Hello, boys and girls, and welcome to the Motorcycle Men podcast. I am Ted, your host, and here we are in a V-Twin Cafe in the corner booth, as always, and this is episode 479. Hey, joining me today is our very good friend. You know, I got to be honest with you. I had this prepared thing that I was going to read leading up to who was going to show. And after reading it back, I realized how inauthentic it sounded.
I gotta get away from that. The thing is, the truth is, Graham Field is on the show today, and he is honestly one of my favorite people to talk to. I love having Graham on the show. I love talking to him, even when we're not recording the show. And it's just absolutely wonderful to have him on again. It's been a few years. So here's here to tell us about his new book, and possibly maybe even his last book, but we don't know.
But anyway, before we get into the interview with Graham, let's talk about the sponsors of the show. We got Scorpion Helmets, offering high-quality, innovative motorcycle helmets and technical apparel at an incredible value. So to learn more, get on over to scorpionusa.com. And Wild Ass Seats. Now, you can improve your comfort and ability to stay in the saddle longer with a cushion from Wild Ass Seats. So if you're tired of those painful pressure points and fatigue, get on over to wild-ass.com and tell the real Craig Johnson your butt hurts and he'll get you a cushion, all right? And Viking Bags. They are a world leader in motorcycle luggage and one of the fastest-growing companies in motorcycle parts. Luggage for whatever you need.
wherever you go, and whatever you ride. And as always, Tobacco Motorwear. For the best in casual riding gear for men and women, there's only one place you should be going, and that's Tobacco Motorwear. Visit them at TobaccoMotorwear.com, and our listeners will get 10% off your order when you use the code MOTOMEN. Your safety is worth it. So get on over to Tobacco Motorwear and get in Dave's pants. All right, now time for that wonderful chat with Graham Field.
All right, and we're back. Joining me all the way from Bulgaria, our good friend, Graham Field. Hello, Graham. Welcome back to the show. Hi, Ted. Good to be back. It's excellent to have you. It's been a few years since you've been on. It has. I don't really do the podcast thing that much anymore. It seems a great idea when I've had a few drinks and then in a cold light of day, I think, oh, God, do I really want to do that again? I remember the first time I had you on the show. That was, man, a long time ago. It was just after you did In Search of Green Grass.
Right, that was a long time ago. A long time ago. Well, we won't get into that. So listen, you've traveled widely and you've written really honestly about nearly everything you've done. Now you did this recent trip to Kyrgyzstan, which is basically the heart of your new book, your 10th book, Extremes Beyond the Screen. But the trip seemed to, based on what I've read so far, reaches beyond the usual boundaries of your travel. Did this trip begin with clear intention or did its deeper meaning reveal itself after you were already on the road?
Really, my only intention was to just get away from everything, to just be in pure, untouched nature, where for 360 degrees, there is no sign of human impact on the planet. Nothing. That's really what stirs me. That's what I just love, is that there is nothing but me and my own survival instincts. And I've had it a few times in my travels, and that's really what I was in search for. Utter solitude, utter tranquility. Wow. That's something I have never done, and it's something, personally, I long to do.
Just to get on the bike and just go until you're done. And when it's done, we don't know. Well, yeah. I mean, I listened to your audio book, The Road Most Traveled. That definitely wasn't about solitude and tranquility. I had a long shot. Oh, my God. What made you decide to take this ride in the first place? I mean, did you have a lot of preparation and planning? Or did you just go on instinct and chance on all that? I had intended to do this trip in 2013. The Eureka book was originally, Eureka was my second book. And having the success of the first one in Search Greengrass, I thought, right, I'm going to do another trip.
This time for the stands, I'm going to write another book. That is entirely the wrong reason to do a trip, thinking that you're going to make a book out of it. And by the time I got to the edge of the Caspian Sea in Azerbaijan, the planets were just not aligning. It just felt wrong. And I began to sort of have the feeling that perhaps people who didn't get on the Titanic had. And I just thought, I'm not meant to do this. So I did a U-turn. I didn't go straight back home. I didn't have a home to go to. It was rented out. So I just meandered my way back through the rest of Asia and Eastern Europe back to the UK.
And then I thought, actually, no, I am going to write about it because a lot of people's trips go wrong and it's okay for them to go wrong. And so the response to that book was, I'm so glad you said that because I thought I was doing something wrong, but you know, you screwed it up too. Yeah, if there's one thing I'm good at, it's screwing stuff up. So this trip, I'd always wanted to go to the stands. I'd always wanted to ride the Pamir Highway, the old Silk Road. And I was sounding like the people who used to come to me at shows to buy my book and say, oh, yep, one day I'm going to do it. Well, 12 years had passed, and that one day still didn't happen. Exactly. So it was my girlfriend who said, you better do it. She didn't add before you get any older. But it was implied.
So I didn't do a lot of research. And the reason for that is, Ted, is slightly because of laziness, but more because I like the surprise. I like the unknown. So I knew I was going to be retracing some of my steps across Turkey into Georgia. The only way for a British passport holder like myself to get to where I was going.
Unless you want to have a guide to hold you by the hand and make sure that you're not doing anything wrong through Iran and Turkmenistan, the only way to go independently is up through Russia. So that's what I did through the Chechnyan part of Russia, which when I'd been 13 years ago was just after a war and now was considerably more affluent and better off. Anyway, through Kazakhstan, I need to find out a crucial border was closed and it was crucial. So 2,700 kilometre diversion. Oh, man.
Even if I'd have known that, I don't see what I could have done. I mean, that was the way it was. That's why they call it adventure, right? Yeah. Oh, and the other thing I should probably mention, Ted, Mr. Experienced World Traveler put on the Horizons Unlimited site not long before I left, are IDPs still important, international driving permits, or are they like traveler's checks and totally obsolete these days? And the general consensus was, no, get one. They cost virtually nothing, and it's good to have that documentation if you need it. Okay, I'll apply for one. It's straightforward enough. It would be if my...
License hadn't expired. This was at the end of May, and I realized my license had expired at the beginning of May, the year before. You know, that's the kind of thing you should keep up on, right? I'd ridden through the States. I'd ridden through London on a dodgy bike. I'd ridden through Europe. I got driving tickets. I got pulled by police. No one, including myself, had noticed over a year I'd been riding with an expired license. Wow. Oh, man.
So, long story short, because I have a license to drive a truck, if you want to renew that license, you've got to have a medical. It all takes time. I thought, I'll sacrifice my truck driving license. I need a license now. And that took two weeks. And then I had to apply for the international private permit, which originally provoked this whole situation. So I was about two weeks behind schedule by the time I left. So consequently, everything had got super hot. And I was riding in like 40 degrees Celsius. What's that, like 118 of your Fahrenheit? Super bloody hot. And I also decided I didn't really want to look like the...
you know, the climb and the rucker-suited adventure bike. Oh, did you wear the purple camouflaged pants? I did wear them. Yes! I was just wearing them today, Ted. I was just wearing them in town today. But I also decided to wear a leather jacket because my theory is, and my theory was in the 80s when I used to ride, leather is breathable. Well, not really. Not when it's that hot. So there I am, later than expected, not necessarily the right clothing.
And of course, the other thing on the forums that no one, no one can agree on is hard panniers or soft panniers. Yeah. And so I had both. And if I use my hard panniers, I had more room than I needed. And if I use soft panniers, I was, they were really packed capacity. So I went for one hard and one soft. Now you did this on the KLR, right? Yeah, that's right. Yeah. Is this now, is this the original KLR or is this a different one? Bits of it are.
That's pretty funny. Bits of it. I really messed it up. After I did a 685 conversion some time ago, I then screwed it up beyond economic repair, and I did replace it with another one. But there are a lot of bits on that from my original KLR, which took me to South Korea and Iraq and other various places. So, yeah, some of the bits are better traveled than others.
Now, in your first book, In Search of Green Grass, that was literally about basically just chasing horizons at the time. Now, this new book is about arrival, not geographically, but internally. Now, when did you first sense that the search itself was no longer the point? Well... I think because what I saw out there, and this is ironic considering I used to be an advisor on a travel podcast, is that I seem to be a bit out of touch. And I ride a lot, all the time. But to do a trip like that, and I define a big trip, there's many definitions, but my definition is one that needs visas, visas that are a pain they ask to obtain. And the Russia one particularly was about 15 pages long and history of your family and how many genocides have you been involved in and all the rest of it. So yeah, so visas, that determined the size of this trip. But what I found,
Well, two things I found. Firstly, is that everybody these days, and perhaps this isn't news to the majority of people, but everybody points their phone at everything these days. And no one is looking around them. You're not kidding, man. Oh, it's what a major annoyance. I've been to Sturgis twice. And every time I went, even while I mean, yeah, people, some people were looking, but there's a lot of people that that phone just plastered in your face all the time. And I know we sound like grumpy old men because remember how it was. I mean, I don't go to live music events anymore because I do want the glow of someone's phone in my face.
Why can't bands say, look, you can film the first song because you're all excited and you can film the encore because it's going to be the most light, but please put it down. I mean, they used to be able to ban cameras. They can ban smoking. Why the hell can't they ban phones at concerts? I agree with you 100%. Absolutely. I despise that myself. I suppose my only answer to that must be the bands love it because they're uploaded to YouTube. They're uploaded to social media sites and they're getting more publicity. And I guess that's their reason not to ban it.
It stopped me going. Or if I do, I have a front row, not front row by the stage, but front of a tier. You've got nobody in front of you. Yeah, right. Exactly. Anyway, I've gone off. It's okay. Don't mind at all. So anyway, there is the planet, a planet of bloody human tripods. Everybody's looking at their phone. And as I get to the greater and more fantastic scenery, the Caucasus Mountains in Georgia, there are parades of tour people with selfie sticks and phones. And nobody's looking around them.
nobody everybody's filming it filming landscapes in portrait and just like zombies and And the more contrarious I am, the more I see that, the more inclined I am to keep my phone in my pocket. The more tattooed people that I see, the more I roll my sleeves down. The more long-haired people I see, the more I put my hair in a ponytail. I just don't want to look, be, act, associated with the rest. And I was in this stunning place in Georgia, some craggy, jagged, snow-capped mountains, right outside this open-air restaurant. And I'm just sitting on my own eating, watching this. And there must have been an office party or something. All these pretty, well-dressed girls were coming out of the restaurant one at a time.
with their back to the scenery, taking their selfie for Instagram or whatever. You're not even looking at the scenery. It wasn't about the scenery. It's about you getting your likes for your reassurance, for your influence, for your followers. Anyway, so there I am being a grumpy old man, looking at the world, looking at its screen. And I'm thinking, well, you know, I don't want anything to do with this. I'd already bought maps. I don't like apps. I don't like Google Maps. I was a truck driver for 17 years. I can read a map. I like to know where I am within the scope of the rest of the country, the rest of the air on the map. Whether there's a lake over there I might want to camp by. What the topographic is, is there's some mountains coming. So I navigate my maps anyway, which is significantly harder when I wear glasses, but I'll stick with it. Whatever works for you, man.
so that was one thing to answer your question that was one thing in my quest the other thing um which i got to kazakhstan and i was outside a hotel and there was a bike that was covered up and it was this italian bike it turned out when he took it off and i saw the plate and it was this young stud of a rider he was all muscular and had a forehead of hair and tanned and i think he was just shagging his way around asia i'm pretty sure he was in tinder He was a nice enough guy. Anyway, to my mind, he was kind of a mind of information. He knew about all this up-to-date stuff. And this is the irony, considering I used to be an advisor. There's this app, which I'm sure all your listeners will know about, called iOverlander. Yeah. I had never heard of it. Never heard of it. Are you serious? You'd never heard of it? Seriously. No, why would I? Oh, I travel independently. I travel solo. And apparently, I travel in the past. So he told me about it. And you get it free for a week. And Ted, I was appalled. I was absolutely disgusted. It's an oxymoron, an adventure app.
Either you're having an adventure and don't know what's around the corner, or you have an app and know where you're going to stay, where you're going to get gas, where you're going to eat, where you're going to get mechanics. That's not a fucking adventure. That is a dictation. So what I found was, as I traveled on and met people, as I met people, is everyone, everyone without exception, was on the iOverlander app. And consequently, if a place was on the app, it was inundated with travelers. Oh, really? It was a procession. It was a parade of phone-obedient zombies.
And back in the day, when I used to backpack around India in the 80s and that, I would use a guidebook. And guide is the operative word here because it is a guide. As soon as something is printed, it is dated. And an app, of course, is totally up to date. If a wild campsite is like, oh, there's glass there now or something, people know that instantly. So with a guidebook, you had to have an element of initiative. With this app, you had zero initiative. And so in the old days with The Lonely Planet, if a hotel or a guest house was listed as very popular with travelers, right, okay. Avoid that.
Yeah, and that's kind of what I was doing this time. I mean, like I said, I thought, if you really want to hate something properly, you better know what you're hating. So I downloaded it for a week, used it for a week, decided I was appalled at it, and now I was appalled with experience rather than just... Appalled with experience. I like that. There's a t-shirt in there somewhere. So that's how I decided to continue my trip. If someone had said, oh, you know, it's on the Apple app going there, I avoided it completely.
I went through this... Okay, this is another under-researched thing. Into Jakistan, there's this mountain pass, at the top of which is a tunnel. Not unusual. It turns out, as I approached it, well, as I approached it, there was a camper van in front of me, thank God, because I was able to follow its tail lights, because the tunnel was five and a half kilometers long. What? It had no lights, it had no ventilation, and there were roadworks, potholes, and I couldn't see a thing.
I simply couldn't breathe. I was getting asphyxiated. All I had was a bandana across my nose. I remember reading or listening in your book and you were talking about how many bandanas you packed. I was like, now I know why.
So I had, and I was, you get to the point of no return. What am I going to do here? I can't hold, long since, a pearl diver couldn't hold their breath that long. And I'm trying to sort of breathe slowly. And then of course you're starving yourself for breath. So then you're hyperventilating, shiver breathing. And eventually, and I mean eventually, there was light at the end of the tunnel and I got out. And I got out and I metaphorically collapsed on the ground. And this guy was Swiss, I think, got out of his camper van. I said, well, that just shortened me life expectancy. Jesus Christ. Are you kidding me? He says, oh yes, tunnel of death.
Yeah, Googled it after. Tunnel of death. That's the actual name? Tunnel of death? Yeah, people are asphyxiated. People suffocate in there. There are multiple deaths in that tunnel. Well, what would I have done if I have known? Doubled over my bandana, you know?
The alternative was this huge diversion through Uzbekistan, and Uzbekistan now rates in my own personal chart of number one most dangerous driving ever. No way. So I think I would have opted for the tunnel of asphyxiation over the death-driven drivers of Uzbekistan. Anyway, that's kind of the under-researched aspect of my trip. Dealing with what... Some people always say that's stupid. They'd be very right to say that. But before you say it's stupid, ride in Uzbekistan and you see which is the most stupid option. You know, old firefighter trick.
If you wet your bandana or like a sponge and you breathe through that, it filters out all the toxins and you're breathing fresh air. Right. See? Thanks for that now. It's a year late, but it's okay. Was there a single moment on your trip to Kyrgyzstan? I can't even say that. Kyrgyzstan, right? Kyrgyzstan. Yeah, I got it. When you realized you weren't chasing something anymore and you were basically finding something? Well, I did. I got... It was kind of...
I really feel the trip was serendipitous. I got to a little town into Jakistan. And when I got there, there was a traffic jam. Now, you don't get traffic jams in Central Asia. You don't get traffic. But all the traffic was backed up. Turned out why the president was coming into this town, because they just happened to arrive on National to Jakistan Day. So big celebrations, helicopters, police, president flying in, loads of national dancing people in national costume. Because of that, everybody was congregated there.
And so I wasn't really there for that. So I'd left onto a road which was absolutely sparse. I mean, they're sparsely trafficked anyway. This is the old Silk Route. This is a 2,000-year-old trading route called the Silk Route because camel caravans would come from China, bringing their textiles to the West to sell. And this is what carved this route through the Pamir Mountains. And it really hasn't changed.
fortresses where they would, on the one hand, protect you, but the other hand, take money for that protection. So they had a protection rack even then, 2,000 years ago, guaranteeing you safe passage with a cost involved. So as I started to get out there, you really wouldn't see much, but there were, of course, travellers using it. And you'd see those huge Unimogs, the big 4x4 big rigs. Yeah, yeah, yeah.
much as i'm intrigued by them i've always found them kind of unapproachable uh because i don't really know what to say to them and they're up there in their little cab and when you're down there's a big sort of david and goliath difference so i am one of them flashed me most unusual and uh so he stopped he said the road ahead is blocked so it's uncrossable and so how far is about 200 kilometers now on dirt road 200 kilometers is a day's life yeah and okay and i so i asked a few questions he didn't know much i carried on because this is my roof this was exactly what The whole point of the journey was. This happened again. Another 4x4 flashed me down. I said, well, how long is this crossing? I don't know. Well, how bad is it? I don't know. I saw it on the app. I saw a video. There's news flashing around. I thought, well, fuck it. I've got to go and see. I'm not going to be turned around by hearsay. There you go. Great. So what we've got is the president in town. That's taken all the locals. A supposedly uncrossable river. That's taken away all the travelers. So I have got the Pamir Highway to myself. Wonderful.
And it was wild. Just deep canyons, the most outrageous, scary-looking, turbulent river in the bottom of this valley that you wouldn't even dream of white rafting down or anything. It was the most vicious of rivers. And this absolutely barren, inhospitable, deserted terrain. It was stunning. And that was exactly what I went for. Just me and the elements. And this is the thing. Much as I'm down on phones and apps, you can't deny they exist. And you have to some degree do that.
I was just in awe, absolutely felt like I found what I was looking for. No one but me in the whole wide planet. And so what do you do? I took a selfie. You got to document it somehow, right? And in the twisted irony of the book that I'm so down on apps and phones, I made that selfie the cover of the book.
Of course. So anyway, I eventually, and this is a long story short, and it's a long story, it's a long book, but I get to this river, and yes, it is truly uncrossable. But I reasoned, and this was late in the evening, or late afternoon, early evening now, I thought, well, it's been a hot day. Every day was hot. Surely at night, it's going to cool down. When it cools down, the snow won't melt. It will reduce the flow. The only thing I don't know is how far the snow is from this bit of river. So I camped right by it. It's like camping next to white noise. It was so loud. And I woke up at like four or five in the morning, first light, and sure enough, the level had gone down.
And I kept checking, kept checking. I thought, I'm not going to cross this on my own. You know, there will eventually be another vehicle come. And I'm slowly preparing, walking it back and forth without my boots on, moving rocks, tracking a path. And eventually by about nine o'clock in the morning, I thought, I'm going to do it. I'm just going to do it. What's the worst going to happen? I get washed down string into Afghanistan. That's all nothing. Don't worry about it. It's nothing. So anyway, I managed to cross it. And the thing is, and I've done this before, and I've seen other people's GoPro stuff on YouTube. You can never capture the...
the intensity of a river crossing because on the screen it really doesn't come across as being quite as bad as it was when you were behind the bars watching it so yeah it never looks that it was like that doesn't look bad at all so anyway that really what it was about and that was when i kind of knew i'd found what i was looking for it was just me and my own abilities against the elements and refusing to believe in the hearsay be frightened by the people who were scared by their app who never tried it and um And consequently, because of that, because I was defiant, I got what I went for. I got the plant to myself. So fast forward some time. Tajikistan had a fuel shortage. I was buying fuel in like 10 litre cooking oil containers. Not the best quality of octane. And eventually had to cross into Kyrgyzstan because there simply was no fuel. And I was running on fumes. And across the border. And so I stopped at this little guest house. And then it became apparent to me this was a guest house that was on the app.
influx of cyclists of four by fours of camper vans of motorcyclists and as soon as they came in they went to the little counter it was only a little sort of a tiny shack wi-fi wi-fi code and everybody just sat there on their phones downloading their maps uploading their instagrams i don't know what they were doing and i was just this is what it is then is it this no one's talking no one if the interaction the extent of the human interaction is to ask for the high wi-fi code and um I just thought, well, I'm so glad that I traveled at a time when your communication was picked up in a post-restant, which you told someone you might be at six weeks before, when there was an element of communication with locals, with other travelers, when there was an element of risk of unknown. And I just thought, much like the concerts, I think I've seen this at its best, and I don't think I want to see it anymore. Oh, man. You know, many years ago, way back before the internet was something, a friend of mine at the time had said that he worked for AT&T.
And he said, there is going to come a day very soon where there is not going to be a place on this planet where you can't get in touch with anybody. You know? Yeah. When you were out there, did you stop and listen to the silence? Exactly that. Because I love that. Isn't that wonderful?
It is. And that's when you realize how bad your tinnitus is. Oh my God. Yeah, you're absolutely right. No, it is such a loud, it's such a loud thing. You hear, you can hear the blood in the vessels in your ears. You hear it so much. It is, I mean, it's kind of a cliche to say the loudest silence, but it really is because we always have something. There is always something, whether it's a plane flying over, there's always something. And it was, as you say, utter, utter silence. I love that. And you very quickly waken this dormant instinct. You hear the rustling of little wild animals.
You get to feel the clouds and the weather patterns. You get to smell what's happening. It's amazing how quick, when you're out there, this sort of survival instinct kicks in. This awareness that we are sterilized out of our society and we really don't feel because there is so much stimulation around us everywhere. Yeah. Did you feel the moment like you're out there and you just feel like, okay, I can live right here?
Yeah, exactly that. Exactly that. Yeah, yeah. I've got about three days worth of salami with me. The salami, that's right. So, yeah, I really think, I still think I could. I mean, I'm quite lucky living here in Bulgaria, one of Europe's least populated countries. And I can get right out there, not to the extent of the Pamir Highway, but I can go off on my bike. And within, well, I just went today and find where I can just see fields and mountains for 360 degrees. And really, that's what I yearn for. That's what my soul yearns for.
Where I feel happiest is just listening to the birdsong, listening to the crickets, the cicadas, the wind. I think I was meant to be born in a wild, wild east or something. Not in bloody Essex, England. I totally get it. Dude, for me, I have to go a few hours to get that.
To get that quiet. And even then, you're bound to hear another vehicle or a plane flying overhead or some noise from somewhere. That piece is... I think the closest I came when I rode to Sturgis in 2023 in the middle of the Sandhills out in Nebraska. And that was the only one on the road that I could see forward and backward. And I had to stop and take a picture of it because I was like, like I said, I hear a silence, but I got to get the camera out. I got to take a picture, right? So I read your... Well, I'm sorry, go ahead.
i was gonna say i remember riding through idaho once i was riding north i was going towards canada riding through idaho and i was with two other two friends and they were both riding behind me and there was zero turbulence on the road i was it was like an air tunnel you know it was just as I was piercing my way through this perfect, unturbulent atmosphere that I couldn't see. And then one of them overtook me, and then I'm getting all buffeted. It was a wonderful experience prior to that. And then you ruined it. I read your synopsis. Now, in there, you had this beautiful distinction of happiness on a sunny day and contentment is a rainbow. How did that metaphor come out to you during this trip?
I think because, you know, I love my early mornings. I love to wild camp, get up at dawn. I mean, exactly this time last year, I was on the road for the summer solstice and what have you. And so you can't sleep past four o'clock in a tent. You know, it's already light, especially if you wild camp, you want to get out and out the way. And the mornings for me were absolutely the perfect time. It was still cool. You're fresh from a night's sleep. You're wondering where you might stop and eat. And so that was happiness. That's me getting up in the morning, packing up the tent, knowing I'd got away with a wild camp, riding down a road I'd never been before. That was happiness. Me, self-contained, on the road, always solo, always unsupported.
contentment is when I came to those sites that I described earlier. And you feel it. And if there's any frustration at all, it is how can I put this into words? Because it really is a feeling. And it's a unique feeling. If that's what you yearn for, if it's tranquility, open space, pure nature, if that's what your soul yearns for, then when it comes, it's not directed on a map, not on an app, not a suggestion, not on a tour guide. It's just something that when it occurs around that next corner, you feel it. And you just have to stop and just let it fulfill you.
That's contentment. And the happiness and contentment. Now you've got the solitude of all these landscapes you're in. Did that help you understand the difference between the two? I think...
I suppose insofar as the solitude continues, as this untouched terrain continues, when you do... The little settlements are very small, and they're not an assault on the senses, other than the fact that they don't have trash collection, so they tend to burn all their rubbish. That's a bit of an assault on the senses. But it's not like you're suddenly going into golden arches and traffic lights and stuff. So it's a slow, gradual transition. That's okay.
And then you do, and then you find yourself coming into it. Even at a signpost, a poster on the side of the road, it feels like graffiti. It is so shocking to see this human... disgusting thing on the side of the road. Advertising a guest house, I don't know, a drink, a gas station that's going to be 50 kilometers away. It's obscene. It really attacks things. And I think that's then, in retrospect, you know, that was contentment back there. Now I'm coming back into my more usual reality. Yeah, you know, billboards for me are, I think, the most disruptive thing to scenery. I mean, here in the U.S., you can't go on any interstate and not see dozens of billboards, just ruining the view everywhere.
Yeah. That's my distaste with long distance travel on interstates, but that's what I do, fortunately. I remember cycling through India and I'd come up from the south through Kerala and there were billboards, of course, but it was all written in Hindi and couldn't read any of it. And as I cycled north and I got to Goa, which is an ex-Portuguese colony and also a very popular tourist place, all the billboards are in English for things like Johnny Walker Whiskey and various other things. And I could read them. So I'm at cycling pace. And so I'm reading them because I can read them because I understand the language.
And then I read them again because I'm cycling. I still haven't passed them. And then I read them a third time. And that was so annoying. We talked earlier, you mentioned about, you know, people telling you not to go this way because the road's blocked and stuff like that. It's that, you know, your warnings and you're trusting your instinct and stuff like that. Did any of those decisions to just teach you anything about fear, intuition, or maybe just following your obsession just going forward? I think, again, when you aren't distracted by all the other...
stuff that we have ongoing on around us, it doesn't take long for some kind of second sight to kick in. And you do kind of know, to some degree, if what ahead is going to be troublesome is going to cause you problems. Not totally. I mean, you don't have a crystal ball. If I had, I wouldn't have been pulled by corrupt cops in Chechnya and robbed of $200. So I wasn't that able to see what was ahead of me. But in general, I think, and perhaps this is exclusively something for people who travel solo. Because as soon as you're with someone, and never to be when you stop, you take off your lid and you talk about...
what just occurred what you just saw thoughts or whatever i don't have that distraction you know traveling alone i you know so again i do that you know this even used to happen to me as a truck driver again undistracted in a cab you would just sense things somehow you'd have You'd just be more aware. I mean, that's how the human being survived back in the day. So have that. And they didn't have the tunnel of death to deal with. No, no. Now, let's go over your books. In Search of Greengrass, Eureka, Nirvana, Different Natures, Not Working, Second World Problems, and the whole I Should Have trilogy. And now your 10th book, okay? Yeah. How has your voice changed across all of these works? Oh, good question. I suppose it has changed because...
Don't say you're older. Don't say you're older. No, it's changed because the world has changed. My copy editor is constantly picking me up. You can't say that anymore. That's offensive. Really? I can't say that? And I'm not out to be offensive. I'm not out to be sexist, racist, or anything like that. But apparently I say things which are now frowned upon. And I don't know about you. Okay, here's an example. I recently listened to Stephen Tyler's autobiography, Does the Noise in My Head Bother You? And I think that was written about 12 years ago, something like that.
It's one of the, I've listened and read hundreds and hundreds of celebrity and rock star autobiographies. And I would rate that in my top five. It was fantastic. He does this hour by hour through the day, what it's like to be a rock star. Well, you probably know this text. I don't think so. But it just makes you think, actually, God, I don't want that life. You think of the girls, the drugs, the rock and roll, the fandom, the money. And he paints such a different picture. And you think, oh God, you know, maybe I don't want that. Anyway, the point was, that's not a very old book. But the stuff he says, you realize how incredibly woke everything is now. It's like, shit, you can't say that. You can't say that anymore. That's offensive. That's...
or people will be offended by it you find yourself picking it up like you know like a censor and you know all these books they are of their ages i was saying earlier with guidebooks the second they're printed they're dated and So to how my voice has changed, my voice has changed with what can and can't be said anymore. And for example, I was passing trucks in Kazakhstan, which had the 100 meter long sails, which they put on the wind farms, these huge extended trailers. And they were 100 meters long, incredible things. And the tip of this long sail would hang, I don't know, 50 foot, maybe more, off the back of the telescopic trailer. And it would have streamers taped on it. They'd travel in convoy with warning cars at the beginning. And the back of these...
of these tips these sails would flex with the with the road and i was i needed to you can't move your hand up and down you know in a book i needed to what else flexes like that i'm trying to think of something else and all i could think of was a diving board when a fatty jumps off of it all right that's why i can't say that can't say that can't say fatty anymore So then I said, okay, well, a ruler, when you flick a rubber off of it. Now, that won't work because rubber England is an eraser. That's not what they're thinking in America. I just left that analogy in the end. So I suppose my voice has changed because I have to be a little bit more careful what I say because so many people now are quick to say, that was offensive. You're racist. You're sexist. Whatever. You're not misogynist. You can't.
People frown on it if you say pretty girls now. I go, oh, yeah, it was a wonderful town. All the girls were so pretty. You can't say that. What do I have to say then, you know? I'm just trying. They were pretty. You know, I like what Ricky Gervais said. If you're offended, fine. Be offended. Right? Yeah. Okay. Here's my ammunition for you. Fire away. Exactly. So, I'm sorry. No, go on, go on. Well, I was going to say, now, because your voice has changed through the books, what does this say about your final book that the early ones don't?
I'm trying not to be cynical. It's almost a knee-jerk reaction at this age. It's a defense mechanism. If you don't like it, you're cynical about it, which is why I did download this I Overlander app, just so I wasn't just down on it for the sake of being down on it. And I try not to let that creep in because no one wants to hear it. They'll hear it anywhere they go, in the pub, the taxi driver, whatever. Everybody's moaning. There's no talent in moaning. And I read a thing recently. It said, whatever you do daily, you get better at it.
So if your default mode is to moan about shit, then you're going to get really good at it. So I do not, I will rant. I will definitely rant. I don't deny it. But I will find positives where I can. And that ultimately is what I found. I rode through some very controversial places, a lot of Islamic places, through Russia, on the edge of Afghanistan, places with names, Chechnya as well, that conjure up negative images, negative headlines.
Again, as a solo traveler, you're not a threat to anybody. And with your helmet flipped up, with your bandana pulled down, with a smile on your face, it's reflected. You get such a good reaction. And I met the loveliest people. And I think we are generally almost brainwashed to believe that anybody who isn't like us is an enemy, is a problem. And it ain't like that.
I was in this city called Grozny in Russia, a very big Muslim city, beautiful city of neon and glass and steel. And I was in this outside restaurant, a huge storm blew in, and I literally got soaked to the skin walking back to my hotel. And I'd had my bike covered. And it was when I say hotel, it was just a couple of rooms and this reception downstairs. And when I got there, this older Muslim woman who was behind reception pointed to me that the wind had got under my bike cover, blown my bike over. And her and her friend who was in the bakery, the pair of them lifted it up. I mean, just a couple of frail Muslim women. They lifted up my bike for me. She showed me where it could be put under cover, opened up a shutter door, pushed it inside. And then because I was, I was just dripping. I couldn't have been anywhere if I'd jumped in a river. She offered to put my clothes in a dryer and dry it. This is the kind of hospitality and trust.
goodwill that you get from these people. They're dressed different to us. They look different to us. But the traits of these people are always, nearly always, without exception, just wonderful people. And it's so reassuring when you travel the planet to places with names that conjure up negative thoughts to find that we're all the same, Ted. We really are. And it's very reassuring. It gives me hope for the human race. Hope is what we need, definitely. So let's talk about the KLR for a moment. It's a 25-year-old bike, right? Right. Yeah. So here you're riding it from Bulgaria to Kyrgyzstan and back.
The age of the bike, little quirks and limitations here and there, did that help shape the emotional tone of the trip? Well, I know it very well. I put on a 14-tooth sprocket at the front because I figured there'd be a lot of off-road. I wasn't in a hurry. I wanted it geared down. I suppose it probably worked for me, but my God, it was slow. Really, anything over 50 miles an hour was, you know, the engine wasn't liking it. Now, I'm going to put on my KLR Anorak now, and if you're not a KLR fan, this is going to bore the ass off you, but it's really quite interesting. The US model of the KLR has a temperature gauge, but the UK version doesn't. It just has a little red light that comes on when the engine overheats.
And the reason you know that red light works is because every time you turn on the ignition with the bike in neutral, the red temperature light comes on with the neutral light, so you know the red light works. Second you put it into gear, the temperature light goes out along with the neutral light. I have never, I've owned seven KLRs, I've ridden over quite a lot of the planet, uncalculable miles, all sorts of terrain. I have never seen that red heating light go on without the neutral light. I've never seen it come on on its own. Never been that hot. And I have been hot. Now, I was in Shimkent in Kazakhstan, and it was hot. It was 40 degrees, over 40 degrees. And there is this long hill, this long, slow gradient. And it's killing the trucks, and they're stalling, they're dying on the highway. And I'm thinking to myself, man, I'm glad I'm just a little light load.
And then my bike starts missing. And okay, I pulled up. There was no shade. There's this adequate little sparse tree with no leaves on it. And I'm trying to stand under there just letting the bike cool down. It's not going to cool down. It's 43. I'm watching my temperature gauge. It's 43. It's 45. So double it and add 30. That's 120, you know, in Fahrenheit. And then I managed.
to get into Shimkent at five o'clock on a Friday afternoon. It was a gridlock and my bike is just frying between my legs. There is heat radiating off the road, radiating off the buildings, radiating off all the cars, coming up from my engine and just sweltering. It is a furnace, absolutely atomic. And for the first time ever, my red light comes on without the neutral light. Oh man.
When that happens, right away, okay, now I got a problem now, right? Yeah. So what do you do? You just sit there and wait for it to cool down, right? That's what you do. That's all you can do, yeah. You don't have an external fan on it?
I have the fan that's on the radiator, which was blowing like crazy, but that's the only fan I have. Oh, wow. And a few on Facebook related now. I got these fans on my bike. They're called Love Jugs. And there's these two little fans, literally about the size of my hands like this. And it mounts to the horn. And each fan is high velocity and it blows on each cylinder head.
Wow. And it works great, but the problem is it blows the heat over to the right-hand side and bakes your leg on the right-hand side. Right, and you've got your exhaust there. Yeah, so you're going to be hot no matter what. Do you think that if you had a newer bike, it would have maybe robbed you of any of those moments that you were searching for?
Possibly. I mean, my first KLR had such huge sentimental value and it was originally bought. It cost me about a thousand dollars and it was originally bought because even then in 2010, I knew not what I was going into. And I thought if it all gets beyond me, if I break a leg or it's just beyond my ability, I can afford to walk away from it. It doesn't own me. It's not a 13, 15 grand bike. And the irony was that it became my travel companion and the sentimental value was so great that I would have done anything to rescue it from any other situation. I'm less sentimental now. This one isn't the original. It's still got some of the parts on it. So it wasn't.
Oh, much as I'll pat it at the end of every day. And, you know, I do love it. It's my travel companion. It wasn't quite such a strong love. Now, I've got a 2022 Triumph Scrambler. Yeah. It's a computer on wheels. It's got a keyless ignition. It's got traction control. It's got all this stuff. Love it as I do. I wouldn't take it out of Western Europe or I wouldn't take it out of Europe. Oh, no. Because something goes wrong.
What the hell? I don't need a spanner. I need a fault diagnosis system. And that would be the adventure right there. We'll be trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with it and how I'm going to repair it. The KLR is so simple. It's a carburetor. It's a single cylinder. And it's not indestructible because it's pretty much bomb proof. Well, you know, it's the difference between analog and digital. Yes, yes, exactly. And us old farts like us, we know that analog is so much better in so many ways.
There's a bit in the book saying, where do you draw the line? Points and condensers, kickstart. At what point do you want to accept technology? Yeah, I like a button to press. I like electronic ignition, points that don't click me clean. But I don't need traction control. I don't need ABS and stuff like that. I'm happy. I know it. And also, I'm not in a hurry. I'm not out to break any records. They're a nicety. They're not a necessity. Yeah, exactly. And you described looking for something wild, pure, and real. Something that can't be booked.
bought or algorithmically recommended, I think. What does Untouched mean to you now? It's definitely not me. I'm well worn out. What does it mean to me now? Well, it is still that. And as I say, in Bulgaria, there are still places I can do a three-hour ride and there's this bit I love where it's a hilly little community and there's a rocky road and at the end is this cliff face and parasenders jump off of it. But after all the parasenders have gone home or jumped off of it, actually, you have it to yourself.
Because the land drops away, it faces east. And you can, I've camped there many times, and you can watch the sunrise out of the distant horizon down below you. And you can look down on the sunrise. And that is one of those things that is sort of untouchable, which is still something that can't be, isn't on the tourist map, isn't part of a parade, isn't like, you know, watch the sunset on the pyramids or the sunrise over the Taj Mahal. It's just something personal and special. And I'm not going to tell you the village it happens at. Okay.
Did all that change how you view the world we live in now? Well, I suppose I was reassured that generally people are still good. I was somewhat disappointed at the way people travel. The younger ones, I mean, it's great people are getting out there because travel broadens the mind. It stops bigotry, it stops racism. It's good that people are getting out there. I don't really know what they're seeing. I don't know if they're seeing it. And I don't know if they know any different.
You know, like someone telling you, oh, well, when I was at school, we had inkwells and we had to quill or something. And I'm sort of saying, well, when I used to travel, we just had a rough guidebook. And I don't think they want to hear it. They don't. It's like, all right, granddad, whatever. You know, my app's telling me to go here where I can get a burger. So I don't think they know any different, but I really feel they're missing out massively. And I also feel they're traveling for the wrong reasons. It seems everybody's doing it for likes, for influence, for validation. And again, I walk on the line of hypocrisy there because I write books for informing and for entertaining.
To sell books, you need to have a following. You need to have some influence. So I realize I'm screaming hypocrite. But at the same time, I do feel like I'm seeing something real and not just following a crowd. And that's what I hope I'm able to relay, which is hopefully a slightly different aspect of travel to what it appears to me travel has become now. Yeah. But you said the reward was not a photo or post, but it was awe.
Yeah. During his traveling night. Can you describe any one moment? Maybe you already have, but was there one moment where you reached that, that awe moment? There were a few. And there was one bit where I was heading north out to Jekistan. And again, landscape still, while there was huge lakes, but mostly dry lakes. And just an unfathomably vast view, uncalculable miles to this range in the far distance. And I could see a lake shimmering all around me on mountains. And I just pulled off the road. What road there is? I say a road, you know, it's just a track. Pulled off of there, pulled out onto this flat terrain, parked the bike, and then just decided to walk away from the bike. I don't even want to hear it click as it cools down. And...
And again, you know, nothing around you. That is all. And it's also, it feels unnatural. This is my, my bike is my life support system. It's my way out of here. And leaving everything on it, passport, money, food, keys in the ignition, I just walked away from it because there is nothing around. I like to think there was nothing around. I'm hiding behind a rock with a spare crash helmet.
So I got that time after time on that trip. I found what I was looking for. And when it did end, as I said, you go into smaller villages, you start coming into civilization. And there were little tours you could see to go see Marco Polo sheep or various stuff. And I just thought, I don't want to do that. I've done my thing. I found what I was looking for. The last thing I want now is to be cooped up in someone else's car, away from my bike, to be pointed through a window and say, this is some site. No, the sites I want to see are the ones I come across. Yeah, there you go.
And not with expectations. And that sort of goes back to the not researched. I don't have expectations because I didn't know where I was going. Now, what you just described, is that that picture that you posted with your blog, with the synopsis, where you're standing there with your arms open wide and you've got the mountains behind you? Is that that moment? Doing my Jesus Christ pose. Yeah, I was. And it does seem a bit pretentious, but it was genuine at the time because there was no one else around. I put my phone on a rock and took a wide-angle selfie. I didn't know I was going to do that. I stood back. I had like a 10-second timer. And it just felt...
right to put out my arms which i can't do this recording yeah and um and just i just put my head back it just felt at the time that was the that was what the environment brought out in me i see now it can look like pretentious bollocks but at the time i don't think so because i know exactly what you're talking about uh did that that that moment that did that silence that lifelong urge to keep searching To a degree, because the other thing is, there are certain places I've been to in my travels which I will never go back to. Right. Because they were so good. They were so perfect. And I know I could never replicate that. I would have expectations and I would be disappointed. Right, yeah. So, and I won't do the, I will not do the Pamir Highway again. I loved it. I love it dearly. But it's in, again, I sound pretentious, but now it's in here. I've got it. I've got it with me. And I won't go there again. There's other places I haven't been. But did you see it all?
It's not that long. I don't know if I saw it all because I don't know what I didn't see. But there's another thing called the Batang Valley, which I didn't go to. Yes, I've heard of that. Yes, I have. Right. Well, I was too late in a year because of the whole license thing. And by then, the snow melts have made rivers rumored to be uncrossable. And again, as a solo traveler, you have to have an element of self-preservation. I don't want to get myself in a situation where I'm trapped between two rivers. So there were places I didn't see. I might. I could. You know, if I, and I have enthused about this so much in my book, to my family, to friends, anybody who listens.
And I could, you know, in a camper van or something, take my girls and we could go to the Bartang Valley. But I think I might be enthusing so much, I'd be setting them up for disappointment. And if there was disappointment, I'd be disappointed. And the whole thing is from hell. I was meant to, you ever been to Moab, Utah?
Yeah, yeah. See, I went to Moab, Utah the first time in 2011, and it just blew me away. It's like, that's where I wanted to be. I went back in 2017 with my wife to try to, you know, and her expectation was like, yeah, it's nice. I was like, no, I mean just nice. No, it's awesome. So I totally get that. You said that in your synopsis that you no longer need another horizon, border, or journey, right? Does this book for you, your 10th book, represent closure, or is it the beginning of something different? It does represent closure, I think.
There are still places that intrigue me, and I'm not saying I won't travel completely. I met an Italian guy, which, not the pimp, a different guy, and who absolutely, now he left me in awe. There is this road, it's called the BAM, the B-A-M. It's the Baikal and something. I forgot what it stands for. Point is, it runs across Russia all the way to Magadan. Magadan's quite a well-hyped town in the far east of Russia, which a lot of adventure bikers like to go to. Originally, Charlie and Ewan did it. The very first, the long way around, they took the Road of Bones. And so he said, in his broken English, he said, I'm going to ride the BAM. And I said, the Trans-Siberian? No, the BAM. The Road of Bones? No, the BAM. Okay, I'd better get on Google.
Yeah. They built, the Russians built this railway line that would get, because Eastern Russia is full of natural minerals, and they built a railway line which would bring all these natural minerals from the far, far east of uninhabited Russia into the western side. The building of this railway resulted in little towns where people would get their supplies and ended up living these tiny remote towns that only get their supplies via the railway. And he was riding this on his own. And he was a very good rider. And he did have a satellite phone.
He didn't do social media, didn't have a blog. He was doing it for him. And he was hardcore. And he was about five years younger than me. He'd been everywhere. Wherever I'd been, he'd been further. He wasn't bragging. If I'd gone from Alaska down to Guatemala, he's been all the way down to Terra de Fuego, you know? We've travelled quite a lot. I thought, when I said goodbye to him, I thought, I'll never see you again, mate. You're never going to make it. And I was wrong. He occasionally, when he did get reception, would send me a little WhatsApp message. And he did it. He got all the way to Magadan. He fell off twice.
I'd do that in a day. He dropped it once. He had to cross a river. The only way across it was on the railway, and he was on the railway, and he dropped the bike, got trapped underneath it, but knew he had to get up because the trains were really quite frequent. So he kicked the bike into the river to avoid a train and then jumped off into the river to retrieve his bike. That was one of the times he fell. Wow. Another time was...
He was another huge river crossing and there were these big six by six Russian Unimog vehicles for logging and stuff. And they let them put his bike on the back of that. They got across the river, but it's like a meter and a half off the ground. Yeah. The other side, there was no bank or anything. So with a, I don't know, along the bed is maximum of 15 foot with a 15 foot runoff. He jumped off the back of the truck on his bike, just hit the road and carried off. So hardcore. It's hardcore. All right.
And, you know, so my book is called Extremes Beyond the Screen, meaning having some extremes beyond the screen on your phone. His extremes were absolutely beyond my ability, absolutely in a different league, and utter authenticity because he was doing it only for him. No sponsorship, no social media, nothing. I thought, wow, that was so enlightening to meet someone like that. We both were sort of...
disappointed at the way the world had been, but at the same time reassured that I was reassured that there's people like him. And apparently he was reassured that there's people like me. So yeah, that was a wonderful, that was a wonderful meeting. Wow. You know, what do you hope readers will get from the book? And do you hope that they'll start searching for it in their own lives after reading it?
I hope it inspires a little bit of initiative to not follow. And again, it's an element of hypocrisy. I don't want to be an influencer or even a de-influencer. I just hope they consider what they want, not the influencer with the most likes, the most sales, the most following, but really think what their soul yearns for and trust that they can find it. Because you can. And if it inspires, if that's the message in the book, if that's the message people get between the rants, between the disappointments, between the near-death experiences, and also between the telling that the people of this planet are not all bad and not all evil. If it inspires people to actually search within and then go and search outside to try and fulfill what they really want, that would be a wonderful result if that were to be what happens to people who read the book. All right. Do you feel the need now to...
go out and do anything else for yourself again? Another ride? Well, maybe. You're a writer, so that's something, it's in your blood. I've got two more books that I want to write. There's no shorty material. I've got more material than life expectancy, so I certainly don't need to ride for that reason. And there are a couple of, well, when I say there's one place on the planet that I really want to see, and I'm not going to say, and that is probably something that might inspire me to take off again. But right now, that's not...
Because I'm aware that I can find a level of tranquility that is acceptable in this country where I live, I think I will focus my attentions closer to home to find my little shack with my big shed and my massive view and my solitude. Because I think really, right now, that would work for me. In actual fact, this morning... The reason I was wearing my purple combats and on my bike was I was off to see someone who was selling an off-grid solar system. And so I guess I am working towards that because that was something I was thinking about. Now, ordinarily at this point during any of the interviews I've done, I'll ask my guests, okay, what's next for them? Does that question have a purpose in your case here or should I even ask that?
Well, okay, what's next immediately? As we're sitting here looking at each other in front of microphones. My last book, Second World Problems, I recorded the whole book for an audio book and the quality was substandard. It just wasn't usable. Long story, very long story. I won't bore you with it. But if I get one-star reviews, it's got to be because of content, not because of quality, because I can do something about the quality. So consequently, I'm an audio book behind. And right now, I'm sitting here, I can't show you this, but this is my script. And I'm now reading...
the new book extremes beyond the screen um into the mic and doing the audiobook so i'm two audiobooks behind and this studio was homemade i've got a pretty good mic i've got the pop filter i've got a good audio interface i've got a good door hey but i i've just been plagued by stupid ass little problems i've recorded eight audiobooks never in the past have i had issues lately i have i've replaced a lot of parts taken so much advice and if this doesn't work I'm just going to have to hire a studio and go to a professional studio and do it there. Because the audiobooks are the most lucrative thing, far more than the paperbacks and the Kindles. And I've got to get them done. So I'm now two audiobooks behind. So when you say what's next for me is to get these two audiobooks recorded. The great thing about having my little booth, my recording booth here, is I can be as animated as I want. There's not an engineer behind the glass. And I can giggle and sometimes I even have a drink and I can really, I'm telling a story. I'm not reading a script. I'm telling a story. And nobody's there to frown or pull me up.
And I feel it. And I can hear it. The second I'm in a proper studio, firstly, the clock is ticking. The engineer wants to go home. And I'm under pressure. The more pressure I'm under, the more I'll screw up. And also, you know, for example, second world problems about Bulgaria. All of a sudden, I find I'm trying to do an impression of a Bulgarian girl. I was like, hang on a minute. I've got one just there. Come in the studio. Read this.
So you get all this talent come in and read these little parts. And I know myself, when I'm listening to an audiobook, if all of a sudden there's a different voice, it jolts you. It shakes you. Oh, what's this? I'd never thought of that. So I will persevere to get these two books recorded. And that is huge. It's been prying on my mind for so long. And I've got to get this done. So that's what's next for me is to get these two books up and done as audiobooks. So I was going to ask you again, if you've asked that same question of yourself, what's next for me? But I think we already know that answer.
yeah so that and then find a place in the middle of nowhere where i can sit and be a nomadic retired road warrior on the edge of time perfect i love that you do that every morning though from basically from what i've seen on some of your posts you sit out there on your little deck and watch the sun come up Yeah, I do. I did. I have. It's not enough. We had some friends from England this time last week came and visited. They're in Bulgaria looking for a place to live. Read the books thinking, oh yeah, I think I want to live in Bulgaria. And yeah, they come here and they're like, oh my God, look at this view. Listen to this choir. It's like, oh no, because there's dogs barking and there's motorcycles revving and it's not enough. For them, it's incredible. No, it's too noisy. How can people learn more about Graham Field in your books?
Well, my website is getting quite extensive now. Apart from synopsis of all the books in the shop page, there's a bunch of different blogs. There's also an option to sign up. I do sporadic newsletters, sometimes videos uploaded on YouTube. Very spontaneous. The absolute antithesis to what the books are. The books are so carefully crafted and gone through. The videos are absolutely spontaneous. I'm in the shed. I think I've got something to say. I say it, and the next morning I decide if I'm going to post it or not. Generally, it gets an okay response. So if you really haven't had enough of my voice yet, that's a place to find out more about me.
There is, I offer free shipping in the UK. Shipping is very expensive for books. But what I do is if you order over 40 pounds worth of merchandise, which is what, three books, the postage is free, even to the States, even to Australia, free postage. So it's what I try and do as an incentive to, you know, you buy a bit more and I'll give you a break. I'll take the hit on the postage. So, but you'll see all that on the website. So that's it. It's gramfield.co.uk. Yeah, .co.uk. Of course, I'll put all the links in the show notes, but you're also on Facebook. Apparently Twitter also, X.
Oh, God. Yeah, once every three years. And Instagram and, of course, YouTube. I recommend the YouTube channel highly. So I'll put the links in there. But before we say goodbye, I'm going to ask you 10 rapid-fire questions. Oh, wow. This is a thing I do now. All right. If you're ready, here we go. All right. Number one, what's the one item you always pack but rarely use? Gold. An SLR camera. Really? I thought you would have one with you. Number two, the best sound in the world from inside your helmet. Don't say tinnitus.
Oh, God, Ted. You mean an actual sound? You're inside your helmet. What's the best sound in the world? The best sound inside my helmet is when I'm singing the guitar solo of Comfortably Numb.
You know, it's funny you should say that because I was listening to Animals the other day and the guitar solo in, I think it's Pigs. I said, I got to learn that. And I started playing my guitar, trying to figure out how to play this. That's my ringtone, actually. Is that dogs or is that pigs? I can't remember now. I'm not getting your version of it. I know, it's not working. You'll listen until you know what I'm talking about. Yeah. Number three, Border Crossing, you'll never forget.
Oh, I just had one earlier on this month. I just went from Montenegro into Bosnia, tiny border crossing on the edge of a canyon. No one in front of me stamped straight out of Montenegro across a wooden bridge on a river into Bosnia stamped straight in. Not another person. It was a three minute border crossing out of one country into the next. Fantastic. Wow. Of course, the bigger the more miracle, the smaller the crowd. No one was there to see it. Exactly. Number four, a border crossing you wish you could forget. Well, probably. Let me think of a bad border crossing.
Oh, yeah. Into your native country. Really? I was young and I was stupid. And it was in Minneapolis, St. Paul, flown in from England. And I looked like what I was. I was a stupid young druggie. And she went through my diary. She read my diary. Really? Yeah. And I'd been doing quite a lot of illegal substances. And so I was interrogated and then I was strip searched. And it was so.
fucking humiliating and i just you know i'll just put me back on the plane and send me home i don't need to be in your country this badly so yeah that's a pretty horrible yeah holy crap i'm sorry for that man number five this is gonna be an interesting question uh the most honest moment you've ever had with yourself on the road I went, I was in Belize, and I was looking, well, I was looking for a place to stay, and I was in this tiny town, and I went past this bar, and there were all these black dudes hanging out outside, dreadlocks, playing reggae, and they're kind of waving me to come in. But a wave, when we're trying to wave someone to come in, and our hand is up, and our fingers are towards us, they'll wave, their hand is down, and it doesn't look encouraging. Anyway, I went, I found myself a place to stay, and there was nothing around. I thought, you know what, I'm going to go back to this bar.
I'm not the sort of person who goes into bars on my own. Certainly not into bars where I am the only white person in a foreign country that I've only just got in. And I... bravely, in my opinion, went to this bar and it was just a shack. There was a big chest freeze with ice in it and they pulled out a can of beer. That was how it was done. And the guy who was the barman, for want of a better word, there was Bob Marley all over, posters everywhere and green and yellow and red flags and stuff. And there was one guy, he was white, I think it was Belgium. He worked for Dole Bananas and he befriended me a little bit. He thought he was black and he befriended me a little bit. And I remember the barman suddenly spontaneously deciding to sing some...
Bob Marley, acapello. God, I'm good. That bit, all pirate ships are waiting. You rock my board. And it was just stunning. It was so good. Anyway, I ended up being there. I bought the first beer I got there. I bought a beer. Every other beer was bought for me. And people were friendly. People talked to me. I really pushed myself to go in there. And it was so rewarding. That was your honest moment. That was an honest moment, yeah. Because I fight my inner instinctive racism.
my parents had which society breeds i pushed it all aside i went in there and i i got over it good uh number six i'm curious to hear the answer to this one a book of yours that surprised you the most while writing it I don't know about a book, but sometimes I'll read a passage. I was like, wow, did I write that? That's actually quite good. There's some of those in different natures, definitely. But when I just go off on one, really, and I'm really just feeling how I felt then. There was a time camping in a cactus desert in Mexico, which is relayed in different natures. And I think that when you just, you're back there, you just feel it again, and then it's so easy to write. You're not saying, oh, the cactuses are about 20 foot tall, and you're just...
Feeling it. You're just feeling it. And those are the words that flow. If it's not forced, if it's, you know, I say to people who write blogs, if they're on the road, it's like, oh God, I've got to do my blog. It's like, look, if it's a chore for you to write, imagine how difficult it is for someone else to read. If it's not flowing, if you've got nothing to say, and I apply this to social media, to YouTube, to dinner table conversations, if I've got nothing to say, I don't say it. Right. Forced conversation is not conversation. Exactly right. Number seven, a place that felt like home, even though it wasn't.
I suppose I always get that feeling in Colorado. When I go back to Denver, particularly south of Denver, it just feels... I've spent all counted probably seven years of my life there over the last 40 years. And it feels comfortable. I can look at places. I know what that store used to be. I know what was there before that shopping mall. I knew that that flyover when it was traffic lights. And that always felt good. It always feels reassuring. When I fly in and I see those Rocky Mountains and I see the Denver skyline, it just feels comfortable. Oh, yeah. I understand. I understand.
Number eight, the most underrated emotion in travel. I suppose perhaps those mornings, generally mornings, when your tank is full, your tummy's full, you're cool, you wash your clothes perhaps in the sink overnight and they're all clean, and the engine's running well because the air is cool around it, you're fresh, you're well-rested from a good night's sleep, you're ready for the day ahead, what the road will bring. You're not actually needing anything right now. There's nothing niggling in your helmet. That's a lovely feeling to start a day with. Yeah, I can agree with that 100%. Absolutely. Number nine, the best advice you ignored.
The best advice I ignored. Okay, well, did anyone tell me this? Yes, yes, okay. The best advice I ignored was in Russia, on the road, when they have a solid white line down the middle, you do not cross it, not for any reason at all, because the penalty is impoundment of vehicle, suspension of licence, and a disproportionate fine. Do not cross that line. I got caught once, I got fined once, I did it a bloody game.
Wow, man. Ooh, that's a little extreme. All right, fine, number 10. The one word that sums up this final book. Um, jeez, Ted, um, completion, I suppose. All right. You know, do you know that bit in Spinal Tap when they said, what do you want on your gravestone? And he says, uh, here lies David St. Hubbins, and why not? He said, I believe what you want. He said, no, he just sprung it on me. I don't know what happened. That's funny.
with what sums up the book there is an element of completion of I wouldn't say satisfaction just yeah you know if you're looking for something if you're incomplete if you're yearning for something perhaps this book was completion alright that's perfect alright Graham listen thank you very much for spending the time with me I appreciate it don't go anywhere I want to talk to you when we're done but thank you very much it's been wonderful speaking with you again I've really enjoyed it I don't know why I keep putting it off thank you Graham we'll talk to you soon cheers bye Thank you for joining me and Graham Field here in V-Twin Cafe where he told us about his brand new book, Extremes Beyond the Screen. You can learn more about Graham and get his new book and his other books too by going to grahamfield.co.uk. I encourage you to check out everything he has. You'll enjoy every book he has and I'm sure you'll enjoy the new one too. Hey, don't forget to get on over to the Ride with Ted YouTube channel and watch some of the many videos I have there. And if you would please also like and subscribe, that would be a tremendous help to the channel and of course to the podcast.
And you can get a copy of my book, The Road Most Traveled, now direct from me on the Motorcycle Man website and save nearly $8. Of course, you can still get it on Amazon and you can also get the audiobook. But if you get it from me, I'll sign it for you. Hey, the Motorcycle Podcasters Challenge kicks off in one week. Registration is now closed. We have...
five full teams and 18 solo riders for the challenge. So check out motopodchallenge.com. It's in full swing, and we're going to keep the scores going so everybody knows what's going on. It's a lot of fun, kids. Maybe next year, y'all can get involved in it. All right. Hey, for the rest of the Motorcycle Men team, thanks for listening. And remember, you say stupid crap so you don't have to. Ride safe, kids.