Milan Istanbul by vespa

Milan to Istanbul With a Bajaj Chetak Classic Lake Como in November starts to get foggy and wet. Riding his classic scooter through the hills is losing its fun, and Davide Marelli finds he is approaching corners with less confidence as the month progresses.

However being a chef with seasonal work in the tourist industry allows him to enjoy three months off in the winter and leave himself and his scooter free to travel.

Far and near After​a​ride​on​the​Andes​in​Argentina​in 2010,​and​a​desert​experience​in​Israel​in 2011,​I’ve​decided​it​is​now​time​to​leave my​home​in​the​north​of​Italy,​on​my​own​two wheels,​without​any​flight​between​my​shed and​my​destination.

Turkey​in​November​is​an​interesting place,​exotic​enough​to​gain​some​interest from​my​little​sponsors​(most​of​them friends​with​lots​of​passion​for​two​wheels and​no​time​to​travel)​and​the​Italian magazine​Motociclismo,​that​for​a​couple​of

years​now​has​been​happy​to​publish​my scooter​adventures.

The​very​best​way​to​reach​Istanbul​from Italy​is​by​crossing​the​Balkans.​Great: Croatia,​Serbia,​Bulgaria​are​waiting​for me!​Unfortunately,​after​a​brief​check​on the​weather​broadcasts,​I​realise​it​is already​winter​down​there,​so​another decision​is​taken.​I​will​instead​ride​to​the port​of​Ancona​and​board​a​ferry​to Igoumenitsa​in​Greece,​then​it​is​a​mere 900km​to​reach​my​destination,​Istanbul, the​gateway​to​the​east.

Prince The ​ ​ rom​the​town​where​I​live​by​Lake​Como​to F Ancona​it​is​almost​500km,​by​probably​the most​boring​road​in​the​whole​of​Italy,​the Via​Emilia.​This​is​a​flat,​long,​straight​road that​joins​Bologna​to​Milan,​running​parallel with​the​A1​(known​as​the​‘sun​motorway’) and​the​superfast​railway​line.​I​also​have​to cross​the​Padana​plain,​the​only​flat​area​in Italy,​and​not​exciting​at​80kph.

Leaving​home​not​too​early​in​the morning,​I​have​to​avoid​the​first​problem​of my​journey.​Milanese​car​commuters.

The​ferry​will​leave​Ancona​the​day​after, so​after​a​quick​check​on​the​web​I​got​in contact​with​‘The​Prince’​who​booked​me (for​free)​a​night​in​a​hotel​in​Riccione.

Riccione​and​its​Riviera​is​the​Italian Blackpool​(or​Brighton),​home​of​cheap disco​holidays​for​any​teen​in​the​country and​now​also​becoming​popular​with eastern​Europeans​and​Russians.

Down​by​the​Adriatic​Sea​you​can​breathe the​motor​passion​everywhere.​Right​in between​the​raceways​of​Imola​and​Misano, not​far​from​Mugello,​is​the​home​of​Ducati in​Borgo​Panigale,​Malaguti,​and​Bimota​is just​around​the​corner​in​Rimini.​The​late Marco​Simoncelli,​the​frizzy​haired​24-yearold​MotoGP​rider​was​from​Coriano,​four kilometres​away​in​downtown​Riccione.

‘The​Prince’,​whose​real​name​is​Filippo Cavasin,​is​the​respected​president​of​the Vespa​Club​Riccione.​Having​met​him​three

weeks​before​on​Facebook,​he​simply wanted​me​to​come​and​stay​for​free​in​a Vespista​friend’s​hotel...​Great!​Riccione​in November​has​plenty​of​empty​hotels.

The​Prince​says​he​is​a​real​prince,​and the​logo​of​his​VC​remembers​the​coat​of arms​of​his​kingdom.​He​hasn’t​got​a driving​licence​so​he​always​rides​his Vespa​50,​and​in​winter​a​red​Ape​50.​He only​uses​a​car​when​being​driven​by​a driver​– volunteers​from​the​Vespa​club.

He​tells​me​he​is​now​thinking​of​buying​a classic​Bentley,​wanting​to​park​that outside​his​home,​a​social​housing​block from​the​1960s.​He​is​a​really​welcoming and​funny​gentlemen.

I​meet​The​Prince​in​front​of​Riccione town​hall​on​a​gloomy​November​evening.

He​was​of​course​protected​from​the weather​by​the​Ape’s​cab,​and​he​was impressed​by​my​scooter​– a​semi-rusted

classic​Indian​Vespa.​The​Prince apparently​has​one​too!​He​bought​it brand​new​in​1997​from​a​local​shop​as a​“present​to​himself”.​He​told​me​it​was​a rare​opportunity​to​grab​a​real​1970s frame​Vespa,​new​from​a​shop,​but​20 years​later.​He​has​this​scooter​in​a​garage, still​unused,​because​of​the​absence​of any​driving​licence​in​his​pocket.​Now these​Bajaj​scooters​are​kind​of​rare​in Italy.​They​were​imported​by​an​unofficial importer​for​a​few​years​in​the​1990s​and were​sold​mostly​in​the​south​of​the country.​It’s​not​actually​considered​a real​Vespa​by​the​‘Taliban’​experts,​and has​almost​no​value​now.​The​fact​that two​previously​unknown​persons​have​a passion​for​it​means​something.​Since that​first​rendezvous​I​now​belong​to the​Filippo​Cavasin​Chetak​Kingdom with​pride.

Steaming ahead F ​ rom​Riccione​to​Ancona,​is​only​80km along​the​sea.​I​cross​the​province​of​Pesaro, home​of​a​real​two​wheel​king...​his​family name​is​Rossi​and​they​are​from​Tavullia.

C ​ laudio​Pierini​is​the​president​of​Vespa Club​Ancona​and​he​almost​made​me​miss the​ferry​as​he​very​much​wanted​me​to​visit the​VC​headquarters​and​take​a​few pictures​together.​He​and​his​partners picked​me​up​from​the​port.​Apparently they​all​know​that​exotic​Vespa​Club president​called​Prince,​and​they​all​agree with​me​on​his​royalties.

The​Minoan​Line​ship​stowed​my​little scooter​in​between​the​big​trucks.​There​are almost​no​cars​trying​to​cross​that​piece​of Mediterranean,​and​of​course​I​am​the​only one​on​two​wheels,​including​bicycles.​It’s interesting​realising​that​Ancona,​in​a​way, represents​a​real​gateway​to​the​east:​the lorries’​number​plates​are​from​Iran, Azerbaijan,​Armenia,​Georgia,​Albania,​and of​course​from​Turkey​and​Greece​too.

Katara Pass After​20​hours​on​the​water,​sharing​the night​with​drunken​truck​drivers,​at​9am​on November​9,​2012​I​am​in​Greece,​the​sun is​warm​and​my​tank​empty.

The​petrol​is​cheaper​in​Greece​and​the pump​is​waiting​for​me.​On​my​journey​I carried​with​me​two​litres​of​two-stroke​oil​in the​huge​left​pannier,​together​with​basic tools,​a​spare​wheel​and​a​complete​set​of cables​for​all​uses​(throttle,​clutch,​gear changer​and​front​brake).

The​very​first​challenge​of​my​overseas adventure​is​soon​to​come.​It’s​name​is Katara​Pass,​1700​metres​above​sea​level, it​is​the​only​way​to​cross​the​Epirus mountains​on​the​way​to​Thessaloniki​and the​east​of​continental​Greece.​To​join Katara​you​can​choose​two​roads:​the​new Egnatia​Odos​motorway,​or​the​old​sexy curvy​mountain,​with​much​less​traffic,​on to​the​city​of​Ioannina.​It​was​no​contest.

The​1994​Indian​150cc​engine​is pushing​me​along​gently.​I​enjoy​the​good

tarmac​and​the​total​absence​of​local traffic,​so​much​so​that​sometimes​I​feel​a certain​loneliness.​The​landscape​looks like​the​Alps,​nothing​to​do​with​my stereotypical​idea​of​Greece,​I​mean​a​mix between​Santorini​and​the​Parthenon. ​ ​ A​ Greek night D ​ imitris​touched​my​arm​at​a​traffic​light in​Ioannina.​I​wonder​how​people​can travel​on​a​BMW​‘adventure​bike’​when with​some​old​rusty​scooter​you​can​travel almost​everywhere​in​the​world,​and​count on​a​network​of​princes,​friends​and​clubs who​are​always​happy​to​share​experiences and​a​beer? ​Dimitris​Derekas​belongs​to​the​Vespa Club​Ioannina.​I​discover​later​he​is​a​chef at​‘Il​Forno’,​the​best​Italian​restaurant​in town.​So:​a​colleague,​and​a​Vespista.

We​did​not​have​an​appointment,​we​just met​in​the​street.​I​spend​my​first​night​in Greece​on​the​shore​of​Lake​Ioannina,​in

what​should​be​the​city​camping​area,​but​it is​closed​in​November.​For​this​reason​it comes​as​free​accommodation.​It’s​a​bit cold​in​the​tent,​but​still​decent​enough.

Dimitris​became​Vespista​by​buying​his first​PX200​only​few​years​ago.​The interesting​story​is​how​he​became​the happy​owner​of​a​second​scooter​almost​at the​same​time.

During​his​first​Vespa​meeting​he​won​by lottery​a​brand​new​yellow​LML​Star​150.

His​destiny​was​written​by​two-stroke​oil!

In​Ioannina​I​also​have​the​opportunity to​test​probably​the​most​powerful​Vespa that​I​have​ever​ridden.​The​proud​owner​is called​Dimitris​too.​He​has​a​T5​frame based​orange​monster.​The​engine​is liquid-cooled​courtesy​of​a​handmade modification​over​a​Malossi​180cc aluminium​cylinder.​This​was​done​by

building​up​a​sort​of​aluminium​cast​over the​Malossi​air-cooled​cylinder,​by​cutting the​chilling​blades​and​connecting​the found​space​by​pipes​to​a​front​mounted radiator.​A​very​nice,​neat​job​indeed.​The carburettor​is​a​large​36mm​item​and​is directly​connected​to​the​cylinder.​The torquey​smoothness​of​this​engine​is unbelievable,​even​when​riding​in​the​city centre​in​heavy​traffic​conditions.

Everything​is​soft;​throttle,​clutch,​brakes; the​suspension​harder​than​the​Bajaj,​but still​comfortable. ​And​of​course​it’s​terrific​when​I​can finally​open​up​full​gas!​The​front​wheel doesn’t​want​to​stay​on​the​tarmac​and​you need​extra​concentration​to​keep​this unbalanced​object​under​control.​Dimitris is​talking​about​30cv...​scary!​I​would​like​to stay​longer​in​Ioannina​and​take​driving lessons​specific​for​this​exceptional​Vespa.​I need​to​rebuild​all​information​I​have​in​my mind​on​scooter​riding.​It’s​not​just different,​with​that​amount​of​power​it’s​not a​Vespa​anymore! ​ ​ time Snow ​ ​Having​spent​a​night​and​a​morning​with​the VC​Ioannina​boys,​I​soon​understand​that for​weather​reasons​it’s​better​to​cross​the Katara​Pass​by​the​new​road​tunnels.​My local​guides​agree.​It’s​almost​raining,​and at​1700​metres​this​could​easily​transform in​snow.

Metsovo​is​a​real​ski​resort​at​1400 metres​above​the​sea​level.​It​looks​like​a cute​town​in​Switzerland.​Wood​cladding, stone​tracks,​home​made​goat’s​cheese​on sale,​and​grilling​meat​at​almost​every corner,​I​find​myself​in​the​very​secret Greece,​the​snow​covered​one.

Mr​Haradopulos​is​my​landlord​for​the night.​He​runs​a​bed​and​breakfast​in​his house,​renting​two​rooms​to​tourists.​He​is also​the​happy​owner​of​two​Vespas​(again) in​Athens,​so​he​is​very​happy​to​let​me park​the​Chetak​inside​the​yard​and​gives me​the​room​at​a​special​price​(€20

instead​of​25),​just​because​this​is Vespista​business!

The​road​that​brings​me​from​Metsovo​to Meteora,​is​probably​the​best​of​the​whole tour.​A​Tuscany​like​hilly​landscape​brings me​down​from​the​mountains​to​a​warmer plain,​until​I​get​in​front​of​the​strange natural​mega​stone​sculpture​typical​of this​location.

I​spend​the​night​camping​for​free overlooking​the​city​of​Elassona.​Over, yes,​after​having​enjoyed​a​dinner​of​salad and​one​of​the​hundred​ways​of​the​kebab art,​my​Chetak​and​I​move​over​the​nearby

hill​of​the​local​monastery​and​there​I​open my​two-second​Quechua​tent.​The​night was​full​of​kind​of​scary​animal​noises.​I feel​such​a​little​modern​western​boy, helpless​in​the​middle​of​the​forest.​I survive​anyway.

Joining​the​Aegean​Sea​from​Elassona means​crossing​the​Olympus​valley,​just under​the​highest​peak​of​the​country​and home​of​several​gods,​Mount​Olympus. ​ ​ er climes Warm ​ ​Cold​weather​has​passed,​I​am​now welcoming​the​late​Greek​November

summer.​Thessaloniki​is​the​second largest​city​in​Greece,​and​it’s​waiting for​me.

I​have​never​seen​such​a​large​number of​classic​Vespas​as​I​do​in​this​city (outside​of​Italy​at​least).​In​fact​I​will discover​a​week​later​that​Thessaloniki is​the​hometown​of​the​Vespa​Club​Greece.

And​I’m​not​kidding​but​it​happened again​with​my​‘Vespa​passport’; Aristoteles,​boss​of​the​youth​hostel​where I​spent​the​night,​allowed​me​to​park inside​the​garden,​saying​that​“a​Vespa​is​a piece​of​art”.​He​did​not​recognise​the ‘clone’​made​by​Bajaj...

The hard shoulder From​Thessaloniki​to​Istanbul​is​almost 600km,​and​I​start​my​day​seizing​the​piston. ​I​am​on​the​slower,​‘scooter​friendly’ motorway​Egnatia​Odos,​on​a​super​long downhill​straight,​when​I​feel​the​engine suddenly​want​to​slow​down.​It’s​a​very similar​sensation​to​running​out​of​fuel,​but it​cannot​be​fuel​as​I​filled​the​tank​less​than 50​kilometres​earlier.

One​second​before,​my​eye​was​on​the speedometer​and​saw​the​needle​at​95kph, almost​60mph.​Simply​not​possible​I thought​to​myself.​Maybe​it​was​Zeus himself​that​guided​my​left​hand​on​to​the

clutch​lever​as​only​a​second​later​the​rear wheel​locked​up.

I​share​the​side​of​the​highway​with​two fat​guys​in​a​Mercedes​car​with​Albanian plates.​One​of​them​never​stops​screaming into​a​mobile​phone​for​the​whole​20 minutes​I​wait​for​everything​to​cool​down.

It’s​a​bad​time,​my​trip​could​end​here.

The​Bajaj​scooter​is​actually​returning​a very​good​fuel​consumption,​as​much​(or as​little)​as​I’ve​never​had​with​other classic​scooters.​In​normal​conditions, with​no​long​uphill​run,​I​am​able​to achieve​40km​per​litre.​That’s​more​than 200km​to​a​full​tank.

I​feel​Indian​engineer​who​designed​this engine​has​it​running​with​a​very​small​fuel air/fuel​mix,​so​as​to​be​economical​in​its everyday​use​around​Indian​villages​and cities.​This​made​the​bike​cheap,​but​for extreme​use​and​long​distances​a​little precarious​because​it​is​more​likely​to​reach higher​temperatures​and​overheat.​Running at​95kph​downhill​half​throttle​is​extreme use​and​does​not​let​enough​fuel​in​to lubricate​and​cool​the​piston.

Anyway,​having​waited​10​minutes​I gently​try​the​kick-starter,​good,​the​lever​is moving,​it’s​not​seized.​Ten​minutes​later​I try​to​start​it​properly​and​the​engine​fires back​into​life​at​the​second​kick.​In​future​I

will​take​more​care​and​consideration​when approaching​maximum​speed​when​riding downhill,​no​more​than​85.​I​will​also increase​the​two-stroke​oil​quantity​in​the mix​from​2%​to​a​safer​2.5%. ​ ​ ring on The East Borde ​ ​Kavala​is​a​port​city​in​the​very​east​of Greek​Macedonia.​The​old​town​centre Panagia​is​on​a​high​cliff​right​on​the Aegean​Sea,​offering​stunning​views​of the​water​and​on​custom​classic​scoots.

Daisy,​a​cutdown​Vespa​PX,​has​become my​Chetak’s​new​friend. ​The​Turkish​border​is​not​far​away,​I​only have​to​cross​the​mysterious​Thrace,​then​it is​just​250km​of​European​Turkey​to Constantinople,​also​known​as​Istanbul.

I​am​prepared​to​spend​hours​at​the border.​Ready​to​be​asked​for​impossible documents...​but​instead​I​receive​a​very pleasant​surprise.​Both​sides​of​the​border are​fantastic​and​smiling,​helpful​men let​me​get​out​of​the​EU​in​less​than 20​minutes. ​So​I​am​now​ready​to​take​the​formal picture​of​me​and​the​Bajaj​under​the​red Turkish​flag​by​the​border​when,​getting close​to​a​suitable​road​sign,​I​note​a​little sticker:​it’s​from​the​‘Lebowski​scooter

gang,​Valcamonica’​in​Italy.​I​am​not​the first​crazy​Italian​riding​a​10in​wheeler​to​be crossing​this​border​it​seems! ​ ​ me...

Welco ​ ​It’s​6pm​and​in​November​it​is​dark.​It’s actually​night.​I​have​six​hours​riding​in​my wrist​and​the​15​million​people​megalopolis is​closer,​judging​by​her​first​suburbs.

I​have​no​GPS,​no​mobile​phone,​just​a Lonely​Planet​guidebook​borrowed​from​a public​library,​and​a​paper​map.

Apart​from​the​customs​office​boy,​I haven’t​talked​with​any​Turkish​people​yet.

It​will​take​four​more​hours​to​reach​my destination,​the​Bahaus​Hostel​in Sultanameth​district,​right​under​the​Blue Mosque​and​Aya​Sofia.​And​although​the instructions​seem​easy​and​clear,​I​keep​on getting​lost.​My​guides​are​the​petrol​station guys.​Can​you​imagine​yourself​stopping​at a​petrol​station​on​the​London​or​Rome​ring roads,​at​night,​asking​information​for​the Coliseum​or​Oxford​Circus​with​not​a​word​of Italian​or​English?​Well,​my​welcome​to​this surprisingly​welcoming​country​is​made​by these​men.​Many​of​them,​with​patience, drive​me​to​the​Topcapi​Acksaray​motorway exit.​All​asking​about​my​trip,​the​scooter, calling​me​a​crazy​tourist​(!).​They​offer​me chai​(tea)​for​free,​almost​at​every​stop, without​any​need​for​me​to​fill​the​tank​or buy​anything.

The​first​good​impression​of​this​city continues​during​the​whole​time​I​spend​in Istanbul,​a​historical,​beautiful,​but​overall a​warm​welcoming​destination​for​any European​scooterist.

Davide Marelli

The Chetak The​scooter​I​use​for​the​trip​is​not​a​Vespa by​Piaggio,​but​is​a​kind​of​Vespa.​The Chetak​(this​name​comes​from​Chetak​the blue​war​horse​of​Rana​Pratap,​a​sort​of​a Indian​animal​legend)​belongs​to​a​former Indian​licensee​of​Piaggio​that​built scooters​that​were​first​based​on​the​Vespa VBB​8in​wheeled​model.​When​that licence​ended​in​the​early​1970s​Bajaj continued​to​produce​scooters​under​its own​branded​names​and​evolved​the​model slightly​over​the​years.

The​scooter’s​papers​say​it​was​sold​new in​Italy​in​1994,​and​after​four​owners​was bought​by​one​of​five​sisters,​who​rarely used​it.​The​flashing​lights​are​marked​CEV,

like​the​kit​that​Piaggio​itself​was​using​in 1972​to​fit​the​Rally​200​for​the​US​market, and​the​handlebar​with​the​‘smaller’​front light​is​also​similar​to​that​of​the​US​model.

Since​I​discovered​this​friend​of​mine (one​of​the​sisters)​had​a​classic​scooter under​a​sheet​in​a​shed​full​of​dust,​I​tried to​buy​it.​The​sisters​would​not​sell.​One​of them​died​in​Turkey​in​2008,​aged​27, doing​what​she​loved​most;​travelling​by asking​rides​of​people,​and​writing​about​or filming​it.​She​was​an​artist,​creating​her own​form​of​art.​Her​last​trip​was​planned in​2008​and​saw​her​travelling​with​almost no​money​from​Milan​to​Jerusalem,​she never​made​it​to​Palestine.​Right​on​this very​Bajaj​a​friend​took​her​for​the​first

kilometres​from​Milan.​Her​name​was Pippa​Bacca​(www.pippabacca.it) The​sisters​agreed​to​lend​me​the​scooter for​this​trip.​I​collected​it​almost​two months​beforehand​to​fix​a​few​details​in advance.​I​decided​to​use​the​Chetak​every day​in​order​to​test​its​reliability.​One morning​I​found​it​in​a​pool​of​petrol,​the carburettor​needle​rubber​having​dried​out, the​float​damaged ​and​the​fuel​flooding through.​At​the​same​time​the​spark​plug, for​some​reason,​stopped​sparking.

Coincidence?​The​electrical​problem​was harder​to​fix​(and​more​expensive).​The regulator,​sparking​coil​and​a​few​bulbs were​changed,​although​I​never​got​to​make the​indicators​work​again.

Left over pic