Fernweh: A Trans Continental Motorcycle Adventure

Sherrie McCarthy

Fernweh: A Trans Contenintal Motorcycle Adventure

Copyright © 2020 by Sherrie McCarthy

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Second edition

Narration by Patrick Schweizer

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Contents

Foreword

Translator/Co-Author’s Note

Preface

1. Where It All Began

2. Getting Ready

The Never Ending Story: The Russian Visa

3. The Wild East

Poland & The Baltic States

Russia

4. Asia

Mongolia

China

Trans Siberian Railway

Korea

Sanitary conditions

5. Siberia In Winter

The cutthroat

Keul

6. South America

Patagonia

Accident in Uruguay

North East Argentina

Northwestern Argentina

Atacama Desert

Emma is ill

7. Home again

A mother’s viewpoint

8. Pictures

Author’s Note

Motorcycle Videos, Maps Oh My!

Also By Sherrie McCarthy

Keep The Shiny Side Up

Taking The Long Way Home

About the Author

Foreword

Translator/Co-Author’s Note

You may wonder why the title is only partially translated. I was quite tempted to rename it Wanderlust, the term English speakers normally use to describe the feeling of Fernweh. The problem is that since both are German words, Fernweh is not the same as Wanderlust. If Patrick had wanted Wanderlust he would have chosen that title and in doing so made my life much easier. I spent more time debating the title than on any other aspect of the book.

Wanderlust is the desire to travel, but in a rather undefined way. The duration of the trip you desire is irrelevant and the key aspect is the feeling of desire. Therefore, it is a much more pleasant and bearable feeling than Fernweh. Using the word lust in German is not the sexual term it is in English, it means to want. So you can have lust to see a movie at the cinema or lust for chocolate.

Fernweh is a much stronger feeling. Weh means pain in German, and Fernweh might be best explained as the opposite of homesick. Except instead of feeling pain from missing your home and the familiar, the pain instead comes from the intense need to travel, to see new things and experience the world.

Therefore, the two terms are close, but changing the title to Wanderlust leaves out a key aspect that I think really defines the book. The desire to go on a motorcycle trip was not a passing fancy – it went much deeper than that. It was not just that Patrick wanted to travel the world on his motorcycle. It was an intense need to do so.

Instead of taking a job and beginning his career as soon as he left university, he bucked common sense and took off on a world trip. Even once he was on the trip there were times he wanted to stay for an extended time in one place, and yet there was also something more powerful driving him onwards. It was not a time restraint; he had been a diligent Swabian (an area of Germany known for their thrifty ways) and worked long hours through university and saved every penny. This feeling, whatever it was, was something beyond curiosity or a desire to see the world. It was a pain that could only be soothed by packing up the bike and riding off. That is why I have left Fernweh in the title.

Yet, despite the struggle to remain true to the title and its meaning, this book is not an attempt at a faithful translation of the German edition of Fernweh. The first chapter of the German edition is an account of Patrick and his friend Boris’ journey to Morocco and back. The Moroccan trip was Patrick’s first major trip by motorcycle and it was on that trip he decided that he wanted to travel the world by bike. We cut that chapter from the English version as we feel it does not add enough to the overall book to remain. Instead, we will release it at a future date and in a format where the story can be enjoyed for everything it is rather than what it is not; which is part of Patrick’s first world trip by motorcycle.#

It is not just in the restructuring of Fernweh that the German original and the translated version differ. The original plan was that I would translate Patrick’s book rather faithfully. As I began the work, I felt there were scenes in the book where something was missing. There was so much more to the story but Patrick being Patrick, he had not been willing to share it. Or at least not write it out himself. However, he seems to have no such problems with me being the one to do the telling in writing. So as we travel on our present world trip (by motorcycle) I have spent many a morning over coffee or in the evening over beer, getting the fuller and more complete version from him. Other chapters I have changed very little, such as the chapter on the never ending adventure to get his Russian visa. I kept it in the third person and, other than an added line or two, it is translated rather faithfully.

This story is still in Patrick’s voice, just with more details. It tempted me to hijack the story in South America and make it mine but decided against it. I had his complete approval and agreement in this. However, given that I have added more detail to the book, we went with me being a co-author as opposed to strictly a translator.

Finally, one of the best parts of translating and re-writing this book was reliving the ride through Mongolia, Russia and South America. It was also interesting to see how some things never change – like last-minute preparations that lead to late starts, Russian visa woes and over-packing.

Preface

Somebody was living in his village, much like people do all around the world. There were a lot of nice people in his village. Some of them were his friends. One day he heard of a country called Poland. He wondered what the people were like there. He did not know. So he went to find out for himself. He told his friends about his plan.

You’re crazy! Poland is full of thieves! They steal everything.

How do you know? Have you ever been there? Somebody asked his friends.

No, of course not, but still, even little children know that the Poles are thieves.

But Somebody was not convinced. He wanted to see the country for himself and form his own opinion.

So Somebody went to Poland. He met a lot of nice people. Some of them became his friends. No one robbed him. He stayed a while in Poland. One day he heard of a country called Russia. He wondered what the people were like there. He did not know. So he went and find out for himself. He told his new Polish friends of his plan.

You’re crazy! Russia is full of robbers and murderers.

How do you know? Have you ever been there? Somebody asked his Polish friends.

No, of course not, but still, even little children know that the Russians are robbers and murderers.

But again, Somebody was not convinced. He wanted to see the country for himself and form his own opinion.

So Somebody went to Russia. He met a lot of nice people there. Some of them became his friends. Robbed and murdered however, he was not. Somebody stayed a while in Russia. Then he heard of the country of Mongolia. He wondered what the people were like there. He did not know. So he went and find out for himself. He told his new Russian friends of his plan.

You’re crazy! The Mongolians are barbarians! They only drink moldy milk and eat children!

How do you know? Have you ever been there? Somebody asked his friends.

No, of course not, but still, even little children know that Mongolians eat people!

But again, Somebody was not convinced. He wanted to see the country for himself and form his own opinion.

So he went to Mongolia. He met many nice people. Some of them became his friends. He drank fermented mare’s milk with them. Children, however, were not eaten. Instead, they were lovingly reared in the best Mongolian traditions.

Somebody traveled in various countries throughout the world. He met many people. The vast majority were nice. He also met some bad and evil people. But he did not have to go far to meet them. These people lived in his home village as well.

trip route

1

Where It All Began

At the tender and impressionable age of six, my great aunt gave me my first globe. It may have displayed a rather dated political landscape that had ceased to exist as of the 1930s but in its time this was a fancy and modern orb; it came with a built in light bulb! With a flip of a switch, the oceans would magically light up blue.

I would often sit and trace a line through the various countries with my finger, all the while imagining the places I would sail once I was big enough to do so. I planned to have a sailboat just like my grandfather and I would sail the seven seas. Until that time came, I spent every Sunday with my grandfather diligently practicing various types of knots, because you have to master this art if you want to become a great sailor.

It was at 18 that I discovered motorcycles. As an economical minded Schwab, I got both my car and motorcycle licenses at the same