IBN Battuta remembered his (the Wali’s) words: “You are the traveler of the Arabs.” One of his companions who was present said: “And of the non-Arabs my master.” He said: “Yes, and of the non-Arabs. Treat him with respect.” (The Travels of Ibn Battuta)
Inverting the old saw that traveling is about the journey not the destination — a Swiss business consultant took it into his head one fine morning to ride his ageing motorcycle to Jeddah. Being German-Swiss, the whole thing was planned with the precision and forethought one might expect. However, the genetically appropriate BMW did not figure in the equation; a 10-year-old Harley Davidson Road King was what he had and the First Hog Rally was the target.
Six thousand kilometers, a temporarily leaky gearbox and several kilos of accumulated carbon particulate from smoky diesel trucks later, Roland Bishofberger followed a creaking taxi he had hired to direct him into the vehicular circus maximus of Jeddah.
What possessed an apparently sane 60-year-old headhunter from Switzerland to take the hard route?
“I like to ride long distances on my own,” he said, shrugging his shoulders as if bemused by the naiveté of the question. The answer is revealing for although he said it was very much a targeted journey, making it the long way round by road gave the clue to a much deeper underlying motivation and a significant piece of his character.
“I began riding bikes in general at eighteen and a half,” he recalled with some precision. “I had a Vespa.” To describe these as ‘motorbikes’ stretches the bounds of credibility to thrumming point. In reality in 1964 these were smoky Italian two wheeled 125 cc sewing machines with an anorak aboard. (I am informed they have since improved; not the anoraks, the machines.) On this notoriously leaky and unreliable piece of machinery, Bishofberger decided to ride from Switzerland to Sicily.
Exceedingly sensible but conservative parents pointed out that he had no experience and it was not possible to ride over 350 kilometers a day on a Vespa. Evaluating their opinion carefully and then ignoring it, he rode the first 1,000 kilometers to Naples in just one day. He became addicted at that point to motorcycling and the long-distance solo-motorcycle challenge.
“For many years after that, I could not ride as I was involved in building a business and working 14 hours a day,” he mused. However, in his mid-20s, he found time to drive 18,000 kilometers to Zambia in a Volkswagen camper van and, significantly, passed through Saudi Arabia on the way. “We had no visas,” he recalled, “And they sent us back to Amman for them. The border was a tent — it was like a film scene from Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves!”
He said that he knew nothing of the country except that it was on the way to Ethiopia. “They asked if we had alcohol. We had some cognac and we showed it to them and the guard took me to a stone and demonstrated that I had to smash the bottle.”
Ten years ago, after a traumatic period in his personal life and two very major operations, Bishofberger bought his first Harley Davidson. On his website he says: “I am living very consciously, completely pain free and without side effects grateful and in the knowledge that I have a new lease of life.” The long dormant distance-bug revived at once. “I rode long distances straight away — Norway, Sweden and Germany. Visited the biggest ever motorcycle meeting in Berlin, three years ago with over 38,000 bikes,” he said.
When Bishofberger heard of the rally in Jeddah, atavistic stirrings from his previous visit to the Kingdom prompted him to find out more. Contacting the Jeddah chapter, he assembled the details and asked if he could bring anything with him. “Your chapter pin,” he was told.
This was difficult, for if Bishofberger is anything, he is the quintessential lone rider. Not belonging to chapters or anything of the social paraphernalia around “Hogs” he made some enquiries and was given a variety of pins by a local Swiss chapter of owners who were delighted at the idea.
After a year of detailed planning, selection of the warmer route southward rather than through the Balkans as he originally hoped and finding out just how difficult it is to sleep in a hammock and giving up, Bishofberger headed off through Germany to Italy and crossed into Greece by ferry at Igoumenitsa.
“I asked the captain if I could visit the steering stand (Bishofberger has a wonderfully imaginative way with English) and take photos — he allowed this and it was lovely,” he confided. “On the ferry I met some lorry drivers — they went all over the world — they knew Saudi Arabia, Iran, Iraq and I got some very nice tips — on what to do, where to go and which road to take.”
Riding on average eight to 10 hours a day and snacking on power bars and water, (“there was no time to stop and I had to keep to schedule”) his route took him from Igoumenitsa and eventually to Thessalonica. “It reminds a little of Switzerland — lakes and mountains, nice but really cold. However, I did not reach Thessalonica in one day and I stayed in a very cheap hotel the middle of nowhere — I could give you my GPS location as I have one — and there was no warm water in the sleeping room.”
Leaving Thessalonika for Istanbul he crossed the Bosporus bridge and on to Southern Turkey via Ankara to Adana, the ancient Antioch and the capital of Adana province. “I wrote on my home page that the way is not the goal, Jeddah is the goal,” Bishofberger said.
Leaving Adana behind, Aleppo in Syria was the next staging point. Bishofberger observed that the roads were “really bad in Syria — and the exhausts of the trucks are so black. I was very dirty at night after a day driving. There is little rain and the oil and diesel smoke settles and makes the roads very slippery.” With characteristic Swiss understatement he noted; “and the drivers are not so organized.”
Only once was he treated aggressively and that was at the toll station in Istanbul. “It was difficult to pay the toll you have to remove some of your protective gear — gloves and so on to reach for money.” A Turkish driver behind him with a pressing schedule to keep kept his hand on the car horn and shouted. Bishofberger observed wryly, “I am afraid he had to wait a long time......”
After temporarily losing his cash card to a hungry ATM machine in Aleppo and breaking his Visa card by sitting on it eight hours a day, Bishofberger arrived at the Saudi border.
“Thirty five years after I had first been here, I was so astonished.” He had previously researched the area via Google Earth. “I saw between the border round green spots — crop circles — it reminded me of flying over the US. I thought that this could not be — in this region there is only sand and bad roads. Now it is an agricultural area and good roads — so amazing.”
Harley Davidson in Saudi Arabia had contacted customs officers at the border to Saudi Arabia to alert them to Bishofberger’s arrival. “When I entered there I did not know that.” The border guards said he had the wrong visa — one to enter by plane, not by motorcycle.
“My heart was going down — but I eventually got through. No one here spoke English properly — they could not conversate.” However, the police turned out to be extremely helpful, but it was some time before Bishofberger understood. “The police could not explain to me that I would have an escort for over 1,000 kilometers — they just said ‘you are finished — but wait 10 minutes.” He did.
“When I realized I had an escort the whole way — I was amazed how good the organization was. Sometimes I had to wait for a few minutes at the beginning of a new district for the new car to arrive — but they were very efficient.”
First stop in Saudi Arabia was Tabuk when the gearbox began to leak. “I was 1,000 kilometers away from the next Harley dealer — a gasket was leaking. In the morning there was no more oil on the floor — so either it had sealed or it was empty.” He continued to Yanbu via the long ride down to the coast and the seaside road. “The leak was nothing we found later.”
His arrival at the November Rally in Jeddah prompted the next question. “It was full of middle aged men who have bought into the cowboy image and you the lone rider in all this — what was your reaction?”
“The most impressive thing here was the nice welcome and the warm mentality of the people — that was really impressive — great friendliness from people I have never seen before and may never see again — they were so nice and so kind. There were 200 people waiting and then this crazy Swiss guy rolls in...”
Bishofberger was fulsome in his enthusiasm.
“The welcome overcame the tiredness. Many asked if I was the guy who rode the whole way here — but the happiest person was me!”
He reflected for a moment. “That’s a point we Swiss could learn quite a lot from — we are too narrow minded and too money oriented and too cool to other people. Like a woman the day after giving birth never wants a child again but later does, I am thinking of coming down again. It was so great.” And still he insists it was about the destination not the journey.
Roland Bishofberger’s journey website: www.derandere.ch/harley