Random acts of travel kindness

[Nigel]

Sorry Alun but can't help thinking of Deliverance and squeling like a piggy
Directed by charly Boormans old man!

[clutchspring]

Mainy years ago the wife & I was visiting Luxembourg on our Goldwing , after a while walking around I said to the wife give us the camera she said something like ow no must have left it on the bike seat !.
So we quickly made our way back to the bike no sign of the camera but then the wife looked in the pouch on the back of the riders back rest & there it was , some kind person had put it in the pouch.

Ian.

[MotoCP]

Biking through Namibia many years ago with a mate, we noticed a sign pointing up a gravel road saying ‘Hoba Meteorite’.

Our Interest piqued, we studied the map and decided it wasn’t too much of a detour, so we turned the bikes around and followed the sign.

On arriving at the visitor centre car park we followed the winding path and passed a young couple walking the other way.

Arriving at the site we jumped onto the 60 ton lump of extraterrestrial metal and took a few photos.
A few minutes later the girl that had walked past us earlier approached and asked “Are those your UK plated bikes in the car park?”
We nodded and she said “Are you heading to Cape Town?”
We both said “Yes” so she reached into her bag, pulled out a pen and paper then scribbled something on it.

On handing us the note she said “When you get there, ring my sister. You can stay with her and she will show you around”.

We looked at each other incredulously as she smiled and walked away shouting enjoy South Africa!

That was just one example of the generous hospitality we encountered throughout our trip but it’s the one that immediately sprang to mind when I read the title of this thread.

[Tonibe63]

A few years ago travelling down the Dalmation coast of Croatia we (wife and I) often saw an Italian couple on a Vstrom when we stopped at a photo point. Later when looking for a hotel in Karlobag we spotted the same bike so booked in to the same hotel. That evening we had a few drinks with them in the bar and also met up at breakfast where they offered us free use of their apartment just North of Venice on our return journey even though they would not be there, they even put us in touch with a neighbour to let us in. Unfortunately our plans changed so we didn't make use of their kind offer but we still keep in touch via email.

[Jak*]

I was riding my old BM 800 somewhere south of Orleans vaguely heading south west towards the Pyrenees and eventually Portugal when I ran into a hail storm. At the side of the road was a tatty old GS 850 Suzuki outside a fairly run down bar. My sort of place I thought and went in out of the hail. I ordered a beer and a coffee and rolled a fag. The owner of the bike was there and despite my French being limited to ordering beer and coffee and his English being no better we tried to have a conversation. He was evidently asking where I was heading to which I replied Portugal. He send said something which I interpreted as ‘Ride with me to my brother’s house in Poitiers, we are having a party. As Poitiers was about 200 klicks in the right direction this sounded like a plan to me.
As we went to leave I went to put on my waterproof overtrousers but he motioned to me not to bother. Looking up at the blackening sky I thought this must be some kind of local righteous bullshit, but when in Rome etc. We then got on the bikes, did a u turn, shot off down a side track and cane up to a farmhouse about a mile away. He motioned to me to put my bike along with his in a barn with half a dozen others. He introduced me to his wife, gave me a beer and showed me round the place. It appeared that his mates were all in a local club and all met up there. They had a workshop and a stage in barn where they could put bands on. Gradually more of his mates turned up and more beers were drunk. This is going to be a fun ride I thought. Eventually, about four hours after I met him, one of his mates turned up who spoke a bit of English. It turned out when I said Portugal, he thought I said Poitiers and he had said fuck Poitiers come back to my place, have a party with my brothers and ride there tomorrow. They were somewhat surprised I was headed to Portugal on an old BM.
Anyway we had a great night, they fed me rabbit stew and gave me lots of beer and we talked bollocks about bikes.
It was a long while ago and I think his name was Phillipe and his club the Loaded Dice. They were a great bunch and their hospitality was fantastic.
I have had loads more similar experiences since but that was my first trip abroad on a bike and I won’t forget their generosity.
Cheers Jak

[Magnon]

This was back in 1991 - just after the first Gulf war. We were heading for Cape Town but the original plan to get the ferry from Piraeus to Alexandria was thwarted because of the war so we had to go via Israel crossing into Egypt at Taba. All proved straightforward eventually arriving in Cairo. Cairo is a big place and very hardto navigate. We were in the centre (probably) standing beside the bike, looking lost. A nice chap walked up to us and in good English said ‘where are you going’ we said Giza,he said ‘follow me’ but first Ihave to wait for my wife who is in the hairdressers. Five minutes later we were on our way weaving through a maze of streets onto a main road heading south. We were stuck in a traffic jam, our man walked back to us and told us he was turning off at the next exit ‘but I will find someone to take you to Giza’. He starts walking up and down the stationary traffic asking if anyone is going to Giza. As this was going on a Honda 550/4 comes past us, filtering through the stationary cars. A few yards on he does a U turn and comes back to talk to us - again, good English. We say we’re going to Giza, he says ‘follow me’.. if you’re getting bored reading this be warned this is only just the beginning of the saga and all the kind people we met.

Anyway, we followed Mohammed on his Honda and arrived in Giza, he pulled over and asked us if we wanted a hotel or we could at his appartment. We accepted his kind invitation and parked up at his tower block. His appt. was on the 4 th floor. We spend the afternoon relaxing in his place - he was a film enthusiast and we watched his favorite film - Blue Lagoon. He told us he had to open his shop at 8pm in central Cairo we could stay in his flat or spend the evening in his shop - Habib Video Film. We said we like to see his shop so set off following him back into town - it was dark. We were filtering through the traffic and as we approached the bridge across the Nile we lost him ina mass of twinkling tail lights. We were just about to go into an underpass so we pulled over (and looked lost). A very sophisticated young couple approached us and she (extremely well dressed, good looking lady) asked if she could help us. We explained our situation and she immediately focussed on Mohammed. ‘You met this man 4 hours ago and you have left everything including your passports and money at his appartment and youdon’t have his address - do you know how many Mohammeds there are in Cairo?’ - she had a point. She suggested we make a U turn and meet them at the restaurant back up the road. They walked back about 100 yds but by the time we arrived about 5 minutes later she had got a large crowd of taxi drivers, restaurant owners and others around her trying to locate Habib Video Film - thank goodness we’d noted the name of Mohammed’s shop . Eventuallya taxi driver said he knew it and would take us there. As we left we were given dozens of business cards along with good wishes from the large crowd.

The taxi driver took us straight to the shop and would not accept anything for his trouble. Mohammed was mightily relieved we managed to find the place.

Strangely we had a similar experience with a good outcome last year in India!

[Griff097]

Reader Beware - Before reading this post any further, what follows is the second part of a feature which was just published in the latest issue of Adventure Travel magazine.
It has nothing to do with motorcycles and is all to do with bumping into a psycho in the Appalachian Mountains a long, long time ago when I was fit enough to do such outdoor things.
I’ve posted it up to finish off this thread which I started in August 2010 back in the early days of ABR. So, if you want to make sense of what follows I suggest you go back to the first post on this thread before reading on. Except if your name is Herman who has been patiently waiting almost nine years for this conclusion.

The mood around camp was becoming increasingly tense and I could see the fear growing in the eyes of the six guys from Tennessee. Something was just not right with this huge, sinister guy that had crashed out of the bush and into our campsite.

I looked over to where this monster of a man sat with his back towards us. His muscular body shaking violently as he drank from a can of beer, he had yet to say a word.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky the shadows lengthened and the air temperature dropped noticeably. One of the guys motioned for us to huddle together and in hushed tones suggested that under cover of collecting firewood he would set off to a mountain ranger’s hut which he reckoned was a couple of miles back down a side trail.

In any other circumstance I would have suggested that this was overkill or unnecessary, after all there were seven of us and one of him and this mountain of a man had not even talked let alone made any threats. But on this occasion the only feeling I had when it was pointed out that an armed mountain ranger could be in camp within the hour was one of relief.

In the meantime, I was on heightened alert. Experience told me that 6 against 1 is never a forgone conclusion, especially when against a man the size of Dusty who I reckoned was about 6ft 7in tall, 20st in weight and none of that lumber he carried was fat.

If he could take out two of us quickly and with brutal efficiency – and he had the size and muscle to easily do that – then human nature would determine that two more would run away whilst the remaining couple would back off until they too were either taken out or put to flight.

When we’d collected enough wood the fire was stacked up. The extra heat and light of the flames had a slightly calming effect and also caught the attention of Dusty who rose to his feet, walked over and planted his enormous and powerful frame on a nearby log and introduced himself.

Within five minutes he had described how he had lost his wife in a car crash four days previous, how his mother had been killed by an armed robber within the past month, he was a special forces vetran from countless wars, he was a champion rodeo rider and he had walked to this campsite near the Appalachian Trail all the way from Alaska. There was zero doubt Dusty was mentally unstable and delusional and the deep scarring on his arms and face were a powerful hint of something far more menacing.

Time stood still over the next hour as Dusty explained how his two children had been kidnapped and murdered, his brother had been killed in Iraq, his house had been burned down by the FBI and his new car stolen by local gangs.

Unnerving is a word that does not come close to the feeling I had that night whilst sitting at a campfire in the middle of the woods, far away from anywhere with a delusional colossus of a man describing a series of brutally violent events.
#
The sense of relief as the Ranger walked into camp was as palpable as the fear that was hanging in the air as Dusty’s stories were becoming more extreme and violent and his demeanour noticeably more agitated and aggressive.

After introductions the Ranger took Dusty aside and began to question him. After a short while he walked over and told us he was not happy or comfortable with what he had heard but would need to return to his hut and use the comms to find out more information before he was prepared to act.

Within 10 minutes of the Ranger setting off, Dusty also made his exit from the camp into the pitch-black woods of the Appalachian Mountains. Not one of us slept that night and when the ranger returned before sun-up he told us that he’d received disturbing news about Dusty and a search operation was being organised.

The guys from Tennessee packed up and headed out on the trail leading to their cars. I headed north to re-join the Appalachian Trail and whilst I enjoyed the days hike, I could not get past the vision of Dusty being around every twist and turn in the trail.

Sometime in the late afternoon I turned off the AT and set off down a side trail to a small camp ground. As I approached the three-sided shack, I could make out an older man and young girl sitting uncomfortably close to each other against the side wall and both had that look of fear that I had seen in Tennessean eyes the night before.

Call it instinct but I knew what the cause would be and sure enough as I walked closer to the hut I could see Dusty towering over them and hear him reciting how all his family had recently died violent deaths.

Dusty paused and turned to face me as he heard my approach and without taking any time to think I just carried on walking towards him, looked him in the eye and said ‘You need to move fast, the Police are following just behind and they are looking for you’. Every nerve in my body felt like there was an electric charge gushing through as I raised my voice and forcefully said, ‘Leave Now’.

To my surprise and the serious relief of the man and young girl Dusty took off from the hut in the opposite direction. ‘Thank you’ they said and both of them hugged me in relief. ‘How far away are the Police?’ They asked. ‘I’ve no idea’ I said and explained to them what I did know. ‘I thought he was going to kill us’ the young girl said.

The Texan father and daughter and I decided to walk through the night until we arrived at the road head where they had parked their car. We later found out that there were five outstanding arrest warrants for Dusty (not his real name), the most serious being suspected murder.

Dusty must have been from Maerdy

[Magnon]

There’s a big wide world out there and even in these days of the infernal internet scammers there ar still many people willing/happy to help travellers. Recent experience - Barcelona, wifey had managed to crease her all day metro ticket to the point that it didn’t work. Very kind Spanish lady pushed the help button, surly bloke replies saying he'd come and help in a few minutes - she let rip, he arrived in 30 seconds and we were on our way. It’s not just speaking the language but also knowing the system. We know what goes on here having been here for a while but speak FA Spanish.

Years ago we helped Janni and Rosella when we were all stuck at Cherbourg. We put them up for a night and helped find them a hotel in London etc.

We’re hoping some of the Indians we met last year will make it to Europe in the foreseable future and we can show them our world