We checked in to the good old King George Hotel. KG was located not far form the main Railway Station and had very decent prices. That again, it was in the crossing of a whore-street and a junkie-street, which added excitement to our traveling experience – will our bikes be there in the morning? After leaving our stuff at the hotel, we joined Juha and Co. near Speak Eazy where they were having dinner. We grabbed some food and entered again the metal cave where some of us had spent many merry nights about a year ago. To our surprise the bar owner remembered us and even had some of the Kahlua left – apparently the Germans don’t appreciate White Russians.

Next morning Bergie left us with the plan to visit Emil in Arnhem, Netherlands, some Midgard guys at Netrex in Woerden, Netherlands and Michel in Zurich, Switzerland, and to meet with Skoll in Munich later.

Timo, Juha, Jenni and Skoll spent the day drinking beer in the numerous bars of Frankfurt and having some delicious steaks in Block House. When the evening came, it was once again time for Speak Eazy.

Saturday morning Juha, Timo and Jenni continued towards Amsterdam and Skoll left for Munich where he was supposed to be working next Monday. With some 400 kilometers ahead and somewhat tried from the last evening, Skoll decided to take the autobahn. He arrived in Munich and after a quick shower decided to make acquaintance with the city’s nightlife. He managed to find the official party place called Kunstpark Ost which was an area with over 30 bars and restaurants. Most of the bars opened at 10 o’clock, but one was already open and to his pleasant surprise Skoll found out that the beer was for free there. Later he heard that the event was sponsored by the local football club. While drinking free Lövenbrau, he heard from a girl wearing Children of Bodom t-shirt that there was a also metal bar in the area. The place was called The Doom and it was furnished in horror theme with nooses and spiders hanging from the roof and skeletons laying the corners – pretty cool place all in all.

Sunday went pretty quietly washing clothes and resting. Form Monday and Wednesday Skoll was working. Bergie arrived to Munich late Tuesday evening. He also had some business to attend to Wednesday morning so our start to Wacken was delayed to 1 pm.

After having a quick lunch we finally managed to hit the road. Having about 900 kilometers ahead of us we know the day wasn’t going to be a joyride. Our ride started with sunny weather but after about 200 kilometers we were hit by the first shower of rain. It was over as quickly as it started lasting only long enough to wet us totally. When next time we saw dark clouds ahead we stopped and jumped into our rain suites. We were hit by a few more showers and they seemed to stop. At a gas stop we removed the rain suites and continued in the sunshine – only to drive into the heavies rain of the whole trip. Visibility was about 10 meters and even the cars had slowed down to 40 km/h. We stopped under the first bridge where two other bikers has stopped. Soaking wet and cursing our luck we first waited for the rain to end, but as it didn’t show even the lightest sign of ceasing, we had no option but to continue, once again wearing the fullbody condoms. At the same stop Bergie’s camera also broke down.

At some point the rain finally ended. We rode on in the creeping darkness. Luckily it didn’t rain anymore that day, but without being able to see the sky in the darkness, we continued in rain suites. At midnight we had our last stop. After 11 hours of driving Skoll especially was feeling pretty weary, but with the power of Red Bull we pushed on. We arrived in the Wacken village in the middle of the night. We had a quick stop at the only ATM in the village and continued to the festival area. Starting his bike again, Skoll noticed, that kick-start didn’t work anymore, but didn’t pay any attention to that.

At 1 am we finally arrived to our camp. Juha, Timo and Jenni were there as well as other Finnish metalheads. In addition to the two of us, there was also Johanna who had dared to drive from Finland to Wacken with her bike. First things first, we emptied a few beers cans, set up our tent and then went to check the festival area. The feeling when we finally got our beers after 12 straight hours of driving was indescribable. And being back in Wacken – the biggest metal festival in Europe – felt good also.

Skoll awoke briskly in the morning and started the day by calling to an Ural service station in Wehr, Germany. We heared that it's OK to bring the bike there so our target for the day was set. Also Bergie woke eventually to a call from the Italian Midgardians. We had a small breakfast with the last Switch franks we had and hit the road.

It was some 190 kilometers as the bird flies to Wehr and as we planned to drive only smaller roads - and it was already 11 o'clock, there was no time to waste. Bergie was still a bit worried about the overheating light but the bike seemed to run well.

Most of the day we spent enjoying the French countryside driving smaller roads that were nevertheless in good shape so we managed to keep good pace. When about half the way was behind us, the overheating light returned. We tried to troubleshoot the bike for a while but having no success had no option but to continue.

We crossed the border to Germany some twenty minutes before Berni's Motoshop was supposed to close. Opening the throttle to the fullest and lanesplitting where we could we reached our destination 10 minutes late from the supposed closing of the shop. However, Berni was still in the shop, and promised to handle our bikes first thing in the following morning.

Skoll threw a wild card and asked Berni about camping opportunities nearby. Berni made a phone call and informed us that the nearest place would be ten kilometers away on the Swiss side of the border. However a moment later he made another phone call and after the call informed us, that in a few minutes a fried of his would come and show us to a camping place nearby. While waiting Berni offered us beer which we declind as we hadn't eaten anything for the whole day and still had some driving to do. After a while there indeed appeared a lone rider riding a horse of steel. He looked exactly like biker should look being about 50 years old and having a respectable beard, small open helmet and goggles. We followed him about a kilometer to a clearing in the woods. The piece of land was owned by the biker and he used it to grill sausage and drink beer in the evenings. While setting up the camp we were offered beer again and we simply couldn't refuse anymore.

When the camp was up, Berni gave us a ride to a local store where we bought some bratwurst, kartoffelsalad and beer of course. We walked back to the camp and Bergie, being an old boy-scout, built us a fire. When we were starting to grill the bearded biker came also back with a friend to check that everything was ok and brought us some dry wood and more beer. We chatted a while about bikes despite some minor language difficulties. They also provided us with a scenic route through the Schwarzwald area. After three beers, the guy said he had to drive back home because he had work the next morning at 5 o'clock.

Left alone, we contined grilling and watched the full moon rise slowly from behind the forest. We also heard dogs howling in the village, and horses shuffling in a nearby farm. After some marvelling at how much better this was than regular camping sites and watching satellites pass by, we turned in.

The morning started too early as we wanted to reach Berni's shop by eight a.m. Drowsily we rose up and broke the camp quickly, gulping some grapefruit juice as we packed, and drove to the repair shop. Berni started to immediately work on the Ural, while we watched the progress in order to be able to perform the maintenance next time by ourselved. He also took a look at Bergie's overheat light problem, but wasn't able to spot it. All the while working on the Ural he kept referencing to his own rat bike styles Dniepr sidecar outfit. Both services were done well, and costed much less than the initially quoted amount. With the early start, we were ready to go already around 11 a.m., so we were very happy.

We stopped for breakfast in a cafe in Wehr's center, where the waiter was noticeably amused about Bergie's attempts at German. After this we continued to the first waypoint on our route, Todtmoos. The road ran curvily in a narrow forested canyon carved by a small river, providing us with a good view on the Black Forest wildlife.

When reaching Todtmoos the dark clouds overhead finally turned into rain, and we stopped to put on our rain suits. The rain continued on and off while we cruised through the twisties of the B500 road through the forested hills and picturesque villages of Schwarzwald. The heavy rain and early wake-up started to weight early in afternoon and we stopped for long lunch in the town of Freuenstadt. The local grilled dishes were greasy and delicious. After lunch we walked around to find an Internet Cafe, only to find that access would have been available in the town library, which was closed.

With this small defeat we continued to a nearby camping place, where we swiftily put up tent before rain started again.

The day started like just another day. The sky was somewhat cloudy, but cleared up soon. We had a breakfast at the hotel and started our trip towards Bourg-St. Maurice. I have a feeling I'm starting to repeat myself, but once again the roads were a joy to ride and the landscapes truely beautiful. And even if you are getting bored of reading this over and over again, let me assure that we are not even close to getting bored of the driving at the Alps.

We stopped at Bourg-St. Maurice to develop some photos from Bergie's pictures, and continued to the impressive pass of Colle d. Pice. S. Bernardo leading towards Mont Blanc. Again passing the Italian border was painless, and we just passed through, continuing to the twisty roads. Bergie was letting his triple engine wail and blasted through the curves at speed, while Skoll was more cautious with his heavier Ural.

On the Italian side we considered for a while taking a condola ride the the top of Mont Blanc, but decided against it and pressed for the impressive but expensive 11,6km tunnel that crosses the French border. After the tunnel the ride below the snowy heights of Mont Blanc was pure joy. However, Chamonix proved to be a dissappointment, as it was simply a ski resort with no place to get service for the Ural.

After brief discussion we decided to press towards Geneve in hope of finding a generic motorcycle service shop. The highway down from Chamonix was also surprisingly pleasant with mountain scenery and lots of curves. We dined at a roadside restaurant where we met two girls riding a Harley and a Marauder. They suggested that service shops could be found from Lyon, but we decided against the sidetrack.

The Swiss border went again without hurdles as the border guards just waved us on without seeing our passports. However, we had no luck with the service in Geneve. All the shops we found were either closed for the summer or serviced only a particular brand. The local bikers were however very helpful leading us around the city in look for shops.

After a while we decided to look for a shop elsewhere and found a camping place outside the city. Bergie also had some bike problems as the engine overheat light kept turning on. However, as the light seemed to be connected with electricity use like blinking alongside the indicators a generic electricity problem was suspected.

The morning came with a cloudy sky. We packed our tent and countinued to Verona. At he first bigger town (Egna - Neumarket) we stopped at a Supermercado to get some breakfast which we ate at a parking lot. The terrain slowly started to be flatter there were still nice twisty roads. After driving by a few castles we stopped at one some 40 kilometers from Verona (Caste del Aero). The place had of course been prpared for tourists but nevertheless it was a nice old castle with lots of potential for good parties and excellent view of the Trentino valley.

In Verona we checked in at the same camping we had stayed at last year when interrailing. the camp site is built into the old city fortress - this time we slept in one of the guard towers. After a quick shower we went to get some food and to find a place where to get the pictures for Bergie's digital camera to CD. We found a photo shop where we were told to come bck next morning as the place was closing. We had a nice italian dinner - lasagne bolognese and pasta carbonara - and learned the location of the local metal cave. The place was called Transylvania Bar (on Via Galliano) and as the bartender thought it's too hard to explain where it is we took a taxi - only to find it's closed for summertime. Not letting ourselves to get depressed of this minor setback we decided to get more beer and find some place with some action.

When walking around the plaza near the local arena somebody came to sell us opera tickes. Bergie wasn't thrilled about the idea of going to opera but Skoll went to check the price of the tickets. After some negotiation we decided that as neither of us had been in opera in Italy before we'd check it out. We haggled the price from 40 euros (two tickets) to 30 euros and found our seats some five minutes before the preformance started. The bit was Verdi's Il Trovatore (Troubadure) and both our us agreed that it's much better to see it in moonlight when drinking beer at a place where lions ate christians some thousands years ago than in the Helsinki opera house.

The following morning we checked out from the camping site and visited the photo shop only to find that the shopkeeper was off taking pictures of Verona. With this slight setback we ate breakfast and continued on the road SS11 towards Milano. At Lago di Garda we decided to see some sights and drive around the lake. The Garda lake is a huge beach resort with clear blue water and impressive mountain surroundings. The twisty road around the lake was packed with tourist buses and lanesplitting motorcyclists. We had heard the rumour that bikers wouldn't greet each other in Italy but this turned out to be not true, as most did. While the sights were great, driving around the lake was mostly stop-and-go type as always some car was turning into the parking places near the beach.

After Garda lake we continued on the road to Milano. The old Milano road was mostly bypassing city centers and suburbs, and so we encountered a surprising number of roundabouts. We had tried to contact the local Midgard company in Milano, Teleura, but as it was saturday we failed to reach them. Since this failed, we decided to set into a camping site in Monza north of Milano city. This time the camping area had trees in it so Bergie was able to use his hammock. After setting up camp we walked to a local Spanish restaurant (Gordovia, near the autodrome) where we decided to eat well. At first the waiters tried to lead us into a back room, but after some negotiation let us sit with the others. Probably the accumulation of several days of road dust was visible in us. Especially the gnocchi and wine were good, even so that Skoll braved to taste some.

Sunday morning started pretty clear but turned cloudy shortly after we hit the road. We decided to take the highway to the French border and countinue the twisty Alp roads after that. During the 160 kilometers we had to stop at four road tolls. In Susa, Italy we turned to a smaller road SS25 and the Alps started again. The road was once again packed with motorcyclists and tourists but the going was easy. Somewhere during the way we crossed to France but the only thing to indicate the change was the change of the language in signs. The road didn't have nealy as much hairpins as the Dolomites had which suited Skoll just fine. There was also a clear mountain lake making the scenery really impressive.

After the first peak we stopped at a small village called Bonneval to look at a place to eat. At the same time rain started. Unfortunately all the three restaurants which accepted credit cards - we were out of cash at that point - were closed. As the rain didn't seem to be ending - actually it showed only the first signs of a starting thunderstorm - we decided to wear our rainsuits and countinue to Val de Isere.

The distance was only about 10 kilometers as the bird flies but due to the twisty roads and the rain it took as two hours to get there. The road itself was almost like designed for bikers - a twisty path going up to the peak of Col de Isere with solid mountain on one side and several hundreds of meters of clear fall on the other side. And the landscapes were once again amazing. Unfortunately Bergie's camera run our of battery so I can't even tell you to look at the pictures - there are some though - but try to imagine yourself on the top of a peak of 2800 meters with mountans all around you and the clouds so close you can almost touch them. After the stop at the peak and some chocolate for lunch we continued and finally reached Val de Isere.

We found a decent hotel - with a not-too-decent price, but as the roaring of the thunder continued until the sunset it was a good decision - and both had (separately) long baths. After freshing up we had a dinner in a nice restaurant and turned in for the night.

From Prague we contiued onwards to the Austrian border. The border crossing went swiftly despite having to exchange Finnish Euro coins to the border officials. It is easy to see the power of EU, as after the border everything felt like home.

After some bratwursts in a Gasthof we stopped for the night into a camping at the border town Freistadt. Before turning in for the night Bergie noted that it was the Erynbar day, which materialized as a thunderstorm in the night.

Luckily the rain ended in the morning and we were able to continue towards Salzburg. The scenery was very nice with rolling green hills and alp houses. Somewhere about 20 kilometers from the city pack of rain clouds appeared on the nearby hill, and we decided to stop to the first Gasthaus for a lunch break.

The Gasthaus (MST Eggerbeg in Neumarkt am Wallersee) turned out to be run by a biker family, and we spent quite some time swapping road stories. When the innkeeper heard that we were headed for Italy he proposed a scenic route for us:

• From Hendorf towards A1 and Thalgau

• West towards Hallein past the Salzburgerring

• From Hallein towards Golling on road 159

• From Biscofshofen towards Radstadt on road 99

• From Radstadt to Obertauern,Spittal and Lienz on road 100

• From Lienz to Innichen (Italy) on road 100

• From Innichen turn to road 51

• From road 51 turn to Misurina on road 48b

• From Misurina continue towards Cortina and Trento on road 48

The rain ended during our discussion, and we started on the route. There were some excellent twisties and nice castles on the route.

When reaching the Alps the scenery only got better. As a picture says more than a thousan words I won't describe views - look at the pictures (the pics will be uploaded when we find the next internet cafe). Also the roads were nice and twisty running between the hills and mountains.

We stopped for the night in a hotel at Obertauern. The place was a real ghost-town. There were hotels and bars and shops everywhere but not a soul to be seen. Things are apparently different during the skiing season. After having dinner we turned in for the night.

The next morning - Wednesday - greeted us again with heavy rains with thunder roaring in the distance. After waiting a few hours for the rain to end we wore our rainsuits and countinued towards Italy. We rode for a few hours in constant rain. In some small Alp-village somewhere between Lienz and Spittal we stopped for lunch. As the restaurant had Internet capabilities we also tried to upload the pictures but weren't successful due to software problems. After the lunchbreak which dragged to be almost four hours we countinued towards Lienz - and the rain started again.

The whole sky was full of dark clouds so at Lienz we checked in at a Gasthof outside the town. After dinner Skoll abd Bergie decided to go looking for the local metal cave and Rambo stayed at the Gasthof to prepare for his journey home which started the next morning.

Despite of having at least four bike-related businesses - pubs and shops - there was no metal cave in Lienz. Instead our two heroes found their way to a biker-pub where they played hard rock. As the biker bar was completely dead, the plan was to search for a more lively place.

We found a local disco with some action at the outskirts of the town. The atmosphere was similar to a disco in Klaukkala or some other remote Finnish town. However, the activity on the dance floor was interesting. All the guys were off in a corner getting themselves drunk and girls danced by themselves. We asked about this from two girls at the next table and they explained that Austrian guys were the problem, preferring to get drunk instead of dancing well - something that couldn't happen with Finnish guys.

While we were in the conversation the DJ switched from typical disco music into Austrian folk music - similar to Finnish humppa. As this didn't suit our tastes, we decided to move to another bar in the girls' Mercedes.

The other disco in the city was closed, so we had to stay in the bar of the same place. After a while the question of bartender opening the disco for the four of us rose up. The girls felt that this would be impossible, and so Bergie decided to negotiate with the bartender. After a couple of arguments, the disco was ours.

We tried to dance for a while, but at that stage of the night were not really up to the task. Soon the girls decided to call it a night - work in the next morning, apparently. Seeing that it was already past five a.m., we decided to hitchhike our way back to the Gasthof.

The morning started with a overtly positive and awake Rambo bustling about in the room. Unfortunately Bergie also has to wake up to get his bike to the local repair shop for periodic maintenance. Rambo's Ducati is definitely not a good bike to be on when hing over - the exhaust sound seems to split the skull.

Bergie had checked a nice scenic route into Germany for Rambo, and he left quite early. When we called him later in the day he was already near Hamburg, progressing at a pace fit for Iron Butts.

Skoll woke a little before noon and we went to get Bergie's Triumph from the service. We checked out from the Gasthof and started our engines and the same moment the rain started again. Once again we wore our rainsuits and hit the road. Luckily after a few hours the weather got clearer and it didn't rain during the rest of the day. Having gotten used to the border formalities on the previous stages of the trip, the crossing to Italy felt nice as we even didn't have to stop.

In Italy the Alps really started. The roads were mainly serpentine with hairpins after hairpins. Bergie was in his element, but for Skoll and the Ural the roads were a bit too twisty making riding pretty heavy. The hard driving was rewarded with the scenery which was simply breathtaking. Majestic mountains all around and Alp villages scattered here and there... Again, look at the pictures. We rode for about six hours and covered less than a hundred kilometers as the bird flies.

We found a nice camping place in the countryside and after having dinner in a nearby village and a few beers we hit the sack to be ready for the next day and new adventures.

In the morning we attacked the twisty road 11 towards Prague. At places the road had splendid hairpin turns where the Ducati and Triumph really were at their best. The Ural was also doing OK, but with the Russian tyres some of the turns were quite difficult. Scenery was simply splendid with lots of rolling green hills and forests.

The trip to Prague went well but the actual city traffic was very muddled. Near the center we were passing a crossing when the lights turned yellow. As driving in Czech is rather agressive, Bergie decided to stop. Skoll did a swift breaking and got his bike into a fast slide on the left side, ripping one buckle from Bergie's saddlebags. Suddenly the tyres again got grip and the bike fell on the high side, hurling Skoll with somersaults into the road. Typically to the local traffic, no car drivers stopped to see if we needed help, and we needed to hoist the bike on the sidee of the road for repairs dodging incoming traffic.

Both crash bars were bent, but otherwise the bike seemed to be in good order. Skoll had hurt his other elbow in the crash, but helmet had prevented further harm.

After recovery we continued the way towards city center. Prague's center is very difficult to drive in because of strange one-way systems and pedestrian areas. We managed to get to the hostel we had reserved despite this, and checked in.

When we got to the hostel room we had reserved, we noticed that there were already people there. Upon investigation the receptionists found out that they had overbooked, and of course there was no room. After the crash and carrying the gear in leather clothes in mid-thirties heat we were rather pissed off a this. However, in the end they were able to find a free room for us, and we got free beers for the night, so everything was acceptable.

The hostel's bartender turned out to be a fellow biker, and we had a long chat about bikes. He also gave us instructions for the local heavy metal bar, Hell's Bells (Na Belidle 25 in Smichow near Andel metro station).

Hell's Bells was a real metal cave. the entrance was on a small sidewalk and went down two cases of stairs. It seemed that the room had been previously used for storage. Despite signs like 'Rockin' Paradise' the music was good old school black metal a la Marduk and Gorgoroth, which made Skoll feel himself at home. In the end of the evening they showed the Iron Maiden Rock in Rio DVD on a video projector. Unfortunately the day was Sunday - the only day the place was not open 24 h - so it closed at midnight.

When we got out from the Hell's Bells and started wondering what's the actual address of the place (so that we'd know were to come back later), we asked help for two girls who also were leaving. Other one of them spoke pretty good english (something most of the people don't do here) and as she was a fan of finnish metal scene we had lots to talk about. As there wasn't any good place to continue to near by, we took a taxi back to the Hostel where we continued drinking and chatting with the other girl until 5 in the morning. Normally the hostel bar would have closed at one a.m., but the bartender stayed with us drinking and playing table football. The other girl had had a little too much to drink and spent most of the time in toilet. the girls' friends will reputedly be jealous because they met Finns.

The next morning, after 4 hours of sleep and definately not feeling sober yet we planned to pay for another night and continue sleeping. But because the hostel was fully booked we had to hit the road again. We drove to the bikeshop the bartender at the hostel had reecommended and Bergie had his Triumph's chain tightened and Skoll decided it's time to change the rRssian plastic tyres to western ones. We will have to see whether the Avons help to reduce slipping, although Skoll's braking technique could definitely be improved.

The bike shop (Motoraj, Novovysocanska 892, Praha 9) also had a biker bar attached to it where we went to wait for the tyre change and heal our slight hangovers.

The star of the morning was the Ural. The previous evening we noticed that we have found the local Tattarisuo (area in Helsinki with lots of car repair etc. places), so we started looking for the velding-place there. In the first place we tried the master didn't speak any english, but guided us to some other place. After searching the other place for a while, we noticed a car ahead of us with the driver signing to follow him. Having no idea why he asked us to follow him, we did as asked and found our way to a backyard of a local mchanic of some kind. The master of the place had games and devices (pelit ja vehkeet) and in an hour the crashbar was ready for its next crash again.

The trip to Krakow was a bit more than 5 kilometers. We found a guarded parking place and had some kielbasa sausage for breakfast. After that we touristed around the old city, and visited the Wavel castle and its armouries. It was easy to see the splendour of the old Polish kingdom.

After Krakow we decided to continue on the nice, twisty road 780 towards Oswiecim. To our surprise, the Auswich museum was free of charge. There were many bikes on the parking lot, including a clubful of Gold Wings. The actual Auswich camp was a dark place.

After Auswich the Czech border formalities seemed rather pleasant. We continued towards Prague on the again nice and twisty road 11. After Opava it startd raining, persuading us that it was time to turn in for the night. We found a reasonably cheap roadside motel, and stopped there.

Rambo still had his bowels on the fly, and decided to stay in his room. Skoll and Bergie visited the local bar, where a wedding celebration had reached the slow dances stage. We had several glasses of very cheap beer (17 local units, 60 Euro cents), and enjoyed the ramblings of a drunken local Heavy Metal fan ('My band is ...' over and over again. Unfortunately the language barries prevented further communications with locals.

When walking back to the motel and listening the rain and thunder, it was apparent that staying at the motel - instead of sleeping in a tent as we originally had planned - was a good idea.

(Authored by Skoll with Bergie's ed. notes.)

Crossing the borders in Baltia was surprisingly easy and fast. When we arrived at the border of Poland, the queue was longer thn any of us had seen before. In the queue we met some fellow finnish bikers who had been waiting for several hours and weren't even near to the passport control. Once again life is easier with bikes - we passed all the busses and were in Poland after about an hour and a half of queuing.

The first meal in Poland was relatively interesting, as the waitress didn't speak a word of english. Me and Rambo took schnitzels, but Bergie ordered just something. This something ended to my plate and we found out that it was some kind of fried fish.

After spending a night in a motel in a place called Lomza we continued to Warzaw. As all of us managed to burn our arms driving in t-shirts the last day, I had my jacket on and Bergie and Rambo used a longsleeved shirts. The 150 kilometers was hot as hell and even more hot was driving in Warzaw tring to find a place to stay. In the end we managed to find a nice hostel with good service. (Youth Hostel Karolkowa, Karolkowa 53a, ed.note) In the evening we met Piotras and Anjushka.

(Piotras is an active member of the Midgard community, and has for example been working on the Debian packages. He works at a computer company developing interal systems on Midgard. He is also a very nice guy who drinks beer and listens to metal music. All in all, the night was quite pleasant. We went to eat in a fancy Spanish styles restaurant, where we were greeted by at least a dozen waiters. Anjushka was expecting a baby, due September, as a new addition to the Midgard famility. ed.note)

The next day, Thursday, we started by looking for a place for Ural maintenance. After calling to a supposed-to-be bike maintenance and receiving a polish message I asked help from the hostel reception. A nice lady called for me to a few places and found a place where I took my bike. The place where we went was kept by a bald, chain-smoking guy (Timo Rautiainen look-a-like, ed.note) who had been repairing and driving Urals for 20 years. They even served us coffee so I can only say positive things about the service. (Ural service Jacek Wiwiarski, Modliwska 217 on the road 61 from Legionowo. Tel +48-503 444 294, ed.note)

On Friday, after uploading the pictures at the internet cafe at the hostel, we continued to Krakow. The driving was nice - the roads were in good shape, after getting out from Warzaw the traffic wasn't too bad and the landscapes were beautiful. On the downside we experienced our first accident. About 100 kilometers before Krakow a car was turning left on a main road which caused a lock breaking in a car before us. Bergie and Rambo managed to break successfully, but for me the space wasn't enough so the Ural tipped over and slided for three-four meters hitting Rambo's Ducati which crashed also. The crashbar from the Ural broke and the Ducati got a small scratches. Other than that, we got off only with a fright and a couple of bruises.

We found a 'Hotelik' about 15 kilometers from Krakow. The place didn't serve any food so we went looking for a restaurant. The only thing we found was a hotel not far away. After hearing that they don't accept credit cards but do accept euros and signing that we'd like some food we were guided to a cellar disco/bar section of the hotel which was closed before our arrival. We tried to ask why we couldn't stay upstair where all the other guests were, but the waiter either couldn't speak english well enough to explain this to us. or simply chose not to. We figured that the only reason was, that our appearance would have propably frightened off all the other guests or we didn't fulfill the dresscode. Anyway we got our own bar where they played covers of the most awful hits of the eighties and relatively good food and beer.

Tomorrow, if I get my crashbar welded back, we'll continue to Prague. (After sightseeing Krakow, ed.note)

The Latvian border went quite swiftly as we were able to lane split our way to the front of the queue. The routines were slightly slower than usual and included checking frame numbers from the bikes.

We arrived to Riga early in the afternoon, parked the bikes and bought a grilled chicken to be eaten as lunch in the park beside Hotel Latvija. After lunch we were able to drop our gear into deposit at the railway station and take a look at the city. It seems that helmet laws either don't exist or are not enforced in Latvia, so we decided to leave the helmets also into storage.

We met Petri over a beer in the old city, which was filled with outside bars and restaurants. After some sightseeing we decided to pick up our gear and ride outside the city to bush camp. Most of the area aound Riga is swamp but we were able to find a dry spot for the tents. Of course, this wasn't a problem for Bergie's hammock.

We continued riding helmetless in the following morning and hit a police raid. However we were not even pulled over while they seemed to be stopping all the cars.

The Lithuanian border went past swiftly and we continued towards Poland. Via Baltica was in good condition both in Latvia and Lithuania, despite occasional road works. There were several new bypass roads that were not visible on the GPS maps.

There was a several hour queue at the Polish border. However, we were again able to lane split our way, shortening the wait to only one and half hours. Most people gave way to us easily in the queue, but one tourist bus tried to bock us. Luckily another bus driver came to clear the situation and we were able to proceed.

We arrived to wet and dark Tallinn around 10:30pm in Friday, and started the slow and bumpy progress towards Pärnu. The effect of EU funding on the Via Baltica (E67) road we're apparent, as road was under construction in many places. Unfortunately for us this mean removed tarmac and lots of potholes. Addition to this fun was crazy Mercedes and Audi drivers and drunken teenagers jumping to the road. However, we made it safely to the Uudea guesthouse near Pärnu, a place run by Skoll's family.

The storm pestering Finland on the previous night had hit Estonia even more viciously, and the roads were filled with debris from fallen trees. Electricity had been out for two days, and so water was sparse. However, we made ourselves comfortable by putting gear to dry, setting up a fire, and sitting down to drink local Saku beer and chatting long into morning.

The next morning, or to be honest early afternoon started bright and warm, and we got some workout from chopping up two huge trees that had fallen in the storm from Skoll's grandmothers backyard. We also had a pleasant swim in the nearby warm if muddy stream.

After lunch we set out to Pärnu's center. Pärnu is a nice, small city filled with low wooden buildings and surprisingly few remnants of the soviet regime. We cruised around the city for a while and visited the long sand beach. We also managed to find the local biker-styled rock bar Pub Alexanderis, which seemed to also serve pretty good food.

Since we had our bikes with us, we decided to withdraw back to the gueshouse for sauna and beer.

Skoll went to visit some other family members in the following morning, and we stayed with Rambo in attempt to get image uploads to the travel server working. FTPing the images over GSM data seemed to work, but took about 13 minutes per each image and costing something horrondous. We also tried GPRS connection, but since it is NATted we couldn't get FTP working. The next thing we'll try is uploading the images over Psion's web browser.

Once Skoll gets back, the plan is to spend the night at Pub Alexanderis.