Robbie Marshall - Triumph Around the World

This Eye Classics edition first published in Great Britain in 2011, by:
Eye Books
29 Barrow Street
Much Wenlock
Shropshire
TF13 6EN
www.eye-books.com

First published in Great Britain in 2001

Copyright Robbie Marshall

Cover design by Emily Atkins/Jim Shannon
Text layout by Helen Steer

The moral right of the Author to be identified as the author of the work has been asserted.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

The paperback edition of this book is printed in Poland.

ISBN: 978-1-903070-66-6

For Sasha and Chantie

When my Dad says in this book that he was experiencing the most rewarding event of my life I do not think he could have realised how inspiring his story would be to others.

Its appeal transcends many levels and not least is the draw for those that appreciate motorbikes and, specifically, British bikes. The motorbike that became his best friend, without a doubt, made the trip what it was. He did not choose a Triumph Trophy for no reason.

The travel and road of discovery that created the book will enthral and excite all arm chair travellers and those that have been privileged enough to hit the long, lonely and dusty roads of the world (and the wet and cold ones too). Open minded people that leave everyday life to seek out new places and experiences will completely relate to things that happened along the way to a sometimes lost and lonely man exploring the world.

Weaving all the scary, fantastic and eye-opening exploits together is the love story that was in his life at the time. He had no idea if his relationship could stand up to his prolonged absence while he had a mid life crisis on a big blue motorbike. What he did know was that if he did not indulge the need to explore he would regret it for the rest of his life.

Another remarkable aspect to an already epic journey was the decision Robbie took to film the whole trip, unaided by any kind of support crew or back up. He was an original in the travel documentary genre. Always the pioneer, never the follower. Always an ordinary man accomplishing extraordinary things.

~ Sasha Marshall

Dear Charles,

Someone has to share the trials and tribulations of an ignorant old hippy attempting to fulfil an adolescent dream of riding a wholly unsuitable motorbike around the world. It may as well be a ten-year-old boy, who has not watched enough television to form a distorted view of our fantastic planet. This is it kid, straight from the hip, a blow-by-blow account. The fun, the fear, the pain and the joy of 51 weeks on the road without a map to guide me, or tent to keep me dry. The journey was not about destinations, but the travel in between. Arriving is just something that happens.

When people asked me where I was going, I said England the scenic route. When they asked me how, I just said one day at a time. It was difficult, demanding, often dangerous, and very lonely listening to the wind alone with your thoughts hour after hour. The adventure was not a statement of masculinity, moral fibre or even achievement, just the best education on offer, and the most rewarding event of my life.

Every day is a school day on the road. Every day the senses are bombarded with new sights, sounds and smells, just like being a newborn child seeing the world for the first time. Nothing was familiar except the throbbing heart of a British legend. I could have taken a horse. Some said I should have taken a horse. At least there would have been something to eat in times of hardship.

Where the idea came from, or what fed the passion, is a mystery, but it turned into a manic obsession, and now it is over. The only challenge left is to do it again. I hope these words will illuminate, entertain and make you laugh, but above all else inspire.

Never let anyone tell you the world is small. It is absolutely huge, and out there for the taking.

~ Robbie

It was about eight in the evening, and the fat guys uniform was under pressure, fighting back the blubber attempting to escape between stretched buttonholes. He was probably tired and I was not doing too well with explanations of why I had no return ticket.

This was to be my first lesson in tolerance of officialdom. Every country exists on its own rules that have no apparent reason, but those rules are theirs, and being middle-class British is not a licence to avoid scrutiny. People queuing patiently behind the white line started twitching as the officers plump fingers rested on a USA visa, complete with photograph. My unrehearsed monologue was thankfully overheard by fattys colleague in the next booth. No shit! A Triumph huh? I got a Harley. Let the guy through.

Someone once said, a sure sign of the male menopause is when a man leaves his wife and buys a motorbike, and who was I to break the stereotype mould? The combination of bike and travel was too much to resist, and if I did not grab the opportunity, I would have become too old and feeble to even try. We all find valid justification for not fulfilling dreams, but the time had come to stop making excuses and gird the loins for action. My time of reckoning had arrived, and it was terrifying!

The only thing more ridiculous than an old man in love is an ageing nine-stone hippy attempting to ride a wholly unsuitable quarter-ton motorbike around the world. I was both those things, and by the time I stepped out into a watery June dawn it was too late to bottle out. Go West, you degenerate old fool, my girlfriend Marian whispered lovingly into my ear with a final kiss. I took her advice and headed for New York.

The plan was to depart this green and pleasant land riding a 1200cc Triumph, to explore some of the wildest and most remote parts of our fascinating planet, and capture on film a diverse patchwork of cultures and traditions. I had never been a motorcycle fetishist, although I had enjoyed them through my youth before becoming an art student, husband and father all in a few weeks. Bikes had had to take a bow while my wife and I got better acquainted, resulting in a second daughter whilst I was still a student.

Two decades passed before the trappings of wealth allowed me to indulge in another passion: aviation. After a particularly bad hang gliding accident in southern France, I decided I needed an engine, so I qualified to fly microlights. This meant I was able to take off from one of my fields behind the house, provided my wifes racehorses and childrens ponies would move out of the way. I spent Sunday afternoons flying the Sussex Downs until a bad take-off had me flying through the roof of a neighbours barn. Striking a concrete wall at 55 mph can be very painful, but I was fortunate enough to escape uninjured. The investigating officer was there in minutes riding a booming Moto Guzzi motorcycle. So, wheres the fatality? he enquired to a man in flying suit and helmet. That would be me, I said, feeling a little confused. Nice bike, can I have a go? The officer declined my request, which was probably a good thing, as I had already escaped death once that day, but said his machine was to be auctioned the following week. I bought it as a mate for the Bultaco, which I kept for thrashing round my fields. My suppressed passion for road bikes had been rekindled, and as for the hole in my neighbours barn, it turned out to be the best conversation piece ever.