The Moment Collectors – Excerpts
Twenty Travellers’ Tales From Around The World
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Chapter 1 – Claire Elsdon – ‘The Unthinkable Happens’
… “What are you doing here?” he demanded before I could even kill the engine. “Don’t you know this is a militarised zone? You shouldn’t be here!” the soldier yelled, looking furious. I gulped, feeling instantly alone and rather vulnerable in this otherwise deserted spot…
Chapter 2 – Geoff Hill – ‘Far from Home’
…Disaster was just about to strike. Clifford went in for his turn and came out after half an hour. “They won’t let me cross the border. No way, no how,” he said grimly. My heart sank. “Why not?” “Well, you know the way I had to leave without the original bike registration document because it hadn’t arrived from Swansea?” “Aye, but you have a letter saying you’re legally entitled to use the bike. It’s worked at every border so far.” “Well, not at this one. I’ve tried begging, I’ve tried pleading, I’ve tried being calm and reasonable, I’ve tried bursting into tears…”
Chapter 3 – Spencer J Conway – ‘The Bi-polar Pole and Joey the Camel Collider’
…Guess what Slavic did next? After following me a few steps up the hill, he turned and bolted back down the dune, removing his boots as he ran. He then sat/fell and simultaneously removed his motorcycle trousers and underwear, quickly and impressively, I must admit. He stood up in his white T-shirt and stained white socks, his proud belly sticking out from underneath his BMW shirt. He then gyrated his hips in a circular motion, displaying his Polish jewels to huge applause. Did I mention the 5,000 people witnessing this? Now it was 8,000 …
Chapter 4 – Brian Rix and Shirley Hardy Rix – ‘Iron Angels’
…The clouds gather and the rain comes down in buckets. I can’t find the fuel station so a room is my next priority, but I can’t find anything that looks remotely like a hotel. It’s raining. It’s gloomy and Mogocha looks depressed and depressing. I turn down a side street hoping to find a hotel or fuel. A dilapidated, dark grey Lada pulls alongside, and the driver’s window comes down. A heavy wave of smoke billows out and a disembodied voice says simply, “Club House. Follow.” I do as I am told…
Chapter 5 – Ted Hely – ‘Escaping the Net’
…Road? Not anymore, just sand. Lots and lots of it! It was incredibly hard going. After a couple of hours, we had all crashed multiple times, but I was having fun. My bike was smaller and lighter, and the excitement of riding through the Sudanese desert helped me power through the sand, though with more enthusiasm than skill. I was so carried away in my own world that I didn’t realize my companions were no longer in my rear view mirrors. Oh crap… I waited 10 minutes and nothing. Disaster! Kim had crashed badly. Her bike was busted, she was concussed, and her wrist broken. We were barely hours into a two-day desert trip…
Chapter 6 – Lisa Morris – ‘The Final Frontier’
…I looked up and gave the sinister sky a slit-eyed appraisal. Having fallen out of favour with Lady Luck, a backdrop of boiling, distended clouds loomed overhead as the weather cooled down. It turned a world of pleasurable dirt road into a rain-dark, raw and grey space. Ominous and tortured, the heavens opened, and rain lashed down on us in a crazy assault all the way to the springs. Like riding on snot over marbles, we trudged our way through the pale grey calcium chloride with some artful slides thrown in for good measure…
Chapter 7 – Mark Donham (aka Radioman) – ‘The True Value of Travel’
…We stopped for a few days at El Calafate in Argentina and based here we headed out to get a view of the Puerto Moreno Glacier. This glacier is huge. It’s over 19 miles long and is 240’ high in the section that faces the lake. Giant chunks of ice calve off, plunging into the water to the cheers of tourists and with a booming sound that echoes around the lake. Together with a guide and geared up with crampons, we hiked up onto and actually into the glacier. What an amazing sensation to be surrounded by this mass of almost turquoise blue ice…
Chapter 8 – Graham Field – ‘Finding the Rhythm of the Road’
…After three hours, through the dirty distortion of my visor, I see dry road ahead. I must be moving faster than the storm and eventually I leave it behind, as the road leads back to the coast and take me into a sunny warm windy, jacket flapping evening. This is better; much more enjoyable. So enjoyable I go onto reserve, just after I’ve left all opportunities behind me. ‘I’ll fill up at the next one’ should no longer be a part of my vocabulary. There are no excuses. Actually, I do have one. I’ve been driven by the hope of sunshine all day and didn’t want to stop. In fact, I’ll use that excuse twice. I’ve run out of water and haven’t bothered to replace it. So now even a wild camp is out of the question. How can I constantly manage to do this to myself? It’s the most annoying aspect of my own company. I have a firm talk to myself, but I’m not really listening. I’m watching the sun setting and, anyway, I can justify anything…
Chapter 9 – Tiffany Coates – ‘The Kyrgyzstan Eagle Hunter’
…Nurbek is medium height with a stocky build, and his arms are powerful—they must be, as he has to hold an eagle for long periods, sometimes for hours on end. Upon his head is a kalpak. Kalpaks are designed to keep the head cool in summer and warm in winter and his is white, with black embroidery that depicts the mountains of Kyrgyzstan. He is wearing a high collared, deep blue embroidered tunic with matching trousers, and tall black leather boots. A leather belt with a large ornate buckle completes his outfit; attached to it is a bag containing…
Chapter 10 – EmmaLucy Cole – ‘A Return to Sinai’
…The wind had picked up overnight, so I procrastinated for as long as possible. Days are short in Sinai where the sun dips behind the mountains by mid-afternoon even in the summer, meaning that I couldn’t leave it too late. Armed with bungee cords, straps, and a cargo net, I secured the bag as best I could, filled my water bladder and tucked the hose into my mouth under the helmet. I was nauseous with fear, but also excited to start a new adventure…
Chapter 11 – Tim and Marisa Notier – ‘Hooked on a Feeling’
…Large, jagged, mountain peaks surrounded us while streams trickled down between them to crystal blue lakes. Lakes that had settled at higher elevations overflowed into more streams and small waterfalls that cascaded into other turquoise lakes further below. I could see that rain was coming down in sheets in the distance, but it didn’t concern me, at least yet. All I could think of was that I had never been anywhere on Earth as picturesque…
Chapter 12 – Christian Brix – ‘The Road to Myself’
…Above the trees, sheer rock faces loom, providing drama to the setting. The piecemeal cultivation of the land looks natural and in balance. Locals appear to only be taking what they need, and letting the remaining land remain wild. In truth they are not letting it do anything, this land will always be too wild to be tamed, and it’s the land that is allowing the people to live. The road continues to lead me along, as I ramble on, following unseen signs. Having given over to destiny for a few hours, I navigate solely by my senses…
Chapter 13 – Helen Lloyd – ‘The Africa I Love’
…“How long since the last vehicle crossed the border?” I asked casually. The last four-wheeled vehicle we’d seen had been some 100 kilometres back, abandoned where it had got stuck on the overgrown single-track that constituted the road in those parts. It had been there six months. “A few weeks ago,” he replied. “Many cross here, but they are all locals on foot. There is a mission hospital in Kalene Hill, the next village. People from neighbouring Angola and Congo visit it for healthcare.” He neatly folded the signed and stamped handwritten letter and passed it to me. “Okay, good. Now you must pay carbon tax.” “What tax?” “Yes, carbon tax…
Chapter 14 – Michelle Lamphere – ‘The Kindness of Strangers’
…Before he left for work, Fernando gave me a hug, a kiss on each cheek, and a kind smile. Martha told me in Spanish that she wanted us to be careful and that they prayed for us in church that morning. She disappeared into her bedroom and came back with something in her hand that she slipped gently into mine. I looked at what she had placed there and found a small blue glass-bead rosary. She either said to keep it with me always or that she would pray for me always; my Spanish skills weren’t good enough to tell the difference. I was on the verge of tears…
Chapter 15 – Travis and Chantil Gill – ‘I still Haven’t Found what I’m Looking For’
…They don’t grow very tall, but their strange shape makes it feel like you’re riding through a magical desert version of a Dr Seuss book. The dark green leaves of the Joshua tree are a pleasant contrast to the yellow and brown hues of the surrounding Mojave Desert. It is difficult to make progress on the motorcycles, since each turn is another opportunity to park and snap pictures of the wonderful scenery. As beautiful as this unique region is during the daylight hours, the glamour comes alive during the first and last light of the day. Then you can enjoy the silhouette of bristly Joshuas against the panoramic canvas of a rising or setting sun…
Chapter 16 – Lisa and Simon Thomas – ‘The Rough Side of Silk’
…Inside smelled like dark and stale tobacco, and a small TV hissed and buzzed in the corner. The ceiling was eight feet high and they’d somehow managed to squeeze a set of bunk beds and a desk in. These guys work and live in this tiny space for eight months of the year and are then cycled out to active duty somewhere else. Jesus what a way to live, I thought to myself, smiling as I handed over our papers. A small iron furnace was belting out heat from behind the door. This was weird, even by our standards. I was hunched on the lower bunk, with a Customs guard practically sitting on top of me. He was still wearing just his piss-stained thermals and scribbling into a ledger with authority, as if everything was normal…
Chapter 17 – Daniel Byers – ‘Cycle South’
…The walls and fixtures seemed completely unfamiliar. The intense sunlight streaming through the old, caulk-cracked windows only added to the confusion, making it difficult to focus. I didn’t realize my glasses weren’t on, making awakening that much more difficult. As I continued attempting to push away the cobwebs, I looked around a bit more, finally noticing the multiple IVs protruding from both of my wrists. A cacophony of Spanish voices echoed into the room from an adjoining hallway, the sounds reverberating off the hard tiled floors and walls. There were several other beds near me, occupied by others seemingly either asleep, or unconscious. Terrified by the sudden realization I was in a hospital…
Chapter 18 – Geoff Keys – ‘Alone with the Grass and the Sky’
…I often camped in the wild without concern about the ownership of the land. On the open grasslands it simply didn’t seem relevant; I just put my tent up and cooked. But even when I rode well off the road, up around the side of a hill, someone would usually come by to say hello. One fellow arrived on his bike, pulled out a pipe (that looked very much like a socket spanner attached to a steel tube), sat down and shared it with me…
Chapter 19 – Michnus & Elsebie Olivier – ‘The Road in the Sky’
…We were loaded to the max with 10 litres of additional fuel each and could carry no more. Tupiza lies between two mountain ranges at 2,850m. Just 30 kilometres outside of the town we were already riding at an altitude of over 4,000m. The dirt road started just outside of town with an insanely beautiful, multi-hairpin mountain pass. This area in southern Bolivia and northern Argentina is home to massive, beautiful, crimson, pink, red and orange rock walls which are sculptured into hoodoos that tower into the air like nature’s own La Sagrada Familia. These hoodoos are spire-shaped rock formations, carved from years of wind and water flowing over and sculpting the soft sandy rock…
Chapter 20 – Sam Manicom & Birgit Schünemann – ‘When Life is Full of Firsts’
…The mass of people moved slowly, quietly and sleepily down the steel staircases between the different levels and onto the vehicle decks. There, the bunched-up passengers divided and made their way between the close parked ranks of cars, vans and campers, dodging mirrors as they went. Hangovers showed on the faces of some passengers; total concentration on others, but in the air was a tangible sense of anticipation. Car doors were opened and, moments later, clunked shut, with their loads of luggage, drivers and passengers in position and ready to go. They sat staring from their glazed boxes at the static, fluorescent-lit world that surrounded them. Along the side walls, the thirty or so motorcyclists moved speedily. Their first task was undoing the large orange ratchet straps that tethered their bikes safely to D-shaped steel loops protruding from the decking. They then milled around in the growing warmth, checking luggage straps, slotting keys into ignitions, pulling on gloves and helmets, and trading grins in the fine sense of camaraderie. As I turned my bike’s fuel taps to the on position, she gave off her usual scent of petrol…
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