OVERLANDING A LEGEND

ASIA-BOUND ON MY DAD'S OLD GS

- Ferdia Durkin

It's always the looks. Stares panning the mud-caked swingarm to the naked fuel lines and throttle housings. A look somewhere between disbelief and bewilderment—what manner of overlander is this? In a world of decked-out T7s and pristine Africa Twins, the old 1150 is an aging outlaw; measured, deliberate, and no longer the fastest on the draw but still deserving of a wary respect. One or two veteran riders in Gore-Tex suits nod as we roll up. The old boxer rattles away; a rare sound these days. It was the engine that powered Charley and Ewan's adventure in Long Way Round. But today it cuts a shabby shadow as it splutters out next to a line of shiny fairings and TFT dashes on the Greece-Turkey border—a bottleneck for overlanders heading east.

I've been on this motorcycle since I was six. As a pillion, I remember my father's back was black and immense as he filtered through the evening traffic. Winter in Dublin was dark and wet. City lights shimmered off the surface of the road, illuminating the fat droplets on my visor. I recall the cold filling the empty space inside a helmet that was too big for me. I remember closing my eyes, feeling the acceleration when the lights turned. I would sing away to myself at the top of my voice, delighting in being drowned out by the engine and rushing wind.

Twenty years later the same sound, the same GS streaks across the Bosphorus Bridge, the spectacular suspension bridge connecting Europe to Asia. Together we're heading east. Where exactly? I'm not sure, nor for how long—just east. I'm 27 now. I've been riding around Europe since the pandemic and have just withstood a barrage of late-20s life changes. But like this old BMW, I feel our greatest adventure yet is on the other side of this bridge. Turkey awaits—and we're in it together.