The sun warms the tent. I crawl out of the sleeping bag, make myself a coffee, grab the camera, and head for the beach. It still doesn’t quite sink in that I’m strolling along a sandy beach on the Hebrides and have, once again, managed with AWO to get to one of Europe’s most remote corners. There isn’t much time left to enjoy it; dark clouds loom beyond the dunes. The cozy part is over; now I have to pack at speed while it’s still dry. Almost everything is boxed, but I might need three more minutes to stow the outer tent dry. Then I sit under the covered toilet…

A tree, another tree, I can hardly believe it. They call it a forest. After four days on Shetland, an island that really has its charms, now again winding roads through lush greenery. Around 7 a.m. I leave the ferry, quickly find my way out of Aberdeen, and head onto side roads toward the Highlands. More precisely, toward Scotland’s second‑highest mountain, or even Britain’s. The many trees—so a forest—stop abruptly as the road begins to climb the bare hills. An imposing mix of far‑seeing and short‑sightedness, depending on whether sun or clouds hold sway. Sometimes there is sun and rain at the same time. Unfortunately, it’s also a very windy day.…

A alarm clock on vacation is actually the last thing I want to see or hear. But Colin and I still want to find a new oil seal and, of course, install it. Lerwick is exactly the right place for that, as it has cars, tools, and especially shipbuilding supplies for everything needed in this direction. In the second shop I hold my long‑sought oil seal in my hand—actually two, you never know. I then head straight to Colin’s garage; everything is very tidy and there really is every tool you could need. Colin lives on a hill and has a wonderful view over Lerwick out to sea. After enjoying…

I haven’t even taken a seat for breakfast yet when I’m already pulled into the first conversation. A German couple—this time not Swiss—approaches me about the AWO and we chat for a while, standing, about travel. Afterwards, over coffee and toast, I start thinking about how I’ll shape the day. While I’m musing to myself, I hear behind me a dialect that’s become all too familiar. Ah, so it’s Swiss again, and we get into an animated discussion about what fascinates us humans about foreign lands and the memories of them that we love to savor for a long time. We’ve already overrun breakfast by an hour when we decide…

Today, unfortunately, it’s time to say goodbye to Shetland again. Until the ferry in the evening I’ll still swing a few hooks over the island. Northwest of Tangwick Colin recommended Dore Holm to me, a steep rock formation with a hole, or a doorway, basically. Even more impressive was the area around the nearby lighthouse just around the corner. A jagged cliff and a good spot to watch seabirds. The landscape and the weather at this moment put on a real show of impressiveness. Back on the motorcycle I have to bite my lip. I noticed a light oil film between engine and gearbox. That was not going to impress…

First, the negatives: a reclining seat is nonsense for the night. Whoever can lie on his back for eight hours with slightly bent hips and knees is either dead or suffering from a disease. On the way back I immediately hit the floor, at least you can stretch your legs or lie on your side. I lose myself again in trivialities, although today was actually extraordinary. The rising sun smiles over the sea through the cabin window. That awakens the spirit of life and I set my sights on the breakfast buffet. Very late I now write to Colin from the motorcycle friends on the Shetlands, with whom I had…

What a stormy night! In hindsight I’m really glad I didn’t pitch my tent last evening. Sleep would have been out of the question. My cabin was warm and safe, yet I woke up a few times to the howling. Now, in the morning I notice that my nose and throat are blocked. A harbinger of the classic “man’s cold”? I have to endure the rain until nine, then it clears up dramatically and the wind eases noticeably. Today’s goal is the ferry from Aberdeen to the Shetland Islands. In the sunshine I head a few kilometres behind the campsite onto Scottish sovereign territory. The English, however, managed the border…

Yes, yes, I did close my eyes last night, but that doesn’t mean it was a restful night. It was pitch‑black, because I was in the interior cabin. An incessant vibration from the ship’s diesel engine rumbled through the whole vessel, always irregularly. At 5:45 the alarm goes off. Get up, freshen up, and off to breakfast. It’s empty. I ask a rushing staff member about breakfast and they tell me “6 o’clock”. “Just eat then,” I think, and look at my phone. Suddenly it says 5 a.m.! I’m going crazy. A bad night, and then it’s too short! What are you supposed to set the alarm for when 5:45 am in…

A grim, cool morning. The sun glimmers weakly through the morning mist. Even without rain the tent is soaking wet. During an extended breakfast the sun fights its way ever stronger through the fog, drying most of it out. After packing comes checking the route. A glance at the Dutch road network tells me I won’t even try the country roads. Only just before Rotterdam will I decide whether to turn into the countryside or head straight for the ferry port. Holland from the highway is, let’s say, indifferent. The closer you get to the Greater Amsterdam and Rotterdam areas, the more lanes the highways have and the denser the…

The night was too short, yet a self‑imposed goal forces me to get up. Primarily I want to get considerably closer to Rotterdam so that tomorrow I have enough breathing room for the check‑in. Means: a little after the corner we hit the highway and then we’ll see. At Volker I’ll nick a shrink‑fit bushing for the gearbox, safety first. So I’m zooming around on the highway. Snail‑pace through the Elbe tunnel and a snack‑ and fuel‑stop just before Bremen. At some point I leave the A1 and turn onto the B214 heading west. In Holland I’ve chosen a natural camping site. Only, the breaks become more, my back aches,…