Christmas is definitely coming and if you’re stuck for a good adventure book to buy as a present for a bike fan, look no further, for here’s a round-up of the cream of British adventure bike authors. And me.
I caught up with them all at the annual Overland Event overlandevent.com and what a treat it was to meet like-minded souls with incurable wanderlust, admire their battered bikes and catch up with other authors.
Sam Manicom needs little introduction to most fans of bike adventures for his four books recounting eight years of globetrotting which started with the dream that many people have, of learning to ride, buying a bike, jacking in the job and heading for the horizon. The difference is that Sam did it, setting off to ride all the way down through Africa.
He’s a cracking storyteller in the vein of moviemaker Sam Goldwyn, as in MGM, who said the secret of a good story was to start with a climax and work up, and his first, Into Africa, grips from the first page as he crashes in Tanzania and is flung into a filthy jail cell.
Add being shot at, a horrific crash which left him waking up in hospital four days later with broken ribs, jaw and wrist and lucky not to be blind, and you’ve got a cracker of a story, matched by his three others, Under Asian Skies, Tortillas to Totems and Distant Suns.
Shining through all of them in spite of the inevitable hardships and misadventures of the road is his unquenchable optimism, spirit and belief that people are essentially good everywhere – and that a smile goes a long way.
A new kid on the block, meanwhile, and one with the same attitude, is Jacqui Furneaux.
After her marriage broke down, Jacqui went backpacking, bought a Royal Enfield in India in 2000, and spent the next seven years riding around the world on it, covering 42,000 miles and 20 countries in seven years.
The result, Hit the Road, Jac!, is a hugely enjoyable tale of nights spent in police stations, brothels, toilets, up trees and much of the time, on the ground by the side of the motorbike.
Not to mention falling in love with the wrong men, teaching English to a Rwandan princess, logging timber in New Zealand and living with Pakistani stand-up comedians.
She’s a born storyteller, with wonderfully acute observations and a beautiful turn of phrase. Highly recommended and up there with the best bike adventure books.
Another unstoppable spirit is former Para and Commando Steve Smith, who’s Steve and the Tiger is a gripping account of riding a Triumph Tiger 800 the length of the Americas.
Steve writes just the way he talks – direct, candid, funny, brave and upbeat. Hit by problems which would have the rest of us sobbing by the roadside for our mummy, he just laughs, shrugs and finds a solution.
Attacked by three muggers one night, he fights them off. And when he crashes and cracks several ribs – really painful, as anyone who’s done it will know – he rides on because he’s paid the admission fee to Machu Picchu and as a true Scot, is damned if he’ll waste it.
Mind you, this is a man who when he was in the Army, crashed his bike in Irag, dislocated his ankle and broke all the metatarsal bones in his foot, then treated himself with morphine and rode on to finish the mission.
He apologised to me in advance because he said he wasn’t a writer, but he didn’t need to. He’s just a natural at telling it as it is, a la Hemingway – although he does win a prize for the most inspired spelling of croissants ever – quasons. I’ve already written to the French telling them to follow suit.
Gone Riding by Dom Giles takes in a six-month ride from Alaska to Panama, stopping to work on a turtle rescue centre in Baja California and a sloth sanctuary in Costa Rica. Insert your own joke about how laid back he is here.
In Africa, he taught in a township school for three weeks, then got back on his bike and headed north.
It’s a great read – witty, humorous, thoughtful, articulate and self-deprecating. His background as a history teacher makes him look below the surface of things and gives the book a depth and wisdom lacking in so many others, and his stops to help save the world’s sloth and turtle populations and teach African children are both deeply moving and a hoot.
And of course he found, as does everyone who goes travelling, especially by motorbike, the wonderful truth that no matter what you read in the news, people are generally good and kind the world over, that we all have the same hopes and fears and dreams, and that we have much more in common than anything which divides us.
Constantly touched by the kindness of others, especially those who had very little, he returned to the UK having changed his attitude towards life, his view on the world and even the oil on his bike, once.
The Road to Mali, by Craig Carey-Clinch, is something a bit different. The first half deals with his involvement with British and European motorcycle politics with fellow campaigner Simon Milward from the late Eighties on, as they and Ian Mutch of the Motorcycle Action Group fought against compulsory helmets and a plan to limit bikes to 100bhp.
Ironically, their attempts to convince bureaucrats that they were responsible citizens seemed to mostly consist of turning up to large demos and getting pissed.
After Simon’s killed in a bike crash in Mali in 2005, Craig and friend David French set off to ride to the site of the crash as a tribute, which is the second half of the book.
So a bit different, but an insight into a world few bikers probably know about.
In Notes from the Road Vol III, Derek Mansfield buys a Moto Guzzi Stelvio which then promptly breaks down as he rides it home from the dealer.
Undaunted, he then sets off to ride it to Mongolia and possibly beyond. The Guzzi breaks down again, but on he rides through a series of dull and dreary Russian towns and cities until he finally gets to Mongolia, realises he’s having no fun, and rides home again.
He’s a funny and observant writer, and the lack of fun can probably be explained by broken ribs and the fact that as a reformed alcoholic, he doesn’t really get into the swing of Russian bike gangs who love vodka and partying.
It’s a bit of an unrelenting ride, which is enlightened by two things – the remarkable kindness and generosity of strangers that all adventure bikers know about, and his happiness at discovering that adventures are great, but coming home after them has its own particular joy.
And finally, let’s not forget Overland Event organiser Paddy Tyson, whose The Hunt for Puerto Del Faglioli is an inspired, wise and witty romp through Canada, the USA and Central America on an apparently completely unsuitable Aprilia Pegaso 650.
Mind you, that same model got my mate Clifford Paterson from Chile to Alaska when we rode the length of the Pan-American Highway for my book The Road to Gobblers Knob, but I’m too modest to mention that, not to mention the other ones, Way to Go, Oz and In Clancy’s Boots.
These days, Paddy’s busy organising the Overland Event and being editor of Overland, the world’s most beautiful bike adventure magazine, but it’s about time he went on another adventure and wrote a book about it.