The trip to Masada
Warning - pretty long, with a fair amount of photos behind cut, most of them of a very poor quality unfortunately. It was very dark and I'm not a great fan of flash photography, but all in all you'll get the idea I think.
It was kinda weird going to sleep at 9pm that day, when everybody was just dressing up for the traditional hebrew New Years' family dinner, but I hoped it would be worth it.
Certainly didn't feel like that when I woke up at 2am and imagined what was ahead of me, but it was fleeting. I left the house a little before 3am, after shoving down a piece of dry bread and making sure to clip the winter layer of my riding jacket - something I wasn't sure about at first, did not regret later and regret a little bit towards the end. Step by step though. I can't say the streets were all empty at 3am, but there sure was no motor vehicle anywhere in sight, as I rode through town to the highway intersection gathering point just outside it. A few kids, a bit on the tipsy side too, caught up with me on one of the red lights with the obligatory "how fast does it go-how much did you pay for it-can you give me a ride-my brother has a sports bike and does 250 on it, now that is a motorcycle.." etc etc, and the damn light just wouldn't change! That's when I was saved by an angel on a white sports bike rolling up beside me and naturally attracting all the unwanted attention. Luckily, he also activated the damn sensory wire and the light finally changed - a moment before we took off he looked at me through his visor. He didn't have to say anything.
The intersection was a stark contrast to the desolate city streets.
Dozens, no - hundreds of bikes went zooming past, some of them pulling over for a short break, most not. The lot was already traveling for about an hour from the starting point up north, and there was still plenty of land to cover.
Yes, that's a car on the road there. Yes, it belonged to the convention, too =)
I pulled over to get my bearings, a little overwhelmed to be honest, and waited for the friend (who started up north) to arrive.
This might look a little misleading, but in reality it was darker than in the first photo. My Nikon has really shown what it was made of as far as taking photos in darkness, on this trip. Mind you, no flash and hand held. Dig that.
While I was waiting and looking around, feeling a little awkward among the crowd of the most colorful (even in darkness) and eccentric motorcycle brands imaginable, I was approached by a guy, clad toe to neck in racing body armor, with a remark of "ah, you got here with the bus, I see". Pretty sure he was about to bash my scoot further I only grinned uneasily in reply. To my astonishment, however, the guy turned out to be impressed deeply by the Burgie, and was actually considering getting a 2003 model as his "sidearm"! We even went on to discuss how much the pre-2007 models (mine is 2004) are better than the rest - which is seriously true btw. I then "accidentally" opened my trunk to fish out a camera, and that pretty much put an end to any of his second thoughts on this bike. I really love to see the expression on their faces when I begin to move things inside my trunk to find what I need (for comparison, average sport bikes don't have any trunk or glove compartment whatsoever - they carry all their stuff in their backpacks.. yuck). The night was getting better and better I thought, and that's when the friend arrived and we decided to set off immediately and take a break at one of the gas stations up ahead.
Riding with all those motorcycles is a unique experience. It's not like riding in traffic at all. It's not like riding with a group in traffic at all, too. It's like the entire road belongs to you - and you belong to the road. Something of a cliche, but it really does feel like that. At first there were only sport bikes and the like, but as we got closer to the first gas station a scoot would pop here and there, I even sighted a white 650 Burgman. Had to introduce it to my tail lights, of course.
After about half an hour we pulled over for some energy drinks and gas - not me of course, I was okay for the next 200km ride to the Dead Sea and back - but my friends' bike was getting a little thirsty. The convenience store clerk boy was probably scarred for life - in the middle of a holiday night, when nothing promised to disturb the peaceful flow of the shift except maybe a barking dog or a sudden urge to take a leak - suddenly hundreds of strange looking people in leather armor storm your counter and yell for coffee, MOAR coffee! We waited some good 15 minutes in queue to get our drinks.
That stop was the first opportunity to really appreciate the dimensions of this convention. A Burgman pulled next to me, flying his Israeli Burgman Club colors. He sized me up, but I ignored him. That club is for geezers only, unfortunately.
~Can you spot the drink can in this picture? I swear convenience is this bikes' middle name~
It was getting late and everybody was leaving, so we got a move on, too. From there, about a hundred km to the desert city of Arad was probably the best part of the ride. It was completely dark, no light anywhere in sight except the tiny pearls of the bike tail and headlights along the road, and all those *gorgeous* stars above. And the wind in your fists. It was magical. I was also pretty warm and comfy - as far as warm and comfy can go on a motorcycle going 120kmph through a desert at night - thanks to the winter layer I had the brains to take with me.
This was also where my girl has really shown what she made of. Forget the comfort and "too lazy to get of couch", my friend has an entry level sports bike - nothing too fancy, but not to be taken lightly, either - and trying to keep up with him, I've introduced not one and not two Ducattis and Kawasakis and Burgmans and TMAXs and Harleys even to the business end of my exhaust. I wasn't racing or anything, that'd be just stupid, but it really felt like there was a punch under those plastic covers, waiting to be freed. When we arrived to our next stop my friend (who was far from impressed before) confessed that, quote, "she packs some". She does.
I didn't take any pictures from there and all the way to Masada, since it was almost absolutely dark and I didn't feel like pulling over to repeat photo No.1 in various different settings. After Arad, which we decided to just pass by since it was getting pretty late (~5am), the most godawful part began - the serpentine road descending 400 meters to the Dead Sea basin. In utter pitch blackness, with little to no experience at this sort of thing, it sure was a little scary at first. And it wasn't even the worst thing - as we started taking the turns between the bleached rocks, a sudden wave of heat smote me across the face with a thundering slap. As you can probably guess if you took the time to read all this, I didn't pull over prior to the descent to unclip my warming layer, and I sure as hell couldn't do it now. By the time we cleared the turns and reached the bottom I was sweating buckets, literally.
Down by the "seaside" it was much better though. We squeezed the heck out of it, and within 20 minutes we were there. And boy oh boy what went on at the parking lot of the Masada..
I thought we were never gonna squeeze in - and people kept coming and coming, we could see a snake trail of lights all the way to the Arad descent from there.
All sizes, all types, all flavors. You name it.
My friends' motorcycle and his stylish Shoei helmet. Cool, but mine is better =)
A custom blue Honda from the first Masada picture. Nice, but.. WHERE ARE YOU GOING TO FIT ALL YOUR STUFF, MISTER? Surely not in that stylish Honda backpack, are you }=X
It was starting to get bright. People were gathering outside the parking lot to view the sunrise.
Behind us, the cliffs surrounding Masada.
And brighter yet.
The moment we all been waiting for. The rising sun of the new year is about to shine upon whats left of the Dead Sea - god knows what it will bring with it, I hope good will be worth the bad. We all do.
That's the Kingdom of Jordan over there, of course.
Here we go. A pretty sight, but somehow we are not too happy. Can't quite pin it down.
We stare and wonder. A Harley guy in leather jacket behind us blows the Shofar. He does it very poorly, but that's all we need, and we get it.
If shit hits the fan, we hit the dust. We just hope it will work. Until then..
Masada basks in morning glory. It's starting to get hot and the infamous Ein Gedey flies are eager to join the party. We're not leaving though before the final round to enjoy what was hidden from us by darkness.
The flamboyant Harley customs
together with monstrous touring leviathans such as Electra Glide and Gold Wing
tried to put up a fair fight. But naturally they could not stand their own against hordes of pink/teal/toxic green/rainbow sport bikes..
With that conclusion in mind we boarded our skimmers and took on a long journey back home.
~That muffler looks awful. I'll replace it next spring~
I thought I would be glad to have put off the winter layer this time, but quite surprisingly and more so ironically - I regretted it when we hit the cold wall on the serpentine up to Arad. It was freezing between those hills. We stopped at a gas station in Arad for breakfast, and it was the first time I fueled up - after nearly 200kms in quite an unforgiving conditions. The coffee gave us a terrible stomach ache.
Got home around 9pm, safely and soundly. Gave my Burgie a good pat on the seat before I went to sleep - that's a job very well done. Did not bite the dust in front of all those serious bikers, just as was planned.
Thank you for being patient and reading through if you did, and for the closure a little something-something we digged out on one of the forums the next day - somebody took a picture of us as we pulled into a gas station near Arad that night. I appreciate the thought =)
P.S. There's also a video of the whole thing some guy shot on his helmet camera. Pretty good if you want it - here. You can even see us at 2:26 or something..
It was kinda weird going to sleep at 9pm that day, when everybody was just dressing up for the traditional hebrew New Years' family dinner, but I hoped it would be worth it.
Certainly didn't feel like that when I woke up at 2am and imagined what was ahead of me, but it was fleeting. I left the house a little before 3am, after shoving down a piece of dry bread and making sure to clip the winter layer of my riding jacket - something I wasn't sure about at first, did not regret later and regret a little bit towards the end. Step by step though. I can't say the streets were all empty at 3am, but there sure was no motor vehicle anywhere in sight, as I rode through town to the highway intersection gathering point just outside it. A few kids, a bit on the tipsy side too, caught up with me on one of the red lights with the obligatory "how fast does it go-how much did you pay for it-can you give me a ride-my brother has a sports bike and does 250 on it, now that is a motorcycle.." etc etc, and the damn light just wouldn't change! That's when I was saved by an angel on a white sports bike rolling up beside me and naturally attracting all the unwanted attention. Luckily, he also activated the damn sensory wire and the light finally changed - a moment before we took off he looked at me through his visor. He didn't have to say anything.
The intersection was a stark contrast to the desolate city streets.
Dozens, no - hundreds of bikes went zooming past, some of them pulling over for a short break, most not. The lot was already traveling for about an hour from the starting point up north, and there was still plenty of land to cover.
Yes, that's a car on the road there. Yes, it belonged to the convention, too =)
I pulled over to get my bearings, a little overwhelmed to be honest, and waited for the friend (who started up north) to arrive.
This might look a little misleading, but in reality it was darker than in the first photo. My Nikon has really shown what it was made of as far as taking photos in darkness, on this trip. Mind you, no flash and hand held. Dig that.
While I was waiting and looking around, feeling a little awkward among the crowd of the most colorful (even in darkness) and eccentric motorcycle brands imaginable, I was approached by a guy, clad toe to neck in racing body armor, with a remark of "ah, you got here with the bus, I see". Pretty sure he was about to bash my scoot further I only grinned uneasily in reply. To my astonishment, however, the guy turned out to be impressed deeply by the Burgie, and was actually considering getting a 2003 model as his "sidearm"! We even went on to discuss how much the pre-2007 models (mine is 2004) are better than the rest - which is seriously true btw. I then "accidentally" opened my trunk to fish out a camera, and that pretty much put an end to any of his second thoughts on this bike. I really love to see the expression on their faces when I begin to move things inside my trunk to find what I need (for comparison, average sport bikes don't have any trunk or glove compartment whatsoever - they carry all their stuff in their backpacks.. yuck). The night was getting better and better I thought, and that's when the friend arrived and we decided to set off immediately and take a break at one of the gas stations up ahead.
Riding with all those motorcycles is a unique experience. It's not like riding in traffic at all. It's not like riding with a group in traffic at all, too. It's like the entire road belongs to you - and you belong to the road. Something of a cliche, but it really does feel like that. At first there were only sport bikes and the like, but as we got closer to the first gas station a scoot would pop here and there, I even sighted a white 650 Burgman. Had to introduce it to my tail lights, of course.
After about half an hour we pulled over for some energy drinks and gas - not me of course, I was okay for the next 200km ride to the Dead Sea and back - but my friends' bike was getting a little thirsty. The convenience store clerk boy was probably scarred for life - in the middle of a holiday night, when nothing promised to disturb the peaceful flow of the shift except maybe a barking dog or a sudden urge to take a leak - suddenly hundreds of strange looking people in leather armor storm your counter and yell for coffee, MOAR coffee! We waited some good 15 minutes in queue to get our drinks.
That stop was the first opportunity to really appreciate the dimensions of this convention. A Burgman pulled next to me, flying his Israeli Burgman Club colors. He sized me up, but I ignored him. That club is for geezers only, unfortunately.
~Can you spot the drink can in this picture? I swear convenience is this bikes' middle name~
It was getting late and everybody was leaving, so we got a move on, too. From there, about a hundred km to the desert city of Arad was probably the best part of the ride. It was completely dark, no light anywhere in sight except the tiny pearls of the bike tail and headlights along the road, and all those *gorgeous* stars above. And the wind in your fists. It was magical. I was also pretty warm and comfy - as far as warm and comfy can go on a motorcycle going 120kmph through a desert at night - thanks to the winter layer I had the brains to take with me.
This was also where my girl has really shown what she made of. Forget the comfort and "too lazy to get of couch", my friend has an entry level sports bike - nothing too fancy, but not to be taken lightly, either - and trying to keep up with him, I've introduced not one and not two Ducattis and Kawasakis and Burgmans and TMAXs and Harleys even to the business end of my exhaust. I wasn't racing or anything, that'd be just stupid, but it really felt like there was a punch under those plastic covers, waiting to be freed. When we arrived to our next stop my friend (who was far from impressed before) confessed that, quote, "she packs some". She does.
I didn't take any pictures from there and all the way to Masada, since it was almost absolutely dark and I didn't feel like pulling over to repeat photo No.1 in various different settings. After Arad, which we decided to just pass by since it was getting pretty late (~5am), the most godawful part began - the serpentine road descending 400 meters to the Dead Sea basin. In utter pitch blackness, with little to no experience at this sort of thing, it sure was a little scary at first. And it wasn't even the worst thing - as we started taking the turns between the bleached rocks, a sudden wave of heat smote me across the face with a thundering slap. As you can probably guess if you took the time to read all this, I didn't pull over prior to the descent to unclip my warming layer, and I sure as hell couldn't do it now. By the time we cleared the turns and reached the bottom I was sweating buckets, literally.
Down by the "seaside" it was much better though. We squeezed the heck out of it, and within 20 minutes we were there. And boy oh boy what went on at the parking lot of the Masada..
I thought we were never gonna squeeze in - and people kept coming and coming, we could see a snake trail of lights all the way to the Arad descent from there.
All sizes, all types, all flavors. You name it.
My friends' motorcycle and his stylish Shoei helmet. Cool, but mine is better =)
A custom blue Honda from the first Masada picture. Nice, but.. WHERE ARE YOU GOING TO FIT ALL YOUR STUFF, MISTER? Surely not in that stylish Honda backpack, are you }=X
It was starting to get bright. People were gathering outside the parking lot to view the sunrise.
Behind us, the cliffs surrounding Masada.
And brighter yet.
The moment we all been waiting for. The rising sun of the new year is about to shine upon whats left of the Dead Sea - god knows what it will bring with it, I hope good will be worth the bad. We all do.
That's the Kingdom of Jordan over there, of course.
Here we go. A pretty sight, but somehow we are not too happy. Can't quite pin it down.
We stare and wonder. A Harley guy in leather jacket behind us blows the Shofar. He does it very poorly, but that's all we need, and we get it.
If shit hits the fan, we hit the dust. We just hope it will work. Until then..
Masada basks in morning glory. It's starting to get hot and the infamous Ein Gedey flies are eager to join the party. We're not leaving though before the final round to enjoy what was hidden from us by darkness.
The flamboyant Harley customs
together with monstrous touring leviathans such as Electra Glide and Gold Wing
tried to put up a fair fight. But naturally they could not stand their own against hordes of pink/teal/toxic green/rainbow sport bikes..
With that conclusion in mind we boarded our skimmers and took on a long journey back home.
~That muffler looks awful. I'll replace it next spring~
I thought I would be glad to have put off the winter layer this time, but quite surprisingly and more so ironically - I regretted it when we hit the cold wall on the serpentine up to Arad. It was freezing between those hills. We stopped at a gas station in Arad for breakfast, and it was the first time I fueled up - after nearly 200kms in quite an unforgiving conditions. The coffee gave us a terrible stomach ache.
Got home around 9pm, safely and soundly. Gave my Burgie a good pat on the seat before I went to sleep - that's a job very well done. Did not bite the dust in front of all those serious bikers, just as was planned.
Thank you for being patient and reading through if you did, and for the closure a little something-something we digged out on one of the forums the next day - somebody took a picture of us as we pulled into a gas station near Arad that night. I appreciate the thought =)
P.S. There's also a video of the whole thing some guy shot on his helmet camera. Pretty good if you want it - here. You can even see us at 2:26 or something..