Authentic Tramp or Rolling Stone I am...somehow, whatever... The last trip was not very funny.

It was one purely romantic story, I just had to go in. I have built this bike to jump on it and to ride to the mountains, to forest, to the beach and sun. The reason was very simple, I needed to hit the road. Nothing else, and no matter the price, because my life is priceless, actually. But...the last ride wasn't easy. And I think, it was the first really fully conscious going back on the track, where in one instant my decisions took over confusions rotating around. And one early morning I jumped on my Frankenstein Cruiser SUV, with a necessary minimum in the bags, and equipped with one Samsung Ultra, Canon 5D Mark II, Samsung best tablet, tools set and tooth brush, I moved from one German village lost in Mecklenburg (northern Germany) and I pedaled in direction Berlhin all day.
Frankenstein Cruiser aka Adventure shown itself in all best lights, honestly perfect ride on all kinds of paths.
So, I am, like, ready to precise why this last trip wasn't such an easy ride as I would wish... Even if I have visited almost all of my favorite spots on the way, even if I had a good wine and excellent Cruiser downhills, my beloved cheese, and sleeping in hammock under the stars almost every night... it wasn't a part of total pleasure to ride a bicycle a cross Southern Europe in a season dead of winter. In French, we would describe these South landscapes as La Desalotion Dénudé au Temps de l'Hiver, it would mean in English a Naked Desolation in Winter Times. Very softly concluded concerning a view of the world literally devastated.
So, yes, I did my romantic ride through the real world very destroyed by a human...lifestyle.

They have no opportunities to learn how unhealthy can be their job, they must use all opportunities to earn for bread, water and bed. This is what I have seen, from the settle of one huge cruiser and from the board of my floating hammock, at every sunrise and every sunset... a devastation.
After thirty years of tramping, riding, rock'n'rolling, learning on the road, sleeping on the road, eating bread baked in so many different ovens, living long months in forest, mountains and on the beaches... I have experienced fully conscious for a first time in my life what means to me travel. In fact, I took so many pictures, with so many different types of the cameras, that my travels had become a movie framed continually in my mind as the pictures in a viewfinder of my Canon, or Pentax, or Voigtlander, or...a few other ones. But this time, I asked myself why actually I ride thousands of the kilometers to watch at the world, to take the pictures about it and to write about? The answer is extremely simple, I do these things naturally from many thousands of the kilometers. Because these are the only ways I like to ride? To see the world as it is? And to accept it? As it is? After many, many, many thousands of the kilometers driving a cross the stories of thousand and one night, living total adventure lifestyle, sleeping under many trees, and in many bushes, as like in the old houses communes for the travelers landing in one hippie village lost in the Nature, a meaning of the path I have taken many rotations of the earth ago framed around of the road which I follow instinctively, because road gives to me all what I need to continue my days.

A question, WHAT FOR TO LEARN? Dissolve definitely in rising wave of income from the world, when you decide to take a serious walk through it. In one moment you can regret you have ever touched any drugs, actually more disturbing than anything else, so powerful can be the first sunrise after one long ride from the city. So many times I have experienced these instants of joy to have move for life no matter the price, because, actually my life is, like...priceless.
And one day I have begun to write, after having read so much that evidently I followed the torrents of alphabetical signs combined in visual codes of the interpretations of life, and I learned how to use them for my own, to write a synthesis of my existence, as it is. Nothing less, nothing more. And later the camera had become a constant companion on the road. Another meta interpretation of life, a picture. A framed space containing life's all codes captured with one objective to the mirror box and printed on the sensor or on the celluloid film. The memories in images. The words written on paper, constituting a book, a massive reflection concerning interpretation of life. And RIDE...! A sensation of freedom in diving into all what brings the road.

Berlin in Winter is like a capital of Gray land, where heavy dark sky is melting with humid dark ground, and the walls around are fast becoming a creepy labyrinth. Days are short, and nights are fully attractive. Big city where languages of world nations are over crossing in the streets. It is so good to listen to such colorful flows of the stories imported from so many different places...it is so good to understand them.
I didn't stay many days there, I have caught the cheapest train crossing all Germany taking rainy showers from the weeks and resigned to stay for the next weeks underwater dropping continually from the swollen dark clouds. The idea to ride over six hundred kilometers through air saturated with cold water wasn't smart, so I opted for landing in France as fast as possible. Where I would, must cruise in cold, rainy fog for a few days also. No matter, there's always a sun behind the clouds, it is enough to ride through them and to survive cold, cold rain, cold wind, cold nights, cold gray... no matter, let's go! Two kilograms of bananas, one Camembert, one baguette and one bottle of wine, a daily nutrition full en calories necessary to produce a lot of heat while pedaling. Under one original seaman coat, I was sweating and enjoying a sauna ambience. After a few days of such a ride, my heart is becoming a muscle man, and everything goes only better.
I made a kind of scenario, I didn't write it, I did only a kind of thinking approach concerning the best path to take in France, and in fact I found something very interesting. Style, like to follow a thin path in forest to find myself on the mountain rocky road, where every sixty kilometers you can find a shelter for the trekking travelers.

Sometimes it's possible to spend a few days there totally alone, sometimes it costs around ten euros per night, and meetings with other vagabonds is quite certain. But, constant rain kept my GPS locked in the asphalt net. So...only to do was eating a lot of bananas, Camembert, muesli, drinking a good wine, searching for quiet place to sleep, and pedaling. Waking up in a thick fog, blurring all morning around, changing socks and underpants, collecting all stuff, packing tight on the bike and finding a gas station coffee bar. Big coffee, big joint, muesli bar and first three bananas ... Hello Patcha! Thank you so much. But I really shouldn't expect the roses in the middle of November, lost somewhere in the middle north of France. Devouring bananas, Camembert, testing the wines, rolling big spliffs and pedaling forward closer to the sun far away from countries of rain.
It was my only daily motivation mantra, far from rain, far from rain. I had no need to hunt for pictures, no welling for coffee sitting and writing poetry of samurai, only pedaling, all rainy days. Pedaling, finding a dry place under a piece of roof, sleeping, waking up, changing underpants and socks and pedaling. It wasn't so harsh, but when finally I have got under hot shower I have appreciated a fun it can be. Once or two I slept in strange motels, where the receptionists were cooperative to install my cruiser in the room. I was riding around one week in constant rain. Winter Times are not easy.