Toy Run

Bad and good news. First the good ones: I am back to the road. I joined the Toy Run on my German Princess. The Toy Run is an special motorcycle event. Every year, bikers of South Africa meet and everyone brings a toy to give to the poorest children, thoose who have no toys at all. One could say that is nothing important to solve the real problems of poverty. Probably that´s right, but a child with a toy is a happy child. There is nothing wrong in collect gifts from bikers.

So I put my boots on, tie them tight, squeezed my teeth and turned on the engine. So, here I was, riding again. What a happyness. I am a biker on a bike. I am in the right place. Having cold wind.

Later, Rydall´s and family joined another BBQ (Braai) with their friends. Good people who work hard. No rich white people expoiling black poor guys; instead of it, citizens who can´t expect protection from the high wawe of crime which is burning South Africa.

Bad news: I have to say good bye to my new friends. But this is the traveller life. Is the way it is.

Keep safe.

Good pain relief pills

Things are going better day by day. This is me, very unhappy, when I arrived Port Elisabeth five hours after the accident. It was about 9:30 pm and my wounds hadn´t been cleaned yet. The ankle was really hurting me and by then was gone all the adrenaline I fled into my blood to make me walk and fight. But I had to be awake few hours more meanwhile the hospital crew treated my injuries.

These guys are my new friends Rydall and Alan. Rydall is the angel who picked me up from the road to Port Elisabeth Hospital. And Alan has already fixed the German Princess, so she looks much better than me.She is beautiful now and has some guys who want to be her boyfriends.

This is the fantastic dog Alan has at home. He can not be in a better place, playing among motorcycles and bikers. Look at the floor, one could eat there. What a wonderful workshop.

And this happy man is me buying pain relief pills in a pharmacy. My foot is in such kind of galactic boot and I can also walk with cratches. Do not worry about me. In a short time I am gonna be back to the war.

Be well

Love Hurts


My German Princess gave me back the pain I gave her forgiving our love for 8 months. We bumped into the barrier 40 km away from Mussel Bay when we were entering into the Garden Route. I am not going to be able to ride to the next corner for a while. My Kenyan dream has vanished.

I broke my ankle. That sometimes happens. I had been so lucky so far and I have not complaints. I lived the dream and I still feel I am very lucky. Jesus must love me, I do not why, otherwise I could have been killed or seriously injured. But I am gonna survive as I did before.

I can say I am happy because, again, another angel appeared to help. South Africa is not a good place to crash. People are so afraid of hi jacking crime and for 15 minutes I was bleeding on the road and no one stopped. Nor blacks, nor coloured, neither whites. They just looked at me and kept going on their ways.

The 112 number revealed useless. I was in problems because anyone could stop and rob me even being damaged. Here your life does not worth a mobil phone. Then stopped a van carrying a trailer with a bike on. The guy, Rydall, a hard worker and a biker also, put my bike on the trailer and picked us to Port Elisabeth, where the Princess is being fixed by Alan Lewis, one of the best BMW mechanics, and I was being cured in the hospital.

Bikers we are really different people. Even in South Africa we stop to help bikers when nobody does. Alan and his wife are taking care of me, looking for place to stay, and Rydall’s wife offered me any help I could need while her husband is out driving the van to feed their family.

Should I say I had bad luck? No way. My ankle will be ready in short time and I will forget someday it was broken, but now I have new friends I will never forget.

Keep safe.

Daniel, a new rider


Two years old biker. WTF is he going to do when 20?

There is not Tortilla Española for TFMs


Hopefully the rear shock will be rebuilt on Monday. As I have to stay in Cape Town till Tuesday I am wasting time eating and drinking. I am in Jerome´s house. Jerome is a South African biker I met by Horizons Unlimited. He invited me to a typical Afrikaan BBQ (Braai) and I wanted to offer his family something from Spain. But, you know, there is not “jamón ibérico” in South Africa. So, what can I do? We also have others treasures as our "Tortilla de Patatas" or Spanish Omelette, and our "Pan Tumaca" or tomato bread. So I went to the mall and bought all needed: eggs, potatoes, tomatoes, French baguette, and the most important thing: real olive oil from Spain!

I was a little bit afraid because the last Spanish Omelette I cooked died more than ten years ago and the bread was a little chewing gum. But the honour of my nation was involved and this is something important, not only because I did the military service with the parachutes (where they really kick my ass for one year) but because any Spanish guy can make complaints about the country IN the country, but not OUT the country. This is notorious especially when we are in trouble abroad, then even the most ubiquitous nationalist wants to be supported by the Spanish Government. In other words: they can hate Spain but like Spanish money to save their ass. Anyway, despite the Black Legend, Spaniards are a good people. We can steal gold and wind from America but we give olive gold to Africa. Is it not a good deal for the Humanity?

So I started cooking. I peeled the potatoes, fried them in olive oil to the required tender point, added them to the six eggs, mixed the whole stuff and poured into the hot fried pan. Meanwhile, I toasted the bread, and covered it with the tomatoes pulp, salt and olive oil. Even the most TFM could appreciate such kind of treasure, so imagine what a normal person with normal feelings and thoughts could feel eating the most simple gold on Earth. It could make scream even the owls!

Back to the old love


I am an addict. I have to confess I am a fucking travelcoholic. But only on a motorcycle and by my own. Just alone in the wilderness I feel myself Ok. Behind the handle bar I can forget the stupid pace of western World and the politicians and the economical crisis and the complaints of ex girlfriends, ex ex girlfriends and ex ex ex girlfriends and all the TFMs. But if you offer to me joining a luxury cruise among the Caribbean Islands or flying to China to eat sour dogs and sweet rats in the best hotel of Shangai, I will say: no thanks, I d rather seat on my couch, watch TV, drinking beer and acting like Homer Simpson. I hate planes, buses, boats and crowed places. I am not a World Citizen nor a modern flight miles traveller. I am a biker. So here I am again, in Cape Town, trying to run away and going North. My goal is reaching Nairobi, where I started 8 months ago my first African Trip.

Why I am here? Have you ever felt the calling from an old love? I mean, you do not know how but someday you are at home, doing your stuff as usual, but suddenly you remember deeply someone you loved time ago. Is something strange, because you have your life already fixed, you have another partner and even you can enjoy children, a home and a mortgage. You can say you are happy. Or it supposed you are happy with all your toys. But, God only knows, you start to feel nostalgic about someone from the past and you can see yourself starting to think about what could have happened to her or him, how could be his or her life now and, over all, if that person still thinks about you in the same way you are thinking in that moment.

You should know what I mean. Ok, that is what happened to me few weeks ago. I was riding my Little Fat and then I wondered what about my German Princess I left behind kept in Cape Town? Is she happy? Does she remember me? Does she miss me? Does she like another biker? Oh, I was able to remember her perfectly or even better because memories make the past more beautiful that it really was. I started to crave the feeling of adventure and riding her in the African wilderness. I have one month free and I decided trying our love work again. So here I am, enjoying Cape Town riding the German Princess meanwhile we prepare the departure. But, you know, facts are not as perfect as memories, and normally, when you face the old love, you can see that her or him is not as beautiful and nice as you remember. When I opened the garage I found the rear shock is totally gone. Before leaving I have to rebuild it. Better notice now than in the mi middle of nowhere.

I will keep you updated.