Raid 2008

SufiKar argues animatedly with his staff: everything becomes bargaining in a classical oriental style.

At least we leave behind the Customs after two days of bureaucratic routines and strange requests as the 500 euro for a photo with a police intervention threat.

Lahore is in the chaos in the early morning. We take the highway to Islamabad ; at the toll-gate the policewoman has no doubt: the motorbike have no access so we can only take the normal road.

Sautordin awaits us at Zero Point, a sort of confluence of roads in the Capital. It is very hot. It is 8.00 p.m. when we have a dinner in the open air in an Afghan restaurant.

It is the opportunity to understand what to do on the Karakorum highway that leads to China , a kaleidoscope of ethnic groups; five language are spoken and many ethnic groups are present.

At the next day we take the KKH. When we arrive to Besham, everything seems chaotic, there is not electric energy, there is a lot of confusion on the road and we are examined everywhere. Everyone seems to me a Taliban with the same beards and way of dressing. Surely, it is a distorted idea that I have.

After Besham, the KKH goes up; fresh air is healthy. We travel along the Indo, one of the oldest historic river, a force of nature. The places where it has born are known for the highest mountains in the world.

Each stop becomes an opportunity for exchanging some ideas. The cordiality and the hospitality are rooted habits. We are charmed by the lorries, an icon of KKH, painted with daily life figures and precious ornaments.

Gilgit welcomes us with a summer thunderstorm. Continental hotel will be our point of reference for two days, with a keeper who regularly polishes our motorbikes.

In the morning it is essential to understand what Chinese agency has written. The news are not the best ones. The authorities have blocked the authorization at the passage of the Olympic torch, by pure chance on the same road that we have to cover. We go on only for our stubbornness ; that's the journey!

We come back to the hotel and we follow the parallel of KKH towards the valley of Naltar Valley.

The road climbs up between the narrow gorges of the river Gilgit. We are off-road and above us the majestic glaciers stand out.

After the country and the military control, the route is more demanding. We cross a ford: the water reaches the engine then the road becomes an heap of stones. Finally we reach the lake with its turquoise waters and snow-capped peaks in the background. It seems an alpine landscape but we are in Pakistan .

It is evening when we return to Gilgit. I finally checked the off-road skills of the 690, a mountain-bike with an overpowering engine with a scarce petrol consumption. I have covered 25 Km with a litre on the KKH.

We leave Gilgit towards Karimabad. Now the KKH is more interesting: spectacular passages, the mountains with their eternal glaciers overlook in the background and Indo is omnipresent.

Karibab was the kingdom Huinza during the centuries. Today the castle which overlooks the town is what remains of a glorious past. The guide would like to specify that it is a pure Tibetan style taking cue from the Potala of Lasha.

Unfortunately, the news of the Chinese Agency are not the best. Every day there is something new but there is no certainty. However we decide to leave Pakistan and overcome the Kunjurab Pass and the frontier. We will find a solution in a second time. We cannot go beyond because our visas have a deadline.

By early morning we leave Karimabad. After five hours we reach the Khunjerab 4730 Mt, the 'top of the world'. It snows and the Chinese border is two km over. But it is another story.

From Kasghar. See you soon. Giampiero and Andrea

REPORTAGE 2

We were in Kasghar last time but I had not told what had happened at the Customs. From the border up to Tashgorgan with a jeep with Chinese tourists and a soldier to escort us.

At the Customs we find our guide and we unload everything because the Customs Officers want to control us. They take us even the body temperature and, that's incredible, our guide has hired a small truck because we have to load the motorbikes for leaving the Customs.

We leave the Customs and after two km, at the first petro pump, we unload the motorbikes on the ground and, for our happiness, we go towards Kasghar.

A day in Kasghar for the market and the day after we direct towards the border with our guide.

At Irkestan the Customs Officer who controls passports remembers about me because I passed along this street two years ago. Andrea is witness: of course a Kappa does not pass unnoticed.

Then the Kyrgyz Frontier: nothing has changed; it is always dilapidated and the Custom Officers write on a notebook.

We greet and go towards Sary Tash. Let's have fun!

We are in off-road; sometimes we leave the main runway to avoid nodule. We see the snowy peaks of Koh-I-Garmo and Kon-I-Samani, once Comunist and Lenin Peak .

Also the mountains haven't been left out of the Communism. We can see vast expanses that are lost on the horizon. Andrea is euphoric. We cannot accept the proposal because it is practically a four square metres of land with garbage everywhere.

But we have a name: Endeshe Ashyrov. Here we find decent rooms and a hot meal but Ashyrov has a problem: the engine of his jeep does not want to start. Everyone tries the engine and his daughter who speaks English asks if we can do something. It's a spontaneous request seeing our two wheels technology. I have my moment of glory; I find a detached wire in the button starter: the engine starts and everyone slaps me on the shoulders.

In the morning, we go towards Tajikistan , towards the M41, the Pamir motorway that is the second highest road in the world after the Karakorum motorway. The term motorway is not precise but the Russians, at the time of the great Soviet Union , praised its grandiosity.

We were charmed by Karakorum but the Pamir makes you feel really on the roof of the world.
The landscapes are natural postcards. After passing the Kirghiza Border, we climb towards the Kyzyl-Art Pass -4282 mt- where we find a drawing of Tajikistan and the Marco Polo sheep, so called for the characteristic of horns.

We are in the corridor of Wakaham; also the Venetian was charmed by natural beauty of the place. Following the Tagika Border a soldier asks for some medicines for cough and we readily grant his request.
We have been travelling for two hours and we have not met anybody. We get Murghab in the evening and we met only three means.

When in Rome , do as the Romans do. People here are not Tagike but Chinese, because the border between this states is many km long and the Chinese have planted many poles and barbed wire.
There are poles and barbed wire throughout the Border line. We ask ourselves where they have found so much wood because we have not seen any trees all along the way.

We can see a turquoise stain where snowy mountains are reflected: it's Kara Koul Lake . The name is the same but it is bigger than the Chinese one. The lake has formed after the fall of a meteorite more than 10000 years ago. It is mostly salt and it is the highest lake in Asia with its 3970 metres .
After having passed Ak-Baintal Pass (white horse) 4655 metres , we arrive to Murgab , the first agglomerate of Pamir Road ; we meet Jens and Paul that are travelling by motorbike too. We have a chat and we discover that we haven't an authorization issued by the Tajik KGB. It's seems a fairy tale but when we ask for information to the Inquiry Office they said us that without it, we can go anywhere. For the next day everything must be ok. Let's wait and see what happens.

We don't receive the authorization. We wait a day then we decide to leave the day after, early in the morning. We leave the Murghab behind us . The landscape is similar to that one we saw before. It's cold and there weren't many people. We think how it is possible to live without comfort. There is no electric energy and the water is the one that flows from the mountains. It is a different world. If you were to give an interpretation of the collapse of the former Soviet Union , Tajikistan is the litmus-paper. The roads and the remote places of Pamir Road are disastrous. The petrol stations from here to Dushanbè, the Capital, are old prehistoric pumps where gasoline is sold in bottles or buckets, only 80 octanes. The KTM recommends no more than a full with this petrol; I have made more than ten.

It is a buffer State which defends China and Afghanistan with its 300 Km that skirt the Border as far as Korogh. Only the river separates us; some notices announce about the presence of mined areas but people is kind, never hostile. This is one more reason to say that the Soviets have made mistakes that can be resolved with the passing of the time.

It is evening when we arrive in Kailychum, in a hotel of Aga Khan Foundation. We have a dilemma: Afghanistan. We have the visa but we have no more time because of our delay and short-dated visas for the other Countries.

In Dushanbè we take everything into account. Andrea works at Kabul and has a debt with itself: he must arrive to Kabul because his friends have been waiting for him at the Border since the morning. He will return after two days but I know that it is necessary to have an authorization to enter there by motorbike.

This is not a retreat but I don't like to go to Kabul only for sleeping and coming back soon. It is an unnecessary risk. He goes, I remain and I will continue my initial itinerary the day after.

In the evening I receive a message: “I am blocked at the Afghan Border. I should have the authorization for the motorbike tomorrow ”.

I cross my fingers. His courage must be rewarded.

From Dushanbe, the Capital of Tajikistan, that's all.

Bye. Giampiero

REPORTAGE 3

Hello from Theran. It is a hot day as the last week. From Dunshanbe' Tajikistan I wrote the last reportage while Andrea was directed towards Kabul and I was continuing the original itinerary.
I spend the afternoon by myself doing the upkeep of the motorbike. The guardian of the hotel is my accomplice and I give 5 U.S. dollars to him. He prepares everything including the bucket to put the engine oil.
When the air is cooler I go for a short walk. I eat a Big Mac into a sort of Mc Donald Tajik then I go to bed. I am in a five-stars hotel with air-conditioning at a price of 25 dollars.
The day after I will leave the capital towards Samarkand Uzbekistan; I go through the wide avenues stronghold everywhere by police. They noticed and stopped me many times just for the curiosity to see the motorbike. When I say that I am Italian, they remind me of the bad figure at the European Championship.

The first 45 km seem a billiard-table then the road becomes the same of the past: it is a sort of a building site managed by Chinese companies. Perhaps it is not true, but in Africa they told me that the majority of Chinese workers are prisoners and they work free for a number of years in exchange for freedom. What a social reintegration! The five-stars Italian prisons are so different!

The road goes up, it is very dusty, the temperature is slightly cooler but we are at about 4000 meters and this is one of the seven steps that exceeds 4000 meters that I covered in a week. The old road was dismantled, now there is a tunnel. I follow the vehicles that precede me.

There is a river and when I realize that the wheels of jeep completely disappeared under the water, I wonder if it is necessary the diving-mask. Fortunately, I do not need it but the water reaches my knees. The small motorbike does not surrender. When I exit from the tunnel, after 5 km , I realize that the motorbike was half under the water.
Fifty km before the border I am still on the asphalt; I meet two Spanish boys who go by bicycle. Good luck and all the best!
I arrive at the border and I think that something is wrong. The customs officer -I want to be despicable- says: "Big problem". According to him I do not have a sheet for the import of motorbike, but on the border entry, no man's land, they gave me nothing. I understand he wants some $ saying "big problem" but after many attempts I insult him raising my voice. He shows me a leaflet written in Russian: I understand that I must pay $ 12. I pay and he let me go.
After having passed the Uzbek border, with the help of an English translator (the sheets I have to fill are written in Russian) I go towards Samarkand. The sun is going down when I go towards Ragistan. A newly married couple want to do a picture with my motorbike; no problem, then I go to the B&B Bahodir. The manager immediately recognizes me;in seven years it is the third time that I sleep here. The B&B is a meeting place for free spirit travellers: someone is walking or cycling, someone else has a motorbike like me, but I am the only one for the moment. In the evening I receive a message from Andrea who arrived in Kabul. I go to sleep and tomorrow I will go away again. I will see him in two days.
The following day I will be a tourist, because the week was very hard and I need a little relax.
The transfer towards Bukara is monotonous; so I will stop to drink; it is hot. The 690 always surprises me: I do not go below 24 km with a litre traveling over 100 km/ h.
Bukara is a concentration of monuments, I haven't got the guide with me because I left it to Andrea, but my memory does not deceive me. My arrival is at The Kalan Minaret, very near to the hotel.
The Grand Nodirbek is centrally located. I recognise the boy and I take the crash-helmet off; he is perplexed. Do you recognize me? Yes,I do. You changed the oil in the motorbike here, two years ago. It was a source of joy.
In the evening Andrea arrives; he passed five hours at the border. The Afghans have not stamped his passport in exit. He was tired. He tells me that he found a bad situation outside Kabul where he works: it is a serious deterioration; he could not go out by motorbike to make a photo.
We spend a day like two tourists wandering through the streets of the town: at the market two women are quarrelling for the purchase of jewels; it is almost a brawl. We return to the hotel, the air is sultry: about 45 degrees.
Later we know Mike, a Canadian, and Dan, an Englishman. They are in our hotel too and they are doing a tour of the northern part of the world by motorbike. They are travelling by BMW. We joke and it is very funny to have a dinner with Kostas Mitisakis and his friends. He is a Greek journalist travelling by Greek KTM 990 with some friends by jeep. Their destination is Beijing for the Olympic Games; he has a Pass of a Greek company that is sponsoring the games. He said that the arrival in the Chinese capital is a big success, so I take out a business card with the photo of the Prohibited City behind me. Everyone remains silent: I was the first to go there two years ago. It is a beautiful evening and it is not so easy to put five motorcyclists from different countries together. Greetings and Good Luck.
One hundred km separate us from the Turkmen Border. Nadir, our guide, awaits us for visa. Nothing has changed since eight years ago, it is disorganized; some soldiers and the people look for shelter against the sun; over 45 degrees. They are more permissive with us because, personally, I do not allow myself to be intimidated.

We stay there for five long hours then we can go. Nadir is very angry, because he hates this bureaucracy, many filled sheets passing from one office to another. It is strange to think that President Niazov became elated when, 10 years ago, he said that Turkmenistan would become like Kuwait in a decade. It was only propaganda, of course, but the characteristics common to both countries are only the torrid heat and the desert that are those we will tackle the next day to reach Mary.
One of the oldest residential complex in the world is in the neighbourhood: the ancient Merv. It is a cosmopolitan city since the days of Alexander the Great. It was an intersection of religions in perennial symbiosis, until a son of Genghis Khan, Tolui, destroyed it. One million persons died in order to avenge the death of emissaries who wanted the surrender of the city and the delivery of the best women. Crazy persons always exist.
We overcome the border, we arrive to Mashad in the early afternoon, just in time to visit the Iman Razavi complex, one of the most important places that Scythians venerate. The complex is dispersive because there are many buildings. There are inside many rooms decorated with mirrors and some huge crystal chandeliers.

The architecture is remiscent of Central Asia mosaics in pastel colors.
940 km separate us from Therann. The road runs under our wheels; the small motorcycle is travelling like the 990. There is no comparison with the elder “sister”, but the engine does 5000/6000 revolutions at a speed of 130. I engage long gears and the consumption is staggering: less than 24 per liter.

Andrea parks, he is desolate and tells me that the motorbike stalled. I check it: the fuse of the injection pump is broken: it is a bad sign. I strip down the right tank, I have my tester. The starter motor has no interruptions. I have a sigh of relief. I try again but the gasoline does not go out. Obviously it has jammed. The book of 690 is clear: no more than one full with the low-octanes gasoline, the pump has no lubrication, and we have done about 30 full of bad quality petrol.
A police patrol stops and asks if we need help. It is necessary a small truck to transport the motorbike to Theran. So they stop two guys that seem Stanlio and Oil. 100-90 -80 $. Ok, $ 100. No sooner said than done. 990.It's one o'clock a.m. when we arrive at the hotel, we have a shower and then we go to bed.
The day after we contact the importer of KTM for Iran, 200 km from the capital. Mr. Nemati is active and 30 minutes after, two mechanics arrive at the Hotel with the date sheet of the pump. What organization! The pump is unavailable. We need to know how many days are necessary for receiving it from Europe.
Andrea takes care of this problem while one of the guys tells me that a BMW had the same problem two years ago; the petrol of the Asian countries are inferior quality. I speak with KTM for Italy and they confirm me the same theory: inferior quality gasoline. I think that if you break a spoke of a KTM, the Pope speak about it on Sunday Angelus. On the contrary, if it occurs outside the village, we do not know anything.
I am not resigned, I am stubborn and loyalty to Gianni's motto, a dear friend: "Don't let go of it!" I strip down again the pump; some children observe me. I take the motor-pump and grease the chain. I connect it to the battery then I change polarity many times. At some point the pump turns like a blender, a black liquid goes out. I assemble the pump. Khein is a jewel. The Japanese build excellent components. However many motoring organization use this component. I assemble everything turning the key and… UUHHAA, the engine starts up . One of the guys tells me "great mechanic". When I will come back to Italy I will complete a “wizard” course. We run through the streets of Theran for ten Km. The motorbike works. It is necessary to wait 3 days for receiving the pump and three times to clear through the customs. Our visas cannot wait.
We replace the engine oil, the air and oil filters. Perhaps the 990 does not feel important: it is a stupid reflection but I need to relax.
In the evening we are guests of two boys, they tell about their shop and their motorbikes. Aren't they joking? No, they aren't. Then the truth: they import tyres for Iran, one of them is a trial instructor and he has got seven motorbikes like Gas Gas, Sherco and Montesa and one KTM 85 SX-2007.
Tomorrow we will go towards Qazvin. KTM importer awaits us.

From Theran. Giampiero and Andrea

REPORTAGE 4-

Hello to everyone from Parga Greece.

After having solved the problems, we went from Theran to greet Saeed and Haid early in the morning. They do not want money for a full of good petrol and in memory of our meeting they give us two T-shirts. We are guests in their shop, they organized a surprise and exhibit a banner of KTM. Saeed gives me a nickname: Marco Polo by motorbike. We then we go towards Qazvin. We have an appointment with Mr.Nemati that frees us from a curious crowd.

We enter the shop and we are surprised: KTM versions cross, the last word in fashion, the best clothing brands, including Acerbis, everything is in Orange. He shows us the 450 SX with which he goes fast.
We make an appointment for dinner; I eat a fantastic Iranian pizza. Mr. Nemati is with Ken, which acts as interpreter. He explains that Nemati is worried about the problem of 990. In the afternoon he contacts DHL which assures that the spare part will arrive in three days. I reassure him by saying that we go forward. I am confident. Then he asks with discretion and courtesy, if he can fix a meeting for the following morning with Mr. Mahmoud Dadashi, the representative of the Fire Brigade of Theran. He is about to buy a stock motorbikes and he has not a 690 so I am like the icing on the cake. It is to thank him for his availability.
Our appointment is at 8.30a.m. We are punctual. The representative of the Fire-Brigade, Mr. Dadashi, photographs the motorbike and he films and asks me many questions. I say to him to try the bike. It would be prohibited. Iranian law is strict but he cannot say no.
He does more than a lap and even a little off road. He is enthusiastic. I understand that he has already tried other brands but he says that Kappa has guts . I hope for success.
Mr. Nemati is not tranquil. He advised some friends along the way, in case of necessity. I am sure of myself, the problem is solved.
We arrive at Munu, 22 km from the border, I am monotonous: when the employee types my name on the PC for the registration and shows some copies of 5 years ago receipts, he appreciates my devotion and applies a discount. We remain speechless. I am sorry to hear the political leadership of this country when he argues in the international framework in a warlike manner. This does not represent the majority of the population that is peaceful and has no similarities with the Arab neighbors, even the language. FARSI is the official language.

At the two borders there is a lot of chaos, there are those who enters and who leaves, but we do not waste our time. I have a motorbike has an Austria number-plate which does not include the green card. Turkish company wants $ 5. I wonder what they have insured but that's ok and I go on.
The Anatolian plateau fascinates Andrew. The landscape is astonishing. We overcome two Passes above 2000 meters; the tops of the mountains shows the remains of ice. The temperature facilitates our trip but we cannot photograph the snowy Ararat because of the mist. We go to sleep to Erzincian then we go towards Ankara in the early morning. There aren't any hotels in the Capital. We go ahead and see a Chalet: there is the Trebisonta team into retreat. Many supporters follow the team.

We arrive in Istanbul in the morning. We must pay attention to the cars because the Turks are reckless drivers, they overtake on the left and on the right. They could fly over you. After having crossed the bridge over the Bosphorus, we take lodgings in the historic part of the Blue Mosque, Saint Sophia and Topkapi museum.
In a workshop along the road, I change 690 oil and filters. I am at the limit of 5000 km, then I go to Arasta Bazaar to meet my friend Zeki. Andrea asks me about us. Ours story is old.

In 1989 I was in Turkey with my wife by motorbike, of course. In Istanbul we enter Zeki shop who has leather clothing of high quality and casual style. Unfortunately, we have not the money because we need it for return and here credit cards are unknown. Zeki sells us on his word. It is more important than a notarial deed. We buy some clothes at the price of $350. We sent him money just arrived in Italy. I esteem him very much.
Istanbul is the gateway to the East, the border between Europe and Asia so it is for me and Andrea: our roads divide, he stops for a few days and will continue for the eastern countries , I go towards Greece.
At the Turkish Border the employee has some difficulty to postmark the passport because it has no more available pages. He hesitates then he postmarks somewhere. I stay in Kavala where I have an exchange of views with the lady of the reception. I question the absurd bill. "I want a single", I say to her.
I can't speak a good Greek but I understand that she thought we were two. We are two but it is very difficult to bring the motorbike in my room.
The day after I travel at my leisure going towards Kalambaka. Here a meteorite has created a wonderful scene in the point of impact then Orthodox priests have created monasteries on the rocky spurs.

I'm going towards Katara Pass, the highest pass in Greece. There are many bends. I am loaded as a donkey, I have got also the rear tire and tools that Andrea and I shared in Istanbul. I become excited. I go on the right then on the left, and I trust to the brakes. The front brake is powerful but adaptable. You can put on it by two fingers. It is Enduro more than Super Motard.
Parga welcomes me, it is invaded by tourists as usual. Anthoussa is three kilometers from here. Yannis is under the pergola of his bar. He has not changed anything, by tradition and laziness. The stereo is always high volume and creaks.

I ring the bell, he did not recognize me because I wear a crash-helmet. I take off it and he shouts "Mafioso", then he asks the DROMOS (the road). He wants to know from where I come, Pakistan, China…. Angela Kaput, Kaput. In his opinion my wife should kill me. Then I see Mary, always dressed in black in everlasting mourning also before the death of her husband, Napoleon. I remember our memorable challenges to the game of cards; he repeated to me Cu Cu……, he was right because I had luck.
Then the old Pedro comes. Names are handed down from grandparents to grandchildren here. He is 83 years old and I have known him since twenty years. Each time he reminds me that he hasn't been engaged for long time because his wife Vassiliki thinks only to eat and sleep; he is always looking for a lady, I have fun.
I sleep for a long time. My clothes for motorbike remain at the corner. I take the costume and slippers from the sea and go towards Sarakinico, a creek that seems a postcard. Everything has changed: hotels and restaurants got the upper hand, there was only one restaurant many years ago, electricity was provided by a generator powered by a residual German engine of the Second War. I still remember the bursts, you could count the laps.
Only memories? No. Everyone has his own soul and while I am looking for the borderline between the sky and the sea I think about the beginning of the journey, Lahore is more than 10000 km far from here. I should leave tomorrow with no hesitation. I feel like the gull Jonathan Livingston in the novel written by Richard Bach, the exaltation of perfection.
Tonight I will go on board, tomorrow I will be in Italy: "Islamabad to Italy" is a reality.

From Parga Greece. Giampiero

CONSIDERATIONS

My considerations concern an aspect that amazed me.

I want to talk about a famous Travel Agency: “Adventures ...”, and I wouldn't dare pass judgment. We have been waiting a response about the services we requested for one month. The owner, becoming delirious with no valid reasons, told us that he would not have risked for us with reference to the visa of Pakistan. You risk your life.

I arrived in Greece. The logistic problems and our indecision on what to do was his excuse. He should have been sincere and speak clearly. "I would like to organize something like that so I cannot support a nobody. I believe that arrogance does not repay.
The weather was tyrant, Andrea and I have personally contacted the agency in Pakistan for sending the visa. It was hard in China but fortune was good. I thank the TREMME Company in the person of Mr. Stefano who took care of the dispatch of the motorbikes; to Mr.Nardoni-GS Air, thanks for the flight and useful advices; many thanks to Mrs. Ivana-Fuorirotta Agency (the only person who can make miracles). I remember that we have withdrawn the passports in the evening before leaving and Mr.Stefano gave us the vouchers in the morning at the Fiumicino airport. Everything was within time limits but we were sure of ourselves.
I do not add anything about motorbikes 990. KTM is not responsible for the disadvantage of the pump.
Many people, except KTM and me, would have bet on the success of the small motorbike 690 ENDURO, at this point BIG MOTORBIKE. " You cannot break what there is not", it is a famous phrase from Henry Ford. It is perfect for the 690 which is essential but with quality components. I was astonished about suspensions, two handlebar levers, a soft and sensitive clutch, a saddle-tank, then a front brake that the best Super Motard envie. Someone told me to bring one of them as a spare, putting it on my shoulders like a knapsack. Perhaps it was a moment of despair.

It is normal to remember again my witty remark about Pope's Angelus: many other firms have been taking this solution for many years and nobody says anything.

KTM does it and many persons who bring ill luck go up the pedestal.
I intend to go meeting one of my friend in Italy in order to put it on the scales and verify the weight.
The engine is the buttonhole flower of this motorbike. KTM has created a beautiful and powerful jewel which has guts and its supply is inexhaustible.

The old and famous LC4 gave its maximum but this one can push without hesitation. Sometimes I cannot understand the difference between it and the two-cylinder, because there are no vibrations. The Trimer for the ignition regulation is functional, easy to use and helpful in choosing the supply. I have used it at position 0 for 4000 km then I increased to 3 and then 2 in Greece where I really enjoyed using 100 octane petrol.
I have already spoken about consumption but I had a further test: I filled up after having passed Ankara motorway. I traveled for 60 km at a speed of 130 k.p.h. and I filled again. Over 22 Km with a liter. I am sincere: I had a 5 lt Acerbis tin in the suitcase that I filled in Pakistan and emptied in Tajikistan, because thanks to the empowerment I did not need it.

We have covered a long straight distance (about 4,000 km ) through Iran, Turkey and Greece. The engine has always done 5000/6000 revolutions, and I have never topped up the oil. The Motorex Power Cross 10-60 is a good product.
I thank Acerbis for clothes. I had tried some items last year but the PROFILE X-TIGHT boots with one traditional jack-buckle puzzled me because we are traditionalists. Then, however, I have understood that it is a very functional product as well as the Impact Ages knee-pads. I chose this product for fear because I broke my knee in the last trip. I am enthusiastic because it is functional and comfortable.
I eulogize the transmission unit provided by Two-Queen 17-45. I have never adjust the chain but I have just lubricated it after the off-road across Asian countries.
KTM Italy is a "den of passionate people that goes by motorbike also on the first of January". You can only expect the maximum availability from them. I am grateful to them. It is always a great pleasure to be gratifying.

I apply myself seriously to return so much confidence.

I thank Arnaldo Nicoli who is always available, practical and always ready to give some advice. I am really honoured, as a person and motorcyclist, to have a master at this level.

The numbers of travel.

Nine countries crossed (one more for Andrea: Afghanistan) 10326 kilometres covered, no punctures and no change of tyres, 2 changes of oil and filters, 1 change of air. 7 Passes over 4000Mt (a great record).

I thank all those who have followed this adventure by the Forum, praising both Andrew and me. We hope to have involved you up to the end.
Last thing: if someone intend to make again this journey, please contact me with no hesitance. I will offer my readiness to provide all the information. Thanks to everyone. Giampiero