nice to soak up the warm sunshine and enjoy the cafe culture.

I was most certainly rejuvenated after my endurance ride to Austria

The guys at Horizons Unlimited are the real deal. They are just regular people who share their knowledge and expertise with other motorcycle travelers. I will be attending the lumb farm meet organised by HU in June this year and I also had the pleasure of staying with the head of HU Belgium this year.

The YouTube trailer below is for a HU DVD you can buy on how to do such a trip. Especially inspiring was Donna Rae Polk who at 62 and with Parkinsons set off on a round the world trip.

I’m a regular contributor to ukgser.com and no subject is sacred on the forum. Death, politics, bikes, divorce, adventure it’s all there.

Of course being a topical site swine flu raised it’s head above the trough (sorry) and I have to say I have never laughed so hard at some of the responses to the following question…

Do you have swine flu?

read the responses in the forum link below and brighten your day

http://www.ukgser.com/forums/showthread.php?t=185220

The next morning I heard aggressive dog barking… every few moments… “woof,woof,woof”. These were nasty dogs, real nasty. I acknowledged the dogs and swiftly returned to my slumber. I should explain that the barking dogs belonged to my phone. It was my morning alarm and I figured I would respond to a rabid barking dog rather than something going bleep bleep. I didn’t. I turned over and continued sleeping.

The next thing I hear was ‘bang, bang, bang’ on the door accompanied by French voices. I was confused I thought I was in Austria? I really was on another planet. It was dark. I thought who on earth is banging on my door at this hour. I then looked at the window. The blind was down. I pulled it up…. bam! Intense sunshine, high in the sky. My first thought was… uh oh! What time is it? It was 11am. I should have been out of the room an hour ago. I hastily informed room service I would be out in 10 minutes. No shower, no shave, Nada. I didn’t like this state of affairs having done a 1000km ride the day before but I was out of time. I didn’t even have time for breakfast but managed to sustain myself with a cereal bar. Looking disheveled I swiftly made my way past the crisp suited individuals standing in reception.

My big yellow bag was still on the bike and I only had to attach the tank bag and sat nav. I had 45 minutes to make my way back to Boulogne and check in. I should add that while it was sunny there was a gale force wind of 60mph + and blustery showers. I had great difficulty keeping the bike in a straight line. Unlike the Devon trip I didn’t have the benefit of an extra passenger for stability.

I made it to Boulogne and for some reason headed for the original Etap hotel thinking that was where the port was located. It wasn’t. I lost another 15 minutes. Eventually I found the port and found myself amongst other BMW GS riders. The guy in front of me was from Lincoln and had ridden from the Alps the previous night like I. His battery failed and he had a morning of sorting out a replacement at BMW in Boulogne.

Another couple on a 1200GS were not particularly friendly or chatty. They had been in the south of France and Paris and looked well rested, fed and clean. They had a northampton plate and London accents and I made a few assumptions and toddled off towards a BMW X-challenge rider. He was from Brighton and was an interesting chap. His wife was driving their support van and they used this to sleep in and store the bike when necessary. He had downscaled from the huge hulking 1200 GS and now preferred the lighter bikes. Our bikes were similar in many ways.

I managed to grab a baguette and a hot chocolate. We got ready to board and were being heckled by some chav’s speaking estuary English in a car beside our lane. I wasn’t paying much attention but when we fired up the engines I did get a small glow of satisfaction that we had drowned out their verbal diarrhoea.

We approached the ship and it was bobbing up and down quite dramatically. The metal deck was soaking wet and the bike heavy. I have short legs and this was going to be a challenge. Up to know I’ve dropped the bike when going slowly and performing tight manoeuvres. This was to be one of those occasions. Dropping the bike now would hold up the loading process and could cause me an injury. I gingerly rode onto the ship and then turned 180 degrees to face towards the back of the ship. The bigger bikes went first and then it was my turn to ride onto the brace that would hold my bike. I managed it without incident and sat on the bike while they clamped it in place. I thought It was falling but it was just the way it had been locked in place. I dismounted and headed up to the main lounge.

I sat with the chap who owned the X-challenge and his wife. We had a long chat about travel and bikes and the state of the sea conditions. The ferry staff were still vacumning up the vomit from the previous run. It looked rough in the harbour and as the Catamaran got under way It became evident that this was going to be a fun ride.

It was rough. People were crying, getting sick, shouting out but amid all of this my stomach was fine. I decided to tuck into my baguette and carried on talking to my new buddies. Just over an hour later we arrived and I made my way down to the car deck. The bikes were still standing which was good but the real challenge was ahead. The ship was pitching up and down. The steel ramp was also moving and was soaking wet. The car deck staff unstrapped the bikes and one guy manhandled the bike off the clamp with me on the bike. That was impressive considering the bike was fully fuelled and loaded. A big burly bloke in blue overalls told me to watch the cross wind as I left the ship. He wasn’t wrong. A classic 1970′s VW campervan drove off and instantaneously it’s sun roof flipped up and tore off. Next to go was a 1200GS and then me. The 1200 with a passenger on board nearly toppled. I focused on the tarmac beyond the ram and went for it.

The wind was very powerful. Reminscent of the day I crossed the Severn bridge in a gale.

I rode out of Dover and took the westerly road up and out of the town towards the M20. The wind was crazy. more than once it blew me off course and I would have stopped if there had been anywhere safe and protected to stop but unlike the rest of the continent there were no rest stops until the Maidstone area.

As I approached the M25 the wind calmed down somewhat and I spent the rest of the journey dodging showers. I saw the ill fated VW camper van again in Warwick services on the M40. Rope and Gaffa tape had saved the day for them.

Despite having 100 miles more to ride the journey felt as if it was over. I did have one more deadline and that was to meet ‘M’ at the airport that evening. I was concerned that the time was getting tight when I realised I hadn’t changed the time on my watch and the bike to UK time. I found I had an extra hour to play with and thus relaxed into a cruise.

I came off the motorway and did the last leg on the back country roads of Cheshire.
I dropped in on my parents around 8pm and it was nice to be back safe and well even if I still hankered after more time on the open road.

Days before my departure I knew I was behind schedule. With work and all the things I knew I had to do prior to my departure I knew I would be late.

I was set to depart in the evening after work and spend my first night with a friend in Birmingham. In reality, packing issues, sat nav map problems and other minor niggles conspired against me and so I decided to spend the night at home. I consoled myself with the fact I could watch a movie, eat well and relax before my departure.

The next morning arrived and I knew it was late. It was 10am… the first words out of my mouth were… “shit!” I was just so tired from the previous week that I did my usual trick of not waking up. I am just not a morning person.

I managed to set off from home at 11am and say my goodbyes to my parents at 12pm. I knew at this point that I had missed the ferry. I was resigned to that and in a way I was relaxed about it. I dropped in on my friend who lives in Solihull and we had brunch and chatted about Apple Macs, software and his imminent move to Germany.

I departed around 2pm and made my way to the channel tunnel. I encountered a crash near Heathrow and also discovered the wonders of being on a motorbike. Slowly but surely I filtered past the rows of cars.

By the time I reached the tunnel I had collected enough flies and bugs on the bike and the hair was suitably ruffled enough for me to qualify as the continental adventurer. Maybe that’s a little egocentric and romanticised but I felt good about it.

Within 30 minutes I was in France. It was so quick I barely had time to change my visor, change the headlight angle and have a snack.

I had a huge grin on my face as I rode up the ramp from the train. From that point the plan was back on and I had managed to catch up to a point that made the first stop in Brugge now achievable.

I arrived in Brugge at 10pm. The Sat Nav guided me down this dark lane in a suburb of Brugge and for a moment I began to question if it was correct. Out of the darkness emerged a sign… “Camping Memling”. I made it! With a sigh of relief I walked into the camping office. The greeting was friendly and a place had been reserved with my name on it. I wheeled the bike to my spot and as I wound down, my concentration lapsed for a moment. The bike slipped away from me and fully loaded crashed down onto the grass, narrowly missing another tent and camp table.

There was no damage, just mud. It actually made the bike look cool. I asked two French guys in French if they could help me lift it and they willingly obliged! I was very grateful for their assistance.

Within 30 minutes camp was setup and I was looking at the star filled sky whilst sipping a coffee and reading Jupiter’s Travels. The Journey had begun and tomorrow was a new day

I’m riding home yesterday and I spy a retired couple with their placid black labrador dog walking along the pavement. Picture the soft features of a guide dog. friendly, attentive, intelligent, ready to serve.

I approach and the dog catches sight of me atop my Honda Varadero.

The damn hound goes fucking ballistic. It was if the gates of hell had opened and Lucifer had set forth his rabid, gnawing, snarling, canine beasts.

The owner and his wife had to virtually wrestle their pooch to the ground in order to stop it making a go for me.

This time last year we were at the beginning of one of the wettest summers on record here in the UK. At the time I didn’t know what was coming. I’d been bowled over by the amazing April sunshine and thus projected it forward and applied it to the entire summer. Being Britain I should have known that was folly. That said with a climate like that of the UK you have to be an optimist.

Around this time I’d rented a place in the country. It was a long drive to work but enjoyable. With fuel prices rising I started thinking about alternative methods of transport. At first my interest was in a maxi scooter. I saw one pass the house everyday. After some investigation I saw the Piaggio MP3 and quite liked it. ( I would see sense eventually).

I had a holiday in France and on the way home passed the MotoGP. There were literally thousands of bikes. Something at this point clicked in me. As I drove north in my air conditioned car I started thinking back to my time on a bike when I was in Greece in my early twenties. This was to be a turning point.

A month later I was in Italy and this time I was reacquainted with scooters. Once again I looked at the 3 wheel concept. The Gilera Fuoco was a meaner version of the Piaggio MP3. Trouble was I needed a full license to ride it. With this in mind I set about looking into getting the necessary credentials that would set me on the path of two wheel freedom. In November 2007 I bought a helmet and in December I booked my CBT training for January. Countless times I would put the helmet on and ‘try it out’. That was all the gear I had at that time but it was enough to keep me fired up.

Around this time someone mentioned a documentary called “Long Way Round”. I had a vague recollection of a footnote in the news back in 2005 about Ewen McGreggor and his pal going round the world on their bikes and then never gave it a second thought. At the time I was in a long term relationship, destined to be shackled to a life of mortgages, marriage and domestic oblivion.

To cut a long story short I watched Long Way Round and was instantly hooked. This show combined my love of travel, with geography, meeting new people, photography and my old desire of getting about on two wheels. My thoughts of scooters vaporised as I realised I wanted an ‘adventure bike’. My focus shifted seismically from scooters to Yamaha Tenere’s, Triumph Tigers, KTM’s, Honda’s and BMW’s.

First things first though. I didn’t even have a license. A few days into the new year I took a visit to Honda just to be around some bikes and get a feel for what I might like. 20 minutes later I had bought a Honda 125. A Varadero. The excitement was at fever pitch now. I had my own bike and in a few days I’d be on the road. On the day of the test the other students had Honda CG125′s and they looked at me quizzically and said wheres your bike? Almost on cue the Honda van turned up. Minutes later my blue and grey Honda Varadero was being rolled out of the van and boy was it big compared to the other bikes.

It didn’t phase me at all as I had a clear plan of what I wanted to learn and where I wanted to be in a few months time. In terms of size the Varadero is as tall as a bike with lets say a 600cc engine. It really looks the part and has good switchgear to finish things off.

By the end of the day I had passed the CBT and was able to ride home. It was a fantastic feeling but only step one on the ladder to a full bike license.