The TET Experience – Ep 1

Himalayan Detour: From Son Duties to the Trans Euro Trail – One Butt-Numbing Ride at a Time

Let’s be honest: adventure motorcycling doesn’t always start with epic landscapes, off-road madness, or cinematic sunsets. Sometimes, it starts with a promise to visit your mom.

This year’s grand plan was simple—ride part of the Trans Euro Trail (TET) clockwise, starting from the Netherlands and snaking through the North, swinging East into Germany, cutting into Poland, then hopping onto the Trans Czech Trail (TCT) to make the loop back home. But before any of that glorious dirt and trail action could begin, there was one mission: get to Mom’s place. And that, dear reader, was nearly 800 km of tarmac, twisties, and tension between “this is going to be fun” and “what was I thinking?”

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May 14, 2025 – The Departure (a.k.a. Butt Initiation Day)

The journey began not with a bang, but with the whimper of early morning grogginess and that internal dialogue of, “Do I really need to do this today?” Yes. Yes, I did.

With bags strapped, gear zipped, and the Himalayan (not the mountain, the Royal Enfield) humming like a caffeinated goat, I hit the road. Now, let’s pause for a second to talk about this machine: no, it’s not a GS. It doesn’t have a TFT screen, it won’t Bluetooth your soul to the sky, and it certainly doesn’t cost as much as a small car. But it’s got heart. It’s stubborn. And on small roads, it’s in its element—slow and steady, like a tortoise with attitude.

Instead of hopping on the Autobahn and surrendering to the soul-sapping drone of high-speed monotony, I went West on the smaller roads. If you’re riding and not taking the scenic twisties, are you even living? Sure, it adds time and probably a few bug splats to the face shield, but the reward is in every corner, every quirky roadside village, and every surprise castle on a hill.

The Schwäbische Alb welcomed me first—a hilly, winding region in Germany that’s a delight for two-wheeled wanderers. Then came the Donau-Ries, another underrated gem where the roads roll like a gentle rollercoaster through green pastures and sleepy towns. This was motorcycling bliss… until the bliss ran headfirst into the brick wall of exhaustion.

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Bruchsal: Where My Brain Clocked Out at 8 PM

After 390 km of dancing with curves and dodging tractors, my body had enough. Somewhere near Bruchsal, close to Karlsruhe, I pulled the plug. I found a place to crash—physically and mentally—and was out cold by 8 PM. That’s not a typo. Not even dark out. Just me, a bed, and the kind of sleep you only get after a long ride and zero regrets.

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Morning Glory and Breakfast Highway Robbery

Waking up after 11 hours of coma-like sleep was glorious. The world seemed friendlier, my limbs forgave me, and even the Himalayan purred like it knew the worst was over… for now.

Then came breakfast.

Delicious? Yes. Expensive? Also yes. Let’s just say that when you eat a hotel breakfast in Germany, you’re not just fueling your body—you’re financing someone’s third Audi. But with a full stomach and a nearly empty wallet, I rolled out at 9 AM, greeted by a sunny sky and surprisingly crisp temperatures for mid-May. Nothing like the cold slapping your face to remind you that adventure is earned.

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430 km to Go: The Ride Gets Real

Still had 430 clicks to go. But luckily, the route passed through some of Germany’s most scenic regions: the Pfälzer Wald, the Eifel, and the Ahrtal.

These aren’t just pretty names on a map. These are prime motorcycling playgrounds. The Pfälzer Wald feels like it was designed by a biker with a twist fetish. The Eifel—with its valleys and volcanic hills—is a visual buffet. And the Ahrtal? Let’s just say if you’re not grinning ear to ear riding there, your helmet might be on backward.

Also, side note: wind turbines. They’re everywhere. Germany has gone full tilt into renewable energy, and while some might grumble about the aesthetics, I found them kind of cool..

Like silent, futuristic guardians dotting the hills, reminding you that you’re riding through a country that’s actually trying to save the planet.

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Last-Minute Lodging and a Final Push

By mid-afternoon, with 170 km still to go, I made the call to my favorite roadside inn. They had one room left. One. Destiny? Divine intervention? Pure dumb luck? Doesn’t matter. I had a place to sleep. But it meant I had to push through.

Another few hours, a handful of village detours, and way too many near-misses with squirrels later, I finally rolled in at 5:30 PM. Surprisingly, I felt fresh. No back spasms. No numb butt. Not even an existential crisis. Just me, the bike, and a smug sense of satisfaction.

The Himalayan was still thumping along without complaint. It might not roar like a 1200cc beast, but it gets you there. And honestly, that’s the magic. It’s not about getting somewhere fast—it’s about getting there with a story.

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Rest Day: Mom Mode Activated

The next day was sacred. No throttle. No GPS. No gravel. Just family time.

Sure, it’s tempting to jump right into the TET and start battling mud and boulders like a YouTube hero. But riding, like life, is about balance. Sometimes you chase the horizon, and sometimes you chase the scent of your mom’s home cooking.

So here I am, recharging with good food, better company, and mentally mapping out the next leg of the adventure. The trail awaits, but for now, it’s time to be a good son—and maybe sneak in a chain lube while she’s not looking.

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Stay tuned. Next stop: the Netherlands, the TET, and whatever else fate and faulty GPS signals have in store.

And remember, it’s not about the horsepower—it’s about the heart per mile.

#dustysocks