By motorbike from Prague to Sahara - part 1 - Andy's Travelogues

By motorbike from Prague to the Sahara - 1st part of the journey

I'm leaving Prague...

Andyho Cestopisy - Motorkou z Prahy na Saharu

Prague - Pilsen - Karlovy Vary

April 2019 was preparing to turn over to its second half, and as soon as it tried to do so by pushing the mercury of the thermometer above 15°C, I threw my backpack on my back, started the motorbike and started the journey from Prague to Marrakesh, Morocco. I only bought a nearly 30-year-old bike for the price of a new iPhone 2 months ago and have only ridden it a few times. To check if it works. I originally planned to arrive in Mylhůz on the first day. The name of the city as from Harry Potter. It is a city just outside the borders of France. I wanted to arrive in the south of France as soon as possible, so as not to freeze on the way. I considered it most important and essential not to spend the night in Germany. But if you want to make god laugh, tell him your plans. I left Prague for Plzeň to brag to my friends about my bold plan and subsequently moved to Vary, where I will spend the night before conquering the first obstacle: Germany.
After arriving in Karlovy Vary, I learn that dad is leaving the next day for a trip to Holland… hmm, I think… the perfect opportunity to let him know that I’m also leaving for a little trip. I’m already dialing it on my mobile phone: Me: “Hi dad! So you’re going to Holland and you won’t even tell me? 🙂 Just so you know, I’m going to Morocco tomorrow! On a motorbike. ” Dad (after a slightly tense pause): “On a motorbike? Hmm… so you’ll drive through Germany and preferably around Stuttgart. Call aunt, you can sleep there .” Food for thought: Does the phrase “dial on the phone” still make sense? I’m dialing aunty. It’s been a few years since we saw my aunt, but word got around, and together with the fear that my aunt wouldn’t have any idea who I was, my plan to not stay in Germany longer than necessary also fizzled out.
My aunt has lived in Germany since the beginning of her life, so despite her Stuggart accent, I didn’t quite understand the address one hundred percent. Actually, I didn’t even understand the name of the city. But I thought to myself, I’ll write to my dad and he’ll definitely write me the address, I’ll enter it into Google Maps and it’s settled. Nothing could go wrong with that.
By motorbike from Prague to Sahara - part 1 1

Karlovy Vary - Stuggart

I wake up early in the morning, I set off in the direction of Cheb. I got the name of the town and the street from my dad. No one knows the identification number, but they have a barrel at the entrance instead of a mailbox. That sounds promising. The level of nervousness, not knowing where I was actually going, rose relatively high. And she climbed a little more the moment she realized I should stop at Vodafone. I need to make sure that my mobile internet will work abroad. A must-have for online maps. The helpful lady behind the counter informs me that the internet will not work for me and not even the phone itself, and that there is currently nothing she can do about it. I quickly take screenshots of the map on my mobile phone, write down the names of the cities that will serve as key points in a pad, and set off in the direction of everyone’s dream west. Out of hopelessness caused by the impossibility of calling for help or advice or specifying the aunt’s address, I preferred to squeeze it out for a while. If you can’t solve a problem, don’t say it.

I have other concerns, like avoiding highways. I’m not ready for a fast ride. It is true that I have ridden half of Mexico and also the north of Vietnam on a motorcycle, but in both cases the maximum speed of the motorcycles was around 60 km/h. The unlimited speed of the autobahns in Germany would only make me panic.

An hour later…

I drive on highways all the time and my eyes nearly pop out of my helmet. They strictly reflect my fear and nausea caused by the speed of 130 km/h. And that’s mainly because I’m without a doubt the slowest vehicle by far. When you are afraid and have no choice, there is a simple solution. Clamp the halves and continue.

I tried to pull off the freeway several times, but always immediately lost track of my current location. And so I always preferred to return to the highway, where there was no shortage of signs for Stuggart. It was not pleasant. That in 15°C on a motorcycle at 130 km/h in cycling gloves from Decathlon, that’s not exactly a hit parade. It is widely known that the line between courage and stupidity is very thin. This time I felt on the silly side of th border. Maybe I should have waited another year or two and really prepared for it… Eee… no.  

By motorbike from Prague to Sahara - part 1 2
I’m getting close, to Stuggart, but I’m climbing suspiciously. I appear on some mountains. Suddenly I’m in a place with amazing views and crazy skydivers. I’m clearly lost, but the view, the feeling of freedom and adventure filled me with happiness and pride at my fearless bravery (it’s already turned to the good side). It is necessary to maintain a positive spirit of the trip.
I arrive at the village where my aunt is supposed to live. I also find the street. I also find a gentleman waving at me. “Gutten tag… Nicht sprechenzie infant.” And now the aunt appears in the entrance of the barracks 🙂 The first goal of the journey successfully conquered.