Perhaps it was because I’d had such a hellish journey to get there, that I found Indonesia such a delight. I had planned to relax and enjoy the beautiful islands as I sailed past on my way from Malaysia to Australia. The 500cc Enfield Bullet, which I’d bought three years previously in India and now could not bear to ditch, would be safely tucked into the transom of the 23’ aluminium catamaran as I sipped tropical fruit juice and lazily adjusted a sail or something. As usual, led by heart and not head, I’d jumped at the offer to crew with the skipper on a small yacht bound for Australia. I would pay half the expenses and do half the work, but as the weeks of preparation went by I had serious reservations about his temper and competence.

…Heading south-west because I liked the sound of the names of the places such as Chickalong and Chillinx, it was just me and my bike and I was ecstatically happy to be back on two wheels. Riding until unable to see where I was going in the dark, I plunged into a deep pothole and fell off. I was given overnight accommodation sleeping on a desk in a country police station and next morning was given breakfast by the officers.

I liked Java already.

From Tierra del Fuego I ride, cold and with wet feet, wrestling with the strong wind, towards Punta Arenas in Chile, which is a little further away from the South Pole. I’ve been on the road for exactly two years and I’m sitting in a backpacker warming up by the stove, when the alarm goes off on my bike.

Ecuador the Plan: Maggie and I would ride our F650GSs into our last country in South America, head through the mountains to Quito and sort flights to Panama, next stop on the road to Alaska. And maybe, if the budget would stretch, look into a trip to the Galapagos Islands?

Ecuador the Reality: República del Ecuador, the Republic of the Equator to give this verdant and luscious land it’s full title, has been something of a surprise. Obviously the country takes its name from its geographical location and we assumed this would mean a sweltering hot-land scorched by sun the year round. Yet the mostly mountainous elevation makes it an absolute delight to travel through.

…The iPod was fantastic on the long trek across Europe but is now packed away. My first full day in Maroc clearly illustrates that they don’t do enough gigabytes to load all the entertainment of a day on the road in Morocco. It started well – sunny with some nice twisty roads before lunch, where I sat with feline friends and savoured my lamb kebabs with cumin. I had all afternoon to do 200 miles, with a full belly and the sun still shining. At the main Fes-Marrakech road it’s all looking very black ahead and chucks it down so I pull-in for a café au lait waiting for it to ease off.

First published in 1949 and having been through several editions in the original German, Alison Falls’ first English translation is published in the UK by Panther Publishing – specialists in “interestingly different books on classic and vintage motorcycles”.

The tale told is rich in texture and detail, the voice and phrasing translated in a way that is convincing despite the passage of decades. Not unusually for a story of this vintage, there is more talk of consular receptions and letters of introduction, fine dining and hospitality than today’s overlander might find familiar. It was an era when ‘expedition’ meant more than a trip to the outdoors hyper-market, before notions of personal mobility and deferred gap-years – you needed serious backing and preparation.

Reisch wasn’t in a position to browse Google Earth and Horizons Unlimited, so spent about a tenth of the total budget on a trip to London so he could consult the Royal Geographical Society and Automobile Association.

Reisch had already ridden through North Africa and was simply following in his father’s overlanding tyre-tracks: in 1905 Reisch senior rode a 0.5bhp Puch on a then-epic 2,000 kilometre journey through Italy (claimed to be the oldest preserved overland bike, this and Max’s later ‘India Puch’ are both preserved in the family museum at Bozen/Bolzano in the South Tyrol).

Guided by railways, telegraph-lines and dead-reckoning rather than GPS, this may have been Max and Herbert’s big adventure, but their Puch 250cc two-stroke split-single is just as much a hero of the piece. Though barely powerful enough to move the combined weight of itself, rider, passenger and their contemporary high-tech equipment (including several cameras, a portable type-writer and camping gear such as airbeds and a 2kg tent) it carried them all across deserts and mountain ranges.

‘India The Shimmering Dream’ is presented in 6×9 inch soft-back format, the type is easy to read over 216 pages interspersed with fascinating highlights; maps describing both an overview and detail of the route, facsimiles of unique items such as the motorcycle riders licence Reisch claims to be the first issued in Persia, an itemised budget (total £80,000 at current prices), lists and illustrations of how Reisch had the bike modified to stowed their equipment.

Around ninety black and white photos add another set of perspectives to the story. Modern notions of ‘rural’ and ‘urban’ seem alien when viewing the world Reisch and Tichy captured on film. Among the posed portraits and action-scenes, faded architectural and social photo-studies, it is possible to feel a vivid sense of the sights and encounters that lay along the dirt roads and no roads, a mere seventy years ago.

If you’ve enjoyed other historic motorcycle travel tales, such as ‘The Rugged Road’ (also published by Panther) or Robert Fulton’s ‘One Man Caravan’ then you won’t be disappointed. If this is your first foray into vintage-era travelogue you’re in for a treat.

ISBN 978-0-9556595-9-1 Panther Publishing

This 142pp ‘landscape’ book is beautifully produced and the writing is engaging from the off. It’s the tale of his Americas end-to-end double record, which came on the immediate back of a single Ushuaia to Prudhoe Bay journey, a total of 51,000 miles in under four months.

The complimentary DVD is entertaining but the text reveals so much more about the physical hardship endured, the incredible abuse the Yamaha Super Ténéré is given and still the human interaction experienced. From breaking an ankle in the snow of the south to the frustration of discovering a 90-day rule in Central America that won’t permit him to re-enter some of the countries within 3 months, the book epitomises the page turner.

It’s all-exciting for the reader, no matter the country he’s crossing. Nick has never struck me as someone prepared to goad US rednecks in a bar, but perhaps he is human after all and exhaustion can lower even his tolerance of stupidity.

Littered with colour imagery, you may not be interested in covering a thousand miles a day, but this book will inspire a journey of some kind and if by some miracle it doesn’t, you will at least view this intrepid traveller in a wholly deserving light.

‘These Are the Days…’ is more than one journey. The 375pp volume begins with early writings when an XT660 takes him through Africa and his remarkable fusion of compulsive cynical innocence demands involvement with every social order, but clearly thrives nearest the gutter.

But the bulk of the book experiences the Americas on a BMW, promulgated like you’ve never known. The linguistic onslaught is unrelenting; forcing you to come inside Dan’s world, enter rooms in the darker corners of his mind with the same addiction as his personality.

The social and political observation, wit, wisdom and jaundiced bitterness, delivered through an alcoholic haze, is bizarrely informative and refreshing. Cavalier romance or brutal reality? To Dan, a bike “is a Beretta, half a mill in cash and a forged passport hidden under the floorboards. It’s an escape route.” But from what?

Does the love, violence, accidents, sex, brutal abuse of body organs, the waking up to attempt emotional rebirth in Argentina and the reducing of a bike he didn’t own to worthless scrap, mean his trip went wrong? I don’t think so, but just like marmite you really need to taste it for yourself at least once.

ISBN:978-1-846-05310-8 (HB) Published in 2008 by ‘Century’ £18.99
375pp 32pp colour plates

Tapachula is the closest town to the border. It is more sedate than most border towns. I sit on the central plaza at a sidewalk café next to a pair of elderly chess players. A gentleman watching the chess players passes me a newspaper. We are joined by a dark-complexioned man who speaks passionately, no matter the subject. He is the leader of Oaxaca’s Association of small coffee producers and rails at those who make fortunes from coffee, instancing Nescafe and Starbucks. He is keen for members of his association to supplement their income with artisaneria made from coffee prunings.

“Beautiful,” I encourage and hide my scepticism behind one more cold Corona…

With so many travellers taking to the road by bike, Rene’s story of redundancy leading to a four-year trip around the world may not sound like it’s anything out of the ordinary, but that’s the thing about independent travel – no matter what the circumstances that lead to you starting a big trip, that trip is bound to be unique. Rene does a good job of bringing to life the sights and experiences that comprised the syllabus of his University of Gravel Roads education.

‘The University of Gravel Roads’ stands out from the rest, being a full-colour, substantial soft-cover glossy in larger than A4-sized landscape format. Rene’s writing-style is better than many and whether you’re an avid devourer of anything about being on the road or if you are looking for a stand-out present for someone who enjoys travellers tales, then the University of Gravel Roads might be just the thing.

There’s plenty of social and geographic context, his personal insight and descriptive writing helps bring life to the relationships he forms with people along the way, some become travelling companions, all are essential to the unfolding events. Rene’s route is illustrated throughout with relief maps and the choice of photographs, whilst variable, is often excellent.

You can get a good feel for the story and photos in The University of Gravel Roads from Rene’s website has information about the book and samples of the content. Have a look at www.renedian.com for details of Rene’s speaking engagements and guided group tours of Southern Africa.

At around £25 it might seem that the price tag is the thing that stands out most, but this book comes highly recommended, having two notable awards – the 2010 Independent Publisher Bronze Medal for Travel Essay and 2011 DaVinci Eye Award. Overland Magazine likes it too, so there’s an endorsement for you…

Published by Renedian Adventures Ltd, 2010
ISBN 978-0-9813371-1-1
USD$35 available by mail order from www.universityofgravelroads.com

With a bit of imagination, it feels like my old Givi hard cases sigh with pleasure at finally being back on their rack and on my faithful Suzuki DL1000. Clac, the top-case, a great investment, does the same; this one I have had since my very first bike. Now I only have to clip on the tank bag, zip the leather jacket and climb on the saddle, where my usual and very dear pillion rider joins me: my mother, Liliane.

From Tangiers, where the ferry from Spain docks, we move east to Tetouan. It’s already a whole new world, of white houses, maze-like markets, beautiful mosques, traditionally-clothed men and women, heavily-loaded donkeys. Most people speak French, plus the mandatory few words in a dozen or so western languages that any shop-keeper needs to entice every tourist to “just have a look”.

Following the coast towards Oued-Laou, the fairly easy riding we had so far starts to change: the road is still being built, like it has been for the past few years, meaning it’s a river of pebble-sized gravel, from the wall of rock on one side to the deep jump into the sea on the other.